Archive of Our Own

When Jaehyun learns the meaning of fear, he unlearns everything else.

The world is big for an omega, it has always been. When Jaehyun is a toddler, he’s a little wolf with a knack for biting alphas when they point their fingers his way, enjoying the indulgence he’s allowed in a world without rules. But toddlers grow fast, and then Jaehyun is a kid with a lisp who, despite being unable to get a grasp of his pack structure, understands his nature better than the other kids. An omega, they tell him. A rank designed since birth, not a choice, unchangeable. Jaehyun doesn’t question it for a moment, but rules come to him for the first time, like a merciless cascade that doesn’t provide him enough time to take a breath, and he wants to escape. It’s because he’s just a kid, because as older members of the pack tell him, he doesn’t know what is best for him.

He’s just seven, an omega, and he incorporates every rule into his life.

Jaehyun is eleven when he learns about fear. His lisp is gone, erased on a basis of pain and screaming, and he develops the first muscles to hunt, even though everyone tells him that he’s not meant to hunt. Jaehyun looks at his body and wonders why, then, he’s built like a hunter. Other omegas have them too, but no one asks, no one dares doubt the grounds of their education, and so Jaehyun remains silent.

He’s eleven when Sejun, the oldest omega of their pack, dies. He’s eleven when he wakes up in cold sweat, shivers whipping down his spine, and mind spinning with the uncertainty of what his body is going through.

Lying inside his cabin, Jaehyun touches his own skin and his fingers drip with sweat, breath rushing and heart aching. He has been taught about heats, but it’s too soon for that, too soon for him. Most omegas develop their first heat once they’re seventeen, and kids Jaehyun’s age still giggle over the mere mention of it, over the rawness and unfairness of their own bodies.

Jaehyun doesn’t want to be the weird one that develops a heat when he’s eleven years old, but the pain makes his body twist in bed. It has to be that, and Jaehyun is embarrassed, overwhelmed, and despite trying to muffle the sounds that come out of his mouth, his groans reach unknown ears.

A hand settles over his forehead, a familiar smell floating around him, and Minho’s voice seeps through the silence of the night, “You have a fever.”

He doesn’t mention any other symptom, and as Jaehyun opens his eyes and inspects Minho’s figure in the darkness, Jaehyun knows Minho is scared of him. Minho retracts his hand like Jaehyun could burn him, wipes it on his robe, and steps back so slowly that Jaehyun shouldn’t even notice.

Jaehyun doesn’t know if it’s because he’s too warm or because Minho fears that Jaehyun has caught the Black Death. Minho is fifteen, old enough to be wary of death, so Jaehyun wouldn’t hold it against him. No one wants to die, even those who don’t understand death yet.

Although Minho wants to leave and ask for help, Jaehyun tries to retain him and tell him that he shouldn’t. That Sejun is dying, right now, in his own cabin, and the alphas won’t have time or concern to care for Jaehyun. Jaehyun doesn’t know why he knows that, but he does. He closes his eyes and there, underneath his eyelids, the scene replays like a nightmare in a loop.

Minho looks at him with fright in his stare, yet he must deem that Jaehyun is having hallucinations, because that emotion disappears one second later.

“Sejun is fine,” Minho mutters, confused, because it’s hard to believe what someone with a fever says. It’s hard to believe such a statement coming from an omega, and that too, one without authority. Minho brushes Jaehyun’s hair out of his eyes, a gesture of affection that isn’t odd for them, since Jaehyun is just a little kid and Minho has the instinct to take care of him both because of his age and his rank. “I’ll leave you alone for a few minutes, but I promise I’ll be back soon. I’m going to call the Alpha, okay?”

Jaehyun isn’t so sure about that. When Minho leaves, he avoids closing his eyes, but the feeling of death looming over them remains. The silence outside the cabin is beyond unsettling, because their pack is never this silent; he can always hear the patrols around the cabin, whispering, laughing, perhaps only their footsteps. Tonight the silence is absolute: the patrols are crowded around an omega that is dying, and Jaehyun can witness the scene without leaving his bed.

Minho comes back one hour later, with his eyes red and swollen, and the print of a hand on his cheek. And most importantly, when he glances at Jaehyun again, the fear in his eyes has revived. Minho has realized that Jaehyun, unlike Sejun, doesn’t have the Black Death. There isn’t any explanation for Jaehyun’s premonition, and Jaehyun would like to calm him down, despite Minho being older and in charge, but he’s scared too.

It’s the first time someone looks at Jaehyun that way, but once it happens, no one ever looks at Jaehyun any differently.

In the middle of the night, Jaehyun shuffles behind his cabin, the smell of his own heat blocking his nose.

He looks up at the sky, trying to decipher any signal that will inform him of the time, but the clouds are thick tonight and Jaehyun can’t even see the moon. Not a good night to wander in the woods, and for that same reason, the perfect night to do this.

Jaehyun tries to hold his breath as he waits for Sicheng. There are alphas guarding the pack’s den, but they’re aware that Jaehyun is in his heat, so they avoid coming close to him. Still, Jaehyun doesn’t walk too far, fearing that if he moves on his own before Sicheng arrives, the guards will notice the direction of his scent.

The possibility ties a knot in Jaehyun’s chest. He has never done this before. He wouldn’t be doing this if Sicheng hadn’t offered it to him in the first place; but Sicheng is intuitive, the right amount of nosy to read people’s needs and problems, and Jaehyun couldn’t lie to him. He’s putting much at risk and yet, deep within, there’s that tiny voice that assures him that it’s the right path, where his visions are leading him, that this is happening for a good reason.

Jaehyun hears Sicheng before he sees him, before he smells him. It’s normal, for Jaehyun’s senses are clouded, distorted by his heat, and only his hearing remains intact for any possible danger. Sicheng isn’t wearing the pack’s robes – a sky blue robe with a bow adjusted at the waist – but black, regular clothes that won’t raise any suspicions in enemy territory. Jaehyun didn’t think twice before slipping into his robe, which looks like a dumb idea now considering what he’s about to do.

Sicheng is barely breathless, but his chest swells and his eyes wander around the zone.

