Chapter Text
Part of the appeal of becoming a trainee for Seokjin was the fact they were promising an all alpha group to debut; technically, it had been done before, but not with any kind of success. The few attempts tapered off quickly, groups that dissolved within a year. Everyone said it was impossible; alphas weren’t meant to function together in that may - too much aggression that would eat itself from the inside out, and even if it didn’t, the outside bias against something predominantly alpha would tear it apart.
BigHit was thirsty to prove itself somehow, and Seokjin didn’t know what to do after he presented and it derailed his studies. Alphas weren’t actually welcomed in most higher academic pursuits, so he found himself adrift and full of self hatred when scouted. As young as trainees often are, he wasn’t surprised to find out that most of the potential group was unpresented, but it was still strange to be in a group of what was supposed to be alphas, and more than that - a group of men who specifically wanted to be alphas.
Not that there weren’t people out there who wanted the designation; there were some romanticized views of alphas, and even if there weren’t, there would always be contrarians, but presenting as an alpha limited futures in a way that a beta or omega presentation would not. In just the past two generations, mating and reproduction rates have plummeted, and most historians and scholars equate the changing views of alphadom as a huge reason why.
So, Seokjin isn’t proud to be an alpha, and he doesn’t think that most of the trainees relish the idea either. The world works against them more so than ever; alphas seen as too dangerous to be leaders, too dangerous to be good partners or parents. An alpha is never ideal in any job, it seems. It’s bizarre to be thrust into this very specific space where everyone wants to present as one if they haven’t already, just so they can have this shot at a group that outsiders think of as a ticking time bomb.
Time wittles down the boys that Seokjin trains with; he grows close enough with some of them, but then again they’re all trying to undo the baggage around alpha-alpha friendships. It doesn't take long for Seokjin to witness some alpha-alpha relationships, in one case it even ends up being an alpha-beta relationship where the beta masked their designation to stick around longer. The beta is sent packing not because he’s a beta - they could have moved him around in the company - but because he lied about it and used all sorts of over-the-counter items to produce artificial hormones.
The timing of putting together trainees is fraught enough in all sorts of manner, but putting together a group meant to be together at minimum the next five years before presentations finished? It was asking for trouble, but BigHit actually considered it. From what he heard, they thought about it because genetic testing for subgender designations was decent enough. All alphas, they were meant to be, but they’d fake it if they needed to with those same artificial alpha pheromones until the last boys presented, and then they would do what they had to do. Even if that meant changing up the group.
Ended up too big of a risk. They waited. Line up changes in a group like theirs historically didn’t do well. Lost too many fans.
When they debut, it’s with seven, the youngest of them already a prodigy in his own right because it’s so uncommon for presentation that early, but they get their idol group of all alphas. BigHit loves having a range of ages too; says part of the appeal might be that fans can watch them all group up and interact differently through their stages of development. This is mostly directed at Jeongguk, their baby alpha. He presented right before they announced the final line-up as if they were all just waiting on him. Seokjin wonders how long management would have waited on Jeongguk; he can’t imagine what it was like to go through the change that early. Seokjin didn’t see it, because eagle-eyed management is trained to pluck out trainees at the mere hint of any change - whether it was physical or mental.
One day Jeongguk had been a knobby kneed little kid in one of the dorm rooms down the hall, and the next thing Seokjin knew was that he was shaking hands with lots of people who told him their debut was happening, now that Jeongguk was officially an alpha. The kid wasn’t even finished with all of the changes when the company made the announcement of the final line up. Instead, the six eldest of them all moved into their one tiny room together and waited for the kid to show up before they started “real training.”
“Fourteen is fucked,” Yoongi grouses. Out of all of them, Seokjin is most familiar with Yoongi in the final line-up. Closest in age, and they claim a bunk together. “I can’t imagine it at fourteen.”
“Weren’t you sixteen when you presented?” Jimin asks. Jimin is sixteen and presented. It’s still on the earlier side.
“Yeah. And it was terrible then.”
