Chapter Text
It’s two weeks to the full moon when Jeongguk sees the stupid flier.
The Campus Beta Association. There’s a poorly drawn graphic of three hands with interlocked fingers with the Greek symbol for Beta on the middle hand. The printer must have been low on ink, because what should be a bright red looks more like a brown, patchy, healing scar.
There’s an irony to it that Jeongguk would appreciate more if his blood wasn’t fucking boiling.
A beta association, where at the next meeting, a few beta packs will come visit to talk about their experiences and offer up some spots in their pack to any unmated betas. Jeongguk went to one meeting a few years ago, back when he was naive about how he would be treated, that being a beta couldn’t possibly be as bad as he and his family thought. But the meeting was nothing more than a few betas shoved into a small room as they talked about getting over prejudice, and that sure, they may be given the short end of the stick, but there’s so much beauty to life, or something. Jeongguk had walked out.
He would bet his entire life's savings that it will go exactly the same for the poor naive betas that show up.
They will make being in a pack sound amazing. They’ll tell sob stories about what it was like being alone, making sure to keep their words vague so the lonely betas will feel like someone finally understands them. They’ll exchange contact information. Get to know the packs and then finally: the big climax. Being told, sorry, there’s no room for you.
“I think it would be good if we went our own ways.”
Jeongguk can imagine his own scent curdling as he rips the flier down, growling as he crumples it in a white-fisted grip. One of the sharp edges digs into his palm. He only tightens his hold.
He can’t go through that rejection again. He can’t.
“You shouldn’t do that,” someone scolds. Jeongguk jumps, shoulders flying up to his ears.
He turns towards the stern voice, making eye contact with a smaller guy who’s hurrying closer. It takes Jeongguk one sniff to label him an omega—a ticked off omega. Whatever other undertones there may be to his scent are overpowered by spice. Jeongguk can feel a building need to sneeze as the omega stops in front of him.
He looks at Jeongguk through sharp eyes. He’s annoyed, that much is obvious even without his scent. Arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows pulled together. He isn’t pissed, not yet, but one wrong move and Jeongguk knows that he will be.
“Do you have a reason for doing that?” The omega asks, eyes darting down to the crumpled flier in Jeongguk’s hand.
Maybe if Jeongguk looks submissive enough, this omega will leave him alone. Despite knowing that he’s strong enough to fight his way out of this, that one growl would cement his spot as not up to dealing with this bullshit right now. Jeongguk hangs his head, looking up through his lashes. The risk of a fight that would come from growling, or forced submission, doesn’t seem worth it. He shakes his head.
The omega’s expression twists up. Eyes hard, nose scrunched. Something about being on the receiving end of this expression once again makes something break inside Jeongguk. Something deep enough that his own eyes begin to water.
He will not cry in front of some lecturing omega.
“I don’t care what you think about betas, you do not do that. It’s disrespectful…”
The deep voice of the omega fades away. Why is Jeongguk dealing with this? To be a good beta? There's no such thing. People here don't respect betas. The stupid societal totem pole put him at the bottom, he listens when being spoken to, he speaks only when no one else is speaking. To interrupt an alpha or omega as a beta is a first class ticket to getting the shit beat out of him.
His hands tremble.
This omega will never understand. He’ll never understand not being wanted like Jeongguk is. No alpha or omega ever will.
What good are betas? Half knots, less slick, not strong-headed like an alpha, not nurturing like omegas, basically sterilized with how low the chance of pregnancy is for them. They may as well be human, if not for transforming on the full moon just like every other person in this community.
“Omega,” Jeongguk spits, uncaring about being polite, about what could happen to him for talking back. He uses the title like an insult all on its own. The omega shuts his mouth. “I am a beta.”
The omega’s eyes widen, gaze flicking over Jeongguk’s face. He sniffs softly, looking more confused when he doesn’t smell anything.
“There’s no need for you to pretend to care about us and play into stereotypes. You don’t need to be some savior just to feel better about yourself.”
“I’m not doing this to pretend to care,” the omega responds. His eyes are narrowed. Every instinct is telling Jeongguk to shut up and bow his head—to submit. He ignores them. The omega’s voice calms, as does his scent.
Every hypothetical situation Jeongguk has made up about this conversation fades away. The omega doesn’t call for his pack, and Jeongguk knows he has one. As strong as the omega’s sweet aroma is, he can smell all the other soft, lingering scents on him like the most expensive perfume money could buy. Hints of cedar and ripe fruit hanging off its branches surrounded by a sweetness that ties everything together with a bow. Not to mention, Jeongguk spots a mating bite from where the shoulder of his shirt falls. The omega doesn’t force Jeongguk to submit. He just… talks. Like they’re equals.
“I do care. Genuinely, and while I’m sorry you’ve obviously had some bad experiences, you don’t make up the entire beta population. Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean other betas won’t.”
Jeongguk swallows, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. He nods, looking down.
“Okay?” The omega asks, waiting for a response.
“Fine.”
Gently, the omega rubs the hand curled around the ball of what used to be a flier, nudging him to put it back up. For a moment, Jeongguk can’t help but to stare at their hands, his own eclipsed by the omega’s larger hand. When was the last time he was touched so gently?
Jeongguk does what he’s told, his inner beta content to be following directions, even when it comes from a strange omega. He hates it. Hates that he puts the flier back up, hates how the omega reaches past him to push the tack in to make sure it stays in. He hates that he can tell that the omega is sincere.
The omega lets out a gentle exhale, his scent now a comforting mix of spice and sweet, cloves and citrus, something like his mom would let boil on the stove while dead leaves fell outside the window. Jeongguk’s anxious thoughts slow down like dripping molasses. He’s trying to calm Jeongguk down. Show that he isn’t a threat; that he isn’t angry anymore and Jeongguk’s beta is eating it up. He’s made to make omegas and alphas happy when they allow him. And for some reason, helping Jeongguk to calm down is making this omega happy.
“Thank you.” His voice is just as smooth as the fragrance that fills Jeongguk’s nose. Something else worms its way into his scent, an emotion that Jeongguk can’t place now that he’s nearly about to fall asleep standing up. It feels heavy.
He can’t remember the last time someone had done this for him, the last time someone had cared enough to make Jeongguk’s thoughts slow down to give him a break from the real world for just a moment. He could cry at the realization.
Yet, this is what he hates the most. He doesn’t even know who this omega is, but he still has the ability to make Jeongguk feel safe when he shouldn’t. Jeongguk should’ve been stronger, he should’ve resisted giving in.
Jeongguk shakes his head to clear his mind. He needs to leave.
He blinks a few times, meeting the omega’s concerned stare before bowing and turning his back to walk away. Out of the trance now, he’s able to place that unfamiliar heavy scent.
It was pity.
That omega pitied him.
With his stomach turning, Jeongguk sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. He feels sick.
⏪ 🐺
The omega doctor frowns, looking at his chart. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand.” She looks up. “Forgive my bluntness, but Jeongguk-ssi, as a beta, your scent isn’t particularly strong.”
