Chapter Text
With the last of the lamps outside the tavern lit, Hoseok takes a second to catch his breath and take in his surroundings. Night is falling and the orange glow of the lamps matches the blazing sunset that spreads above the thatch and tile roofs of the lowtown and sparkles on the glimpse of the ocean visible beyond.
Hoseok loosens the sash holding his vest closed and plucks at the collar of his shirt, fanning himself a little and sighing in relief as the breeze cools his sweat-damp skin. The spring air is cool enough to make him shiver, but a welcome relief after being in the humid confines of the tavern for the last several hours — even despite the less than pleasant odors carried on the wind. Fresh ocean brine is fused with the stink of fish and waste, the smoke and grease of a hundred eateries just like the one he works for, and the sweat of the many bodies flooding the streets in search of entertainment after a hard day’s work.
Hoseok smiles and bows as a group passes him, heading inside to grab a table before the evening rush is in full swing. They’re flushed, sweat sticking their work clothes to their backs and their hair to their temples, and it takes effort for Hoseok not to wrinkle his nose as the intensity of their scents waft past him.
This oversensitivity is driving him mad. Any other time he wouldn’t be bothered in the slightest, but the symptoms of his latest heat still cling stubbornly to him. It’s been two days since he decided he had recovered enough to return to work. He’d normally be back to his usual self by now, but his senses are still elevated and his body still shaky and weak. He won’t spend the money to see a doctor and find out, but he’d bet they’d tell him this is just the consequence of experiencing a full heat for the first time in years. That said, he’d also bet that a doctor would tell him to rest until the side effects wore off, just as Jungkook keeps begging him to do.
He snorts quietly to himself, leaning his head back against the wall. Wouldn’t that be nice? Just thinking of sleep, and how many hours are left until he can crawl home at dawn to get some, makes his eyes sting with longing.
He doesn’t need a doctor to tell him he needs rest, just like he doesn’t need a doctor to tell him it’s unhealthy for an omega to skip heats, particularly more than one in a row. That’s common knowledge, and if the ferocity of his latest heat is the result of doing so, then Hoseok certainly sees why it’s warned against, but it doesn’t change anything. Only the wealthy can afford to go through a natural cycle every few months, and he’s as far from that as it gets.
Hoseok has been taking herbal suppressants for almost as long as he’s been presented as an omega. They’re of questionable reliability but cheap, and even if they’re rarely enough to suppress his cycle completely, the worst he ever has to deal with is missing a day or two of work. Most of the time his symptoms are mild enough that he can justify working right through them.
It’s not pleasant to struggle through his shift sweating and cramping and slicking up at the drop of a hat, but at least it comes with the upside of making better tips.
As his cycle approached this month, he’d prayed for one of those mild heats. After their rent was raised a couple months ago, it’s been a greater struggle than ever to scrounge up the funds to pay it without dipping too far into their food budget. They were managing, but he dreaded the thought of missing even a single day’s wages.
In hindsight, he’d happily have taken one of the ‘bad’ heats he used to complain about. Instead, as if the gods sought not only to ignore his prayers but punish him for asking, he got a heat so severe it seemed his suppressants had failed him entirely.
He remembers only bits and pieces of it, snatches of lucidity amidst the pain and confusion and searing heat raging beneath his skin, but he can recall Jungkook crying and begging for permission to fetch a doctor, afraid the intensity of Hoseok’s fever would take his life if it spiked again. Hoseok was aware enough at the time to order him not to, though he has to admit looking back, at least in the privacy of his own head, that Jungkook was probably right to worry.
Even in the periods he was conscious and lucid for, Hoseok could barely move without assistance, and he knows he spent days unable to keep food down, sobbing and writhing in agony. Jungkook did his best to care for him, keep him cool and fed and hydrated, but his clothes definitely fit looser now, and he didn’t have any weight to spare to begin with.
Rather than one or two days, he was horrified to discover that he lost a whole week to the pain and delirium, and his body is still suffering the effects. Maybe he’s lucky to have pulled through it at all, he thinks with a grimace, but he was fine in the end, wasn’t he? And these lingering symptoms are going away too, albeit slowly.
Really, the greater horror is that he lost seven whole day’s wages. To have wasted money on a doctor on top of that…
Hoseok’s stomach turns at the thought. No, he made the right choice. Rent is due in a little over a week. He’s picked up as many extra shifts as he can between now and then to make up for the lost time and it’s going to be enough, but only just.
Next month, surely, he’ll be able to appease Jungkook’s worries and take a little time to rest.
Until then, there’s work to be done.
Hoseok takes one last gulp of the night air and then swipes his wrist under his nose, letting his own citrus and brown sugar scent take the edge off everything else. Then he adjusts the collar of his blue work vest, tightens the sash around his waist, and heads back inside.
The noise and the air inside the tavern hits him like a thick, humid wall, making Hoseok sway a little on his feet before powering onward. He stoops to gather up the dirtied dishes on an emptied table and grits his teeth against the wave of dizziness that threatens to buckle his knees when he stands back up. He has to use both hands to steady his tray and keep his grip from shaking as he weaves his way out of the dining room.
“Hoseok!”
The harsh bark of his name over the din of the kitchen makes him jolt and nearly drop the whole tray into the dish sink. The dishwasher gives him a wide-eyed, worried look as she scrambles to help him steady a stack of cups.
Hoseok flashes her a sheepish smile before turning and spotting his boss poking her head around the doorframe. “Yes, Ma’am?” Hoseok says, suppressing the urge to wince and trotting over with the brightest expression he can muster.
His boss eyes him with a critical frown, and maybe even a hint of concern. Hoseok must truly look a mess for that to show through the old beta’s gruff exterior. “You took your sweet time out there with the lanterns.”
This wince is harder to suppress. “Sorry, Boss. I was just catching my breath. It’s warm in here.”
“You said you were ready to be back. Don’t make me regret scheduling you.”
“I’m fine, Boss. Honest.” Hoseok stands straighter, ignoring the protest of his aching muscles. “Happy to get back to work.”
“Hm.” She eyes Hoseok for a moment longer, nose twitching, before shaking her head. “Table four’s order is up. Jiyoung put it in while you were outside, but they’re requesting you. Don’t keep them waiting.”
Hoseok bows and scurries away. He lets his mind race ahead while he loads up his tray with bottles of liquor and plates of kimchi and fried seafood, wondering which of his regular patrons might be asking for him. He’s thankful for all of their attention of course, since it means better tips, but it also means more work to satisfy them. He’s been doing this job for years and he’s good at it, knows how to toe the line of flirty and welcoming without getting the customer’s hopes up too high, but it’s still tiring to smile and play along when he’d rather be doing anything else, anywhere but here.
The group that greets him at table four come most nights of the week to unwind after working at the docks. They always consist of three alphas and a rotating handful of betas — two tonight, and both seem to be flirting with the taller of the two male alphas. The female alpha, Soyoon’s, omega mate has tagged along tonight too, preening while she noses affectionately behind his ear.