“I’m sorry for being late,” he apologizes, out of habit rather than honesty. Jaehyun nods, because Sicheng is doing too much for him, and Jaehyun should be grateful for all of it. He doesn’t have any right to complain. “The alpha and I were securing the zone.”

The mention of the alpha startles him. In other circumstances, he would ask for the alpha’s name, but if Sicheng tells him, Jaehyun might back out. Having a name to rely on will feel too real. Their anonymity is a matter of security as well, because the alpha that is going to help them, to help Jaehyun, is in danger too. Jaehyun could be a traitor fishing for information, so he understands Sicheng’s preventions.

“Is the path clear?” Jaehyun asks, swallowing his fears all at once.

Sicheng nods.

For Jaehyun, his visions are as natural as breathing. For his pack, they’re terrifying. Hideous fortune.

It’s impossible for him to find an alpha that isn’t scared of him, an alpha that is willing to spend his heat with him. Jaehyun carries more than fear with him: he has a stigma over his shoulder, a social infectious disease that will make anyone that touches him feared by the pack as well. Even those that don’t feel intimidated by Jaehyun’s powers don’t mingle with him to avoid being marginalized. Only Kun, their Alpha, is allowed to have a relationship with him without dealing with the consequences. But Jaehyun doesn’t want Kun’s pity. Never Kun’s.

“The alpha is young,” Sicheng tells him, reaching out to hold his hand and pull him into the woods. Jaehyun glances back at his cabin one more time, and though there isn’t any trace of the guards, his heart still skips a beat. “If he regrets it, don’t take it personally. I deal with a good bunch of alphas from the other pack, but for this one, it’s his first time disobeying his pack’s rules. He’s as scared as you are.”

Jaehyun bites his lower lip, not knowing what to say. The heat blurs his thoughts, but he knows that he didn’t tell Sicheng that he was scared: his scent is so strong that Sicheng must have detected it himself.

“It’s fine,” Jaehyun mutters at last.

It’s the first time for Jaehyun too, but facing an equally lost boy doesn’t calm his nerves. What he’s doing, Sicheng’s whole business, is pure treason. Jaehyun has always believed that they were a compact, loyal pack, but three years after his first heat, he has learned that their instincts are stronger than loyalty. They’re stronger when they’re defensive of their pack, a natural response to their survival, but sex, their heats, their ruts, are stronger than law, and also a natural response to survival.

That’s why Sicheng’s business exists. Calling it a business is an insult, since Sicheng does it out of charity, but charity cuts too deep. Sicheng knows more about both packs than anyone else, and yet he has never used that power against them.

Sicheng blindfolds him five minutes later, even though Jaehyun is so nervous that he would never be able to backtrack their way to the secret place. It’s the protocol, however, so Jaehyun accepts and holds Sicheng’s hand harder, hoping not to trip in his grip.

Jaehyun doesn’t know how long it takes them, yet when he smells the alpha for the first time, his legs weaken immediately. It’s a novelty. Jaehyun knows every alpha of his own pack, is familiar with their scents, and so during his heat, he knows what to expect. But this alpha’s fragrance is new, something that is out of Jaehyun’s control, and it hits him so hard that he stops breathing for half a minute.

When he inhales again, they’re much closer, and Sicheng muffles a small laugh, noticing that Jaehyun’s rationality is being undone by the second.

“Take it off once you’re inside,” Sicheng whispers into his ear, but he doesn’t let go.

Jaehyun’s senses are subdued by the alpha’s smell. The click of the door, the steps on the wood, the rushed breathing that reverberates inside, is all dulled to Jaehyun’s ears. Sicheng’s hands linger on him as he guides Jaehyun inside, as though he’s ready to drag him back at any time. It’s too late to repent. Jaehyun believes this is destiny, and it’s not his place to back out.

Besides, he needs it.

The door closes. Jaehyun lifts his hand to take his blindfold, but when his fingers are about to touch the cloth, a hand curls around his wrist. Skin against skin. It burns so bad that Jaehyun wants to scream but, when he opens his mouth, he doesn’t have enough strength to do anything but whine. The alpha’s hold vacillates at first, like wondering if Jaehyun has given him permission, until Jaehyun surrenders and lets him remove the blindfold.

The alpha is a boy, slightly younger than him, with dark eyes and a boyish maturity that erases the distance between their ranks. Jaehyun can understand why he would need an omega from another pack. Too many alphas in his pack, too few omegas, there are always better choices. And yet Jaehyun feels his instinct screaming at him to give himself to this alpha, all of him, until he has fucked him so hard that the pain disappears.

Jaehyun gathers all his force to mutter his last words of the night, the last ones that won’t be pure pleading, “Your name?”

The alpha’s eyes travel from his face to his collarbone, little rationality left in him. He’s thinking about biting Jaehyun, and a shiver goes down Jaehyun’s spine, because he yearns for that too.

When the alpha looks into his eyes again, his pheromones are infuriating.

“Minhyung,” he says, a raspy, dying groan.

Jaehyun doesn’t forget his name.

Jaehyun follows every instruction that Sicheng has given to the last detail.

And yet, it isn’t enough. Minhyung fucks him hard, scents all of him, and has to make a great effort not to bite him. Jaehyun can’t come back to his pack with an unidentified mark on his neck, and Minhyung could disregard his security and look for his own pleasure, but if Jaehyun gets caught, he might get caught as well. When they part ways, Jaehyun wishes he could stay.

He barely knows Minhyung. He has learned that he’s dominant, but respectful, and that he ignores why he should fear Jaehyun. It’s perfect. It’s convenient. And Jaehyun doesn’t want to let go.

Early in the morning, Jaehyun washes himself down in the river. There is no one around, but the turn for omegas starts one hour later, so he can’t take much time if he doesn’t want questions. Other omegas wouldn’t dare to talk to him, but perhaps they would run to their Alpha to snitch. He scrubs himself as well as he’s able to, until his skin is red and the palms of his hands hurt, until he’s certain that Minhyung’s scent is gone.

Jaehyun doesn’t realize his mistake until much later.

