Chapter Text
Mingi was the youngest member of his pack, both familial and bonded. His father had always called him the runt, the useless burden. His bondmates had thought of him much the same— a pathetic excuse of an alpha.
Mingi had been nothing but a burden since the day he was born so when his father had informed him that he was to be mated off to a business partner of his to further strengthen their relations, Mingi was elated, ecstatic to finally be of some use.
He went into the bond with an open mind and an open heart, ready and willing to serve the pack in whatever capacity they needed him. It became very apparent, however, that there was no place for Mingi in the hearts of his newest packmates but that didn’t stop him from trying again and again. He just wanted to be good for his mates and Mingi told himself that they just needed time, that he just needed to work harder— be better.
So he tried. Mingi wanted to be a provider which was difficult when he was a runt with nothing more than a high school diploma on his resume but he did everything he could to bring home money to the pack. He got a job working for a construction company. The hours were long and the work was grueling but his paychecks were adequate and he was proud of himself the first time he handed the paystub over to his pack alpha.
Junghwa had laughed at the money, rolling his eyes as he threw the slip of paper back at Mingi. He declared that Mingi wasn’t equipped to provide financially, too young and stupid to do anything that could garner a decent paycheck, so he became a house-alpha instead. Mingi was in charge of cooking all of the meals, grocery shopping, and cleaning the house for the pack. That would have been fine with Mingi except he had never cooked before in his life, his family pack having had servants who had done all of that for them. He approached Junghwa timidly that evening, asking the alpha if he would allow Mingi to attend some cooking classes so that he could better serve the pack but the alpha took the book he was reading— a hardcover novel— and smacked him across the cheek with it so hard that the baby alpha fell to the ground, just barely catching himself with his hands so as to not introduce his face to the floor as well.
His pack alpha was angry— so angry— that for the first time, Mingi was genuinely scared of the middle-aged man as Junghwa loomed over him forebodingly. He reminded Mingi of his place, his words chilling the boy to the bone: that Mingi was useless and a waste of space and how dare he ask to use the pack’s funds for his own personal gain. Mingi just needed to figure it out— to not be such a burden.
So Mingi did.
He spent all night tucked away in the front entry closet where he couldn’t possibly bother anyone from the pack while he watched tutorial after tutorial on how to make pancakes and eggs and bacon, determined to prove his worth to his pack.
By the time morning came, Mingi was exhausted having not slept a wink in preparation for making breakfast for his pack. He was quite proud of the spread. And though he knew that it wasn’t a five-star worthy meal, Mingi had poured his heart and soul into the food in the hopes that his new pack would appreciate his efforts.
The pack omega, Chungcha, called Mingi to her and he shuffled over nervously, wringing his hands in anticipation. She pointed to the floor next to her, waiting patiently for him to kneel so that he was lower than her. He looked up at Chungcha with poorly concealed hope, wanting nothing more than to please.
Chungcha took that moment of vulnerability to upend her entire plate onto his head before chucking the plate back onto the table with enough force to shatter the porcelain. “You’ve never worked a day in your life and it shows,” she spat, standing up angrily. “That was inedible, runt. Clean this shit up.” She used her perfectly manicured nails to grab hold of his bottom lip and pinched hard enough to draw blood and make Mingi whimper. “Figure out how to cook. Until you can make something edible, you’re not allowed to eat. Alphas who can’t provide for their pack don’t deserve to provide for themselves.”
With that, she let go of Mingi and stalked out of the kitchen. Mingi stayed kneeling on the cold tile for a few moments longer, trembling in the aftershocks of her abuse before pulling himself off of the floor and grabbing the broom to clean up the remnants of the ruined meal like he had been instructed as if on autopilot.
It took him nearly three days to make a meal that Chungcha didn’t immediately dump over his head and Mingi, at that point, was literally shaking from hunger. He immediately went for one of the bread rolls upon her approval only of his hand to be smacked away in anger.
