Chapter Text
In hindsight, at least one person in the frat house should have seen it coming.
Jeno Lee, most of all.
He was the one Jaemin was clinging to the entire morning of that blessed day after all— which wasn’t unusual, to Jeno’s defense.
The childhood friends had always been inseparable— born in the same little town, studied in the same little high school, moved to the same not so little university, and got into the same fraternity.
They even ended up as roommates during their freshman year when the room assignments of the seven new froshies were decided by Johnny's Magic Spinning Wheel.
It was an odd contraption made of particularly sturdy toothpicks, a red cup, tape, and a piece of thick white paper. It's been in the fraternity for as long as Johnny has been here, which is nearly five years now. Jaemin doesn't ask the hows and the whys— doesn't ask any more information than he was offered. He learned early on that anything concerning the fraternity's secrets was better kept as secrets.
Halfway into their junior year, Jeno and Jaemin still aren’t quite tired of each other.
But something was a bit different with Jaemin that morning— and Jeno should’ve been the first to notice.
The first sign should’ve been waking up to a bare chested Jaemin laying on top of his blanket, clinging onto his arm and nosing at his neck.
This wasn’t the weird part, because Jaemin liked to move to Jeno’s bed sometimes in the middle of the night— most of the time because he was a naturally cold person, and often sought out the warmth of others. Sometimes he just felt the need to hold on to something. Jeno stopped complaining about being used as a human heater way back in high school.
No, the weird thing was that Jaemin was sweating. And one thing about Jaemin is that he almost never sweats unless he was doing a really physically taxing activity.
He smelled a bit different too, Jeno notices when he’s fully woken up.
Jaemin always smelled a bit like fresh flowers, the pretty kind that Jeno always manages to forget the name of.
But that morning, something about it was a bit off. Too sweet, too delicate — which made Jeno think he was sick (which would’ve explained the sweating as well).
“Nana?” he asks, voice rough with sleep.
A small noise comes from the back of Jaemin’s throat, as he nuzzles even further into Jeno’s neck, inhaling almost aggressively.
A low rumble erupts from Jeno's chest.
“Nana?” he repeats, more awake this time, using his elbows to lift himself up.
Jaemin whines when the other pulls away from him, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed as he tries to search for and grab at Jeno.
“What’s wrong?” Jeno asks, gently detaching himself from Jaemin’s clutch to get a better look at him.
Jaemin’s hair was a complete mess— sticking out in all directions— like he was tossing and turning the entire night.
Jeno looks at him all over and realizes that a thin layer of sweat was covering Jaemin’s legs too.
“Dude, are you okay?”
Jaemin groans, “It’s so hot….. throat hurts,” he said, voice so low Jeno almost didn’t hear it, “need water.”
“I’ll get you water,” Jeno answers immediately, “do you wanna take a shower? You’re sweating all over my bed, man.”
“Sorry,” Jaemin opens his eyes slightly and then grimaces, “I think I ate something really weird last night, my stomach’s fucking aching.”
“Wait here,” Jeno frowns.
Not minding that he was just in his boxers and hasn't even washed his face yet, he gets out of their room with the goal of grabbing a glass of water from the first floor.
He narrowly avoids a junior guy sneaking out of Renjun’s (and Haechan's, but he was out last night doing whatever it is Haechans do) room— staying still as the guy tiptoes downstairs. He vaguely recognizes him as part of the baseball team, one of their newest recruits' friends.
With a sigh of relief (of not having to politely and awkwardly acknowledge one of his frat brother’s one night stands’ existence) as he hears the main door click shut, he continues to the kitchen, hearing Chenle’s muffled singing as he passes by the second-floor bathroom.
He bumps into Jaehyun in the kitchen, in the same state of undress.
This house was a fucking mess, as you can see.
Jeno’s entrance makes Jaehyun’s head whip up from his bowl of cereal, nose scrunching, “dude, you fucking reek.”
Jeno stops, not getting it for a second before he finally remembers the last three minutes and proceeds to the refrigerator, “it’s Jaemin.”
“That’s Jaemin’s scent?” Jaehyun frowns, “it’s so… sweet.”
The elder sniffs at the air more, intrigued and curious.
This makes Jeno uncomfortable, for some reason.