They all make a habit of asking for Hoseok when they come to the tavern, but it’s the shorter male alpha with the close-cropped hair and scruffy beard who’s taken a real shine to him, always flirting and jokingly propositioning him while his companions tease him and cheer him on.
Wonsik is one of the more harmless flirts Hoseok deals with, as well as the most persistent. His eager excitement and appreciative gaze is a little flattering, usually, but tonight it takes all of Hoseok’s energy just to summon up a carefree smile.
“Hoseok-ssi!” Soyoon calls out when she spots him. They’ve started drinking already, and the rowdy bunch all turn to him with bright eager eyes — Wonsik most of all. “You’re back!”
“We missed you last week,” Wonsik says, grinning up at him while scooting over to make room for Hoseok at his side. “I was worried you’d found a new job.”
Hoseok smiles and shakes his head, kneeling down to set the dishes out on the table. “And leave my favorite patrons? Naw, of course not. I just needed a little personal time off.” Wonsik leans towards him, hand resting predictably between Hoseok’s shoulder blades. Habit has Hoseok turning his wrist out as he works, letting his scent be stirred up subtly by the swish of his wide sleeves.
Or it would be subtle, on a normal night.
Everyone around the table reacts as they inhale, eyes snapping to him in surprise and knowing interest. Hoseok closes his eyes and curses himself mentally for forgetting.
Wonsik’s hand twitches and then slips down toward Hoseok’s waist. He toes the line of propriety as he leans in to take a closer sniff. “Oh,” he says, voice dropping into a lower, rumbling bass register. “I see. You… must have had a hard time.” The other male alpha and the betas all snicker at Wonsik’s reaction, but he doesn’t pay his friends any mind. His eyes are dark and focused, a flush deepening on his cheeks when Hoseok reluctantly glances his way.
Hoseok clears his throat, feeling his own skin flush with embarrassment. Wonsik wouldn’t be the first to comment on the sweetened scent of heat still clinging stubbornly to his skin, and the lack of a partner’s scent on him would be just as obvious. He smiles and uses the excuse of topping up everyone’s drinks to slip out from under Wonsik’s arm. “Oh, I managed just fine. You needn’t worry ‘bout me.”
“You look tired.” Wonsik frowns. “You should join us for a bit. Rest, have something to eat.”
“Yes,” Soyoon agrees, eyeing Hoseok up and down with pursed lips. “You’ve lost weight, you poor thing. We’ll flag another server down and order more food.”
Hoseok smiles to hide the way their words make him bristle. Sometimes he enjoys the effect he can have on alphas and betas. Being able to capture attention and direct it where he wants with a gesture or a calculated projection of his scent is one of the few perks of being an omega, but having his body work against him like this is a nightmare. Yes, he’s made far better tips than usual in the last couple days, but the pushy way his alpha and many beta patrons insist that he needs this or should do that sets his teeth on edge.
He can take care of himself. Always has. One rough heat doesn’t make him some weak, wilting flower in need of rescue.
“That’s sweet of you,” he says, “but you know I can’t stay. My other tables won’t serve themselves, and I don’t get paid to socialize.”
“You could, though,” Wonsik blurts, eyes dark and warm as they linger on Hoseok’s mouth and the curve of his neck. “If that’s the issue, I’d happily pay your boss to enjoy the pleasure of your company a little longer.”
“As tempting as that sounds, I’m afraid you’d have to visit a different kind of establishment for that kind of service,” Hoseok says, tempering the rejection with a smile and a brief touch to Wonsik’s arm.
“I don’t mean anything untoward. I mean, not that I wouldn’t be interested if you… Um.” Wonsik flushes darker, shooting a glare at his friends’ amusement. “I just think you should be allowed a break. A sweet thing like you shouldn’t be working so hard.” He takes another deliberate inhale and frowns, glances across the dining room. “Especially at a time like this. Maybe we should speak to your boss.”
“No. Thank you, but I promise I’m fine.”
“I don’t think Hoseok-ssi needs us interfering with his job,” Soyoon’s mate says. He catches Hoseok’s eyes with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure he knows his own limits…” Hoseok would feel more grateful to the man if he sounded more confident, but there’s concern written over his face too while he looks Hoseok over.
Wonsik puffs his chest out a little indignantly as he addresses the other omega. “If you were in that position, out for a whole week without Soyoon-ah to help you, then forced back to work when you still smell like you’re—”
“Wonsik-ssi, please,” Hoseok interrupts, voice as strained as his smile. “I’m in fine health, and nobody’s forcing me to be here.”
Wonsik’s hand comes back up to Hoseok’s back, kneading gently at the tense muscles in his shoulders. “I’m just saying that someone should be taking care of you. Clearly, you’ve had a hard time on your own.”
Soyoon snorts. “And who’s this ‘someone’, Wonsik? You?”
Wonsik laughs and shrugs. His gaze is still heavy with want when he looks back at Hoseok. “Why not? You deserve to be spoiled, and I make alright money. I’d happily pay for your company after hours. Your boss doesn’t need to know, if you think she’d have a problem with it.”
“Are you sure you could afford to have him to yourself with your ‘alright money’?” Soyoon teases before Hoseok can pull together a response. “If Hoseok-ssi was looking for an arrangement like that, he could charge quite a bit.”
“You remember how steep the prices were at that brothel on the corner of Sail and Fourth, don’t you?” one of the betas chimes in, eyeing Hoseok up and down. “And he’s way prettier than most of the omegas I saw there.”
Soyoon gives Hoseok an appraising look, ignoring her mate’s mortified “Noona!” and the elbow he nudges into her side. “She’s right. Honestly, Hoseok-ssi, you could make a killing even if you only worked a few nights a week. Hell, I think they’re even hiring.”
The other alpha rumbles his agreement, but smirks at Wonsik. “Aw, you’ve gone and dashed poor Wonsik’s dreams.”
Wonsik frowns but shrugs his shoulders. “I can share,” he says, then reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind Hoseok’s ear. His gaze is heavy. It takes all of Hoseok’s willpower to stop himself from slapping his hand away. “But maybe you could let me be first in line?” Wonsik suggests with a toothy smile. “You know, since I’m already one of your favorite customers.”
There’s a certain amount of handsiness that comes with being an unmated omega in this job. Thankfully, his boss is a pretty decent woman and doesn’t let things get too far, but Wonsik is pushing the boundaries of what touch the tavern allows. Even more so when he lowers his hand to rest on Hoseok’s thigh instead. And the other male alpha, and even the betas, look tempted to get their hands on him next.
Hoseok laughs awkwardly, pulling away and getting quickly to his feet. Jiyoung, one of the other waiters, catches Hoseok’s eye from a few tables away, eyebrows raised in question. He gives her a subtle shake of his head.
“I’m flattered,” Hoseok says, “but I’m not looking for a career change right now.” His smile and tone are flat enough that they should easily give away his insincerity, even with his scent as reined in as he can keep it, but none but the other omega (who looks like he’d happily sink through the floor) seem to pick up on it.