“You don’t deserve to eat with us,” she hissed. “You can have the leftover scraps.”
So Mingi waited, back pressed against the cupboards as the tantalizing aroma of fried rice, kimchi, and pork tickled his senses. After the pack left the kitchen, stomachs full and conversing lightly between themselves, Mingi dove at the table, immediately stuffing the remaining bread roll in his mouth. He barely tasted the food as he scraped the bowls clean.
Mingi was quick to clean up after himself, though, unwilling to incur any one person’s wrath by not keeping a clean house in favor of stuffing his face.
He learned to tiptoe through the halls, living as though he were nothing more than a ghost in the desperate desire to be exactly what his pack needed of him. He quickly realized, however, that his pack needed an outlet— a safe space where they could lash out in anger without consequence— so he stopped hiding all the time. As much as it hurt to be used as a literal punching bag whenever he so much as breathed too loudly, Mingi still craved to be useful to the pack and relished in the small amounts of physical touch he received, no matter how painful.
In a sick way, Mingi looked forward to whenever Junghwa would punish him, knowing that at least he’d be touched in the process. Mingi had gotten good at cooking over the years, the beatings for messing up a good teacher, and he had a system to keeping the house clean and organized, not that the pack made it easy for him. Chungcha, especially, enjoyed making sure she made eye contact with Mingi right before she would slide something or other off of whatever flat surface it was on and spread the contents across the floor, usually breaking the container while she was at it. Chungcha reminded Mingi of a rather mischievous cat in that sense and he wondered if she just couldn’t help herself— like it was a compulsion. That thought made it a bit easier to clean up after her, not that he really believed it— Chungcha just enjoyed seeing Minigi beneath her.
His laziness was usually what got him punished more times than not. Every day, before he left for work, Junghwa would give Mingi a list of chores to complete and for every task completed, he’d receive two more the following day until the list was so long that there was no physical way Mingi could finish it in the time provided. Junghwa also found a sick pleasure in spotting the smallest of imperfections in Mingi’s work and punishing him for it. It became a bit hopeless for Mingi, no matter what he did, it was never enough and yet he endured because this was his pack and he was an alpha, no matter how pathetic and useless, he still had a purpose.
If Mingi were honest, the physical beatings weren’t typically what caused him the most pain, at least long term. Watching the pack interact with one another with gentle hands and soft words, openly loving each other while simultaneously hating Mingi for his existence, hurt the alpha so much more. Mingi wanted, more than anything, to love and be loved in return. For once— just once— Mingi wanted to know what it was like to just be enough. But he was lazy and useless and stupid, so of course no one wanted to give him affection— it made sense that they banned him from the pack nest, no one wanted rotting lemons in their bed. And it made sense that none of them wanted to hug him for that exact reason.
But god did Mingi want to be loved like his packmates. So he continued trying and improving and prevailing despite the hopelessness that always seemed to linger in the corners of his consciousness. He wanted, more than anything, to be good enough.
Which was how he ended up in the hospital.
Mingi had always had a sensitive nose, even as an unpresented child, he could pick up on the slight upticks of presented adults around him. This caused problems, of course, as all things did with Mingi, when adults learned that he could smell the shift in their moods, calling him nosy and inconsiderate.
Myunghee, one of his pack’s betas, had come home one afternoon wreaking of distress and sadness and Mingi, trying to be a good alpha, approached her in the hopes of comforting her. He received a sharp slap across the face for his efforts before Myunghee screamed at him to keep his nose to himself and stormed away.
Junghwa came home less than half an hour later, looking furious as he grabbed a handful of Mingi’s hair in a painful grip. He dragged the baby alpha into the first floor bathroom and threw him to the ground, Mingi’s shoulder catching on the lid of the toilet on the way down, surely leaving a dark bruise in its wake.
The pack alpha growled, sounding near-fearal in his rage. “Who do you think you are?” he hissed, reaching down to snag Mingi’s hair once more, inflaming his already sensitive scalp. “Myunghee’s business is none of your concern, you worthless runt.”