Jimin smiles, elbowing Taehyung, current baby of the room. After they’ve unpacked the meager amount of belongings they are allowed to bring, the six of them stand in the tiny room in a loose circle.
It is truly overwhelming to be in such a small space with so many alphas. The room is probably meant to house two people only. Seokjin actually laughs out loud, followed by Hoseok, albeit nervously. It’s - more than an itch under his skin. It actually feels like his insides are cooking the longer they all stand there. Toxic. It’s toxic for them all to be in the room like this.
“Fucked,” Yoongi says. “We’re fucked.”
It doesn’t get any better when Jeongguk arrives, still doe eyed and baby faced for everything he’s been through, reeking because new alphas always do. He smiles when Hoseok patiently leads him to the bed they picked for him - honestly, the best in the room, closest to the door, and Seokjin takes up the mantle of hyung who cooks, lest the whole group starve, so he makes Jeongguk as nice of dinner as possible for a celebratory meal for him.
Sitting down together for the first time, all seven of them, with the knowledge that this will be it - their backs so tense it hurts to try and relax or someone grinding their teeth so loud it keeps the rest of them up at night, the flaring of one set of hormones to compete with someone else’s hormones, a never ending saga that results in a headache for all - is a best case scenario. No matter what, they will fight their instincts tooth and nail for the next five years, if they are lucky.
And that's the best case scenario. No one wants to think about the worst case scenario.
Funny enough, for the first five years they think they get the best case scenario. It isn’t until they’ve signed their next contract and everyone makes it out of their teens that a new worst case scenario presents itself, and it’s nothing like what they could have prepared themselves for.
In school, all of his teachers and coaches told Namjoon he was brilliant enough to do whatever he wanted, no matter what. No matter his designation, is what they meant, and if Namjoon had been born just even a hundred years ago, maybe closer to his grandparent’s generation, that might have still been true. Now, he’s so lucky to have what he has. He’s the leader of an all alpha pop group, and not only are they successful - they’re successful to a point where they are staring down the face of redefining success. The kind of childish and far fetched dreams that only exist as jokes suddenly seem possible.
Namjoon put on a brave face for a long time. He can let it go now, try and actually be the person he pretended to be for so long, but there is never a moment that doesn’t feel tenuous. For as many people who are at least open to seeing them succeed, there are just as many who want to see them fail, and even if they’ve settled into their own dynamics over the years, there are still close calls.
It’s not easy to get over nature, and nature doesn’t promote so many alphas sharing their lives the way they have.
Alphas don’t share well. Old fashioned documentaries shown in schools always have that scene of alpha cavemen fighting over an omega, but in reality it has more to do with Jeongguk getting too possessive over his favorite snacks and Taehyung who doesn’t believe in boundaries. They go from light jesting to an all out brawl on the floor in the space of Namjoon blinking. Or there is the nature of scents, sacred to anyone once they present, but in a den of all alphas they can set each other off with the smallest change in fabric softener because someone doesn’t like it or someone has already “claimed it.”
It doesn’t matter how small the thing is. They’re all biologically primed to fight for it, and they do. In their first year post debut, Yoongi breaks one of Namjoon’s fingers when he slams a van door closed on him. Very purposefully, and Namjoon knows that because management just sided with his cut of one of their joint projects. Then there is Taeyhung and Jeongguk who take a bite out of each other’s arms when play wrestling gets too real. Even Seokjin yanks Jimin out of the kitchen and into a wall so hard that there is a distinct Jimin-shaped hole in it after.
But if they weren’t taking it out on each other, they’d be taking it out somewhere else, right? Or at least, that’s what everyone speculates. And maybe that’s true too. Namjoon doesn’t know. He’s not ever going to admit to anyone outside their group, but he craves the violence. They all can and do sometimes, in particular around a rut. With as many of them as there are, ruts are so frequent that it feels rare to have a week when not one of them is in it. They’re not exactly in a spot to just invite omegas over, not even omegas from services who specialize in such things. Before, they couldn’t afford it. Now, they can’t risk it.