That afternoon, when he’s sitting in front of the council as an audience member, he feels an insistent pair of eyes on him. The reunion of the council is routine work, just one of their weekly meetings to decide the most political issues of their pack, and Jaehyun doesn’t have any say in the decisions. He still has the duty to attend them due to his visions, for the pack believes he’s a useful tool to prevent catastrophes. He can talk, but he can’t decide, and though Jaehyun has never opposed to attend the council meetings, he keeps most of his visions to himself.

It’s Kun, the Alpha, who stares at him across the room in complete silence. For once, he doesn’t speak for the whole meeting. He just gazes at Jaehyun like he can rip all his secrets from him, and maybe he can.

Jaehyun’s first mistake is the timing. Sleeping with Minhyung puts an end to his heat, too soon, and given their close relationship, Kun keeps track of his cycle. Jaehyun should be in heat for three more days, yet he’s sitting in the council meeting with all the calmness of the world, not a single drop of sweat in his body. Kun knows he has fucked someone, and he’s smart enough to suppose that there’s a tiny, yet realistic possibility that the alpha isn’t from their pack. In fact, assuming that the alpha belongs to their pack is more nonsensical.

Kun doesn’t interrupt the meeting. He waits the two whole hours, and in the end, when he gives his subordinates permission to leave, he pins Jaehyun down with a grave glare.

Jaehyun would like to dismiss the silent order, but it’d be for the worse. Kun tilts his head, hooks one of his fingers as a signal to his guards to approach Jaehyun. It's ridiculous, since Jaehyun doesn't have enough strength to fight three guards, just a sign of the power that Kun holds over him. It’s fast and discreet, but the discretion comes from how every member of the pack has learned to lower their heads and ignore whatever their Alpha doesn’t want to draw attention to.

There will be gossip about this outside, once they cross the door. Jaehyun is used to it.

Jaehyun has been in Kun's cabin a thousand times. Since he was a kid, Kun's father had seen the value Jaehyun's powers had, for better and for worse. He had grown up with Kun, with the distance that two boys of different class had to maintain, and with the distance he had to maintain as an omega.

However, there have been just a few instances in which the atmosphere was tense between them: when Kun was bitten by another alpha and Jaehyun had to cure him in secret, since he didn't want his father to find out such a shameful lack of power; any time Kun's father humiliated him in front of Jaehyun; any time Jaehyun caught Kun thinking about leaving, looking into the woods as if there was a paradise beyond.

Jaehyun falls on his knees as soon as the guards release him, his head down. It's what he has to do. He takes a peek at Kun, his back facing Jaehyun, the bed at his feet and his head turned to the right, looking at a painting of his family – father, sister, himself.

“Leave,” Kun says right away.

He's not talking to Jaehyun, but the guards, who hesitate for a second before obeying. Jaehyun doesn't know if he's safer with or without them. Kun's rage is palpable, despite his calm posture, his hands tied at his back, and Jaehyun isn't able to guess what will happen to him.

“You played a game that isn’t for you,” Kun states, cold, not bothering to turn around. “Do you think Sicheng was doing you a favor?”

Jaehyun feels his body freeze.

There's no way Kun has managed to discover the whole scheme in a matter of hours. Unless he went to look for Jaehyun last night and realized that he wasn't in the cabin, that he was in his heat and that his scent was undetectable in the whole town. But Sicheng? Sicheng has been working on this for years, and he has never had any trouble with his plans.

Jaehyun lifts his head, taking a deep breath. Answering Kun's question implies accepting that they're guilty, and Jaehyun isn't disposed to be the one that condemns them both.

“You have no proof against us,” Jaehyun mutters.

Kun scoffs. He spins on his feet, and when Jaehyun meets his eye, he becomes aware of the extent of his mistakes. Kun isn't happy, but he's resigned, like a man that knows every truth, even if Jaehyun can't tell how or since when. Perhaps this is bigger than him, bigger than Jaehyun getting a good fuck during his heat.

“I don’t have any proof, but I know what he does,” Kun confirms. He licks his lips, looks at Jaehyun with disdain, and announces, “You’ve just become another little pawn of his little rebellion.”

Confusion strikes, yet Jaehyun holds onto his own beliefs. Sicheng isn't cruel. He might have an aim with his whole business, but Jaehyun doesn't think Sicheng is using omegas to achieve his political changes. He runs this in the darkness, even if Kun is updated of his moves, and it’s not meant to be a public rebellion.

Jaehyun agrees with Sicheng. Not just because he has his own visions to rely on, but because their pack is too stubborn, too stuck in their pride. Kun would never let him see an alpha from another pack, out of possessiveness and territoriality, and would prefer their pack dead to communicating with Minhyung’s pack.

It’s going to kill them at last. Jaehyun knows that.

Breathing in Kun’s pheromones, Jaehyun fights to say, “Our pack is dying.” And it’s the truth, but it’s dangerous, and Kun’s gaze shifts to him so fast that Jaehyun has to grunt the next words. “There aren’t enough alphas.”

Kun strides to him and lifts his hand to hit him. Jaehyun looks down at the floor, preparing. The hit never arrives. Kun has never hit him, but as the Alpha, he has the right to. And Jaehyun would have to seal his mouth, accept it as a punishment. Kun’s father often hit both of them, and perhaps that’s why right now Kun curls his hand into a ball instead of landing a slap on Jaehyun’s cheek.

Regardless, Jaehyun can’t breathe.

“Don’t you dare go on.” Kun grumbles. There aren’t enough alphas, that’s a fact he can’t refute, but for Jaehyun to throw it at his face is beyond disrespectful. Kun is aware of their extinction. “Are you trying to commit treason?”

Jaehyun has already committed treason by parting his legs for Minhyung. It’s forbidden. The feud between their packs bans their members from contacting each other, since any wrong move could make a war explode. Jaehyun’s situation is the perfect proof of it: if Kun was in love with him, he would start a bloody war in a matter of hours.

Kun could behead him for it, and yet his question is forgiveness itself. Are you trying to? he says, like he will only blame Jaehyun if he insists on disobeying the rules. A small chance for him.

Jaehyun shakes his head, but his mouth contradicts his wishes, “No alpha of this pack wants me.”