Mingi whimpered, eyes fluttering closed in a feeble show of submission in the hopes of appeasing Junghwa. “I’m sorry, Alpha,” he cried. “She just smelled so sad and I wanted to— to help. I—”
“You smelled Myunghee?” Junghwa growled, shaking Mingi as he yanked open the cabinet underneath the sink with a ferocity that nearly pulled the door off of its hinges. “Fucking— worthless piece of shit. I’ll teach you to keep your nose to yourself.”
He dropped Mingi in favor of unscrewing the cap on a bottle of floor cleaner before gripping the baby alpha even tighter and tilted his head back until Mingi thought he might break his neck from the strain.
He cried, the sharp sting of chemicals much too close to his sensitive nose as Junghwa brought the bottle closer to his face.
“Shut up,” the pack alpha hissed. “Take your punishment like an alpha for god's sake.”
The bottle hovered closer and Mingi, realizing what was about to happen, squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could, a litany of apologies spilling past his lips in an attempt to soothe his alpha’s wrath even as the cleaner was poured over his face. His head was thrust back impossibly further, allowing the chemicals to make their way into his nasal passage.
Mingi choked, sputtering helplessly as the floor cleaner found its way into his mouth. He tried desperately not to swallow the liquid, coughing and gasping as the cleaner burned its way through his nasal passage and his throat, some of it even creeping into his eyes.
The bottle emptied eventually and Junghwa dropped Mingi like he was made of hot coals, throwing the empty bottle at the baby alpha’s limp form before storming out of the bathroom. Mingi thought he might have heard Junghwa order him to clean up his mess though the pain from the cleaner was racking up fast and he found himself growing delirious as he laid helplessly on the floor.
Some instinctive part of him knew that he couldn’t stay there— that if he did, he’d surely die— and he started to slowly crawl out of the bathroom, the house eerily quiet around him indicating that Junghwa must have taken the pack out for dinner while Mingi cleaned up the stench of cleaner.
Mingi barely remembered reaching the front door or reaching up to grasp desperately at the handle until he was able to pull it open and crawl out, leaving it ajar behind him. His chest burned, each breath more painful than the last and his eyes felt singed, he couldn’t see anything beyond blurry shapes, his fingers digging into the soft dirt as he pulled himself away from his home. The dirt turned to pavement and then there was a horrible screeching sound as a car skidded to a stop in front of him.
There were hurried footsteps and a pair of frantic voices above him, talking rapidly to one another, or maybe they were talking to Mingi but he couldn’t focus enough to tell what they were saying. His head was lifted from the pavement, gently being settled in one of the stranger’s laps as their voice filtered in through his foggy brain. “Oh god,” the man gasped. “Hyung— those burns they’re—”
“Yeah,” the other stranger said, cutting off the younger man. “Keep his head still and don’t touch it. Is he breathing?”
“Barely,” the younger murmured. “Hyung—”
“The ambulance is on its way. He’ll be okay.”
Their voices faded off after that, or maybe Mingi just lost consciousness because the next thing he knew, he was in the back of an ambulance with a paramedic that looked more than a little green around the gills as he hooked the alpha up to his monitoring equipment. An oxygen mask went over his face, irritating Mingi’s raw skin around his mouth and making him whimper though he didn’t have the strength to remove the torture device.
“You’re alright, sir,” the paramedic reassured. “We’re gonna take care of you. Just relax.”
Mingi must have lost consciousness after that because his next few memories came in flashes. He remembered the disorienting feeling of his bed underneath him jostling painfully and the flickering of fluorescent lights as they past by over his head, eyes blinking open and shut enough times that he could recognize blurry human-shaped blobs keeping time with him as he floated down a bright hallway. There was a prick of pain and then sweet, sweet relief as a numbness finally seemed to settle in and he was finally able to drop off completely.