“If you change your mind, let us know,” Wonsik says, eyes on the cinch of Hoseok’s sash around his waist. “I’d be good to you.”
Hoseok walks away without a response, the hot rush of his annoyance acting as fuel enough to override the shakiness of his limbs.
As expected, Jiyoung swoops up to his side a moment later and follows on his heels while he clears emptied tables. “I was eavesdropping,” she says, undeterred by his obvious efforts to ignore her, then rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Alphas… No shame.”
“They’re harmless. I’m fine.”
“Sure.” She follows him to the next table too, clearly preparing to say something more. He can tell by her hesitation that he’s not going to like it. “But, you know…” she says, “they’re not actually wrong. You could make good money.”
Hoseok scoffs. “Come on. You too?”
“And we both know you need money. You’ve practically been living here since your rent went up.” She clicks her tongue. “Honestly, the way you’re working, it’s like you’re trying to pass for a beta.”
“That’s a stupid stereotype and you know it.”
“Yeah, well. You could stand to be a more stereotypical omega for once. Let someone give you a hand making ends meet.”
“I don’t need help,” he grumbles, dumping the dirty dishes and then heading back out to the dining room. Her soft honeysuckle scent follows him.
“You do. And if they give you a knot while they’re at it, even better! Your heats wouldn’t be so brutal if you had someone to get you through them. Your mood might improve too.”
Hoseok scowls at her, shakes his head and hustles off to take another table’s order. She lets him go, but he’s not surprised when she finds the opportunity to catch him alone again before long.
“You know I’ve done it myself a few times when money was tight,” she says, dropping down at his side to pretend to help him clean a table. “Not brothel work, but one on one stuff with customers I trust. It’s really not such a bad exchange. I can give you tips on how to do it safely, but Wonsik seems like a decent enough sort if you want to start there. I’ve never heard anything bad about him, anyway.”
“I’m not that desperate, Jiyoung,” he grumbles. He scrubs a dried spill off the table’s surface before he finally registers her silence. Her eyes are narrowed when he looks up at her. He winces. “Not that I— I don’t think less of other people doing it, of course!” He hurries to assure her. “I’m just…” —scared. He gulps. “Just not interested in casual sex, paid or otherwise.”
She goes abruptly from looking offended to appalled. “Oh gods.”
“What?”
“Don’t tell me you’re a romantic? Hoseok, you do nothing but work! When do you think you’re going to fall in love?”
He shrugs and looks quickly away. Her extended, stunned, silence feels overdramatic, but still makes him feel hot all over with embarrassment.
“Well…” she says finally, “how can you be sure Wonsik or one of your other regulars isn’t your true love? Maybe you should give them a shot to be sure. A paid shot, of course. And then worst case, if it doesn’t work out, you don’t walk away empty handed.”
“I’m pretty sure I’d know by now if I had any interest in them. I’m also pretty sure none of them are looking for love.”
“You can’t seriously plan to wait for the right person to come along. You’ll be waiting forever!” she says, exasperated. “And what’s even the point? You don’t even need to worry about getting pupped, and it’s not like it would hurt your future mating prospects. Lots of people find mates by starting out physical first and letting the feelings come later. It’s normal. Chaste courtships are only the standard in childish romance tales. I doubt even the nobles really abide by that stuff!”
“I appreciate your concern,” he says, completely lacking the energy to hide the way her words have struck a nerve, “but I’m not talking about this anymore. Whether or not I find a mate someday is my business to worry about, alright? I don’t want to sleep with someone I barely know for money, and I don’t need to. I’m managing just fine the way I am.”
She very clearly doesn’t believe the last part of his statement, but he’s relieved that she seems to accept the rest — at least enough to let him go with an exasperated sigh instead of an argument.
xXxXxXx
Seokjin keeps his eyes turned out the window of the carriage, letting the breeze flutter through his hair and the sounds of the city wash over him to fill the silence of the carriage’s interior. The rest of the world blurs by, out of focus, and Seokjin counts the streetlamps whose glow they pass in and out of to distract himself from the urge to fidget.
Taehyung at his side, spinning the peach carnation previously pinned to his lapel back and forth between his fingers to the point of mangling the poor thing, is doing more than enough fidgeting for the both of them.
Father sits across from them both and looks out the opposite window. He hasn’t said a word since they left the dinner party, but there’s no doubt that he’s in a mood. He sits with impeccable posture, shoulders back. Strong. Confident. His expression would seem neutral but for the pinch around his eyes and slight crease between his brows.
That, and the meaningful look he’d fixed Seokjin with while they waited for the footman to open the carriage door. A look that promised we’ll talk later. Wonderful.
Seokjin would almost rather be surprised by the lecture than be made to wait in suspense for it. Though, at least this way he has time to prepare his response.
While he thinks, he straightens his own shoulders to better mirror his father’s posture and is sure to keep his own expression arranged into something bland. Disinterested. Bored, even. He’s certainly not bothered by disappointing his father, particularly when he knows he’s not in the wrong.
Well. Not on one count, anyway.
His fingers twitch, drumming once on his knee, but he sees Father’s gaze flick to the movement from the corner of his eyes and forces them still again.
The evening's dinner party had been a miserable affair from the start, with all the guests one-upping each other, blatantly scheming or schmoozing or sliding poorly-veiled insults into the dressing of every comment. A usual night out in the high town, in other words, and precisely why Seokjin is glad to rarely be invited to these things. Taehyung being out this season has changed things, however. Seokjin has had to endure more social engagements as his chaperone these last couple months than he has in the last three years combined.
The rumor that Taehyung was already promised to someone had started circling shortly after he was introduced as eligible at the start of the season. It was as of yet unconfirmed, and Taehyung was still making public appearances as if he was searching for a mate, but it was plain for all to see that it was a formality. He hadn’t given out a single flower thus far, nor called on any of the suitors who had gifted him one.
The rumors also said that his would-be mate was the youngest son of the Gangneung Kims' clan leaders, which was... partly true. An initial, tentative agreement had been made, encouraged by the king himself, but that was several months ago. Now, they were almost halfway into the season and the Gangeneung boy was still mysteriously in the wind, not yet returned from studying abroad despite the fact that he'd graduated nearly a year ago, and the boy's family had yet to offer anything more than vague excuses for the delay. They seemed to be going out of their way to avoid a conversation about it, to the point that they'd even drawn the curiosity of the general public.
No members of the Gangneung Kim clan were in attendance at the party, but the first house and its members had been brought up more than once as a popular topic to gossip about. They’d come to the city unusually late this year, attended almost no social engagements outside of the mandatory sessions at court — and even then, their appearances were brief. Clan leader Kim Nayeon was said to be recovering from an illness, but even if that were true it was no explanation for her mate’s or her heir, Namjoon’s, uncharacteristically reclusive behavior.