It’s almost defiant, but it’s not a lie. It doesn’t offend Kun: he’s not in a position to be offended. Pretending that Jaehyun will find someone that loves him here, in a pack where everyone repudiates him, is laughable.

Yet when Kun leans down to look at him from up close, there’s a smirk on his lips.

“You’re foolish,” he insults Jaehyun, no trace of mercy. “You think that the alpha that fucked you will love you? No alpha from the east’s pack would have wanted you if they knew it was you.”

Kun's words sting in the deepest part of Jaehyun's soul.

They wouldn't hurt if they were lies, but they're not. Jaehyun's pack fears him, but so do the others. If Minhyung had known that he was Jaehyun, the omega with visions, he would have run away from him. Everyone is afraid of what they don't understand, and no one can understand Jaehyun, not even Jaehyun himself sometimes despite having accepted his powers.

Jaehyun feels like crying, but he cried for a lifetime when he was a kid. He remembers crying for hours when Kun's father first beat him, and crying for a few minutes by the tenth time. He learned to swallow his tears before they existed, and his uselessness as an omega isn't what will make him crumble down.

When Jaehyun looks into Kun's eyes again, it's to show him that he's resisting.

“You should have deserted me by now, but you feel guilty for the way your father treated me,” Jaehyun accuses him. And just like Kun's words hurt Jaehyun, Jaehyun's words have the same effect on Kun. Kun is being an irresponsible Alpha, keeping an omega that the pack is uncomfortable with. “You don’t have to keep me as your omega just because you pity me.”

Kun's anger extinguishes. It gives room to something scarier: his weakness.

Jaehyun and Kun have never discussed it, but growing up with his Alpha turned Jaehyun into an expert at reading him. By now Kun should have found a partner to lead the pack, and being this late into the game, people are starting to come up with theories: that Kun is exclusively attracted to alphas, that he intends to have more than one omega, and similar rumors that Jaehyun knows to be false. After spending most of his life with Kun's family, Jaehyun has borne with every omega that got into Kun's bed. Kun has been in love, too, but for some reason he thinks love won't be a good companion for his life – Jaehyun supposes that being in love with Sicheng wasn’t the best experience for a leader.

Mating with the son of a soldier, an omega that is lower in class than him and that no one else but Kun appreciates, seems to be his perfect plan.

“You belong to this pack,” Kun reminds him, kneeling before him. If they weren't alone, Kun would never kneel, and yet it's not a sign of equality. Kun's gaze finds Jaehyun like it would find a cornered animal that has no reason or options, and he whispers, “And this pack belongs to me, hence you are mine, Jaehyun.”

And Jaehyun is. So is every other member of the pack. The day Kun decides to announce that Jaehyun will be his other half in power, Jaehyun will have to assume that role or escape. But Jaehyun has never seen himself, in the future, leading this pack. He has witnessed a very different trajectory that will consume Kun's heart while it's still beating.

“I'm yours,” Jaehyun repeats in a mutter.

Kun gives him a curt nod, slightly content. “You shall not contact the east’s pack again, or I’ll have to take measurements.”

“You’re being irration-”

Despite what it looked like, Kun didn't buy his tiny subjugation; he knew Jaehyun would contradict him as soon as he had spat that order. And so before he can finish his sentence, Kun's hand is on his jaw, grabbing him with so much force that Jaehyun can't even open his mouth, can't even move his tongue. The strength of an alpha is incomparable, and Jaehyun is petrified all at once, both for the physical force and the smell of Kun's pheromones.

“You fucked an enemy!” Kun screams at him, losing all his patience. It's loud, too loud, and Jaehyun cowers in himself, thinking that the guards will hear about his treason and then Kun will have to punish him for real, for his image, to keep his leadership intact. “The grandson of your grandparents’ murderers, and the son of your parents’ murderers!”

Jaehyun tastes metal on his own tongue.

The topic of his parents is taboo; Jaehyun's memories about them are scarce, and yet he remembers it was the only time he was ever loved. Kun is trying to bring him to reality with the harshest truth: Minhyung represents the blood of his own parents. He's alive because Jaehyun's parents were murdered.

Upon Jaehyun's stunned silence, Kun lets go, aware that this was enough to convince him. He pants, tired from his own explosion, backtracking for Jaehyun to breathe on his own, and sends what could be an apologetic glance to him.

“Did you see anything?” he asks, softer. Kun has asked that question a thousand times, and Jaehyun rarely changes his answer, but it's his duty to make sure that this about Jaehyun's capricious wishes, and not about their safety. Jaehyun knows better, however: Kun wouldn't listen to his most vital visions, not even for their safety. “Anything about our pack’s future? Is that why you’re acting like a-?”

Like a traitor? Like a whore? It could be anything.

“No, Alpha,” Jaehyun lies. His knees, on the floor, hurt more than ever.

But oh, Jaehyun has seen so much.

Jaehyun is eleven when Youngho first appears in one of his visions.

At that age, Jaehyun still has trouble differentiating between his dreams and his visions, especially when it’s late at night and he’s lying in his bed. But as he heard once, one can’t dream about people they have never encountered in real life.

That’s how he knows that Youngho isn’t part of a dream.

Seeing him is a strange experience. Unlike his other visions, the vision about Youngho doesn’t take place in the future, but in the present, a little portal to the other side of the river.

Youngho is thirteen, a kid growing into a teenage body, surrounded by other alphas that don’t treat him like a threat. Until then, Jaehyun has believed that the east pack is as cruel as their stories paint them, but he watches Youngho by the river, shirtless and playing under the sun with other alphas, and doesn’t think he can be cruel. At least not yet. He bites other alphas, laughs when he gets pinned down on the ground, grumbles if someone tries to drown him in the river, and runs around the forest with complete freedom. There’s a younger omega that sticks to him, sparkling eyes and grabbing hands, as though he has found his family in Youngho. Youngho takes cares of him. He teaches him to swim, releases him in the middle of the river and laughs out loud when the little omega panics, but he’s always there to pick him up in time.

When his first vision ends, Jaehyun feels like crying.