“Yeah,” Jeno says the word carefully. He tilts his head, confused, “haven’t we been living under the same roof for more than three years now?”
Jaehyun rolls his eyes, then smirks like he just remembered a funny joke, “you two smell the same. Literally no one can tell you two apart.”
Jeno frowns further, opens his mouth to say something, but remembers that Jaemin is in need of water in the next minute else he might explode.
“Said he ate something weird last night,” he says.
“Really?” the smirk drops a little from Jaehyun’s face. If Jeno was Doyoung’s favorite recruit in their batch, then Jaemin was definitely Jaehyun’s. “It’s not a fever, is it?”
“I don’t think so,” Jeno says, already making his way out the kitchen, “this isn’t how he is with fevers.”
Jaemin gets cold when he has a fever. His palms and fingers would be cold as ice and he'd be shivering all over. Jeno had to help him once by toweling him down with cloth doused in hot water.
“I’ll get this to him,” Jeno gestures to the glass of water and doesn’t even wait for the other’s response, already going up as fast as he can.
Jaemin looks up at him when he comes in, looking half-dead.
He tiredly sits up, reaching out for the tall glass. He gulps it down completely the moment he gets his hands on it.
Jaemin closes his eyes and sighs in relief, “Jesus Christ.”
“Are you gonna be okay?” Jeno asks, “you only have one class today, right? You can just skip.”
“I can’t,” Jaemin groans, “It’s Choi’s class. He already hates me enough.”
“Fuck him,” Jeno says.
“Fuck him,” Jaemin agrees, palm laying on his chest like it was one of the sincerest things he's ever said, “but we have a graded recitation today. I can’t miss that.”
Jeno looks at him for a long while before sighing, “take a shower then. And eat breakfast after. I have to get to training.”
Jaemin merely grunts in reply, which makes Jeno pause just to frown at him, “real food, Jaemie.”
“…I will in a bit… let me just…” and then he goes under Jeno’s blankets and snuggles into his pillows, closing his eyes and turning off the whole world.
Jeno really should’ve seen it then.
But to his defense, everyone did usually present when they were around sixteen to eighteen years old, and Jaemin had already turned twenty-one (The hole in the wall downstairs from when some drunk sophomore headbutted it during Jaemin's Greek mythology themed birthday was proof enough— Jaemin had dressed as Apollo, Jeno had come as Ares).
And if everyone was being honest, if Jaemin wasn’t a beta and he was just a late presenter, they’ll all assume he was going to present as an alpha anyway.
>>>
So that’s how Jaemin’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day went.
Only two hours after Jeno left the house and his scent was almost completely gone from his sheets, replaced with Jaemin’s sweaty scent, making the boy sit up in irritation.
His mind was a haze— barely any coherent thoughts going through his brain— body seemingly running on instinct.
He was only wearing a fresh set of boxers, not bothering to wear a new shirt since all it would do was heat him up.
He doesn’t notice the way he was huffing and puffing as he gets up from his (Jeno’s) bed, scratching at any body part his hands can reach—
And to no avail— no matter what he does, there was a horrible itch inside of him that just wouldn’t die down.
The only thing that managed to calm him was unthinkingly opening Jeno’s closet— immediately slumping down in relief once the scent of Jeno’s fresh laundry hit him.
He exhales through his mouth, groggily going through Jeno’s clothes in search of something he can wear for class.
This was fine. Jaemin was completely absolutely positively fine, he kept on repeating to himself as he searched through his roommate’s closet.
Jaemin had come into Renjun and Haechan’s room early last night to ask for help with his basic art class assignment (it was the general course he decided to take for the term and Renjun and Haechan already took it during their freshman year), but instead of help, what he got is the almost comedic sight of two grown men sitting on top of Renjun’s bed (nest at this point, the time was near, only a few more days now before Renjun's heat would hit) inhaling snacks that Jaemin didn’t recognize.
They invited Jaemin to join them (and really that should have been a sign as well— omegas were very protective of their nest, especially when their heat is near— especially when the omega is Renjun. All the alphas and betas were basically required to steer clear of this very room during either of the omegas’ preheat, but weirdly, they were always perfectly fine with Jaemin coming in and out at any time— even invited him in sometimes) and what was Jaemin supposed to do in the face of free food? Say no?