He nods. “Um, yeah.”
She smiles, though it looks forced. “So, could you tell me why you’d like suppressant scent blockers?” Her distrust is obvious in her voice, like she isn’t even trying to hide that she doesn’t believe him. “You’re not just gonna try and sell ‘em for a quick few won, are you?”
“No.” Jeongguk grimaces, feeling his cheeks go red. He’s never had someone speak to him like this before. “My—my cycle? is pretty strong. Because, you know, betas have the urges of an alpha and omega, and my family has complained about my scent being too strong. Not just during my restrus, but all the time, so…” He takes a sharp inhale, then nods to indicate that he’s done speaking.
The sound of a pen scribbling fills the silence. “Could you tell me more about your cycle?”
⏪ 🐺
Jeongguk was born to two alpha parents. He took on his parent’s build from a young age. He was always fairly lean, and as he got older, he never found it too difficult to put on muscle. From the day he was born, people were sure he would present as an alpha, having all the makings of one.
Physicality aside, he liked being in control. He would always volunteer to lead the class line, vowing to protect his classmates, and never particularly feared horror movies.
When he did get scared, usually by his friends tackling him when he wasn’t paying attention, he never shied away from telling them off. Even he believed he would be an alpha.
He did have a few omega aunts who would pinch his cheeks and hold him, still chubby with the small remaining baby fat that he didn’t lose until he was fourteen. They would rave about how he was so caring, and when someone would combat them by saying he was raised to be polite, they would shake their heads and swear that he acted just like an omega child.
Jeongguk, unlike some of the older alphas he knew, never particularly took offense to being compared to an omega. His aunts would always say it was better to act like an omega than an alpha, anyway.
He was the last of his friends to present.
It happened on a regular Tuesday. He woke with a fever and a whole body weakness so intense that he can barely get out of bed. Looking back, he should have known. His whole family should have been able to see it a mile away.
It was textbook. Jeongguk, unpresented, nearing twenty, wakes up sick. Fever, chills, aches. Maybe they did know and left him to fend on his own anyway.
His mother tells him to rest up, kisses his forehead and places a cool washcloth where her lips were. She mentions that there’s a bowl of congee if he felt up to eating it and left for work without thinking twice. His father only pokes his head in to drop a full cup of cool water next to his bed.
Jeongguk doesn’t remember falling back asleep, but will never forget waking up again.
His thin shirt is soaked with sweat, sticking to his skin when he pulls it over his head. He whimpers, fanning his face and trying his best to wash his body with the damp cloth. A shower would be amazing but he isn’t sure he wouldn’t pass out in the steamy room.
His stomach hurts, a sharp pain like he’s never felt before. It’s not anything like that awful feeling before throwing up, it’s low in his gut, but he still feels like he may throw up anyway.
Rolling out of bed, Jeongguk lays on the ground. The room spins. He’s too hot, too tired.
Jeongguk peels his boxers off, stopping with them halfway down his legs.
They’re… wet. Sticky but not like the sweat sopping through his shirt. There’s something on the fabric, viscous enough that Jeongguk can see how it thins and breaks as he pulls his hand away.
He pales.
Is he slicking up? Like an omega?
Gritting his teeth, Jeongguk sticks two fingers up himself, sighing at the slight relief that it brings.
Okay. So, Jeongguk was expected to be an alpha, but this is… fine. This is workable. He’s an omega! His aunts were right all along. He owns a few dildos for when he didn’t wanna just jerk one out, luckily right underneath his bed.
He grabs the biggest, thickest one he owns, which isn't actually that big or thick. Pushing in, he isn’t met with the usual pain as he adjusts.
Reaching for his phone, Jeongguk clicks his mom’s number. His mind is spinning, thoughts becoming less coherent the longer he continues his heat.
“Jeongguk-ah? Is everything okay?”
He sniffles, staring up at the ceiling. He pushes his teeth together and in the achy pain of his teeth growing to accommodate his newly presented wolf, it brings a strange sense of relief. “‘M an omega.”
There’s silence on the other end. Fuck, he should’ve known this was going to be a bad idea. His parents want an alpha son like Jiwoon, not someone like Jeongguk who’s crying with a 25 cm dildo sticking out of his vagina, tears unrelated to the dildo.
“Hey, sweetie,” his mother says, her voice soft. “I’m coming home now, okay? I’ll bring some stuff to help with the pain. I’ve heard it hurts, right?”
Jeongguk cries even harder, nodding even though she can’t see him. “It hurts so bad, everywhere hurts.”
“I love you,” she says.
He babbles out a response, making sure to say I love you back before hanging up. Despite the tears and fears, he still reaches down to move the dildo, thrusting it in and out. It soothes him, and from everything he’s heard from omegas, he knows he should focus on penetration.
So he does. He throws his head back and allows the silicon to do what it’s made to do.
A few minutes later, Jeongguk feels pressure in his lower belly like he’s never felt before. Building, building, he doesn’t know where to focus—his entire body alight with pleasure.
He cums, body spasming with the intensity of it. Luckily, he didn’t lay on his carpet because he’s sure he must have squirted at least a little bit and he doesn’t want to clean it.
Afterwards, body tamed slightly from the orgasm, he can place exactly where the uncomfortable pressure is. He picks his head up, immediately regretting it. Not because it makes the room spin, but because of what he sees. The base of his cock is swollen, like a—
A knot.
But that doesn’t make sense. He’s slicking, more than just getting wet when he’s horny. So he shouldn’t have a knot.
Jeongguk brings his hand from the dildo up to his cock, hovering around the swollen base. He’s had health classes, he’s seen porn, he knows what a knot looks like and how alphas react when it’s touched. So, it shouldn’t be a surprise that wrapping his hand around it forces a broken moan out of him. It’s so much stimulation that Jeongguk cums almost instantly once he squeezes.
Yeah , he thinks, heart racing, that’s a knot.
And then he does what anyone would do after presenting with both a knot and slick.
He cries.
Because he’s not an omega, he’s a beta . The lowest of the lows. Not good enough to be an alpha or an omega. The only thing betas are good for is starring in overly produced porn. And Jeongguk knows it must be overly produced, because nobody wants to be near a beta if they’re not getting paid.
And Jeongguk went through puberty, he’s watched his fair share of porn and never understood why porn always starred betas. Alphas have thick knots, nearly double the size of betas’ pathetic ones. And omegas slick up more than betas ever could.
Even if Jeongguk is looser than normal, he would still need lots of prep to take an alpha’s dick. He isn’t even sure he could take a knot.
There’s a reason packs turn them away—they’re supposed to be the second in charge. But with packs usually having more than one alpha, and betas being thin and awkward, it’s no shock that they were quickly pushed to below omegas. At least omegas are lithe and fast.
They’re worthless, useless, sorry excuses for wolves.
And now Jeongguk is one.