So they use each other in different ways, if needed. They all go to the gym and let each other’s pheromones egg each other on, everyone’s scent spiking higher and higher trying to drown out the others. Yoongi tackles Jimin to the floor and makes him present before furiously scenting him. Jimin growls so much that he can’t do any vocal warm ups the next day.
The only time it turns too violent is when Hoseok announces he might leave. Even a room full of alphas can cry, but it’s mostly Jeongguk who does. He’s so distraught that Hoseok grinds his teeth so loudly that it haunts Namjoon’s nightmares for years to come, and when Jeongguk doesn’t stop crying he kicks in one of the walls (breaking multiple toes). Jimin and Yoongi both lose it - they try to keep a hand on each other, at first to support, but then the support they need is to hurt someone, and it ends up each other.
Hoseok ends up in the middle of a frenzy. It starts with Yoongi and Jimin, but when security comes to separate them, they’re all in it. A literal pile of alphas doing nothing but beating the shit out of each other, sent into a frenzy because one of them wanted to leave and it rackled every possessive trait in the rest of them. It’s exactly what the media would point to as prime alpha behavior.
Hoseok doesn’t leave. A couple of them keep scars of the night to remember it. They all went to the hospital and were sedated for twenty-four hours to come out of the frenzy. When fans ask of a night to remember, they have one answer - winning their first artist of the year award. When amongst themselves, they have another - the night they frenzied together. They recall it now with some mirth, some dread.
Hoseok did confide it was the most he’d ever felt loved though.
It’s easier now in some ways; they have more space now, more rooms between them. It’s still not what would be considered “optimal living” for them, but after they survived that first dorm room together, anything seems easy. They still throw each other around, they don’t hold back at first anymore even. If someone needs to have it out over choreo, they have it out and get on with it. In some ways, it feels like they were able to reach their success by giving into their alpha nature, but all the media and their fans praise them for breaking stereotypes.
So, Namjoon comes to terms with the fact he’s an alpha. Maybe he knew better than to wish to be one, but he didn’t come to the group with as much self hatred as Seokjin or Jimin did about their dynamic, or Yoongi who came with just as much self hatred but for all kinds of reasons. When Namjoon presented, he felt numb for as long as his body could allow it. It was the strangest thing, not being able to smell things you think you can, then smelling absolutely everything. A pulse pounding madness that dries out the mouth and tunnels the vision. An urge to lash out. An urge to bite.
Namjoon bites down on the back of Seokjin’s neck; he knows better than to do it while the other man eats, but Namjoon’s spent the day in meetings the rest of them didn’t have to attend.
“Yah!” he protests, noodles slipping from his chopsticks. Immediately, his scent unfurls into the room, burning Namjoon’s nose where it’s still buried in the hair on the back of his neck. When he doesn’t move, Seokjin growls. It’s so low, Namjoon feels it against his chest more than he actually hears it. “Joon-ah. You’re asking for it.”
Namjoon lets go and licks his neck, moving away. Abandoning his meal, Seokjin spins to pin the younger alpha down into the floor. “You need something, leader-nim?” Seokjin asks as dry as can be, but his hands scold him when they pinch and prod their way down his body. He snaps his teeth at him, and Namjoon snaps back.
When Hoseok and Jimin come home, they’re spread across the living room floor in two different states of undress, competing to see who can leave the most marks on the other in places the make-up noonas won’t find. The table has been knocked into enough times that most of the contents are on the floor with them.
“Oh. I don’t know if I want to watch or join.” Jimin grins. Hoseok sighs, looking extra tired and frayed around the edges. He wrinkles his nose as Jimin’s scent starts to rise towards the level of Seokjin’s or Namjoon’s.
“Leaving now. I don’t need this tonight.” Hoseok starts off down the hall. “Tae-ah! Hyung needs gentle socialization right now!”
Jimin giggles when a door opens and closes, sinking to his knees and prowling towards them. Currently, they’re at a standstill with their arms locked around their heads, both of them watching Jimin. When he slides in between them it’s effortless. When he bites down hard on Seokjin, harder than Namjoon had, it is not. It’s crimson.