The east pack barely has any omegas around. Every one of them is handled like a treasure, with love, with adoration, something that Jaehyun has never experienced. Something that perhaps he doesn’t deserve, and that Youngho won’t be able to give to him.

“You didn’t wash yourself well,” is Sicheng’s conclusion the next day, sitting with his legs crossed on the floor. His gaze wanders from Jaehyun’s clothes, where his hands are undoing the robe, to his face. “I’m sorry. I should have helped you the first time. You still smell like Minhyung.”

Ten, behind Sicheng, confirms it with a nod.

It’s normal that Jaehyun couldn’t get rid of Minhyung’s scent. It was the first time for both of them, too much tension, too much instinct involved, and despite not biting him, Mark had marked him up with great success.

Sicheng is wearing his blue robes too, but Jaehyun is used to being naked in front of other omegas, so he doesn’t feel any shame when Sicheng strips him whole, both him and Ten keeping his clothes on.

It has been a while since Jaehyun received a bath from someone else, but this is necessary to remove Minhyung from his skin. As soon as Sicheng got informed that Jaehyun had been dragged to Kun’s cabin, he went to look for him, waited for him by the door. It was both a relief and nerve-wracking, because his presence was a way to prove that both of them were guilty, but there was also no one else that could help Jaehyun after this.

“Kun already knew about you,” Jaehyun comments, watching Sicheng soak a sponge in the liquid that will erase Minhyung’s trace. Ten kneels next to him and imitates his moves; he’s the first one to brush the sponge against Jaehyun’s cheek, the thick liquid dropping off his jaw. “He didn’t even let me explain.”

“Kun knows many things,” Sicheng corrects him. He doesn’t deny the accusation. “But he can’t share them, and that’s where our power lies. Sending his men to investigate me would imply admitting that he knows I’m a traitor, and then he would have to eliminate his men, or eliminate me.”

Jaehyun blinks at him, understanding. Kun is aware of everything they do, but that isn’t stopping Sicheng.

Ten tilts his head, a smile blooming on his face, though he doesn’t look into Jaehyun’s eyes when he adds, “And he can’t show mercy to a traitor.”

It’s the same that happened to Jaehyun. Kun doesn’t wish to hurt him, prefers to deal with the hints of betrayal and disobedience in private rather than taking the measurements any other alpha would have taken.

“Kun is good. He’s kind,” Sicheng says in a whisper. And he’s right, but no one in this pack knows the extent of Kun’s feelings. Jaehyun, however, would swear that trusting Kun’s kindness so blindly is too dangerous. He was raised by a monster; Jaehyun wouldn’t advise pushing him to his limits. “He doesn’t want to kill anyone from his own pack.”

Jaehyun bites his own lips, retaining the questions he wants to fling at Sicheng. Around two years ago, Kun had an eye on Sicheng, and Sicheng had an eye on Kun, but Kun was never explicit about how they fell out. Maybe they never did. Sicheng is too firm on his own beliefs to settle down for love, and Kun has too many obligations to cede his political plans because of love. It wasn’t a good combination.

“Sicheng,” Jaehyun calls, cautious. Sicheng acknowledges him with a nod, focused on rubbing Jaehyun’s chest. “How many omegas do you put in contact with the east pack’s alphas?”

Sicheng glances at him, eyes drenched in amusement. “You’re hilarious,” he assures Jaehyun, letting a small laugh. Ten laughs too, and it makes Jaehyun feel that his question is stupid. “This damn pack is full of omegas. Losing a few of them wouldn’t be any loss for our pack in… logical terms. But the problem is that here, in this little circus of a pack, there are many alphas that yearn for other alphas. That’s my main clientele.”

Jaehyun instinctively looks around to check that no one is around to hear them; such a suggestion should never be said out loud. Everyone knows that it happens, it’s somehow natural and it can’t be stopped, but it’s an insult to the prevalence of their pack.

“What?” he mutters, feeling his heart drop to his stomach.

Sicheng doesn’t answer. It’s Ten, a little bit more serious, who explains, “Neither Kun nor this pack can’t afford deserting any alphas.”

Which implies that, in any case, only omegas will be in danger if this blows up. And it is going to blow up, but Jaehyun doesn’t know when or how, or what role he will play in it. He just knows that he will be the cause of it, and if it works out, then he will get away with it; he ignores what might happen if things go wrong.

Jaehyun breathes in, thinking. Perhaps his immersion in the problem involves becoming one of them – helping Sicheng, helping other members of the pack that are too afraid to break the rules by themselves. Kun would never forgive him for it, however. Even though Jaehyun doesn’t see any other path right now, he’s certain that it’s the time to start moving.

“Why did you arrange all this?” Jaehyun shoots in the end, in hopes that it doesn’t sound like an accusation or like he wants to snoop in.

Sicheng might not give him any hint of anger, and his hands roam over Jaehyun with the same delicacy, but Jaehyun detects the way his shoulders tense up, how he’s not comfortable telling his story.

Sicheng shakes his head. “Information is power,” he says, just that.

Kun knows many things, but not all of them. Telling Jaehyun isn’t safe. Giving him an important place in their schemes isn’t safe.

But there has to be a way.

Jaehyun feels watched, but it doesn’t come off as a surprise.

Kun isn’t able to punish him without revealing what he did, but no one suspects anything about Kun sending guards after Jaehyun. He’s an omega. If Kun wants him monitored, the guards will assume he’s interested in Jaehyun for other reasons. It’s simple for him. It’s hell for Jaehyun.

After years of being ignored out of fear and because the other members don’t want to be associated with him, he’s not used to the lack of solitude. They’re there when he steps out of his cabin first thing in the morning – some young alphas that were joking around with each other one second ago, but that sober up as soon as they detect Jaehyun. They’re there while Jaehyun collects medicinal herbs for the sake of their arsenal, following him through the woods, and they’re there when Jaehyun kneels near the river to wash his clothes.

Jaehyun pretends they don’t exist, but he’s uncomfortable, and so are the guards, a small link of awareness towards each other that keeps them connected.

There are many people washing their clothes by the river when Jaehyun arrives, some kids playing too, and enough distractions for Jaehyun to breathe for a while. He knows better than to believe he’s free. So when someone drops next to him, too close to be a coincidence, Jaehyun wonders if he’s dealing with the dumbest person in the world.