His body doesn’t give him a break. The longer he cries and freaks out, rattling his brain to find what little knowledge he has about betas, the more the ache in his muscles grows.
Jeongguk wishes he could get lost in pheromones and urges now, because it would shut his thoughts off—or at least slow them down. But, unlike omegas and alphas, Jeongguk’s attention is split between breeding and being bred, neither urge strong enough to overtake his thoughts. It’s just enough to make being alive at this moment miserable.
He should’ve bought a fleshlight with the dildos.
When he cums again, his knot hasn’t yet deflated. It’s not satisfying, overwhelming in the worst kind of way. He’s too stressed but keeps going because his beta tells him to. Because if he keeps going, the awful sickly feeling will go away faster. Giving in makes it end.
Every accidental brush against his knot causes black spots to form in his vision, so he tries his best to focus on vaginal stimulation, curling his fingers against his swollen g-spot. His body reacts to it while his mind wanders, only stopping when his thoughts explode into whiteness and his chest stutters each time he cums.
He can’t remember how many times it’s happened anymore, but his wrist is cramping up badly. Still, he’s forced to grit his teeth and keep going because he can tell that it isn’t over. His beta isn’t done yet, despite how awful Jeongguk feels.
In a brief moment of lucidity, or, not quite lucidity, because Jeongguk knows he’s been aware of how he’s felt this entire time—
—A moment of reprieve, perhaps.
Whatever it is, he’s thankful. He has just enough energy to stand on shaking legs and drop onto his bed and pull the blanket up, crying into his pillow.
Laying on his stomach painfully presses his cock against the sheets. He quickly flips over so tears stream freely down his cheeks.
Betas weren’t really covered much in health classes growing up, constantly glossed over so they could get to the ‘good stuff’ about alphas and omegas. Jeongguk feels lost. He doesn’t know any betas well, he has no one to turn to that’s gone through what Jeongguk is going through. The only thing he has is that stupid, overly acted porn.
He’s alone.
It’s a shocking realization, like having ice water dropped on his head. Jeongguk is totally alone. It doesn’t matter that he can hear the front door opening or that he can smell the worry laced throughout his mother’s scent.
He’s never been able to do that, is this normal for people once they present, to be able to smell emotions in scents to this level? His mind just knows the deep, bitter, muted scent is worry. She’s scared for him.
There are too many different scents, too much going on. It’s only made worse when a few knocks sound out and the door opens to reveal Jeongguk’s mom, balancing a case of water bottles and plastic bags in one hand.
She tsks when she sees him, pushing his bangs up to feel his sweaty forehead. “You’re warm, baby. How are you feeling?”
Jeongguk whimpers, pushing his face into his mother’s scent gland. It’s stronger now than it used to be before he presented, the earthy, sweet scent of chamomile that comforted him even when it was barely there. Just tendrils of her.
It’s muted in a different way than before. He can smell it well but it’s almost hidden away underneath all the worry . But in this moment, it’s a distraction that Jeongguk accepts. He cries, wrapping his arms around his mom’s strong figure. He’s a disappointment, for not being an alpha like his family. “I’m so sorry,” he chokes out.
“I talked to some omega friends,” his mom continues, not acknowledging Jeongguk’s apology. “I got you a heating pad for cramps, water bottles to stay hydrated, protein bars and fruit to keep your energy up.”
“Mom,” he whines, choking on a sob. “You don’t understand—”
“—I know I don’t,” she says. Her voice is soft and comforting but at this moment, Jeongguk feels anything but pacified. His stomach twists with a familiar pain. This isn’t a cramp, it’s guilt, twisting his insides like a knife . She plays with his hair, unaware of the storm of emotions raging inside him.
She thinks this is about him being an omega. Jeongguk bites his tongue, not wanting to interrupt his mother. Not only because she’s his mother, but as an alpha, she’s the one in charge. “But I’m trying to, Jeongguk-ah. I’m trying to be there for you.”
He nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. And I appreciate it, but…” They make eye contact, and Jeongguk feels himself breaking. He tries to grit his teeth, to hold back. “I’m not—” His voice cracks. He’s unable to finish his sentence.
His mom tries. She tries to fill in the blank, to finish his sentence, but she’s so painfully unaware that it hurts more than it helps.
And then Jeongguk cuts her off, weakly. It’s something that he rarely does, something that was instilled in him not to do. But the aches are coming back—he can’t take this anymore. He needs to be alone.
“I’m a- a beta. ” He spits.
Despite the words coming out barely above a whisper, the confession shakes the whole house.
Her face drops; only for a split second, but he sees everything. The disappointment and shock that flashes in her eyes before she schools her expression, as neutral as possible. But it’s not quite the impartial look she wants. Her eyes are hard, emotions simmering that she can’t quite get rid of. She pulls his hands off of him, like touching him would cause her to become a beta as well.
Jeongguk’s lip wobbles.
“Well,” she says, just as quiet as Jeongguk’s confession, “everything I bought should still be helpful, then.”
She leaves everything on the floor and walks out, without so much as a hug, or even a comforting smile.
It feels almost immediate, that once the door shuts, Jeongguk’s hand ends up in between his legs once again, this time not only to fight his arousal away, but to forget his mother’s expression after she was told his status.
🐺
Jeongguk can smell when Jiwoon comes home from classes. He can smell the strong woodsy scent as soon as their front door creaks open, something that Jeongguk only noticed when his brother would hop in Jeongguk’s bed without speaking as some sort of strange sibling bonding that Jeongguk enjoyed, even if he acted annoyed about it.
From outside his closed door, he can hear his mom and brother’s muffled voices. But god, he can smell their emotions. More than he’s ever witnessed his family complaining about.
When Jiwoon would come home with a bad grade, his parents would notice immediately without even seeing him. When Jeongguk asked about it, his dad explained that after presenting, they could smell emotions on people. It was something about their scents dampening for sadness, sharpening for anger, sweetening for happiness.
This is beyond dampening or sharpening. Their scents are invading Jeongguk’s senses, nearly making him retch with the intensity of it. The earthiness of his mom’s scent flares, nearly overtaking all the softer notes of sweetness. If Jeongguk closed his eyes, he could most likely convince himself he was standing in the middle of the forest that his family plays in on full moons.
But there’s more than just a strong earthiness. Her scent gives her away. It’s nearly rancid , muddy and sharp and bitter, and Jeongguk knows she isn’t just angry. She’s disgusted, ashamed, embarrassed. All because of Jeongguk presenting as a beta.
Maybe Jiwoon’s woodsy scent only makes his mother’s seem stronger, but there’s a distinctness to his, something that makes it uniquely Jiwoon.
He doesn’t smell mad. His scent also goes sour, like a rotting tree with all its inner bark exposed, but somehow it isn’t as bad. It’s nothing like his mother’s. It isn’t strong. There’s… confusion. Worry. Fear. Sorrow.
No anger nor disgust anywhere in his scent.
His scent only gets stronger as footsteps outside get louder until there’s a knock on Jeongguk’s door.