Father had ordered Seokjin weeks ago to seek Namjoon out the second he showed himself and… have words with him. It wasn't a task he was keen to carry out, and it was easy to put off with the excuse that Namjoon was nowhere to be found.
Unfortunately, the evening’s gossip revealed that Namjoon had been seen out on the town recently — information Seokjin had been aware of, but hadn’t felt the need to share.
He’ll be receiving an earful for that, no doubt. There’s no way around it. But at least he has a defense for the other charge against him.
Kang Hyojin’s attendance at the party, as the sole member of the mercantile class among members of the top three noble houses, was enough to irritate Father by itself —never mind that the shipping magnate had as much or more wealth than most noble houses. On another day, Seokjin wouldn't personally have thought much of her presence one way or the other. She was no friend of his, but she did business with their family often and he’d found her to be a tough negotiator but straightforward whenever he’d dealt with her. He’d had an important meeting with her earlier that week, in fact, but that was exactly why the sight of her there tonight made his stomach sink with dread. After his luck with the Namjoon reveal, he knew it was too much to hope that she’d avoid mentioning the details of the sale contract Seokjin had negotiated to his father.
That was information Seokjin had intended to pass on, if only the timing had worked out. Instead, Father had been away from the house for the near entirety of the last three days, either at court or keeping company with his business partners or the king himself. The only opportunity Seokjin could have used to fill him in on the outcome of his meeting with the magnate had been just before they left for the party, and he hadn’t wanted to set the tone for the evening by putting father in a foul mood.
Seokjin’s tempted to laugh at just how spectacularly that had backfired, but that wouldn’t earn him any favors right now. He presses his lips tightly together to hold back a smirk.
The carriage ride back to the townhome feels like it takes an eternity, and yet all too soon they’re pulling into the yard. The stablehand catches Seokjin’s eye as he steps out of the carriage, but a hard look and a pointed glance at his father is thankfully enough to send the boy scuttling away with his head down.
Taehyung leads the way into the building, keen to get out of there before the storm starts, and Seokjin wastes no time in following. Before the door closes, he hears Father pausing behind them to tell the driver he'll be leaving again shortly. Seokjin entertains a brief hope of slipping away, putting this conversation off for a day or two. Of course he's nearly out of sight at the end of the hall when the door opens again and his hopes are dashed.
“Seokjin. In my study.”
Seokjin comes to a reluctant halt, suppressing a sigh. Taehyung stops too but Seokjin shoos him off with a scowl before he can try to involve himself. Then he schools his face back into a bland expression, throws a dash of polite inquiry in too, just to push his luck, and turns around. “Did you want something, Father?” he asks, strolling into the study on his father’s heels.
Father shoots him a dark, unimpressed look, but doesn’t speak until the door is closed and a candelabra has been lit. He braces his hands on the desk, head hanging forward between his shoulders and face cast in shadow. “What I wanted," he growls, "was for you to resolve matters with Kang Hyojin.”
“I did,” Seokjin says, calm. “I’m assuming she told you the details of the agreement we came to?”
“It was quite an unpleasant surprise to hear, in the middle of dinner, that you’d agreed to pay such an exorbitant price in exchange for far less material than I told you we needed.” He lifts his head to fix Seokjin with a frown. “I trusted you to handle this.”
Seokjin takes a deep breath through his nose, clenching his hands together behind his back. “I assure you, there was no better deal to be made. Between the rising tariffs and the rumors a war might break out before the year’s end, Hyojin has decided the risk to her fleet is too great to continue trading with Erdhan. Sailing further afield means steeper prices and less available materials, but I pushed her as far as I could without her refusing to sell to us entirely.”
Father’s shoulders slump and he shakes his head, a curse tumbling out under his breath.
“It’s a setback, yes, but I’ve run the numbers and it should only slow our schedule by a few weeks. If we—”
“The king has commissioned us for another warship," Father cuts in, "with two more commissions likely coming in the next six weeks. We’ve also been in discussions about making updates and repairs to some of the existing fleet.”
Seokjin balks. “Father, we can’t agree to that. We’re pushed to our limit as is, and with the lumber shortage…”
“There’s a war on the horizon, Seokjin, and we’re staking our reputation on delivering what His Majesty needs to win it.” Father turns his face away, jaw clenched in silent frustration. “If Hyojin can’t pull through, we’ll find another way to get it done.”
Seokjin hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek. In the enclosed space of the study, his father’s scent is thick and bitter with the effects of stress, bleeding out of his usually iron-clad control. “Is it certain, then? The war?”
“Not certain, no, but that’s no reason to be complacent. It’s the largest force that wins in naval warfare. They should have started bolstering our fleet long before this.”
Father had said the same years ago when the king first floated the idea of building warships with similar speed and agility to the luxury cruiser their clan had built for them. They’d already begun doing military contract work for the crown in recent years, supplying horses from their best breeding stock and renting out land for construction of a barracks and cavalry training center, but the shipbuilding business had been smaller, focused on private and commercial work with a personal, artistic touch.
Seokjin’s father had been immediately enthused by the king’s idea, eager for the coin and prestige such a large royal commission would earn them. But Queen Min had objected. “It’s those with the flashiest swords who are most challenged to duels”, she had said. “We don’t need to paint ourselves as a threat to our neighbors”. The king, as always, had taken her lead and set the idea aside, and only returned to it after her passing.
“Erdhan has always been a loyal ally and our closest trading partner,” Seokjin says cautiously, “Are we certain the sudden growth of our military forces isn’t what’s provoking them? Has the king considered that?” Have you?
“Erdhan’s loyalty, like that of so many members of our court, belonged to her late majesty, not to the kingdom or its true ruler. Now, they see the instability wrought by her death as an opportunity to seize power. We need to be ready to do the same.” Father pauses, scrutinizing him for a long moment. Seokjin stands taller and holds his gaze. “It’s like I’ve always told you, everyone in this world is looking for a weakness to exploit, an edge to climb, a chance to gain from your misfortune. But you’ve never needed me to teach you that. You saw it for yourself after your mother died.”
Seokjin drops his gaze to the floor, but he pushes down the memories that try to rise up with ruthless precision. "Yes,” he says — a beat too late, but not colored by anger or grief.
Father sighs, shuffling some papers around on the desk. “For the lumber, we may have to turn to the other clans.”
Seokjin gathers himself behind a neutral mask and then lifts his head, clearing his throat. “None are selling. And if they were, I doubt we’d be anyone’s first choice. We haven’t earned many friends among them.”
Father scoffs and shakes his head, disgust written darkly over his face. “The other clans would rather see our kingdom unprepared for a war than see ours prosper. Fools, all of them. There's a reason we've earned the king's ear. When this is over, no one will look down on the Gwangsan Kim clan again. I promise you that.” He scowls into the distance a moment before suddenly focusing his attention back on Seokjin. “But you haven’t spoken to Kim Namjoon yet. Another thing I trusted you to take care of.”
Seokjin hesitates, thrown by the change of topic. “No,” he admits reluctantly, “but I will. He’s been difficult to track down. Avoiding me, I suspect... Do you think they’re getting cold feet? Planning to call it off?”