No one ever approaches him this way. The physical closeness that the pack has amongst themselves doesn’t extend to Jaehyun, and that’s fine, it’s part of his daily life, but it means that his sudden companion has a reason to be near him.

Jaehyun glances at the boy, inhaling the mixture of scents in him. It’s Renjun, a younger alpha that has never talked to him before. It’s odd, and Renjun must be aware of that, because he keeps his stare on the water, his hands rummaging through his pile of clothes to wash.

For a moment, Jaehyun thinks that maybe it’s a coincidence, that Renjun chose this spot without any ulterior motives. It doesn’t last. Renjun speaks, and Jaehyun’s blood freezes in his veins, every word puncturing him like a knife.

“Your alpha wants to see you again,” Renjun whispers. He pulls his hands from the water, and then he grabs a small bandana from the pile of clothes and slips it over the ground towards Jaehyun.

Jaehyun stops breathing as soon as the scent hits him. The bandana doesn’t belong to anyone from their pack. It’s Minhyung’s. And Jaehyun can’t understand how Renjun got a hold of this, why Renjun, among all people, has a message for him; he doesn’t know if this could be a trap.

“Renjun,” Jaehyun begins, but Renjun’s movements are too fast, and before Jaehyun can reject the cloth, it’s a matter of taking it into his hands or getting caught. So Jaehyun grabs it with trembling hands, blending it with the rest of his clothes. When he instinctively gazes at Renjun, Renjun snarls at him to remind him to keep his attention elsewhere. “Wait.”

“Sicheng doesn’t know about this,” Renjun continues, cutting Jaehyun off. He doesn’t want questions, and Jaehyun has too many, his brain spiraling into the amount of possibilities this opens. Renjun knows about Sicheng’s business. He could be associated with him and conspiring behind his back, or he could be having his own schemes independently from Sicheng. “Don’t tell him.”

Why not? Jaehyun is about to ask. But it’s not a smart question. Renjun has brought him Minhyung’s scent as proof that he can trust him, or at least that he can trust he’s saying the truth now. Still, Jaehyun hesitates. Sicheng helped him first, and considering Minhyung is still alive, it has worked for the both of them. He doesn’t get why Minhyung would choose a different person this time to reach out. An alpha, on top of that.

But his curiosity is stronger than his fear, and so he accepts, “Go ahead.”

“Tomorrow night,” Renjun replies, so fast that it’s evident that he prepared it. “On the frontier, five miles away from our military spot to the north.”

Jaehyun takes a second to memorize it; it wouldn’t be hard to follow those instructions, except for the small added issue.

“I’m surrounded by guards every hour of the day and night,” Jaehyun mutters, more nervous than before.

The date is set, he knows that, and it would be pretty difficult to spontaneously contact someone from the east’s pack for last changes. He’s sure that the meetings are periodic, already planned, and neither Renjun nor Sicheng would take the risk of breaking the peaceful routine.

“That’s not my problem,” Renjun confirms, and that’s definitive.

It's Jaehyun's problem.

There is a limit to the risks he should take, those that should prevent him from putting all the cards on the table just to meet up with Minhyung, but he doesn’t mind.

Jaehyun isn't in love with Minhyung. He has seen him in his visions before, without a name, almost without a face, but with his strong scent clouding Jaehyun's nostrils. And though all this time Jaehyun assumed that the path to the east's pack was through Minhyung, through Sicheng specifically, it might not be. Minhyung is still that valuable piece of the puzzle, but considering that Sicheng rejected Jaehyun's curiosity right away, Jaehyun believes that the key could be Renjun.

And if the key is Renjun, Jaehyun has to follow through with this chance.

There's just one place where the guards won't follow him if they don't have permission: Kun's cabin. Therefore Jaehyun, hours before meeting Minhyung, shows up at Kun's door with a lie on his mouth.

“What are you doing here?” are Kun's first words upon recognizing him.

Kun never opens the door; his servants do it for him, and Kun has to push them away to clear the path, to inspect Jaehyun from head to toe and find a reason why he would dare to require attention, unprompted and unannounced.

Jaehyun slouches his shoulders, a good representation of what he looks like when he's in fear, when he has witnessed things that no human should ever witness. And then he says, “I had a vision.”

Kun believes him.

He trusts Jaehyun, and Jaehyun would have the decency to feel guilty if he wasn't sure this is necessary.

Inside Kun's cabin, Jaehyun is free from other eyes, but Kun's stare falls on him like a heavy rock. He grabs him by the wrist, kneels with him on the ground and sits on his heels, waiting for Jaehyun to talk.

Jaehyun doesn't have a story to tell, but he came prepared. He senses the expectation in the air, the tension in Kun's muscles as he pretends to be calm, as if Jaehyun coming in the middle of the night isn't alarming.

“I don't know what I saw,” Jaehyun begins, lowering his head. He doesn't have to lie, not completely, but he could use his previous visions to warn Kun of things he won't be able to stop, anyhow. “Turbulent times. Difficulties for our pack. You won't know who to trust, and you will be right sometimes.”

Jaehyun keeps his head low, not ready to deal with Kun's reactions. Kun has known him for too long, and Jaehyun is a master at hiding his secrets, but not at lying.

“Names?” Kun asks, voice firm.

Himself. Youngho. Minhyung. Jaehyun shakes his head. “I'm sorry. I didn't see any.”

Kun sighs, his breath sweeping the tension away. Jaehyun isn't offering much, but his visions, the darker they are, the more obscure they get. That's his excuse, and Kun is all too familiar with it to demand more from him.

“It's fine,” he says. His hands slide over the ground, climb on Jaehyun's thighs for comfort, to tell him that he can look at Kun without fear. “Thank you for telling me.”

Jaehyun acknowledges the gratitude with a nod. But it's time to risk that Kun will read the truth in his eyes, because it's now or never: Jaehyun lifts his head, eyelids dropping and the turmoil of feelings displayed on his expression.

