Chapter Text
Mira was no stranger to pain. The pain of dancing until her muscles gave out, the pain of her mother’s hand across her cheek, the pain of split knuckles after winning a fight she didn’t need to start, even the persistent ache of the touch deprivation she was pretending not to have—these were all old companions. Not quite friends, though she sometimes welcomed the ache, but familiar. But this pain, the pain of a denied bond, was agonizing. It was one of the many reasons she had hoped to never meet her soulmates.
Bond sickness affected everyone, but the toll it took on omegas was worlds beyond how it affected alphas and betas. Which meant her mates were probably just dealing with headaches, nausea, and anxiety while Mira felt like she was dying. It gave her a grim sort of satisfaction to know that they were suffering too, though she wouldn’t wish the pain she was feeling now on anyone. Although they must be confused, she mused, given that they had no idea they had even met their third soulmate.
Mira kept her soulmarks hidden, always. As a child, she liked to look at them, tracing the abstract lines with her eyes and finding new shapes and patterns. Every soulmark was unique, a code that could only truly be read by a soulmate. To other eyes, it shifted and swayed into a mass of outlines and colors, beautiful but undefined. To a soulmate, it was like a night sky; different constellations hidden within it, revealing themselves before your eyes.
Mira had liked to name them, her personal constellations. She used mirrors to see the mark on the back of her neck, blue-green like the sea. Archelon, the sea turtle, Aquios, the ocean, Styla, the pen. On her sternum, a deep purple mark bloomed, almost like a bruise. Tigris, the tiger, Fulmen, the lighting bolt, Hymnia, the singer. Mira’s own mark, deep red-pink on the inside of her wrist, had never looked like anything to her, even when she was young and still hoped to meet her soulmates.
She had named her constellations to sound proper, like the real constellations her tutor taught her. As much as she hated learning most of what her tutor thought was “important,” she loved learning the stars. They were Mira’s companions when her parents locked her in her room, her constants when nothing felt steady under her besides the aching sting of their disappointment.
When she moved to Seoul, she couldn’t see the stars anymore, not with all the lights. She had stopped looking at her marks years before, as soon as she had presented as an omega. Now, they were just a representation of a new gilded cage, one she would do anything to avoid. Mira told herself it was the price she paid for freedom, losing the stars and her own constellations.
Not that she felt very free right now.
Right now, Mira could feel every star in her constellations burning, like they were searing themselves into her very being. Her skin felt too tight, aching and pressing on her bones. Her body was heavy, and she had already had three nosebleeds in the past day. But more than anything, she felt it in her chest, in her ribs, a burning, oppressive ache that would not go away. She had tried pain medication, alcohol, weed, even Xanax she bought off a friend of a friend. Nothing worked. Nothing made it better. It had been only five days since she had accidentally encountered one of her mates, and there was nothing she wanted more than to go back in time and keep it from happening.
Well, her traitorous mind whispered, I can think of something you want more.
Mira refused to follow that train of thought. She did not want her mates, no matter what her body said. She was an expert at denying the pull of her instincts, and this changed nothing.
The issues had first begun earlier that week, when she had been entering the company building to sit in on a dance practice for a song she had choreographed. Mira didn’t always go to the dance practices, often leaving the performance directors to adjust her choreography as needed rather than coming herself.
That fateful day, she had gotten stuck in an elevator with a shorter, bubbly girl with her hair up in two space buns. Her name was Zoey, apparently, and she chatted the whole ride up. Oddly, Mira hadn’t felt annoyed like she normally would have. She felt a strange draw to the other girl, one she had never felt before.
The pieces clicked into place when Zoey lifted a hand to gesture animatedly about something and Mira saw a soulmark on her wrist—Mira’s mark. She froze. Zoey’s neck was scarred with a long-healed mating bite, so she must be with their other mate already. Luckily, Mira’s suppressants kept her scent hidden, or Zoey would have realized immediately who she was. The suppressants also severely dulled her own sense of smell, so the omega hadn’t realized either.