And so here is now, probably suffering from the snacks Haechan bought from their shady sister sorority— the only thing able to give him comfort being Jeno’s scent.
This was completely absolutely positively fine as well.
Jaemin has only been in love with his childhood best friend for as long as he can remember. Yes, he was a complete mess when Jeno presented as an alpha when they were fifteen like everyone expected him to— of course athletic, intelligent, reliable, perfect Jeno Lee who came from a respectable and reputable family would present early as a strong alpha.
The entire school fell even more in love with him— flocking to their table during lunch period just to chat Jeno up, crowding his basketball games to swoon at his bare arms and his perfect three-point shots, and giving him at least one confession letter a week. Fourteen-year-old Jaemin was proud and ecstatic for Jeno, he was his best friend more than anything after all. But fourteen-year-old Jaemin was heartbroken too.
He remembers how much his heart ached at the thought of Jeno being too good for him and leaving him behind. And Jaemin belatedly realizes, at the thought of perfect Jeno Lee finding a perfect omega and starting a perfect family in the future.
“You’ll present as an alpha soon enough too,” one of their teachers had told him, but that wasn’t quite what Jaemin wanted.
In fact, the thought of presenting as an alpha sank in him very slowly, to the point of it being painful.
He didn’t understand the heavy feeling the image gave him, especially when it just grew as they got older— past the time of presentation and Jaemin didn’t present as the alpha most of the people who knew him expected him to be.
It wasn’t until Jeno did start accepting the confessions that he finally understood what the feeling actually was.
But he was a whole twenty-one-year-old now. The feeling has already sunk in— slowly, deeply, painfully, and unforgettably. Jaemin was way past it.
He was more than fine with what he has now, having Jeno by his side for the most part of the day— knowing him and being known by him. He was more than content with Jeno sometimes giving into Jaemin’s affections, sometimes letting him sleep in the same bed for warmth, sometimes being so good at taking care of him that Jaemin gets glimpses of what it must be like to have Jeno be his alpha.
But he’s long accepted that Jeno was going to end up with a conventionally perfect omega— just like everyone expected him to.
His Jeno was good, he would deserve it, Jaemin thinks, sniffling to himself.
Damn Mr. Choi. Damn the recitation. Damn whoever invented Hydraulics— he recites in his head over and over, until his hands catch on the punchline hoodie Jeno wore for almost half of his sophomore year.
He throws it over his head, barely restraining himself from burying his head in between Jeno’s clothes and just… never going away. He'd make a home of Jeno's clothes, decay there until someone finally discovers him.
But alas, Jaemin, contrary to popular belief about frat boys, was very very conscious of his grades.
No matter how much he and Choi have a mutual hate for each other, he was still going to that damn class and doing his best to get a decent grade for his recitation.
>>>
His one and only class did not go well. His expectations were low to begin with but god, Jaemin mentally groans.
Maybe it was because he looked as shitty as he felt or because he was wearing Jeno’s hoodie in a class with a handful of his fans.
He did not have the energy to figure it out.
Mr. Choi, of course, was a complete asshole to him— not even bothering to shuffle their class’ index cards and just calling on him from the get-go and firing questions one after the other.
“A total of eight questions,” Hyunjin, an alpha who he’s made a friend out of due to their many similarities (i.e. wanting Mr. Choi to stub his pinky toe on furniture every fifteen seconds), grimaces beside him, “that’s got to be a new record for you.”
Jaemin just frowns in reply, too tired to say anything else and too bitter that he wasn’t able to answer Choi’s last question.
Hyunjin turns to him a bit, frowning as he takes a sniff. He looked like he was about to say something but was cut off by Choi calling on his name.
Jaemin grimaces at him in solidarity. He was still itching and the pain in his stomach kept on coming back.
It didn’t help that he received a mass text from Johnny just before class started, reminding the fraternity that they were going to hold the annual end-of-recruitment party in the house tonight.
It was a good thing that the theme was essentially a pool party and Jaemin didn’t have to dress up. At least Johnny and Jaehyun picked a milder concept for their recruitment night this year.
Jaemin would like to keep his hopes up, but knowing his frat brothers, it was going to be a mess either way.