Seokjin growls, and then it’s back on. The three of them writhing around, trying to land on top. Even if it still involves blood and bruises, the heat they bring between themselves is different. Evolved to suit their needs. They can’t take each other’s knots, but they can give each other a lot of release in other ways. And they do.
It doesn’t always happen. Just when they need it, although there is a sliding scale among them of who needs it more. Jimin is least likely to start anything, but he’s always happy to finish something with someone. His growls are different from Jin’s - airier, higher. Namjoon thinks he has trained himself to growl like that over time, maybe even with their vocal coach. Jimin, out of all of them, was the most surprised by his presentation, and still enjoys defying a lot of stereotypes about how he looks or sounds. His little mouth puckers around one of Namjoon’s nipples while Seokjin violently crashes their teeth together over his head.
“Jesus, the chorus of growling out here,” Yoongi yells, rounding the corner from the hallway into the living room. “Move the fucking orgy into one of your rooms so we can avoid another broken television.”
Jimin pouts. “It’s only a threesome currently. Wanna join and make it an orgy, hyung?”
Namjoon is about to be out of there if Jimin and Yoongi go at it. The last group sex activity he participated in with the two of them ended with one of his teeth loose. They really brought out - the best of each other? Or is it the worst?
From his vantage point he can actually see Hoseok crack open the door to Taehyung’s room and motion at him to come inside. Behind him, Seokjin snorts, the air blowing across the sting of fresh bruises.
“Nope.” Yoongi walks right past them into the kitchen for his drink, then turns heel and disappears back from where he came.
Shrugging, Jimin flops onto his back and onto Jin’s chest. He bats his eyelashes and pouts. “Mark me up, alpha,” he croons, high pitched and fake. Seokjin growls then latches on with his mouth, and Jimin can’t hold back his answering growl either.
Time heals all wounds. Namjoon has a bond with all of these alphas now. It’s a special bond between each and every one of them, and it’s a special bond between the seven of them as one. They’re not a pack, because they can’t exactly form a pack, but Namjoon taught Taehyung how to ride a bike when the younger boy was already nineteen, and Yoongi could literally finish any sentence for Namjoon now. There’s Jimin who he held at his first doctor’s appointment after they found out about his eating disorder, and Hoseok who taught him how to receive physical affection. Jeongguk, who Namjoon honestly believes shines brighter than any star, and Seokjin, who held himself together the longest while the rest of them fell apart at the beginning. He knows them all. Knows them in a way that others couldn’t quite understand, and certainly in a way that society says alphas don’t function.
It’s part of their success. They’re well aware of it, and proud of it too. While they’re not popular everywhere or with all demographics, they’ve built up a fanbase of people who want to see alphas succeed. It feels good. For once, Namjoon doesn’t have to be a contrarian. He can be a believer. He’s had to spout all kinds of messages of self love and acceptance for longer than he ever believed in any of it, but now he gets to. They did it.
Time heals all wounds, because if it doesn’t, then things fester and rot.
It is the most violent sucker punch Yoongi’s ever felt when it happens. Because - they should have known. Should have known something. They’re all brought up and taught the signs literally at the same time as they learn to read, because you never know when a big scary alpha might present and you need to be prepared if that happens. Alphas need to be restrained when they present. Omegas and betas can go home, can have the support they need, but alphas usually need a police escort or the presence of their strongest family members to subdue or lock them away until they learn how to control their new strength.
For Yoongi, it had been his employer and two other alpha employees. By the time he presented, he was in the city trying to make it happen already. He fought through the initial symptoms until it was too late, almost went into a frenzy when a customer asked why her delivery was so late. She called the restaurant who called his delivery manager and he came to drag Yoongi off her property and threw him in the cheapest hotel room he could find since the man didn’t know where Yoongi lived and he was nonverbal at that point. Took his paycheck for the month to cover the expenses for damage done to the room.
And everyone told him how lucky he was to have someone to do that for him.