“This is nothing more than an insult. The king endorsed this match and they need to please him, but they’re using what little power they still have to disrespect us by dragging things out. Putting their pride before their sense.” He turns his scowl on Seokjin. “But if they are thinking of reneging on the deal, you’d best give Kim Namjoon a strong reminder that they’d not only be spitting on the favor King Youngho was gracious enough to extend them, but also making an enemy of the largest growing military power in the kingdom. Understood?”
Seokjin dips his head. “I’ll speak to him.”
“Urgently, Seokjin. Every day that passes is an insult to your brother and our clan.” He steps closer, claps a hand on Seokjin’s shoulder and looks into his eyes. “As someone who will be responsible someday for leading this clan, and perhaps more, I trust you will take that seriously.“
“Of course, Father,” Seokjin says, fighting to hold the intensity of his father’s gaze.
“Good. Bring me pride, not shame.” He nods, claps Seokjin’s shoulder hard, and then strides out of the study and off to who knows where. The palace, if Seokjin had to guess. Really, one can hardly blame their allies for thinking the king’s rule is weak. The man can’t go through the day without leaning on Seokjin’s father and other close confidants for constant reassurance that he’s making the right calls. And even then, those calls have led to riots in the streets and a country on the brink of war.
Seokjin puts out the lights in the study and takes a slow breath, packing away the nervous tension that settled into his shoulders over the course of the evening. It's a relief, finally, to be free of it all. Then he turns to leave the darkened room and startles to find he’s not as alone as he thought he was.
Taehyung is standing in the hall, frowning. He breaks into a brief smile at the way Seokjin jolts and curses, but his eyes stay worried. “Father was a bit intense tonight,” he says cautiously.
“Oh?” Seokjin rolls his eyes and brushes past him, heading down the hall to the drawing room. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Taehyung doesn’t laugh, but he follows him inside. Seokjin makes straight for the drink cart to pour himself a glass of liquor, but he watches from the corner of his eye as Taehyung throws himself down upon one of the couches in an artful sprawl and fixes an expectant stare on the side of Seokjin’s head.
Seokjin ignores him, taking his time to return the stopper to the bottle, settle onto the couch opposite his brother, and savor the first sip of his drink.
“Well?” Taehyung prompts eventually. “What was he upset about?”
Seokjin takes another leisurely sip before answering, dryly, “The price of lumber.”
Taehyung’s handsome face falls into a pout. “Hyung,” he whines.
Seokjin doesn’t bother to fully repress the smirk tugging at his mouth — especially when it turns Taehyung’s expression even more disgruntled. There’s twelve years between them, and their family had mostly clawed its way out of the near destitute state their grandfather’s gambling and poor investments had left them in by the time Taehyung was old enough to remember anything, but the other noble houses still had plenty of prejudice against them even so, and Taehyung had his own trials to face growing up as the clan leader's bastard.
It has forever been a mystery to Seokjin, how his half-brother managed to hold onto this unguarded, childlike side of his personality. He's nearly as open, heart on his sleeve, now as he was when he was a pup with perpetually grass-stained knees and ears too big for his head. Still as much of a pain in Seokjin’s neck, too.
Taehyung squints at him, brows scrunched up. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”
“I’m not, actually. It’s what he was talking with the merchant about over dinner.”
“Oh.” Taehyung’s frown deepens and he looks down at his hands in his lap. That boyish innocence fades into something more reserved — worn down in a way that feels so out of character. Wrong. It sets Seokjin’s teeth on edge. “I thought… He didn’t say anything about what’s going on with the Gangneung Kims, did he?”
Seokjin tilts his glass back and forth, considering whether to answer at all. “Nothing new,” he settles on. “Nothing that concerns you.”
Taehyung’s eyes narrow at that, sharp with anger. “It concerns me more than it does you. What did he say?”
“Eavesdrop better next time if you want the details.” Taehyung glares at him, completely without amusement, but Seokjin stands and makes for the door before he can argue with him about it. “It’s late. Get some sleep. We—” he breaks off, coming to a stop at the sight of a figure lurking just outside of the room.
“Sorry, sorry!” the stablehand yelps. “I was about to knock. Is… now a good time, my lord? I, um, have a report for you.”
“A report? What kind of report?” Taehyung asks, peeking over Seokjin’s shoulder. The stablehand looks between the two of them with wide, anxious eyes.
Gods above. This night just won’t end. Seokjin heaves an irritated, defeated sigh, ignores the way it makes the stablehand flinch, and then beckons him in. “Fine.” He swings the door closed and then gives the young man his attention. “Tell me.”
“Um, the kids I got watching Kim Namjoon checked in with an update. He’s gone out with some friends tonight.”
The intrigued light in Taehyung’s eyes dims. “Oh.”
“Well, I mean, I assume they were friends?” the stablehand babbles. “Rich folk around the same age, anyway. The kids didn’t give me names or nothing like that.”
Seokjin scowls and waves a hand to cut him off. “I don’t care who he’s with. Where did they go?”
The stablehand winces. “The lower city again,” he says reluctantly. “Same alehouse as the last time.”
Seokjin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Because he knows I’m not going to follow him down there. You’re sure those urchins aren’t getting caught tailing him?”
“I don’t know, sir. They swear he hasn’t seen them.”
“Well they would say that, when they’re getting paid to tell me the same thing every damn time.”
“What’s this all about?” Taehyung interrupts. “Does Father want you to speak to him about… everything?”
“Threaten him, more like,” Seokjin grumbles, “but yes.” The rules of high society were a ridiculous dance of lies and masks. Father could only say so much, clan leader to clan leader, without the public crying about propriety and decorum, but no one would bat an eye at insults or threats exchanged between the children of the first houses. It was fairly common for disputes to be settled this way even if it was obvious to everyone they were acting on their parent’s behalf.
“Well, are you going?”
Seokjin turns his scowl on his brother. What a ridiculous question! “Obviously not.”
Taehyung has the audacity to roll his eyes at him. “The lower city’s not some cesspool, you know. If you dress simple enough to blend in and keep an eye on your coin purse it can be fun! More real than the uptight way things are done up here.”
“If I could avoid the high town’s social functions, I’d skip them too.”
“You already do, most of the time. Come on, Hyung,” Taehyung wheedles, nudging him. “It’s not like you’d have to stay long anyway, right?”
Seokjin presses his lips together and glares at his brother’s wide, pleading eyes. His skin crawls, prickly all over and hot behind his ears, and he drums his fingers on his hips to try and shake a little of it off. “Fine,” he snaps, wheeling around to address the stablehand again. “Give me the name of the alehouse.”
“Um, well that was where he went earlier. Hours ago. But my guys said they usually end up at The Knot after, so…”
Seokjin can’t keep his lips from curling back in distaste. “Dismissed,” he snaps, tossing the young man a gold coin and gesturing sharply to the door. “Don’t bother reporting back unless he goes somewhere more civilized.”