Parties were fine on a normal day, he could just mingle for a while and lock himself in his room when his human interaction quota had been reached.
Today, however, when he’s feeling like complete and utter shit, he can’t bear the thought of having to hear the muffled music through his door and having to sleep through the knocks of college students who were in search of rooms they could taint with their evils.
He waits for the class to end, mind feeling like cotton as he nods a goodbye to Hyunjin and drags his feet out of the room.
He feels his phone buzz and he has to blink a couple of times to see the notification clearly.
dotori <3 5:30 PM
almost forgot party
your class done?
nana 5:32 PM
me too
yeah
choi needs to pay for my therapy
dotori <3 5:33 PM
that bad huh
nana 5:34 PM
i still feel like shit :(
dotori <3 5:35 PM
that sucks :(
u wanna pass by gym?
training hasn’t ended
u can wait for me so we can walk back and be late to party together
nana 5:36 PM
tempting
but jaehyun already asked me to pick up some stuff from the girls
dotori <3 5:37 PM
is this… “stuff” legal? :<
nana 5:38 PM
imma b honest wit u
idk
and i don’t even wanna ask atp
dotori <3 5:40 PM
glad i’m in training
call hyuck if u need help
don’t be an idiot and strain yourself
nana 5:41 PM
i am never an idiot
already did btw, we’re meeting at the center then going to the delta house to pick the “stuff” up
dotori <3 5:42 PM
kk see u later
nana 5:43 PM
u too
have fun dribbling ball in sweaty gym
dotori <3 5:43 PM
have fun feeling like shit
nana 5:43 PM
asshole
dotori <3 5:43 PM
<3
Jaemin pockets his phone after that, trying to hide a silly smile from no one in particular.
>>>
Jeno texted him about an hour into the party that he finally arrived and was just going to take a shower before he goes looking for him.
Another hour later— Jeno is still nowhere to be found and things have gone to complete and utter shit.
The ache in Jaemin’s stomach has quadrupled— it felt as if a rope was tied all around his waist and someone was tugging harshly at both ends — and everyone keeps looking at him oddly.
If he was in a particularly great mood for partying, he’d be able to keep up with the bodies around him for at least a couple of hours— drinking, laughing, swimming, and dancing his heart out with them, with anyone. But tonight, he was restless and aching.
He keeps having to push hands away from him, keeps wanting to cower in pain and something else.
He kept searching for a familiar face, for any of his frat brothers— for Jeno especially.
He had nothing to drink tonight besides a single cup of beer that Mark had poured for him earlier, but his vision had blurred to the point that he could no longer recognize faces— he wondered if there was something in the air, if he’d inhaled something the others had been smoking (there was just no way Mark Lee would ever spike anyone’s drink without telling them and Jaemin would like to think that his alcohol tolerance was better than getting drunk from a single cup).
He tried going to his and Jeno’s room to lock himself in it for the night, but it was, to Jaemin’s shock, locked.
He tried knocking over and over and yelling at the door for Jeno, but from the sound coming from the room (and from the fact that he didn’t open up to Jaemin’s request the first time), there was no Jeno in the room at all.
Jaemin has no idea how long he’s spent inside the kitchen (had no idea how he even got there), slumped down with one hand clutching his stomach and the other holding onto the edge of the counter like a lifeline.
He tried to control his breathing and his thoughts, trying to fool his body into being calm, but it was to no use— he was sweating buckets with something thrumming under his skin, making his limbs shake.
A cold and sharp thing was traveling along his spine and he belatedly recognizes it as panic.
Deep and slow breaths— In through the nose, out through the mouth— he kept chanting to himself. It was something Momma Lee had taught Jeno (and him by extension) when Jeno was young and shy and would get anxious around new people.
In through the nose, out through the mouth—
And if things couldn’t get any worse, a presence had entered the room, smelling like a mixture of mint and ground and pine— so strong and so unpleasant to Jaemin that tears welled up in his eyes.
An alpha— one he wasn't familiar with.
He was so out of it that he wasn’t even confused as to how he could smell something so distinctly and immediately recognized it.
“Holy shit,” the voice said, coming closer with every word, sounding stunned, “holy shit, you smell so fucking good, what the fuck.”
And not even a few seconds later, hands were on him, burning wherever they touched— his shoulders— his cheek.