Now, they have access to therapists where they’re supposed to make good with what nature and fate gave them. Too much energy. Too much strength. Yoongi doesn’t need to hide the fact he craves violence to make himself feel better, not in the way some of the other members do. Hoseok tried on this persona of the happy sunny alpha and now he’s stuck with it, or Taehyung and Jimin who get styled like little dolls half the time to undo - something. Yoongi isn’t sure what.
The worst is probably still Seokjin. From the day they met to now - it’s still the eldest that hates it the most. When someone asks him about it, Yoongi can tell Seokjin is honest when he says he can’t imagine being a beta or omega, but surely he wished for something else if he hates being an alpha this much. Yoongi still waits for some kind of sob story about it from his hyung; some kind of story about an alpha in his family that frenzied and killed someone or someone he knows who sits in jail because of a crime they did or didn’t do.
He expected it to be Namjoon, who hates it the most. Namjoon, their leader, so smart, all the potential in the world. Shoehorned into being an alpha. Somehow, he makes it work, or at least, it looks like it from the outside. He carefully polishes his looks to be academic, selects nerdy glasses and styles his hair more boyish than he probably likes. It works. Does Yoongi delight in it when he catches Namjoon wild eyed and panting when he gets the best of him and manages to pin him to the ground? Of course. Does he delight in seeing blood between his teeth when they all get too rough with the biting?
It’s his favorite.
Yoongi didn’t want to kiss any of them until the day Hoseok snapped and bit Seokjin hard enough to draw blood. It was the seven of them alone in a studio space back towards the beginning, and when Hoseok bit down he not only bit down hard enough to break the skin, but he did what he always does when he’s worked up - he ground his teeth. When Namjoon was able to pry him off of their hyung, Hoseok sat back still making that horrible gnashing sound. When he grinned quickly, sarcastically, Yoongi wanted to kiss him and taste all of that blood directly from his mouth. He knew it would taste different. Blood, mixed with alpha saliva. He wanted it.
Seokjin carries Hoseok’s dental record on him. Or, not - because the scar isn’t clean enough to tell it’s teeth, but technically Hoseok was the first to put a claim on someone like that. It’s not a claim claim - not a mating bite - but over time they wear the signs of each other as boldly as they can. It’s one of the things they can do that eases some of the alpha possessiveness.
They all know the signs, and they ignore them, because they don’t need to look anymore. Seven men. Seven alphas. They’re making it work. And they all go through periods where they need a break, where one of them retreats into themselves, or as much as they can when they do what they do.
But - Jeongguk retreats more and more. It happens over the course of a month, maybe two. Always tired. Always sore. Wants to sleep when they’re not working on something, and no one can get him to eat much at one time. There are alarm bells going off, that’s for sure, but no one could have planned for this.
Looking back, Yoongi remembers how quietly Jeongguk shifted away from every touch outside of the six of them. Even after his own manager merely clapped him on the back, Yoongi watched him scamper off and burrow up under Namjoon’s hood and stick his face there.
He thought Jeongguk was suffering from light sensitivity.
Or when Jeongguk asked for Namjoon’s hoodie right after that, he assumed he was just cold. He asked for the hat off Yoongi’s head while wearing their leader’s hoodie. “What’s up with Ggukie?” Taehyung asked, because it’s summer and Jeongguk looks ready for a frolic out in the snow.
No one realized he wore a turtleneck or mockneck every single day.
After back-to-back rehearsals for the upcoming leg of their tour, everyone feels on edge. Snips at each other turn into actual bites. Stumbling over footwork leads to pushing and shoving. The kind of posturing that everyone is used to. Most of the team politely ignores it, lets the group blow off steam when they need to.
But Jeongguk hangs back. When Seokjin steps on his foot multiple times during one sequence, it’s not Jeongguk who bites at their hyung, but Jimin. Jeongguk’s shoulders go in, and he cowers down.
Alarm bells.
“Gguk-ah. You alright?” Yoongi asks. Namjoon is busy keeping a hand on both Seokjin and Jimin, lest the next hour or two be totally derailed. Namjoon might have practiced patience over the years as their leader, but even he has his limits. His needs.