The stablehand scurries off and Seokjin turns away from the door with a disgusted noise. If he ever manages to corner Kim Namjoon, he’ll be hard pressed not to kill him.
Taehyung is clearly gearing up to say something, biting his lip to hold back his amusement, so Seokjin shoots him a warning look. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Maybe it would be good for you! You can de-stress a little and get Father off your back.”
“Why are you on my back about this? I thought you’d want to put this off more than anyone.”
Taehyung’s amusement fades. He shrugs. “I just want to know what’s going on, one way or another. Besides, if they’re getting cold feet, maybe you showing up and being all…” he waves a hand generally at Seokjin’s face, prompting him to frown harder, “will be enough to scare them off.”
“Unlikely. His family needs this deal more than we do. Not that you'd know it from the way they’re acting.”
“Or the way Father’s acting.”
That’s true, Seokjin has to admit. It was strange to push for an arranged mate for Taehyung in the first place, given his illegitimacy, but even more so when father got the king involved to pressure the Gangneung Kims into agreeing. Seokjin had thought it either a grab for more power or, more likely, an elaborate way of insulting a rival house. It revealed how desperate they were for the king's favor, after all, that the Gangneungs would agree to marry one of their precious children to the bastard child of a house they'd always treated as beneath them.
Father’s urgency to have the arrangement solidified is odd, though. It’s plain to see that he grows more and more stressed the longer the Gangneungs put them off with inane excuses. Seokjin frowns to himself and makes a mental note to take a closer look at it all.
“Has he been giving you a hard time?” Taehyung asks.
Seokjin blinks, refocusing, and finds Taehyung peering up at him with concern. “No. And trust me, I’d rather sit through a hundred lectures than venture into that place alone.”
“Take someone with you, then.”
“Who, you? Father would have my head.”
Taehyung shrugs, examining his nails with obviously false nonchalance. “You could ask Yoongi-hyung to come into town next time. He’d back you up.”
Seokjin sighs. “No. He has work to do, recruits to train. I’m not dragging him away from his post to accompany me to a brothel.” He shakes his head and makes for the door, ignoring the pout returning to Taehyung’s face. “Namjoon will get sick of slumming it eventually.”
“Yoongi-hyung would come if you asked him. He can take one night off, sleep here, and then go back in the morning. Hyung, please?”
“He’s busy, Tae.”
“He’s choosing to be,” Taehyung snarls.
The sharp tone brings Seokjin to a halt in the doorway, and he looks back at the dark look on Taehyung’s face, the way his eyes shine with anger and hurt and childlike defiance. His scent matches, spilling out uncontrolled around him. Seokjin feels for his brother, but Yoongi is the closest he has to a friend outside of his kin, and Seokjin understands his position too. “Taehyung-ah,” he says, stern, but with as much gentleness as he’s capable of expressing. “That’s his choice to make.”
The words still seem to strike Taehyung like a blow to the chest. His shoulders curl inward. His jaw stays clenched with anger, but his lips wobble as he looks away.
Seokjin leaves before the first tear can fall.
xXxXxXx
Hoseok is leaning against the wall in a quiet, out of the way corner of the dining room and trying not to count the minutes until he can go home when— “I’ve got a cousin in a village out west who’s part of a pack,” Jiyoung announces, appearing seemingly out of nowhere and nearly scaring Hoseok out of his skin.
“W-what?” Hoseok splutters, clutching at his racing heart. It takes a moment to process her words. “Okay? Good for them?”
“It’s around a half day’s ride from here,” she says, looking at him with unnerving intensity, surprisingly alert considering the late hour of the night. Or early morning, depending on how you look at it. “They’ve got a little farmstead going on a decent sized plot of land. Nothing fancy, but it’d be a roof over your head.”
Hoseok blinks at her. “Over my head? You want me to join your cousin’s pack?”
“You’d have to work to earn your keep of course, but I’d put money on it being easier than what you’re doing now.”
“Uh, thanks, but no.”
“Don’t just say no, you stubborn ass. Think about it! Packs support each other, work together as an extended family. It would be good for you.”
“I’ve got all the family I need,” Hoseok says. “And aren’t packs all about instincts and natural compatibility, or whatever? I can’t imagine any decent pack would want to take in a total stranger.”
“I’d vouch for you, obviously. How are you with pups? The pack omega —the only omega— is expecting a litter of at least three in about a month’s time. I’m sure she’d be thankful for another omega’s help once the pups are born.”
“You know I’ve already got a big pup at home to look after.”
She rolls her eyes. “He’s grown, and an omega too, isn’t he? He could come with you.”
“He’s got his scholarship at the arts academy. He can’t leave the city, and I’m not going anywhere without him.”
“Well, you’ve got to do something!” She catches his sleeve as he tries to slip past. “Maybe take a night off and come out dancing with me and my friends. They might know some unmated people to introduce you to. You’re mostly into alphas, right?”
He can’t afford to take time off anytime soon, and if he did there are a dozen more important things he should be doing than going out to dance, but her scent in these close quarters finally registers to him when he inhales to turn her down. He squints at her, confused by the bitter tinge of stress in her normally soft, floral scent. “What’s this really about?” he asks, suspicious. “You’ve never been so invested in my love life before.”
She glares at him. “I’m ‘so invested’ because we all thought maybe something awful had happened to you when you were gone for so long. And when I went by your place to find out, your nestmate was distraught and you were… You looked bad, Hoseok. It scared the hell out of me.”
He grits his teeth, embarrassment scorching his skin and turning his gut at the thought of being seen like that when he was too out of his mind to even know she’d come by. “I… my suppressants failed,” he argues, avoiding her gaze to look over the emptying dining room instead. Closing time can’t come soon enough. “It’s not usually that bad.”
“Obviously not! I don’t think you could survive going through that every few months.”
“Well, it won’t happen again. I’m going to talk to my herbalist about getting something stronger.” Of course something stronger will cost more, so that will have to wait until next month too. At the earliest.
“Even if your suppressants work perfectly from now on, you’ve got to realize that you’re burning yourself out, surviving on sheer stubbornness alone. I just don’t see how you can keep this up without help. I definitely don’t know how you expect to fall in love with someone while you’re working yourself ragged every hour of the day. I mean, do you seriously think some dreamy alpha out of a fairytale is gonna appear in this dump and whisk you off to be their mate?”
Hoseok frowns down at his feet, all too aware of how exhausted and rundown he looks. Jiyoung is right. He’s being foolish, clinging to this one last childish dream, but knowing that doesn’t make it easier to let go.
She sighs when he doesn’t respond. “You’re pretty, Hoseok, but you’ll have to lower your standards if you don’t want to work yourself into an early, lonely, grave.”
xXxXxXx
The sky is lightening from pitch black to a deep royal blue by the time Hoseok begins dragging his weary body along the mucky streets between the tavern and his tiny, overpriced den.