The hands were rough and large. heavy. strong.
The man raised Jaemin’s head to get a good look at his face, muttering, “you’re so pretty like this.”
Jaemin was in too much of a haze— couldn’t recognize the person touching him— couldn’t even focus enough to get a good look at his face.
He vaguely remembers the voice from somewhere— but couldn't put a name to it.
“I know you…” the alpha says thoughtfully, “you’re the one who’s always hanging around Lee.”
Jaemin was friends with many Lees but he knew exactly which Lee this man was talking about.
The thought of him makes Jaemin whimper— a wetness that shocked Jaemin spreading between his legs.
“Fuck,” the alpha says, voice sharp, “fuck, what are you doing out here looking this pretty and smelling like that?”
There was something dangerous in his tone, something that made Jaemin push against him.
He tries to break free but the other merely tightens his grip on him.
He was strong, but Jaemin knew he could stand a chance against him on a good day (he was fast and when backed into a corner, Jaemin fought like he meant it), but he was too weak and too pained for the other to even budge.
“Let go—” he says, voice so small and so pathetic that it kills something inside of him.
“No— it’s alright sweetheart, I can help you,” the other said, pulling Jaemin against him, “your heat’s starting right? I didn’t even fucking know you were an omega.”
your heat's starting right?
The world stops.
heat heat heat heat heat
Jaemin drops at his words, finally realizing what was happening.
The taller boy (Jaemin could make out that much— the other towered over him, which was not an easy thing to do) reaches one of his meaty hands out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear.
Jaemin needs to run— but he knows he won’t make it far— not when he’s struggling to even get out of the alpha’s hold.
He was weighing his chances of being heard through the thumping music if he screamed for help— but even the thought of opening his mouth for too long made him hurt.
Just when he was about to actually lose it, he was wrenched out of the other’s grip and pulled into an embrace.
He feels his face being buried into someone’s neck— feels one arm wrap around his waist and another across his shoulders.
Jaemin’s hackles rise in a heartbeat, his anxiety peaking— just for his entire body to sag in relief at the familiar scent he’s immediately surrounded with.
It’s as if nothing in the world existed besides the comforting scent of sandalwood and the slightest hint of coffee. Of home.
Jeno was here.
That alone made Jaemin drop the guard he had to muster up with all his remaining strength.
“What the fuck is going on here,” his best friend says, in a tone that Jaemin has only heard from him twice in their entire lives.
Jeno was here and he was livid.
It all happens at once—
Jaemin hears Haechan beginning to yell— so enraged that Jaemin could hear him shaking through his voice. He doesn’t understand what he’s saying, didn’t even realize Haechan was in the room up until that point.
The wetness between his legs spread. Slick. It gushes out of him in waves— soaking the jeans he was wearing— making him whimper against Jeno’s neck, knees buckling.
Jeno easily catches him and then lifts him off the ground.
Jaemin was shaking in his arms— burying his nose in Jeno’s neck, clutching at his shirt so tightly his knuckles turned white.
He presses against Jeno so hard in a desperate attempt to disappear into the alpha.
He hears arguing before Haechan snaps loudly, “I’ll deal with you later, asshole. Have fucking fun explaining to Johnny and Jaehyun!”
Jeno remains silent, but Jaemin can feel it— feel him seething.
And unfortunately, he feels everything else too— feels how hard and broad Jeno is pressed against him.
Jeno carries him with ease through the crowd, seemingly following an angry Haechan who was pushing and yelling at people to make way for them.
The display of strength from the alpha makes Jaemin unclench his fists, making him start clawing at Jeno’s chest— for something— for more.
Jeno tries to engulf him even more in his scent to calm him, but it only agitates Jaemin further.
By the time he’s settled on a bed, he cries when Jeno lets go of him, grabbing onto Jeno’s arms pathetically to make him stay.
“I’ll go get Renjun and some water. Don’t fucking do anything to him Lee or I swear to God,” Haechan excused himself, throwing a threatening glare towards Jeno (he knew Jeno would never hurt Jaemin or anyone in the same situation, but the omega in him felt the need to threaten everyone and everything around Jaemin anyway), but neither of the two acknowledges him.