Mingi woke up in a hospital bed, the usually bright lights dim above his head. There were tubes all around his face and going down his throat, preventing him from making any noise but it was bringing him delicious oxygen to his aching lungs without him having to do the work himself so he didn’t fight it. Wires and thin injection lines dotted his hands and arms and chest, connecting him to monitors all around him that created the world’s most annoying beeping noise. Mingi wanted nothing more than to reach over and shut the machines up but he could barely twitch one of his fingers so he knew that he was a long ways away from being able to get rid of the annoyance.
Besides the beeping, the room was eerily silent and something about it just felt... off. It took Mingi’s exhausted brain much too long to piece together that the room was missing the neutral air freshener scent with that subtle undercurrent of bleach that always permeated hospital rooms. He nearly panicked for a moment before reminding himself that he was connected to more tubes and monitors than he thought was possible and that they were probably covering up his sense of smell. And besides, his nasal passage still felt as though it were on fire.
He shuddered, feeling phantom hands on his scalp when he remembered Alpha’s punishment. Mingi had never felt pain like that before and he wasn’t looking forward to Junghwa’s wrath when he discovered the hospital bill from this particular adventure.
His musings were interrupted as the door opened and a small, blonde doctor stepped into the room. “Ah,” he chirped, smiling widely when he saw that Mingi was awake. “It’s good to see you up. I’m Doctor Yuta Nakamoto. You’ve been under my care for the last two days since you were admitted.” He stepped up to the side of the bed, checking Mingi’s vitals and making sure all of the wires were still connected. “We have you hooked up to a ventilator right now, so you won’t be able to talk, but now that you’re awake, we can hopefully switch you to a less invasive intubation.”
Mingi could do little more than watch the doctor as worked around him, explaining how Mingi was found in the middle of the street of a residential area with severe chemical burns in his nose, mouth, and eyes which explained the burning and his blurred vision.
Yuta called in a couple of nurses who helped him get Mingi propped up and removed the tube, much to the alpha’s relief. After checking a few more vitals on Mingi, the doctor handed him an ipad so that he could give the hospital his information. Mingi typed it in shakily, knowing that whatever Junghwa did to punish him for this hospital bill would be ten times worse than what landed him there in the first place. He almost thought about asking Yuta if they had to tell his alpha but he knew that was a dumb request so he chose not to say anything— not that he could really speak still, his throat raw and inflamed. The doctor had warned him that he wouldn’t be able to talk for a while— possibly a few weeks if he healed quickly.
He pointed to his nose and then his eyes with a shaky hand, asking about the damages to those body parts as well. The doctor’s face turned sympathetic.
“We’re not entirely sure,” he started. “The majority of the damage was in your nasal cavity. Your olfactory senses are most likely damaged permanently, though it’s too early to say for certain until you heal some more. Your eyes will heal in time, though you may have some permanent vision loss, it won’t be anything a prescription can’t fix.”
Mingi swallowed, wincing at the painful grating feeling at the motion.
Permanent damage.
Junghwa had given him scars in the past but this... Mingi had never received a punishment this severe before. And if this was what Mingi got for invading his packmate’s privacy, Mingi didn’t want to even think how bad his punishment would be for the hospital bill.
He shuddered at that thought, not looking forward to seeing Junghwa again. He flinched when the doctor gently cupped his cheeks to examine his face, the action startling him, especially since he couldn’t fully see the action coming. Yuta apologized for scaring him, his hands warm and gentle against his inflamed skin.
Just as he was finishing his examination, the door opened again, one of the nurses from earlier letting two men wearing dark suits into the room. Mingi couldn’t see much of them, beyond that they weren’t tall enough to be Junghwa which was enough of a relief that the alpha couldn’t really care enough to try to make out any more details of either of them.
“Hello,” the one of the strangers greeted, stepping into the room completely as the nurse closed the door behind him. “I’m Lee Taemin,” he said. “And this is Officer Choi Seungcheol with Seoul PD. We have a few questions for you if you’re feeling up to it.”