Jeongguk throws his blanket over his body. “Come in.”
Jiwoon pushes the door open, just enough for him to fit through and closes it behind him. There’s worry written all over his face, lips downturned. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
His brother licks his lips, staring at the heating pad and unopened water bottles on the floor. “It smells like sex in here,” Jiwoon says. It’s an obvious attempt to lighten the mood. Jeongguk tries his best to smile but knows it isn’t close to one.
Jeongguk turns on his side, face twisting up when his hip lands on a wet spot. He’s so fucking gross right now. “Sorry.”
Jiwoon shakes his head. “Don’t apologize.” He leans over Jeongguk’s body and opens the window. The fresh air feels nice against Jeongguk’s sweaty neck. He exhales, pulling the blanket down so his upper back is exposed to it as well and letting his eyes flutter shut.
“My first rut sucked,” his brother says after a minute, slightly startling Jeongguk. He’s sitting on Jeongguk’s floor with his legs crossed, passing a water bottle between his hands. “This is so TMI, but the first time I popped a knot, it got stuck in a fleshlight.”
Jeongguk’s nose scrunches. “Ew.” Yet, he still finds himself laughing along with his brother.
“I know. It was a human toy, but when I bought it, that was fine. But in my rut-induced stupor, I grabbed it and it wasn’t until I…” he makes a growing circle with his hands, a wordless way of talking about his knot. “I got stuck in it. I thought my dick was gonna fall off because my circulation was getting cut off.” He cracks open the water bottle and takes a sip.
“Is your dick still intact?” Jeongguk asks, reaching for his own water bottle.
Jiwoon nods, gulping down water.
They sit in comfortable silence again. Jeongguk is so tired that his eyes can barely stay open. He fights to stop them from closing. When he opens his eyes to put his now half-empty water bottle down next to his bed, Jiwoon is looking at him. “You shouldn’t ignore your needs now. If you’re falling asleep, get some rest.”
Jeongguk frowns. “I’m kinda scared to.” He almost doesn’t want to explain, but he’s never been good at hiding his feelings. If he doesn’t share his feelings, he’ll explode. “I don’t want to wake up feeling shitty.”
“You’ll feel shitty whether you sleep or not, but it’ll be worse if you don’t.”
He wants to ask, do you think mom hates me? Or say, if I go to sleep, then when I wake up, it’s that much closer to dad coming home.
He doesn’t do either. He nods, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. “Right, yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“I’m literally always right.”
No matter how bad Jeongguk feels, there’s no way he can pass on making a jab about his brother, “What about that test you got every question wrong on?”
His response is Jiwoon clicking his tongue. “I come in here to be a good older brother, share one of my most embarrassing life moments, and this is how I’m treated?”
“Yah, knothead, let me sleep.” Jeongguk says, looking up just to see his brother’s exaggerated jaw drop. He scoffs, holding his hand to his chest, but his expression is more of a wide smile than anything close to offended.
Jiwoon rolls his eyes, uncrossing his legs and getting up in one smooth movement. “Sleep well, dumbass. Use protection.”
The door is shut before Jeongguk can reply.
🐺
It takes four days for Jeongguk to be able to go back to regular, everyday life. He doesn’t feel quite back to normal, fighting a losing battle against cold and hot flashes, but he doesn’t feel like he’ll die if he doesn’t masterbate anymore so he takes it as a win. Even if his cycle was the same length as a heat or rut, the fact that he was alone, stuck swinging between his instincts. It probably didn’t help him that his body didn’t register his hand as a viable thing to attempt to breed.
The warm shower loosens his tight muscles and washes the lingering scent of his restrus down the drain. It’s a relief for it to be gone, to get rid of the awful memories attached to his restrus. He knows that he’ll have to go through this again, but in this moment, he wants nothing more than for this awful, heavy feeling to go away.
He wants to feel clean. And no matter the fact that he showered during his cycle when he was able to drag himself out of bed, it never felt enough. He knew within a few hours that the pain and urges and awful sticky feeling would come back.
For the next 6 months, Jeongguk will be free.
Once he gets out of the shower, he stands in front of the foggy mirror, breathing in the steam of the hot water. His reflection is distorted. He can make out the general shape of his body against the plain wall but nothing else. Everything else that makes Jeongguk Jeongguk is gone, hidden behind the steam.
He knows that it’s him only because, well, who else could it be?
He wipes the steam away, staring into his own big eyes. At least he hasn’t changed physically, besides his canines growing ever so slightly. Nothing like his alpha family members.
Once he puts his clothes on, he walks into the kitchen where his father is getting breakfast ready for himself.
Jeongguk hasn’t seen his father since before he presented. There was no other knock on his door after Jiwoon stopped by. Everyone kept their distance from him.
He turns to look at his son and then turns away, keeping his back to Jeongguk to steep tea in his mug.
It’s tense.
Jeongguk smiles, trying to ignore it. “Hey, how are you?”
His father shrugs. “I would be doing a lot better if you didn’t make the kitchen stink.” It’s the first time his new scent has been brought up, and Jeongguk immediately wants to go back to his room and shut the door and never come back out.
He wraps his arms around his stomach, watching his dad walk to the table without even looking up at Jeongguk. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was so bad. I mean, I thought beta’s scents were usually not as strong?”
“It’s pungent.” They make eye contact for the first time. Allowing instinct to take over, Jeongguk bows his head. This is embarrassing. He can’t even look at his own father without his tail falling between his legs, metaphorically and literally.
Jeongguk is positive that during the next full moon, his family’s pack will challenge the newly presented ones as always to figure out their place in the pack. Unlike the others, Jeongguk will know his place. And if fighting instinct is difficult in human form, it’ll be worse in wolf form.
He’ll lose, if he even puts up a fight at all, and cement his place as the weakest in the pack. The most replaceable. The one to leave behind in case of an emergency and forget about him. He can only hope that he’ll be able to get out on his own.
Like stupid possessions in a burning house.
Jeongguk grits his teeth to stop himself from whimpering. He’s so weak. “Right. I’m sorry, I’ll work on it.”
His father walks towards the table, keeping his back to Jeongguk. “Take scent blockers. They’re the only thing that will work.”
Jeongguk’s eyebrows crease, and he can’t stop how he blurts out, “blockers?” It’s louder than he means for it to be.
When his dad looks up at him, Jeongguk almost wishes that he didn’t. His face is serious in a way that has never had Jeongguk as the target of such a cold glare. It doesn’t even look like the man that raised him, that loved him up until four days ago. In that moment, it doesn’t even feel like Jeongguk has a heart — it feels like a cold, gaping hole where his warm heart should be pumping blood.
“Yes, blockers.” His dad repeats, slowly, like he’s stupid.
He speaks again, making sure his voice is level, calm. “Betas don’t usually take scent blockers.”
“All of you should. At least humans don’t have scents.” His dad shakes his head, looking away. “Suppressants, too.”