It would be safer, especially as an unmated omega, to wait and walk home when the sun is up like he knows Jiyoung tends to do, but that would mean sacrificing some of the precious little sleep he has time for. Besides, there’s always some safety in numbers. In this district the city is never quiet, but the crowds at this hour are a mixture of two extremes.
Most of the people are workers like himself, stumbling home after long night shifts with aching bodies and tired minds. But there are also urchins and criminals huddled on street corners, watching him warily or hungrily as he goes by with his coin purse carefully tucked out of sight beneath his vest.
And then there are the rowdiest people, the drunkards still reluctant to call it a night, laughing and singing with their friends without a care for the hour. The patrons of the brothels and gambling dens join the ruckus with varying degrees of sobriety. Some jostle into Hoseok as they stagger past, eyes lingering on occasion when they catch his scent.
It’s nerve wracking, yes, but he’s never had any real trouble, and he’s careful to stay alert no matter how tired he is.
Tonight, he’s halfway home when he’s struck by the sudden and uncomfortable feeling of being watched. When he looks around for the source of the feeling, he’s startled to see a large, muscular man standing stock-still in a small crowd across the street, eyes fixed unerringly on Hoseok’s face. The man’s clothes are unembellished but clean and neatly tailored, clearly someone with money coming down to the slums for the entertainment. The man’s friends are dressed similarly, all of them chatting and laughing, drunk and loud and not yet aware that their companion has his focus turned elsewhere.
Under other circumstances, Hoseok might be pleasantly surprised to have caught the eye of such a wealthy and strikingly attractive man, but the unsettling intensity in the stranger’s wide eyes sends fear shooting down Hoseok’s spine instead, freezing him momentarily in place.
For a moment they hold each others’ stares, and then the stranger’s shock melts into something dark and fiery. Rage. Hoseok’s heart leaps into his throat as the man suddenly shoves past his friends and starts striding quickly across the street. His friends cry out in surprise and confusion, but he ignores them, his blazing stare focused on Hoseok alone.
Hoseok bolts. His pulse pounds in his ears along with the pounding of his feet on the cobblestones — too loud to hear if there are footsteps in pursuit, and he doesn’t dare look behind him. Veering off of his usual route home, he ducks between two buildings and out to the busier street on the other side. There’s another street corner up ahead. He’ll turn there, he thinks as he dodges around groups of pedestrians, then maybe find another alley to cut through. He’s quick, he assures himself, and ignores the way his head is spinning and his leg muscles are trembling. He’s normally very quick. He can—
He’s barely made it the length of two buildings when a dark, agitated alpha’s scent fills his lungs and a large hand closes around his wrist, yanking him backwards.
Hoseok slams into a broad, firm chest with a yelp. “L-Let me go!” he yells, struggling to wrench free.
The alpha ignores him and manhandles him easily, twisting Hoseok around until they’re facing each other. His eyes are wild, brows furrowed and sharp teeth half-bared as he stares down at Hoseok. “How fucking dare you?” he snarls, and gives Hoseok a hard shake. “After all these months and that fucking letter, you show up here? We almost—”
The rush of fear makes his head spin and his vision tunnel. Hoseok’s knees buckle under him but the alpha’s harsh grip on his clothes hauls him up, nearly off his feet, before he can collapse. “I don’t— I don’t know what you’re talking about, I swear!” Hoseok gasps, pushing weakly at the alpha’s chest. “Just let me go! I—I don’t want any trouble.”
The alpha doesn’t finish his sentence. Still frowning, his eyes flick over Hoseok’s face, growing wider by the second. “What the fuck is this?” he snaps, no less angry than before but with a new edge to his voice. “Who are you? Is this some kind of—”
Hoseok tries to lurch away, but the alpha’s grip doesn’t falter. He yanks Hoseok close again with a frustrated growl, then grips his jaw and forces Hoseok’s head up and to the side, baring his neck. Hot breath gusts over Hoseok’s skin as the alpha leans close. The deep, bitter musk of his scent is overwhelming enough to choke on.
Feeling faint, Hoseok’s lips pull back in a pathetic attempt at a snarl, but it sounds more like a whimper, really, and does nothing to stop the alpha from nosing at the side of his throat, huffing urgently. The growl rumbling low in the alpha’s chest grows harsher, more frustrated, with each inhale.
“Please,” Hoseok begs, breath hitching. His eyes sting hot with panicked tears. “Don’t hurt me. J-Just tell me what you want. If it’s money, I—”
“Hey! What’s going on here?”
Hoseok’s eyes snap open with a gasp at the new voice. Three strangers are approaching, eyeing Hoseok and the alpha with wary concern. “I don’t know him!” Hoseok yells. “He just grabbed me!”
The alpha’s growl raises in volume, wavering with the same near-hysteric lack of control as his scent. He pulls away from Hoseok’s throat to snarl at the strangers with bared teeth, eyes wild and dangerous. “This doesn’t concern you,” he warns them. “He's— There are questions he needs to answer.”
“I don’t think he wants you touching him,” the first of the three strangers growls, her chin raised defiantly. One of her taller companions shifts closer, chest puffed up in challenge despite being nowhere near as bulky as the alpha, and the alpha straightens up to square off with them.
If it comes down to a fight, Hoseok doesn’t like the strangers’ odds, especially not when more people jog up to join the group. Hoseok’s head is turned at the wrong angle to see them clearly but he thinks they must be the alpha’s friends. They seem inclined to take the alpha’s side, even despite their obvious confusion, but their arrival still distracts the alpha enough that his grip on Hoseok’s jaw slackens. It’s only a little give, not enough for him to slip free, but just enough for Hoseok to jerk his head down and bite hard into the flesh between the alpha’s forefinger and thumb.
Blood blooms hot and metallic on his tongue. The alpha wrenches back with a furious shout of pain that sends chills all over Hoseok’s body, but Hoseok doesn’t waste a second before flinging himself away, into a full sprint.
Behind him he hears the alpha curse and other voices yelling. Hopefully the strangers who came to his aid are able to stop the alpha from chasing him, or at least slow him down, but he can’t risk slowing down enough to look back. He just keeps running, taking turn after turn until he’s as certain as he can possibly be that no one is still on his tail. Even then, as he starts heading for home, he ignores the burn in his legs and his lungs and keeps running right up until he’s unlocking the door and throwing himself inside.
He crumples to the floor the second the lock is bolted shut. He doesn't really have the option not to. His whole body is shaking hard from overexertion and lingering terror, and he's so lightheaded that spots dance in his vision. When he blinks the spots and tears from his eyes, he can see the Jungkook sized lump snoring under the blankets in their nest, blissfully unaware.
Hoseok presses a hand over his mouth, puts his head between his knees, and just breathes for a long, long minute, desperately fighting off the urge to sob. If he starts, he knows he’ll really work himself into a panic, and there’s no way he’ll be quiet about it. The thought of Jungkook waking up to see him like this, after how worried Jungkook’s been about him lately, is enough to pull Hoseok back from the edge.