Jeno shushes Jaemin, “it’s okay, Jaemie, I need to leave you here with Hyuckie and Injunnie. I can’t stay, I’m so sorry. You’ll be okay with them.”
It was a voice Jeno had rarely used for Jaemin now that they were all grown up soft and gentle— sweet even.
But Jaemin was inconsolable, sputtering like a child, “don’t don’t don’t don’t—”
“I’m so sorry, I really can’t— you know I can’t— this is— fuck, Jaemin—” Jeno sounded so frustrated.
And even that is so hot to Jaemin— Jeno is warm— so warm. And he looks so good and smells so inviting.
He tries to pry Jaemin’s hands off his arms as gently as he can, but Jaemin, with all the strength he has left, pulls him so hard it makes him lose his balance.
Jeno falls towards the bed, body braced by his arms framing Jaemin’s face so as to not crush him.
Jaemin was so dumb and so fucking horny. There were no coherent thoughts inside his head besides wanting Jeno to rail him like he meant it.
Jaemin whimpers under him, wrapping both arms around his neck, “please please please, Jeno— alpha—” he pleads, lifting his hips up and rubbing himself against Jeno.
Jeno was never a particularly religious person, but he finds himself looking up to the sky outside through the omegas' window and praying to God for strength.
“I can’t,” Jeno whispers through his teeth, when he finally looks back to a breathless Jaemin, sounding like he was at his limit. “I can’t,” he repeats, firmer this time.
Jaemin sobs under him, looking so pretty as uncontrollable tears run down his face, smelling like heaven.
“I’ll be good— please— I promise I’ll be good,” Jaemin says in a voice Jeno has never heard him use before.
“I know you’ll be good. You’re gonna be so good,” Jeno combs his fingers through Jaemin’s hair. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying at this point, can't even keep the desperation out of his voice. Whatever it takes to assure Jaemin.
The younger melts under his touch. It sparks something inside of Jeno, making him tug at the ends of the other’s hair. Jaemin moans.
Jeno is fucked. He is so incredibly fucked.
“I can’t stay. I’m gonna go fucking crazy with you like this. I’m so sorry, Jaemie.”
“No,” Jaemin sobs under him, back arching to rub his body against Jeno.
It was stupid. It was so so so stupid. But Jaemin has lost all logical thought.
Jaemin smells Jeno’s emotions in the air and he misunderstands. His chin trembles so badly and it makes Jeno’s heart break.
He had just started being an omega, but he was already failing at it. “You don’t want me,” he accuses, “I’m no good— not good omega— I don’t smell good— don’t feel good— I’m sorry—”
“No no no,” Jeno assures him quickly, nosing at his jaw, “you’re good. You’re such a good omega.”
Jeno inhales too deeply and it screws him up— fills him with nothing but the scent of Jaemin— of fresh flowers and the intoxicating scent of honey. Of want. Of need.
“You smell good,” Jeno couldn’t help but nose against his neck, couldn't help but grind down on Jaemin, his voice so low it almost sounded like a growl, “you smell like you’re mine.”
Jaemin shakes under him— and god he is so fucking wet.
And thank the universe that Jeno actually has self-control made up of pure fucking steel, that he manages to finally wrench himself from Jaemin’s grip.
He stands up to full height and creates as much distance between them as he can inside the room.
He covers his eyes with the heels of his hands, thinking of absolutely anything else as he blocks out Jaemin’s pleas.
He doesn’t even register Renjun and Haechan entering the room (their room, they decided it was best if Jaemin stayed here instead of somewhere he can smell an alpha’s scent.)
Not until Renjun touches him at the small of his back and gives him an inquisitive look when their eyes meet.
Jeno tries not to breathe in too much.
Haechan makes Jaemin drink the entire bottle of water before he starts helping Jaemin strip away his sweat-soaked clothes. Jeno looks away.
Renjun rubs Jeno’s back, “We’ll take it from here. We’ll take care of him, I promise.”
They look at each other for a long while before Jeno nods, ignoring Jaemin’s calls for his own mental health, and speeding towards his room.
>>>
And if a jacket is given to Jaemin an hour later, smelling so much like Jeno that Jaemin’s toes curl in pure want — making him remove all his clothing until he was wearing nothing but Jeno’s scent— making him cry as he fills himself with his own fingers, then that is his business.