Jeongguk presses his lips together, nodding his head once.
His mother walks in, her nose scrunching up. Her eyes trace the pungent scent back to her son. She shakes her head, disappointed.
“Can I ask,” he starts, clearing his throat. Jiwoon looks up from his phone for the first time, one of his earbuds pulled from his ear, pausing with his chopsticks coming to his mouth. “What… do I smell like?”
“Shit,” Jiwoon says immediately, never missing an opportunity to tease. He ducks when Jeongguk makes a show of pulling his fist back like he’s going to throw a punch, despite being on the opposite side of the kitchen. Jiwoon makes like a boxer and hops on his toes, bringing his arms up to cover his face. “Steaming hot!”
His mother stops in front of Jeongguk, pushing his arm down to his side without un-scrunching her nose. When she speaks, her voice is cool, calculating. “You smell like coffee.”
It’s not the scent that Jeongguk would pick for himself, but it’s a decent smell, so he doesn’t mind it too much. But it doesn’t make sense why his parents are acting like he smells so awful.
“Like a walking Starbucks,” Jiwoon shouts as he leaves the room, his woodsy scent following him. Jeongguk blows a raspberry at him, despite knowing that it’s useless—his brother is already out of the room.
“You need to start acting nicer to your brother,” says his father, curt. He’s never said anything like this out of the blue. Usually, it always followed big fights. When Jeongguk looks at him, eyebrows furrowed, his father is already looking back at him. “He’s an alpha . Unlike you”
Jeongguk swallows. Yet another unnecessary reminder of how Jeongguk’s family views him—how society will view him. He leaves without another word.
He wouldn’t wish being a beta on anyone.
⏩ 🐺
The issue with being so fine tuned to scents is that ever since the interaction with the smaller omega, Jeongguk can smell him everywhere. No matter where Jeongguk goes on campus, there always seems to be a lingering scent of citrus and spice specific to the omega from a week ago.
Jeongguk hasn’t seen him since. But his business class is almost overpowered by the omega’s smell despite a major problem: the omega isn’t even in this class. Jeongguk has stared at every student in the lecture hall for much longer than what society says is acceptable and gotten glares and confused looks back, but hasn’t seen his sharp eyes or delicate nose. Somehow, his scent is still so strong it’s dizzying, even as Jeongguk tries his best to ignore it.
He can’t blame it on the full moon, everyone's scent gets stronger as the full moon approaches.
Instead, he blames it on the fact that the omega used his pheromones against him, and now his body is searching for him. That’s the only logical answer.
So, that’s what Jeongguk believes. He doesn’t allow himself the opportunity to think anything else and simply blames his beta for being needy.
Well, he does until his class before business ends early, and with nothing to do, Jeongguk takes his time walking to the art building. He notices that the bushes are overgrown—something he’s never had the chance to see before. The fresh air is nice to breathe in, and it makes it easier to calm his mind, to shut his racing thoughts up.
He doesn't remember the last time he was able to walk to his business class. He’s always in such a rush to get there on time, and by no fault of his own since they’re on opposite sides of the campus and there’s only so much between classes.
When he gets to the building, his body moves on autopilot to his classroom, and he has to remind himself that he’s got nearly an hour before class actually starts.
There’s a small waiting area outside, and there are a few people on their phones. Someone is watching a show without headphones and an alpha doing homework looks up occasionally to glare at them.
Jeongguk keeps his headphones on and sits on an empty bench, leaning his head against the wall. He has no need to overhear the dialogue of a show he doesn’t care about.
An omega sits on the opposite end of the bench from Jeongguk, giving a small smile with thick lips when Jeongguk takes a quick look at him. He’s in this class with Jeongguk, sits near the back and has his head down taking notes the majority of the time.
Outside of class, his head stays down, but instead of looking at a notebook, he’s texting, laughing softly every now and then at a message.
What’s his name, again? Jeongguk’s sure that he knows it from daily attendance as well as the few times he’s raised his hand to answer a question.
Jimin? He thinks?
Jeongguk raises the volume of his music and closes his eyes. It’s going to be a long hour.
He alternates between playlists, skipping songs rapidfire until he can find something he wants to listen to. Eventually, he just settles on his automated On Repeat playlist, content with the music. There’s a reason those songs are there.
He’s about a third of the way through when the door opens and a flood of students make their way out. The omega on the opposite side of the bench stands and at the first break in students, makes his way in.
Jeongguk follows, because at this point, he’d rather sit on anything besides that uncomfortable bench. His ass is numb.
The first thing he notices is someone sitting in Jeongguk’s unofficial seat; the seat that he’s claimed as his own by sitting in it every class for the entire semester thus far. He can’t image that anyone would want to sit in his seat anyway.
He shuffles awkwardly until he can get a better look, relieved to see it’s someone from the other class, turned away from where Jeongguk is standing to put a notebook in their backpack.
Jimin is standing behind them, running his fingers through their nearly shoulder length hair, braiding the overgrown bangs absentmindedly so their forehead is visible. Jeongguk can see his lips moving as he talks, but he’s too far to understand anything that’s being said.
He doesn’t need to hear anything, because their actions speak louder than words. Jimin leans forward and kisses the student’s forehead, who turns to look back at him.
The world seems to go silent. Jeongguk knows that side profile. He recognizes that small button nose and eyes sharp enough to cut glass.
He isn’t sure that he could ever mistake it.
Because it’s the omega that lectured him, the omega that released pheromones to calm him down. The omega that pitied him.
Huh. No wonder his scent was particularly strong in this class.
The omega turns to look at him, eyes widening in recognition. Jimin looks as well, though he seems more confused than anything. Jeongguk’s mind is clashing with his instincts. Run, growl, submit. Do anything to get them to leave you alone.
He doesn’t do any of those. He freezes, giving the omega a chance to come up to him with Jimin following behind him.
“Hey,” he says with a gentle voice, like one wrong move will have Jeongguk running like a stray animal. “How are you?”
Maybe Jeongguk should run. “I’m-I’m okay.”
Jimin frowns, looking between them. “Do you guys know one another?”
The smaller omega nods, voice deep and quiet, speaking on an exhale. His bangs, braided into the rest of his hair and tucked behind his ear, begin to come out. Jeongguk watches it slowly unravel.
There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.
“Yeah, Jimin-ah. Do you mind giving us some space?” He takes one of Jimin’s hands and squeezes it. “I’ll see you at home.”
Jimin walks to his seat, glancing at the two of them. Jeongguk can feel his eyes on them. And apparently, so can the omega. “Why don’t we talk outside?”
“I have class.” And, as if it wasn’t enough for Jeongguk to literally be in a classroom, with a backpack on, he points to his seat. Their seat.
The omega nods, pulling his phone out from his back pocket to check the time. There are nearly ten minutes until class starts. “I’ll keep it short.” His scent doesn’t flare or change. He isn’t upset, just neutral. Jeongguk cautiously keeps tabs on it.