Normally she was grateful for the absence of scents, given she knew her hormones were so out of whack that any scents would be overwhelming. But right now, for the first time ever, she wished she could smell more. Mira knew Zoey’s scent would feel like heaven, washing over her and soothing the persistent itching on her skin that came from the touch deprivation.
When the elevator doors opened, a few floors below where Mira had to get off, Zoey hesitated before leaving.
“It was really nice to meet you,” Zoey said, her voice lower and more sincere than her previous chattering. “Would you tell me your name?”
Without ever deciding to open her mouth, Mira’s name (full name, which she never gave!) spilled out.
“Mira,” Zoey said, testing it out. Mira shivered at the way her name rolled off the other girl’s tongue.
The doors started to close, Zoey still in the elevator. She quickly shot a hand out to stop them, laughing awkwardly.
Zoey cleared her throat. “Well, Mira, I hope I see you again soon. Here’s my card if you need me,” she finished with a wink, handing Mira a blindingly colorful business card.
Mira just nodded, saying nothing but taking the card nonetheless.
Zoey blinked once. “Right, well then, I’m off,” she chuckled, pointing a thumb back over shoulder as she backed out of the elevator, nearly tripping over the threshold. The last thing Mira saw as the doors closed was Zoey’s red cheeks and smiling face.
Mira stood there numbly, not even feeling the elevator beginning to move again. Despite her mind telling her to get rid of the card, her hand tucked it carefully into her pocket without looking at it. She went through the dance practice in a haze, barely hearing herself as she gave notes and adjusted the group members’ positioning.
The omega returned to her apartment in silence, headphones on but no music playing. This changes nothing , Mira promised to herself.
Now, five days later, the omega was forced to admit that was a lie. Everything was changing. She thought she could handle the pain of bond sickness, but this might be beyond even her.
No, Mira thought, gritting her teeth. I can handle this. I can handle anything. I don’t need anyone, let alone two people I don’t even know.
Mira took a deep breath, gearing up to run through her choreo again. She only had another few minutes reserved in the studio, and the footwork in the chorus needed to be cleaned up before she could even think of sending the choreo demo requested from her.
The omega queued up the music, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she prepared to move. Her reflection stared back at her through the mirrored wall, pale and gaunt. She was skinnier than before, the touch deprivation and consequent upped suppressant dose nearly killing her appetite. The circles under her eyes were deep and dark. She didn’t look well, and as much as she wanted to not care, she could hear her mother’s voice in her head berating her for being unkempt, for being disgusting.
Mira’s hearing started to echo strangely, her mother’s voice blending with the music as it bounced around her head. The cue in the song came and went, her body too heavy to move, the complete opposite of the lightness she usually felt while dancing. Something wet began to slide down Mira’s cheek, and she slowly lifted a hand to her face only to pull it back bright red, blood dripping from her ear.
Oh, Mira thought. That’s probably not good.
The last thing she felt before everything went black was her knees hitting the floor.
Zoey bounced into the apartment she shared with her mate, invigorated not only by the successful recording session she had returned from, but also by the absolute goddess she had encountered in the elevator.
“Rumiiiii,” the beta sang as she waltzed to the kitchen, where she suspected her alpha was probably trying (and failing) to cook dinner.
“Rumi, you’ll never believe what happened tod… oh.” Zoey stopped in the middle of her sentence, processing the scene she had stumbled into. Rumi was aggressively stirring a wok, the fan above the stove working overtime to keep the smoke detectors quiet. Ingredients sat scattered around the kitchen, which wasn’t surprising. The surprising part of the whole situation was that whatever Rumi was cooking actually smelled… good?
“Zoey, baby, I love you but please give me a minute!” Rumi yelled over the fan. “I’m conquering stir-fry right now.”