Once the stinging lump in his throat has gone down and he feels a little steadier, Hoseok drags himself back to his feet and wobbles over to their single, grubby window. He pulls the curtain back just a sliver, half expecting to see that alpha watching from the street, but he sees nothing out of the ordinary. The sun has crested the horizon and people are waking up to go to their day jobs, shuffling quietly out of their hovels to greet another foggy, gray morning in the slums of the city.
It looks the same as any other morning, but Hoseok can’t shake the feeling that he’s being watched. Hunted.
He curses under his breath and throws the curtain closed as if he can block out his paranoia along with the view. It was just a weird, one-off thing, he tells himself, scrubbing his sweaty palms on the front of his vest. Gods, his clothes are all in disarray too. Hopefully nothing got torn. His breath hitches but he presses his lips tight together and starts peeling systematically out of his work clothes, folding each item neatly and smoothing out the wrinkles with careful precision. It’s fine. The alpha was talking nonsense. Probably drunk out of his mind, or having a bad reaction to a drug. It probably won’t happen again. No, it definitely won’t. If he has to walk home later in the morning for a while to feel better about it… Well, a little less sleep probably won’t kill him.
He slips into his sleep clothes and then stands there a moment with his hands on his hips, staring at the lock on the door. He probably won’t be getting much sleep today regardless.
“Hyung?”
Hoseok flinches, heart leaping into his throat for a second even though he’d know that groggy, tentative voice anywhere. He puts on a smile and forces a cheerful tone. “Good morning! Did I wake you?”
Jungkook’s sitting up in the nest, pouting sleepily. He rubs his knuckles into his eyes, then squints at Hoseok, pout quickly morphing into a frown of concern. “Is something wrong?”
“Of course not,” Hoseok answers quickly. “I just tired myself out jogging home.” He hurries over and crawls into the nest before Jungkook can wake up enough to read him better. “Long day, you know? I was looking forward to this.” He heaves an exaggerated sigh and pulls Jungkook into his arms.
Jungkook goes easily enough, wrapping himself all around Hoseok like a big octopus and nuzzling into his throat. He makes another low, worried grunt though. “Sure you’re ‘kay?” he mumbles and takes a deep sniff. Hoseok fights the instinct to tense up and shoves the memory of the alpha sniffing him out of his mind. “You smell weird.” Jungkook lifts his head, frowning at him. “Are you upset? What—”
“Long day,” Hoseok says again, a little more tersely. He tugs Jungkook’s head back down. “I’ll be fine once I’ve gotten some sleep.”
Jungkook stays put, but Hoseok can practically feel him thinking. “Hoseokie-hyung…" he says finally, soft and mumbled. "I talked to my boss today.”
Hoseok frowns at the ceiling. “Why?”
Another pause. “Asked if I could take on more hours.”
“Jungkook-ah, you don’t—”
“It’s only a couple of days a week, making deliveries early in the morning. It doesn’t pay a lot, but it’s something and then you could take a little more ti—”
“How early? Daylight?”
“Earlier than that. I’d be getting home around sunup I think.”
Hoseok’s chest squeezes tight. “No. You’re not doing it, then.”
“What? Why? It’s early enough that it wouldn’t interfere with my classes!”
“It’s not safe for you to be out that early.”
Jungkook lifts his head again, resisting Hoseok's attempts to pull him down like it takes no effort at all. “Hyung, you’re out that early, like, every day!” he exclaims, glaring.
Hoseok glares back. “I’m older. I have more experience with avoiding trouble.”
“How else am I gonna get experience? I can do it if you can. You were younger than me when you started at the tavern!”
Hoseok clenches his jaw. Yes, he was younger. Too young, but pretty unmated omegas brought in customers, so his boss pretended not to notice that he wasn’t quite done growing. But he knows he probably had it better than most. The tavern has never allowed abuse of their staff, and he knows his boss kept a closer eye on him than the other servers in the first couple of years, but Hoseok still put up with a lot of things that he feels sick at the thought of Jungkook being forced to experience. And then there’s whatever happened with that alpha tonight…
No. He won’t allow it.
Jungkook might only be a few years younger, and stronger and taller than him now that he’s all grown up, but in Hoseok’s eyes he’ll forever be the shy little pup Hoseok took under his wing at the orphanage all those years ago. Jungkook has always been too sweet for his own good, full of big dreams and more talent than he even knew. He was shocked when he was admitted to the performing arts academy on scholarship, but Hoseok wasn’t. He’d always known Jungkook had a bright future ahead of him.
It’s the whole reason Hoseok is doing this, working this hard. He gave up a lot to keep them alive and off the streets after they left the orphanage, and even more to make sure Jungkook could keep chasing his dream, but he’s happy to do it. Jungkook is his family, the only one he’s got, and Hoseok would sacrifice far more than a silly childhood dream or two to make sure Jungkook never loses that innocent sparkle in his eyes.
“You have better options than I did,” Hoseok says. “You get to go to your fancy academy and learn all these beautiful things you love and then do that. Don’t waste your time trying to be like me.” He smiles and tries for a teasing tone, ruffling Jungkook’s hair. “Besides, finals are coming up, ain’t they? You need sleep to stay focused on your lessons. And anyway, I know you don’t wanna be up that early if you don’t have to be.”
“But I do have to be! I have to do something.” Jungkook glares harder. His voice has grown thick and he swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m trying to help you, Hyung.”
Hoseok takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, forcing himself to calm down and keep his frustration from showing in his scent. He understands that Jungkook wants to share the burden, he appreciates it, but he’ll die before he lets Jungkook make everything Hoseok endured to get them this far meaningless.
“Jungkook-ah,” he says gently, cupping the pup’s cheeks, “you already do a lot to help. You keep this place clean and you cook and you take care of me when I’m not feeling well. And if you study hard at the academy and become really rich and famous someday like you keep promising me, then you can do all the work and let me sleep in, I promise. I won’t ever lift another finger. Until then… let me take care of the rest. Please.”
Jungkook pouts again, looking down. “But… I know you’re always worried about money. It doesn’t feel like enough.”
“I promise it is.” He tugs Jungkook down again and sighs, relieved, when he goes obediently. “Things have been a little tight lately, but I’ve got everything under control. My tips have been good, and I’ve scheduled some extra shifts.”
Jungkook whines a little, never happy when Hoseok talks about working extra hours. Hoseok takes Jungkook’s hand and brings his wrist up to rub against the gland under Hoseok’s jaw and on his neck, further mingling their scents together in the warm cocoon of their nest. Citrus and warm sugar melding with sweet cream and powdery soft gardenia. Home.
“It’s just temporary. We’ll get ahead of it soon,” Hoseok says. “I’m sure of it.”
Jungkook hums happily and squirms closer, rubbing his cheek against the other side of Hoseok’s throat. Hoseok closes his eyes and takes deep breaths, letting it soothe him too.
“Sleep pup,” Hoseok mumbles, locking their fingers together and kissing Jungkook's knuckles. “We’ll be alright.”