Unable to think of anything else to say, Jeongguk follows him out, stopping at his seat to drop his bag off. They stand off to the side of the open door, Jeongguk with his back against the wall. Belatedly, he realizes that he’s trapped himself. There’s nowhere to run now. If he wants to beat Jeongguk up for disrespecting him, this is the perfect spot for it.
“I’m Yoongi,” is the first thing the omega says. His cheeks bunch with a non-threatening flat smile.
Jeongguk blinks, staring at the omega in silence until he remembers social cues. He quickly introduces himself.
Yoongi sucks air through his teeth. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Really see how you’re doing, I’m not asking as a pleasantry.”
“That’s it?” The question pulls a quiet, almost awkward laugh from Yoongi’s lips, his head bowing for a moment before he finally meets Jeongguk’s eyes once more.
“Well, that, and I wanted to apologize.”
That catches Jeongguk off guard. It must show on his face, furrowed eyebrows, mouth slack, because Yoongi seems just as surprised. He schools his expression and continues nonetheless. “I shouldn’t have released the pheromones without asking. It wasn’t right, no matter how stressed you were. We didn’t know each other—we still don’t.”
Jeongguk almost speaks but catches himself. He isn’t sure how to respond to this… kindness and compassion that he hasn’t been on the receiving end of in years. The only person that treats him even remotely similar to the way he was before presenting is his brother.
Yoongi nods, just small enough that Jeongguk can see. He still doesn’t speak, allowing the silence and a short shake of his head to speak for him. The omega exhales. “You can speak if you want to. I don’t believe in the whole societal hierarchy thing, none of my pack does.” Jeongguk knew he must have been mated, he saw the overlapping bites, but something about Yoongi confirming that he has a loving, caring pack rips a hole through Jeongguk’s chest.
Even with blanket permission, Jeongguk struggles to speak. He doesn't know how to respond, what to say. So he shrugs, summing up all of his complicated emotions better than words could.
“I struggle with panic,” Yoongi murmurs, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “And there have been times that people tried to calm me down with pheromones and it worked until it started going away, and then I realized that I was never actually calm, I was just forced to calm down and it always made it worse afterwards. I didn’t mean to overstep a boundary, especially since I know what it’s like.”
“‘S’okay.” Jeongguk swallows down his trepidation, finding that a smile comes easier than he expected it would. “I could tell that you didn’t do it maliciously. And it was nice, to… to have that freedom that comes with the pheromones.” Maybe it’s how Yoongi’s scent gets sweeter by the second while never quite losing the depth of the spice, but Jeongguk continues talking. “I don’t remember the last time someone did that for me.”
Although he doesn’t remember when, he knows why. It’s intimate, it involves trust to let yourself go. And Jeongguk doesn’t have anyone he can trust like he did when he was younger.
His parents would hold him, wiping tears off his cheeks and releasing pheromones until he could vocalize his issues, even if they were miniscule looking back. Everything is a big deal when you’re eight.
Even his brother sometimes would silently slink into his room and help Jeongguk sleep.
They claim everything is about packs, but not for betas.
Yoongi snaps him out of his thoughts by gently wrapping his warm, rough hand around Jeongguk’s. He doesn’t need to say anything, neither of them do. Yoongi’s scent reaches out, not to force him to calm down, but to encourage him to.
“You’re welcome to come back to our apartment, if you want,” Yoongi offers, after Jeongguk has blinked the tears out of his eyes. He doesn’t mention seeing the wetness in his eyes, even though Jeongguk is sure he did. “Any time. The pack always loves meeting new people.”
It sounds too good to be true. All of this sounds too good to be true. Maybe this is all a ploy to punish Jeongguk for interacting too easily with a mated omega. Alphas are too territorial for betas to stink up their omegas.
Jeongguk pulls his hand back to his stomach, covering it with his other hand. It all feels too much, too good, too fast.
“I should get to class.” He takes a few steps back, putting space between him and the omega. Yoongi seems to understand. He doesn’t reach out anymore, and he doesn’t try to stop Jeongguk from leaving. “Thank you for apologizing, Yoongi-ssi. I’ll see you around.”
He walks back into the classroom, and even without looking, he knows Jimin’s eyes must be on him.
Jeongguk spends the entire lecture thinking about Yoongi's slightly spicy scent and the warmth from his hand flowing through his bloodstream. He’ll have to look at the presentation when they’re posted online, and can only hope that the lecture aspect of today’s class isn’t important.
Of course, Jeongguk knows that Jimin will confront him after class, probably wanting to know what was said between his mate and some random beta. What he isn’t expecting is for Jimin to come up just to softly say, “I hope you’re doing well.” And to leave with a small smile.
Despite being shown nothing but kindness, Jeongguk can’t help but to wonder what these two want from him. What good is he to this pack, to these two omegas that already have one another? Especially since Yoongi had mentioned having a pack.
A pack that is perfectly fine without a useless beta getting involved and dragging them down.
🐺
Despite all the cons of living in a werewolf community, (Jeongguk knows that if he were to move to a community of mostly humans, he would deal with much less prejudice. It’s good in theory, but he knows his first full moon, he would probably be hunted down. He’s not strong or fast enough to run from them) one of the good things about it is that on the night of a full moon, there’s no responsibilities when it comes to school or work.
One of the many cons is that it’s not like it’s a totally responsibility-free day. All the alphas are mapping out their route for later, omegas are putting together nests for everyone to rest in afterwards, and the beta—only Jeongguk—is doing all the unwanted chores that nobody likes.
He used to help his aunt and a few of his cousins, the only omegas of the family. He was the only one allowed to, since he didn’t have any strong scent on him, unlike the Alphas.
Now, he’s banned off to the side, putting together first aid kits and watching his family connect to one another, seemingly forgetting about their weakest.
And shifting doesn’t seem to change the dynamic at all. The alphas surround the omegas, keeping them safe, leaving Jeongguk to trail behind them, tail tucked between his legs, head down.
A twig snapping in the distance causes the pack to freeze. His father, all the way in the front, stands tall, snarling at the newcomers. The deep rumbling makes Jeongguk’s hackles rise, staring the way of the uninvited visitors and trying his best to look intimidating. Even though it’s obvious that he’s nothing more than the beta.
One wrong move and this new pack would have Jeongguk’s body between their teeth.
The first face to pop out of the trees is a strong white wolf. Unlike Jeongguk’s father, the wolf isn’t snarling or showing teeth, but he holds himself tall, proudly. He’s nearly as large as Jeongguk’s father. His scent is… unusual. Jeongguk can’t help but to tilt his head, trying to get a better read of the scent because, afterall, that’s what he’s good at.
His pack doesn’t allow him to do anything with his good sense of smell. Because if Jeongguk proves to be helpful, he’s undermining his alphas.
It’s cloyingly sweet with something acrid mixed in with it, like something burning. He’s not used to alphas having such sweet scents. The alpha seems almost unimpressed, especially as the rest of his pack follows close behind him.