“I'm tired. It felt like an eternity,” he complains. It works: whether he's tired because of his hidden schemes, the thought of Renjun conspiring behind Sicheng's back, or the fact that Minhyun requested seeing him again, doesn't matter. It's exhaustion after all, and that's what Kun registers. “And your guards' pheromones are too solid, I can't rest in peace.”

Jaehyun doesn't need to be clearer than that. Asking directly, word by word, is a way to put his Alpha in an uncomfortable position, and there's nothing better than letting an alpha know that they don't have to please an omega. Just if they want to.

Kun bites the bait.

He squeezes Jaehyun's hand, a gesture that would never happen beyond these four walls, and complies, “You may rest tonight.” Kun will send his guards away, and Jaehyun will be able to escape. He gives Jaehyun a pitying, understanding glance. “I will accompany you to bed myself.”

By the time Jaehyun arrives, Minhyung has been waiting for him for hours.

It was the fastest route, but it wasn’t fast. Kun stayed with him in bed for a while, assured that he shouldn't push himself with the visions, and said many soothing words that will just become guilt in Jaehyun's guts in the future.

Nobody said this was supposed to be easy. In fact, Jaehyun's visions always predicted the opposite. Yet when he spots Minhyung, standing tall and firm among the trees, Jaehyun knows that he has taken the right decision.

Tonight, Minhyung doesn't look so child-like. He doesn't look at Jaehyun with the impatience or nervousness of an alpha that isn't used to dealing with omegas; though perhaps it's because Minhyung has touched him enough, enjoyed him enough to not be shy anymore. It's different, still, and Jaehyun senses it.

Minhyung hasn't called him for romantic or physical reasons, which Jaehyun had already suspected. Waiting for a good fuck, unless he's in a rut, isn't that complicated. Waiting for the right moment to let hell break loose, however, that’s a different story.

“Jaehyun,” Minhyung greets him. There's relief in his tone, and also in his scent. He steps towards Jaehyun until they're face to face, so close that Jaehyun wouldn't be able to dodge him if Minhyung decided to attack. “I thought you wouldn't come.”

“I thought I wouldn't, too,” Jaehyun agrees. In his chest, his heart is a knot, each beat flat and agonizing. “But since I did, we shouldn't waste our time.”

Much to his surprise, Minhyung doesn't try to convince him that he wanted to see him for personal reasons. The hook up was real, was personal, but this is entirely distinct.

When Minhyung extends his arm and opens his hand, palm up, Jaehyun observes the small ball of herbs with curiosity. Even though he has an extensive knowledge in herbs, it isn't perfect, and he's not surprised that the east pack uses herbs than they had never considered.

“Take this,” Minhyun offers, his eyes flickering from his own palm to Jaehyun.

The fear of rejection floats in the air.

Jaehyun is tempted to, yet it would be too impulsive to obey Minhyung without repairs. “What is it?”

Minhyung scoffs, a sign that he isn't disposed to lie, that they're here to reveal everything to each other.

He holds the ball between his index finger and his thumb, setting it at Jaehyun's eyes' level. The herbs have a singular glint to them, even in the closed night.

“A drug,” Minhyung admits. “It will leave you unconscious.”

A shiver travels all over Jaehyun's body. But it's excitement, and after that, only after that, fear. Jaehyun could ask about Minhyung's intentions, but he's not that much of a fool.

Minhyung inhales, more determined by the second, and looks into Jaehyun's pupils. “Take it, and I will carry you with me,” he offers again.

If Jaehyun tried to walk into the east pack's territory on his two feet, he would get murdered. It wouldn't matter if he had Minhyung by his side or not; it would be suspicious enough to kill them both and save up future problems.

If Minhyung is so certain that this is the right choice it’s because he's working under orders that allow him to do this. Or not. Kidnapping an omega from another pack and drag him into foreign territory, using him as a hostage, isn’t the safest scheme, but it’s effective. A trick even older than humans.

Jaehyun wouldn't be an actual hostage. He would be one for the rest of the pack, of both packs, and that always implies putting his life on the edge. And yet, this opportunity is his golden ticket to the place where he should be. To the place where his visions begin and end, where his visions create and destroy.

“It will start a war,” Jaehyun mutters, mouth dry, eyes dry.

Kun will start a war.

Minhyung blinks at him, slightly taken aback. “Do you think so?” he defies Jaehyun, aware of the unnaccuracy of his words. “Or do you know so?”

Jaehyun knows better than that. With trembling fingers, he fists the herbs into his own hand, and slips the ball into his mouth.

It tastes like fire.

Under the effect of drugs, Jaehyun can’t dream.

And so when he opens his eyes and finds himself in a place where he has never been, he’s certain that it’s real. He’s certain that this is happening. Minhyung, as he promised, carried his unconscious body beyond the frontier.

It’s too much new information for his brain. He’s in a small room, laid out on a bed that is unfamiliar to him in many ways – not only because it’s not his, but because his pack doesn’t use beds with a high base. And then there are scents, everywhere, all of them new, unfamiliar and strong.

Jaehyun groans, tries to move, but his body is still too numb, his limbs too heavy. Deep within, a part of him is alarmed. There is no one in the room with him, and yet he can feel the change in the atmosphere: the mixture of scents outside the room is mainly from alphas, unlike his own pack. Jaehyun’s senses are accustomed to being in an omega-scented environment, and the drift is thrilling, scary, and makes Jaehyun realize what he has gotten himself into.

It must be day by then, and Kun must have realized that he’s gone.

But the drugs are still in Jaehyun’s system, and no matter how much he fights against their pull, his eyes shut close again, dragging him into another dreamless land.

“You’re out of your mind.”

It’s dialect.

When Jaehyun jerks awake for the second time, his body isn’t numb anymore. His muscles are ready to help him to jump, his mind is racing, and his heart beats so hard that it hurts.

Jaehyun can’t speak the east pack’s dialect, but he can understand it. He has had enough visions to learn through them, though his brain is used to Youngho’s voice, to his intonation and his volume, and it’s not the same. He still comprehends them, even if it takes him a while to focus on his surroundings, adrenaline shooting through his body.