Mingi frowned, glancing over to Yuta, unsure how to respond, especially since he couldn’t.
“My patient gave me his name,” the doctor started, handing his tablet over to Officer Choi who inputted the name into his own tablet. “The damages to his nose and throat prevent him from speaking and his eyesight is impaired so you’ll need to enlarge your screen’s keyboard for him to be able to see it.” He paused, glancing down at Mingi. “You can have five minutes. My patient needs to rest.”
Taemin nodded, stepping up to Mingi’s bedside, Officer Choi two steps behind him. “Of course,” Taemin stated, shooting Mingi a comforting smile.
Up close, Mingi could make out the two newcomer’s features a bit more. They were both about the same height as his doctor. Taemin had long, dark hair that was put up in a neat bun on the top of his head while Officer Choi’s hair was shorter and slicked back. He had a large frown on his face as he pulled up Mingi’s information on his tablet.
“Song Mingi?” He questioned, reading off of his tablet. “Born in 1999 on the ninth of August? Resident of Bangbae-dong? Is that you?”
Mingi nodded shakily, giving the officer a thumbs up, his hand never leaving the bedspread.
Officer Choi seemed to frown, exchanging a meaningful look with Taemin that Mingi couldn’t decipher with his limited vision. “And are you a part of a pack, Mingi-ssi?” Mingi’s head bobbed weakly in the affirmative. “And they also live in Bangbae-dong with you?” Another nod. “Do you know who attacked you?”
Mingi frowned, unsure how to answer that at first. Taemin took Officer Choi’s tablet and brought it down to where Mingi could see the enlarged screen and still type on it with the hand not hooked up to the monitors. It was a slow process but eventually he got it out and dropped his hand back down to the bed weakly.
Taemin took the tablet back, reading it aloud to the room. “ ‘Not attacked. Punished. Mingi-ssi— did your pack alpha punish you using chemicals?” Mingi gave the man another pained nod, this time catching the tensing of the man. “Okay,” he started, voice sounding a bit shaky in Mingi’s ears. “Mingi-ssi, I’m a social worker that specializes in abuse within pack hierarchies and relocating victims of abuse to safe environments. We have reason to believe that you have been mistreated by your pack.”
He shook his head, trying to dismiss the social worker’s declaration. Mingi reached for the tablet again, shakily tying out “Not abused. Punished,” only for Taemin to read it and say, “A punishment isn’t meant to harm, Mingi-ssi. And it should never land you in a hospital. This was an attack on you and if this is how your pack alpha doles out punishments then no one in your pack is safe.”
Mingi grabbed the tablet again, feeling unreasonably angry at Taemin for implying that Junghwa was harming his pack. “Just me,” he wrote, his arm feeling like a led weight was pulling it down with every twitch of his finger on the screen. “Only I’m punished. Bad.”
Officer Choi nodded. “I’ve got what I need,” he said, turning to face Taemin. “I’ll take Hongjoong with me to check out the residence while you take care of Mingi-ssi here. Doctor Nakamoto, can you email me your detailed report?”
The doctor nodded, stepping back up to the side of the bed as Officer Choi left. “Mingi-ssi needs to rest,” he declared.
Taemin bowed, taking a step back. “I’ll come back in a bit to check on you, Mingi-ssi,” he said. “You’re safe now.”
Mingi felt the opposite of safe as Taemin left. They were saying that Junghwa abused him but Mingi was certain that was not the case and their accusations would only anger his alpha further. He was not looking forward to what Junghwa’s punishment would be when all of this was over.
Doctor Nakamoto did something with the IV drip out of Mingi’s sight before the pain started to numb and the alpha’s eyes grew heavy. Whatever happened, Mingi decided, was out of his direct control, so he allowed the painkillers to do their job and succumbed to the sweet call of sleep.