Jeongguk’s head snaps up, meeting eyes with a pretty gray wolf, smaller than nearly the rest of the pack, even if they’re mostly omegas. The ever familiar scent of citrus and spice is attached to him, woven through all of the pack and somehow, even with all the different smells, they all compliment one another. Yoongi looks at Jeongguk, using his paw to scratch his eye.
The pack of six continue walking as Jeongguk’s father shows dominance without needing to. Yoongi and Jimin and the other four weren’t aggressive, they were just wandering together.
Jeongguk turns and looks back at them, surprised to see them all meeting his eyes. The pack’s scent as a whole smells sad, disappointed. He almost wants to comfort them, despite not knowing why.
He hesitantly takes a step closer to them, Yoongi’s tail slowly beginning to wag at the step. The pack alpha’s ears raise as he watches Yoongi walk closer, but he doesn’t interrupt. Jeongguk bows his head, crouching down to show respect. It’s a new pack, and no matter how nice Yoongi is to him as a human, he doesn’t know the wolf’s temperament.
Before anything happens, his father barks, catching Jeongguk’s attention. His gold eyes are glaring, like he can’t believe what he’s witnessing.
He whimpers, though Jeongguk isn’t sure if it’s to his father or to Yoongi, he rushes closer to his familial pack, back at the end of the pack.
Jeongguk’s father stalks closer, growls in his chest growing louder until the other pack continues walking away. He tries to apologize as best he can, bowing his head and sinking lower and lower until he’s laying on his back, trying his hardest to make his already lanky body look even smaller.
Of course, his father doesn’t accept his shows of submission. He keeps his teeth bared until there’s drool dripping down Jeongguk’s cheeks. When his father reprimands him with a bite to the muzzle, it’s with enough strength to force a high-pitched, pained whimper out of him. His eyes squeeze shut, and stay shut until there are no more hot breaths against his face and the pack has begun to walk away without him.
He debates not following them, really, deeply thinks about if he could just manage to survive on his own.
He shuts down the idea almost immediately. A lone beta? He wouldn’t last more than a few days before dying, probably.
So Jeongguk forces himself to stand, ignoring the metallic scent of blood from where his father bit hard enough to break his skin. He knows that it’s unfair, because when Jiwoon gets disciplined by their father, the bites are never strong enough to draw blood. It’s always a light bite, just enough to get some respect.
His tail is tucked between his legs as he follows the pack, meeting his brother’s sad eyes. Once they reach the clearing, Jeongguk lays by the trees, trying his best to hide behind the thick trunks, staying away from the pack. He doesn’t watch his cousin’s play fights, and would never be allowed to join the alphas on their hunt.
The only alpha that didn’t join the hunt was Jiwoon, watching over his omega cousins in case something happens. He does walk by Jeongguk a few times, reaching his paw up and bringing it down on Jeongguk’s head like a human pets a dog. Jeongguk’s head tilts.
Jiwoon’s tail wags excitedly before he gallops away.
When the rest of the pack comes back, Jeongguk’s father’s snout is covered in blood, his teeth digging into a dead boar. His mom and a few other alphas followed behind, all with deers and smaller animals, holding their heads up proudly to show off their catches. The family all run around excitedly, and even Jeongguk finds his tail wagging.
There’s something about digging into raw meat as a wolf that makes all his confusing human emotions disappear. Jeongguk stretches, leaning back so his butt is above his head, tail standing high before shifting his weight so his stomach nearly grazes the forest floor as he stretches out his chest.
He walks towards the feast, staring at the meat. He can feel himself salivating as he looks at the elk, sniffing it. Jeongguk didn’t realize how hungry he was until there was food put in front of him.
Of course, Jeongguk doesn’t get the first bite. Alphas are big and strong, they need to make sure they’re eating enough to stay healthy. And omegas need energy to make nests. It’s also the omegas job to watch over unpresented members of the pack, like Jeongguk’s younger cousins. It’s no surprise that for each omega in Jeongguk’s familial pack, there’s an alpha with a chunk of meat in their mouth, dropping it in front of them.
By the time the crowd around the meat disperses, and Jeongguk can walk up to it, there’s almost nothing but bones left. He sniffs around the elk, using his paw to flip it over to no luck. He tries his best to shove his snout in one of the bites and try to sniff out any meat still remaining.
There’s none. He shouldn’t be surprised, it’s the same thing every month. The most Jeongguk is able to find is a piece of meat stuck between the deer’s ribs. It’s chewy and he wishes it tasted better, but it’s something.
He does lick the blood off of the bones though, and tries to trick himself into believing that it’s enough.
Jeongguk shuffles away and makes sure not to whine, despite how his stomach rumbles.
Instead, he walks back to where he was laying before, and keeps his head on his paws, watching the pack eat. Jiwoon plops next to him with a large breast between his teeth. He looks at the pack, then at Jeongguk, and drops it next to him before moving to sit in front of Jeongguk, blocking him from the rest of his family.
He knows what this means. Jeongguk holds it in his paws and eats it quickly, almost choking on it as he swallows it as fast as he can. It’s taboo, in not only their pack, but in their community, for an alpha or omega to give a serving of their meat to a beta. He doesn’t need it when it could go to an alpha or an omega that would make better use of it in their system.
It’s only one night, everyone tells him. It’s not like you’ll starve.
Jiwoon looks down at him and nudges him with his nose until Jeongguk growls softly — not out of annoyance, but out of confusion. Communication is limited as a wolf, afterall.
Luckily, Jiwoon knows better than to take offense to Jeongguk’s growl. He bends his legs and then straightens them, miming for Jeongguk to stand up. Once he’s up, Jiwoon starts walking away from their pack deeper into the forest, stopping to turn around.
Jeongguk hesitates, turning to look back at the pack. Everyone is occupied with something else, not paying the brothers any attention. He has a bad feeling that he’s going to get in trouble for this, but he rushes after Jiwoon, who immediately breaks into a sprint.
He isn’t sure how far they run, but it can’t be very long before they’re stopping beside a shallow river. Jiwoon dunks his snout in the water, blowing bubbles with his nose before stepping into the water. He lets out a yip and quickly steps out. He shakes himself dry.
Jeongguk blinks, looking at the constant stream like it would answer his questions. And somehow, it does. Because his reflection has blood along its mouth, pieces of meat between his teeth. When he looks down at his paws, he can see blood staining his fur there as well.
He needs to clean off, destroy the evidence of Jiwoon giving him meat. He does so quickly, understanding why Jiwoon yelped as soon as he dunks a paw pad in the water. It’s cold, but he makes quick work of it. He turns to Jiwoon who examines him carefully, sniffing around his mouth and between his toes for traces of blood. After a few moments of this, Jiwoon sits across from him and nods his big, wolf head. Jeongguk is clean.
They hurry back to the pack, Jiwoon stepping out first. His tail swings once to the right, and Jeongguk quickly lays back down, heart calming down when no one bats an eye. He rests his head on his paws as Jiwoon walks away without acknowledging him, knowing that in their pack, this is just how things have to be.