Without a word, Zoey plopped into a stool. Normally she would surely keep talking, but this was a miracle in progress. For all of her and Rumi’s many combined strengths, cooking was not one of them. Rumi was usually passable, the taste always a little off and the texture a bit wrong. Zoey had an unfortunate tendency to get distracted while cooking, which led to an equal amount of creatively flavored and burnt beyond recognition meals.
If Rumi could master stir-fry, it would be a game changer. Not that there was any issue with them ordering food—Rumi’s inherited Sunlight Sister money could support them ordering takeout for every meal for a hundred years.
Still, Zoey mused, it could be nice to have some home-cooked food once in a while. Sometimes Celine, Rumi’s adoptive mother, sent them home with food after their bi-weekly dinner, but still, this could be huge for them!
While Zoey had been lost in thought, Rumi had finished the stir-fry, spooning it onto two plates alongside some fresh rice (that was one thing they did have down) that she set at the table in front of Zoey.
“Okay,” Rumi breathed. “Moment of truth. On three?” She looked up to see Zoey with the spoon already in her mouth, eyes guilty. The alpha burst out laughing as Zoey started fanning her now open mouth.
“Too hot!” Zoey exclaimed. However, once her burned tongue had cooled, the food was… delicious? Zoey’s eyes widened as she began shoveling the stir-fry into her mouth.
Rumi, still calmly blowing on her first bite, looked up at her.
“I take it you like it?” She asked, a smug smile on her face. Zoey just knew her inner alpha was purring at being able to provide for her mate. However, as Rumi watched, her eyes widened.
“Zo, slow down! You’re going to choke. Take a breath.”
Zoey registered the words in the back of her mind, seeing the wisdom in them. She slowed her bites, humming happily.
“It’s really good, Rumi! Really, really good.” Zoey said, grinning at her alpha, whose chest visibly puffed at the praise. The beta held back her laughter at her mate’s adorable reaction, but it was a close thing.
They chatted about Rumi’s day for a few minutes, until Zoey shot upright from her slouched position with a gasp.
“Right! I needed to tell you! I met the most beautiful girl in the elevator on the way to the recording session I directed today for that song we wrote. She looked like a goddess, Rumi. There was just something about her… it felt almost like when I met you, but I couldn’t smell her, like, at all. Not even a faint scent. I tried to make sure she saw the mark too, but she didn’t say anything. Still… I just have this feeling about her.” Zoey spoke quickly, but she could see Rumi absorbing her words, used to her rapid speech.
Rumi’s voice was quiet when she asked for Zoey’s mystery girl’s name.
“Kang Mira,” Zoey replied, voice dreamy. She focused again on Rumi’s face, which was a bit conflicted, her alpha possessiveness warring with her joy over Zoey meeting a potential… someone.
“Look, Rumi. I gave her my business card so if she calls, we’ll both go to meet her. I think she will, there’s no way I felt this pull and she felt nothing. But I don’t want to do anything without you, alright? After all,” Zoey’s face twisted into a playful grin, “it’s your mark on my neck, remember?”
Rumi growled approvingly before slapping her hand over her mouth, looking shocked at her instinctive reaction. She wasn’t normally one for growling and posturing, but the whole situation had her feeling a bit on edge. For now though, there was nothing to do but to wait and see.
And wait they did. For five days, Zoey picked up every unknown number that called her, hoping desperately to hear the low voice she’d been thinking about since they first met. Rumi went about her days half-there, waiting for Zoey to tell her that she had gotten in touch with the elusive stranger. Their hope dwindled as the days passed, but neither of them were able to let it go.
It was early evening on the fifth day when Zoey’s phone rang with another unknown number. They were sitting on the couch in silence, watching a boring tv show in silence. Neither of them had been in the best mood lately, twitchy and uncomfortable, not to mention they both seemed to have picked up a nasty cold.
Expecting yet another spam call but unable to give up hope, Zoey picked up.