“Fine, hyung.” Even his voice sounds smaller in that moment. Taehyung pads up to them, swiping the tip of his nose up from the bottom of Jeongguk’s chin up to his hairline. It’s a visual display of scenting more than an actual scenting, and it’s something he started doing years ago when things started getting physical between him and Hoseok, who like Yoongi, was Taehyung’s breaking point.
It’s supposed to be a cutesy thing, something he even lets slip in front of fans and cameras sometimes. Everyone coos and calls it peak submissive alpha behavior - goals! - but behind the gentleness comes actions later. Usually. Now, Jeongguk winces and shifts away from Taehyung. The boy frowns.
“Gguk, you smell - ” he takes a deep audible breath in. Jeongguk shuffles further away, head down. Taehyung shares a look with Yoongi.
“Gguk-ah, forgive hyung for being slow on the uptake, yeah?” Seokjin says, ambling over to their group. Well, it was a cluster of them, but now Jeongguk is almost to the other side of the room. “Where’s he going?” Jin asks the two of them.
Yoongi shrugs. He watches Jeongguk slip out the door, the automatic light sensor in the hallway kicking on. “Beats me.” Taehyung playfully swats at him, like he always does when Yoongi says that. It’s a reflex now.
“Must not be feeling well still,” Taehyung adds, a devilish look in his eye that is decidedly focused on Yoongi.
“Still?” Jimin pipes up from across the room by the water station. “This has gone on too long. He needs to go to the doctor.”
“You try dragging that brat to the doctor when he doesn’t want to go.” Seokjin rolls his eyes.
“Want me to get him?” Namjoon pipes up from the floor where he stretches.
“Give him a minute.” Hoseok might be the one who needs it the most, face red and teeth clenched, even if they’re grinding.
The next day Jeongguk wears one of Taehyung’s delicate floral print scarves tied around his neck because they were requested to wear white tees for a filmed rehearsal and he can’t get away with another black turtleneck. “Experimenting with your personal style again, Gguk?”
The boy shrugs. God, when was the last time Jeongguk said something to him? It’s been - it’s been at least a few days. Has it been a week? Yoongi slides out of the kitchen and into Jimin’s room where the dancer is still getting ready. “When was the last time you talked to Jeongguk?”
“Uh, like five minutes ago, why? I told him I would be ready soon, and that they didn’t need to wait on me to take the first car.”
“But did he say anything to you?”
“Uh. No. He didn’t need to?” Jimin raises an eyebrow.
“I can’t remember the last time I heard his voice. Fuck. Not to be like dramatic about it, because it’s probably not been more than this week, but. Don’t you think that’s weird?”
Jimin thinks about it, lowering the brush in his hand. “I guess. But. He’s not been feeling well, right?” He shrugs. Jimin isn’t one to push people like that. Not emotionally, anyway. He’ll wait until someone wants to say it to him.
Yoongi growls lowly. Jimin tenses, because of course he has to, but the growl isn’t even about Jimin, so Yoongi leaves before they can get sidetracked. “Gguk-ah!”
Jeongguk sits in the kitchen, slumped over his coffee. Yoongi catches him startling when he calls for him. Hoseok raises an eyebrow at him from where he sits on the other side of their maknae, spooning at something in a bowl. “What’s going on?” Yoongi asks, effectively caging Jeongguk in when he positions himself on the other side.
Jeongguk lowers his head, bites his lip. He looks like he might untie that stupid scarf to hide his face in it. “You haven’t been well the past couple of weeks, yeah? Can you tell us more about it? Because it doesn’t seem like it’s getting better.”
Gguk flinches. Hoseok watches the two of them, peeking up over Jeongguk’s head at Yoongi. When Hoseok touches the boy’s back, he lets out a pathetic sound - some kind of whimper - and this time it’s Hoseok who flinches, reeling his hand back. “Ggukie?”