With his stomach no longer empty, Jeongguk thinks about the other pack, wondering just how true Yoongi’s invitation to meet the rest of his and Jimin's mates was.
🐺
His father yells at him as soon as the sun rises, barely past six in the goddamn morning, following him around their meeting point while Jeongguk shuffles around tiredly, picking up all the pack’s trash. Everyone else has already gone back to the nest besides him, but one of the assigned beta responsibilities of the pack is cleaning up after everyone.
He’s just barely able to walk in a straight line without falling over. “You’re a fucking beta! You don’t have any sway over which packs we interact with. There’s a reason you’re at the fucking bottom because your survival instincts are nonexistent.” Veins are popping out of his father’s neck.
Jeongguk crushes something in his grip, throwing it in the garbage bag he’s holding.
“They could’ve attacked us, and it would’ve been all your fault. You’re lucky I didn’t break your snout for the shit you pulled.”
He focuses on his breathing, on his search to find things to throw out, on anything but the rage filling him up.
He wants to shout back that they wouldn’t have attacked, they’re the only people that have treated Jeongguk with some sort of respect in the last few years, and if anyone was going to start a fight, it would’ve been his father foaming at the mouth at the sight of another pack minding their own business.
Stupidly, Jeongguk mentally reverts back to himself from a decade ago. He looks up at his mom and meets her eyes. The same caring eyes that would hold him tight and calm him down when he was young and silently pleads for her to help, to make it all stop like she used to, even for just a moment.
Then, she speaks. “You deserve this. I hope you listen and absorb what you’re being told so you don’t pull shit like that again.”
The words strike him like a match. Jeongguk watches her walk away, leaving him alone with his father.
By the time he’s finished cleaning up, he’s got a few hours until his first class, since the college pushes classes forward a few hours after every full moon. As soon as he hits the bed, he’s fast asleep.
When his alarm goes off, it feels like Jeongguk blinked. There was no way that was more than a few minutes, even though his phone’s clock wouldn’t lie. He hardly feels rested, body aching with exhaustion.
He goes through the motions of getting ready, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. There’s the expected smaller scrapes and bruises that come from shifting, but what catches Jeongguk’s attention is the nasty cut across the bridge of his nose from where his dad bit him yesterday. There’s dried blood trailing down his face, and Jeongguk can’t wait to wash it all away with a shower.
All the hot water has been used by the time he gets in but he can still picture all his pent-up rage swirling down the drain with all of the dirt and blood. Today is a new day of the same shit, but at least he can try his best to avoid his parents for the rest of the day. Maybe he'll spend all day at the library getting assignments done.
He manages to leave without running into his parents.
Everyone somehow is able to go back to normal after full moons. There are matching dark bags under everyone’s eyes, but there’s still a strong smell of enjoyment, contentment, and satisfaction through campus.
Jeongguk is sure that if he didn’t take his blockers, he’d smell like bitter, burnt coffee and spoiled milk.
At least he doesn’t have business today, so his chances of running into Yoongi or Jimin after the encounter they had last night are slim.
The day drags, just like the day after a full moon usually does. He spends his classes thinking about what it would be like to be in a pack that appreciated him, or at least didn’t treat him like a burden.
Sorry, we don’t want a beta in our pack…
It must feel amazing to have a pack that wants to play with you, a pack that doesn’t see you as something to throw to the feral wolves as a sacrifice. To have a pack—to have people—that care.
He packs his books up mindlessly, walking to his next class. The small coffee shop on campus that he passes by multiple times a week calls to him, and he’s surely got enough time to grab a cup, right?
Unlike all the other days when Jeongguk walks by, today, it’s nearly empty. Somehow, despite not getting much sleep, werewolves always seem to have a burst of energy after transforming. It must make people’s wolves feel alive. That must be why everyone smells so sickeningly happy.
Maybe one day Jeongguk will experience that.
The barista is making another drink when the bell on the door jingles, and he looks up at Jeongguk with a smile. His hair is honey brown and just long enough that it curls behind his ears. “Hi! How are you doing?”
Jeongguk manages a small smile and a shrug, looking at the menu above the barista’s head.
His eyes burn with each blink. Taking a moment, Jeongguk breathes in the coffee beans and closes his eyes.
It’s strange to think that this is what he smells like. This is Jeongguk’s offensive scent. To him, it doesn’t smell offensive—the roasted coffee beans are warm and filled with different undertones to make it sweet, full, rich.
“Long night?”
When Jeongguk reopens his eyes, the barista is leaning his elbows on the granite counter to be closer. Like this, Jeongguk thinks that it would be possible to count each and every one of his eyelashes.
Jeongguk nods, exhaling a laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“Take as much time as you need,” the omega barista says with a warm smile, walking towards the pastries.
The menu isn’t very long, but Jeongguk still feels overwhelmed by not only the choices, but the neverending nagging from deep inside his head that he has class soon. Even if it is only a two minute walk from where he is now, and he’s got more than enough time, every second that passes makes his anxiety build up.
He’ll just pick the first thing his eyes land on once his eyes refocus. It’s just coffee. He doesn’t need to like it, he never does, he’s just using it for the caffeine.
Iced americano.
“Um.” Jeongguk says walking up to the counter, unsure how to call the barista over. “Excuse me?”
The man behind the counter walks over with his lips curled into a small smile. It looks pretty on his face. The delicate scent of honey and cinnamon follows him, and Jeongguk can tell it isn’t from the pastries. “What can I get you?”
Jeongguk looks back up at the menu. “Can I get an iced americano?”
“What size would you like?” The barista asks, looking up from the computer. For the first time, Jeongguk’s eyes dart to his name tag.
Taehyung
Pretty name for a pretty person.
“Medium, please.”
Taehyung smiles and it’s so wide that it seems to take up his whole face. Jeongguk pays and then walks towards the end of the counter to wait for his drink. He rocks on his feet, refusing to let himself look at his phone to check the time.
It doesn’t take long before a girl places his drink on the counter, smiling politely. Taehyung appears in front of him before he’s able to grab his cup and puts a bag next to his drink. “It’s on the house,” he explains, walking away before Jeongguk is able to protest.
So, instead, Jeongguk nods his head in thanks even though the girl is working on something else and Taehyung is nowhere to be seen.
He gets to class with a few minutes to spare, so he sets his laptop up, opens his textbook, and peaks inside the crinkly bag from the coffee shop.
It’s a cookie, chocolate chip. Still warm to the touch.
Jeongguk takes a small bite of the cookie. He closes his eyes at the way it warms him from the inside out. Without meaning to, he smiles. Even though he wants to blame the warmth on the cookie tasting so damn good, he knows the feeling is because of the sweet gesture Taehyung showed him.
He isn’t tired for the rest of the day, and he knows it certainly isn't because of the full moon the night before, and it's more than just the cold, bitter coffee that still somehow heats his cheeks up.