“Hello?” she said, devoid of her usual enthusiasm.
“Hi, is this Kim Zoey?” A tinny voice on the other end asked. Zoey could hear beeping and talking in the background of the phone call, and a shiver ran up her spine. She felt an overwhelming sense of wrongness wash over her.
“Yes, that’s me. Who is this?” Zoey replied, sitting up from her position curled up on their couch. Rumi, feeling her stress through the bond, sat up as well.
“My name is Jisu and I’m calling from the hospital. Do you know a Kang Mira?” The woman’s voice was calm, but there was an edge of urgency under the steadiness that ratcheted Zoey’s anxiety up to a new level.
“I met her a few days ago. What’s wrong? Why are you calling?” Zoey’s voice increased in volume with every word, panic surging through her.
“She collapsed at work. She’s suffering from severe bond sickness, extreme touch deprivation, and a whole myriad of issues from extended usage of prohibited suppressants. Nobody from her job had any idea about mates she might have met and she doesn’t have any emergency contacts. The only thing I could find in her personal effects was your business card. You said you met her a few days ago?”
Zoey was already up and grabbing her shoes, not bothering to change out of her pajamas. Their new mate was an omega. And more importantly, she needed them. Zoey gestured Rumi up from the couch as she talked. The distress clear in her scent and bond combined with the half conversation Rumi was hearing let her fill in the details pretty well.
“I met her five days ago. I had a feeling, I knew she was one of my soulmates but I couldn’t smell her and she didn’t say anything even when I made sure to make my mark visible.” Zoey was out the door by now, Rumi on her heels grabbing their car keys.
The woman sighed, sadness evident in her voice when she responded.
“That would be because of the suppressants. Not only did they almost completely eliminate her scent, they also probably crippled her own sense of smell.
To be honest though, I’m certain that she did know you were her soulmate. Nobody goes through this level of effort to suppress their instincts without hating their nature, and part of that would usually mean rejecting their mates. Not to mention nobody would ignore the level of pain she must have been in if they didn’t know why, and she hung onto your business card for a reason.”
And boy, did that sting. Not only did Mira hate her own nature, but she probably hated them, the two people she was supposed to love unconditionally, who were supposed to be her pack. But that wasn’t important right now. What was important was that she needed to get better. Then they could figure out the rest.
Zoey was still reeling as she got the rest of the details from Jisu. Their mate, their omega, was in the ICU, barely breathing. She had barely set down the phone when the tears began to fall. They had made it to the car by now, and Rumi was in the driver’s seat, seemingly on the verge of a panic attack.
“Honey, you gotta tell me where we’re going. What’s going on?” She was clearly trying to keep herself calm, and also clearly failing.
“The hospital,” Zoey said numbly. “I was right. She is our mate. She’s an omega. And she has bond sickness. And touch deprivation. And a bunch of other stuff because she’s been on suppressants.”
Rumi reacted to the information about as well as any alpha could: with an overwhelming sense of protective sorrow and a healthy dose of rage. Zoey had never smelled Rumi so angry.
“She was on suppressants?” Rumi growled, voice rough. Her scent spiked. Zoey felt an almost overwhelming urge to bare her neck.
“And touch deprivation? Was nobody taking care of her? Where were her friends? And her family? How could they not notice? There are signs. Fuck!” Her voice got louder with every word, almost shouting when she hit the steering wheel with the palm of her hand to punctuate her last word.
Zoey reached out to lay her hand on Rumi’s shoulder, rubbing the tense muscles gently. She sent as much love and strength as she had on hand (though she was running low as well) through their bond.
“It’s okay to be mad, baby. It’s okay to be upset. But right now we need to focus on getting there and helping our… helping Mira. We’re in this together. Okay?”
Rumi nodded. “Okay. We can do this. Together. She’s going to be fine. She has to be.” She nodded one more time, decisive, before pulling the car out of the garage.