“This is ridiculous.” Yoongi’s trying to keep it all together, but they’re facing down a long day of many takes for something that won’t even be released for months. His voice rises. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
Jeongguk’s forehead rests against the kitchen bar top, that’s how low he cowers. His scent is - it’s doing something. For some reason, Yoongi can’t get enough of it to figure it out, especially not now. Jeongguk trembles, and Hoseok’s scent becomes dominant in the room, flaring out protectively, batting against Yoongi’s own agitated scent. Of course, they’re used to this. It’s usually Yoongi’s scent they’re all trying to smother down.
“Hyung,” Hoseok warns. Yoongi growls at him, and Hoseok growls back. Between them, Jeongguk whimpers again. It’s drawn the attention of Seokjin and Namjoon who hover closely on the other side of the kitchen.
“What are we tip-toeing around? If he needs help, we need to get him help. Jeongguk-ah, look at me.” Jeongguk’s head jerks up, as if connected by a string. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
The boy shakes his head. His eyes are full of tears, Yoongi realizes. Every time he whimpers, it feels like his blood pressure skyrockets. “Why are you making that noise?” We don’t make that noise, Yoongi thinks. He’s never heard Jeongguk make any noise like that.
Jeongguk shakes his head, but he doesn’t look away. He doesn’t blink either.
“Damn it, Gguk. Say something!” he yells.
“I’m so sorry, hyung, but I don’t know what’s happening and I just want to be left alone. I just want to be alone, oh god, I don’t know what’s happening and I feel so sick all the time. Please help me, but don’t touch me. When you touch me I feel like I might actually die and when you don’t touch me it feels worse. Oh god. I hate it. I hate myself. I can’t stand it. I think I know but I don’t know, and I just want it to stop. It doesn’t even matter how. Hyung. Hyung! P-p-please,” he voices beings to warble, but he’s speaking so fast that now Yoongi can’t understand what he’s saying. Jeongguk just keeps rambling on, not even pausing for a breath so he’s fizzling out on words. He still hasn’t blinked.
“Oh my god.” Hoseok looks like he wants to touch Jeongguk again, and Namjoon comes up behind Yoongi with his hands raised like he’s about to separate all of them.
Jeongguk is still blabbering. It’s hard to hear, both in the actual sense but also because it sounds so pitiful that Yoongi wouldn’t want to hear it from anyone, let alone Jeongguk. “Please make it stop. Please. I can’t do it myself, I need you to do it. Someone. Anyone. Make it stop! I don’t know. I don’t even know. Please!”
“Jeongguk!” Namjoon’s voice cuts like a knife. He could do it with a whisper or a shout. Now, it’s closer to the latter. “It’s okay, you can stop. Take a deep breath in.”
Jeongguk does.
“Hold it.”
He does.
“Now let it go.”
He does.
“Good. Now keep breathing in and out, nice and evenly.” Namjoon looks at Yoongi, baring his teeth. Great. He’s going to get it later, one way or another. “I think you’re having a panic attack. It’s going to be okay. Let’s just work on your breathing.”
Namjoon yanks Yoongi out of the chair and pushes him out of the way so he can sit with Jeongguk. Neither he or Hoseok touch their maknae while he hyperventilates.
“Something is wrong,” Yoongi says to no one, because no one is listening to him.
They postpone the filming for the next day; they’re lucky they have enough flexibility in their schedule to allow it, even if most of them still go in for other work. Hoseok stays home with Jeongguk following his panic attack, but he’s just sitting around. Jeongguk locked himself in his bedroom immediately after he could catch his breath and Hoseok hasn’t heard any sign of life since.
It should feel nice to have some time to relax, but instead Hoseok thinks of the others. Some running through dances, some in the studio for voice work. He gets up and rolls out his body in their living room, feet moving all on their own to a familiar tempo. Lets himself fall into it, lets himself think of nothing else but how perfect and precise all their movements will be on camera.
Hoseok’s feet stutter, skidding across the hardwood floor. There was a noise, but now he can’t hear it. He heard it though? It was something. He strains his ears for more, but nothing comes, and he wants to keep moving. It feels good to move, and he has nothing else to do, but his body feels uncoordinated in a whole new way that makes no sense given how freely and easy it felt just moments before.
Then, he hears it again. It’s - it’s the same noise Jeongguk made this morning. The whimper. A decidedly not alpha noise to make, although no one said that out loud, but they were all affected by it, Taehyung and Jimin running out of their rooms after Jeongguk stopped ranting. Even now, Hoseok feels like there is a string tethering him to the noise, his feet carrying him to the boy's door without any conscious decision making.
“Ggukie?” he tries to sound like his sunny persona, rapping at the door with his knuckles. He’s not sure how he feels after this morning; strange, for sure. Part of him wants to snap at Jeongguk like Yoongi did, because they have a schedule to keep and they’re professionals. Hoseok knows Jeongguk of all people can handle it. But then there’s this part of him that wants to coddle his maknae and give him the time they don’t have - a foreign feeling in many ways. Jeongguk doesn’t need Hoseok to coddle him.
That noise tells him differently. It’s faint, but there. Hoseok presses his ear up against the door. The more he can hear it, the more he feels the need to do something about it. That’s being a good friend, right? His heart beats faster listening to it. It physically hurts to hear it and not have Jeongguk in sight.
“Gguk. I’m coming in, alright?”
No response.
Hoseok tries the door, but it’s locked.
“Ggukie. Can you open the door?”
A broken cry. It sends a cold sweat down his back. Hoseok rattles the door handle. Fuck. “Jeongguk?” His heart feels like it might burst from his chest and with each beat Hoseok swears that his vision fades in and out with it. His mouth feels dry for a brief moment, then it floods with saliva. He’s suddenly very aware of how empty his canines feel, grinds them down to shut them up.
The shuffling and whimpering on the other side of the door dies down. Hoseok stills. What the fuck is going on? Why can’t Jeongguk just open the door and let him know he’s okay? He knows his scent is going a little haywire, but he can’t figure it out. If one of the others comes home right now, they won’t know what to do. Unofficially, there are times and scents when if you walk in on them, you have two options: join, or leave.
A loud bang and particularly loud whimper jostle Hoseok. The scent wafting from under the door is distressed, and it smells unlike anything Hoseok has ever smelled before. That has him going again. “Gguk, I’m coming in. One way or another.”
Rattling the door and waiting on Jeongguk isn’t working, so Hoseok takes a couple steps back and kicks it in. It gives easily - doors have to be reinforced to stop any average alpha, and it’s not something the company worried about since they were housing all alphas. They’ve even broken down a couple doors for fun for the years.
“...Gguk-ah?”
Inside the room, it’s dark. It doesn’t even look like the same room, because the bed is gone, or at least the frame is gone because it looks like the mattress is on the floor, along with what might be every blanket in Seoul, all gathered up and decorating not just the mattress but the floor around it.
It’s not just blankets though. Hoseok recognizes his scarf, one of his larger tees, not to mention a ton of clothing that doesn’t belong to either of them. Seokjin’s sweatpants. Namjoon’s jacket. There’s - a lot. It’s packed in there with the blankets and plushies and pillows and - oh. There’s Jeongguk. His head appears out of a lump of items, tears damp on his face.
“Jeongguk-ah?”
It hits him then. More of the scent. It’s so out of place that Hoseok struggles for longer than any alpha would in any other situation, but this is Jeongguk. Their golden maknae. An alpha for at least six years already.
But Hoseok’s nose is trained to cypher out hormones like any other alpha, and more than anything it’s made to sniff out omegas. “What the fuck?”
The scent is decidedly from Jeongguk, but it’s not Jeongguk’s scent. He can’t smell the Jeongguk he’s grown up with at all anymore. It’s hard to smell anything other than the culmination of the six other occupants of the apartment, all stuffed into one space, but he smells it. He was born to.
Sticky. Sweet. Omega.
Hoseok’s eyes fall to Jeongguk’s neck. It’s uncovered for the first time in weeks, Taehyung’s neck scarf trailing down his front. On the side of his neck, his scent gland is so large it protrudes and it’s violently red, like someone has been chewing it.
He’s walked into an omega’s nest.
He’s walked into Jeongguk’s nest.
It just isn’t possible.