He’s still in the same bed, but considering the amount of light that enters through the window, he has slept for so long that it’s almost night again. Outside the room, right behind the door, Jaehyun smells Minhyung. There’s another person as well, someone who Jaehyun obviously doesn’t recognize, but that reeks of an omega. It should be a soothing scent, butJaehyun’s body knows better: he’s in a rival pack, and regardless of their rank, he shouldn’t trust anyone.

“We needed this,” Minhyung replies. The tilt of his voice, higher than usual, hints that he’s whining. “We were stuck, and the Chief doesn’t want to take any risks, what was I supposed to do?”

“Not kidnap an omega directly related to the west pack’s Alpha?” the omega spits back, losing his patience. Just for the way he talks to alphas, Jaehyun knows that he’s either older or close to Minhyung. “For fuck’s sake, Minhyung.”

There’s a silence, and Jaehyun sits up on the bed. It’s the first time he has the chance to see one of the east pack’s houses from up close, not only in his visions; they’re made of stone, unlike his pack’s wooden cabins, and their houses have an amazing amount of rooms compared to the one or two rooms that his pack usually has. Jaehyun doesn’t think it’s bad, however, because he likes small spaces and the knowledge that people are easy to reach – just one wall away from them.

“What do you want me to do now?” Minhyung asks then, a resigned sigh rumbling until it becomes a grunt. “Send him back?”

Jaehyun can’t go back now, even he’s aware of that. He took a step that might have or might have not been a mistake, but he has to stick to it.

“It’s too late,” the omega says.

He’s right.

Early in the morning, everyone has to attend the Alpha’s speech. It’s short, a way to begin the day, and hearing Kun’s words make most people feel that sentiment of union among them. It’s not compulsory, though it was when Kun’s father was still alive, and yet no one dares to be absent unless they’re sick.

Kun would know he’s not sick. He’s too smart to waste time.

“The omega is awake,” the stranger, then, informs.

It takes Jaehyun a long moment to realize that, as soon as he woke up, his pheromones have been out of control. Whatever Minhyung gave him, it’s not out of his system yet, and it’s repressing the little self-control Jaehyun can have over his pheromones. He isn’t sure of how he smells; maybe like fear, anxiety, regret and foolish hope.

When the door of the room opens, Jaehyun looks up at Minhyung as if he was caught in a place where he shouldn’t be. To his relief, Minhyung isn’t very different from the boy Jaehyun met the first time, except because he’s wearing the bracelets of his pack: red, for being an alpha; silver, for having a medium rank in the community; white, for not having a partner. It gives Jaehyun more information than he had about him. He didn’t know he was dealing with a medium rank, for starters, and he can’t pinpoint how dangerous that could be.

Minhyung closes the door behind him and, hesitating, sits on the edge of the bed. His eyes show worry when they land on Jaehyun’s face.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, like Jaehyun’s state is all his fault, like Jaehyun himself didn’t join by his own will.

Jaehyun has the urge to scoff. “Weird.”

“That’s fair,” Minhyung accepts. He nods, and though it’s evident that he has noticed that Jaehyun is still out of his own head, he continues, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t walk hand in hand with you here, they’d have known I had illegal contact with you beforehand.”

They would have killed both of them in that case. Perhaps their Chief is as compassionate as Kun is, and he would have forgiven Minhyung, but Jaehyun wouldn’t trust an alpha to be good to him.

“I understand,” Jaehyun croaks out. “Am I safe?”

Minhyung vacillates. That’s enough of an answer.

“I’m not sure yet. Taeyong is-” he begins, and then halts, closing his eyes. Taeyong, Jaehyun repeats inside his head, must be the omega that was with him; and it’s a name that Minhyung shouldn’t have told him. “He’s going to inform our Chief now.”

Jaehyun has seen the Chief before. Youngho, despite the freedom he was raised with, is in his direct lineage, his only son. The opinion Jaehyun has on him may differ from reality: the way he treats Youngho doesn’t have to be similar to the way he leads the pack.

Minhyung doesn’t leave, but Jaehyun can tell that it’s because he’s too nervous to be alone. He blabbers, talks too much, and doesn’t force Jaehyun to do the same. He’s waiting for orders, waiting for the feared rejection or acceptance. For his punishment, too, since there will be one just for the fact that he acted on his own without permission.

None of those options are positive for Jaehyun, but he knew that this wouldn’t be easy. If they accept, he will be used for negotiations. If they don’t, Jaehyun has no idea what will happen. Maybe they won’t kill him, for they have too few omegas not to take advantage of his presence there.

Jaehyun might not be in the best state to keep track of the time, but he's certain that at least one hour goes by until they hear the ruckus approaching them. It's like a wave crashing on the shore. First Jaehyun hears their voices; a clear argument, mixed with their steps around the house. Then, whoever storms into Minhyung's house, does it with little to no caution, like they own the place. Because they do.

By then, Jaehyun's nose catches the pheromones. All alphas, except Taeyong, who is the last one to invade his senses. And he should feel scared, but he anticipates. This is the direct link to the person Jaehyun is meant to find.

“Don't say a word,” Minhyung warns him in the last second, barely glancing at him. He stands up and puts some distance between him and the bed, as though he intends to pretend that he wasn't keeping him company, just watching him. “For your own good.”

“I won't.”

There's not knocking on the door, no asking for permission. The newcomers burst through the door like they're about to kill everyone inside, and it's hard for Jaehyun to calm his heart down.

Even if he's curious, he doesn't look at them. He lowers his head, stare on the covers of his bed, like he, as an omega, should do. Perhaps this works differently in this pack, but he's not going to discover it by himself, not in this situation.

All the eyes are on him, and he doesn't need to lift his head to be aware of that. Jaehyun is used to receiving every kind of stares, so this isn't new, he can bear with it; the atmosphere that is immediately instilled in the room, however, there are just a few instances in his life in which he has experienced that level of tension.

“Lee Minhyung,” one of the alphas begins. The recognition is instantaneous: Jaehyun has heard that voice a dozen times, chiding Youngho, praising Youngho, or just giving orders. He would never mistake the Chief for anyone else. “Explain yourself.”

In his peripheral vision, Jaehyun witnesses how Minhyung kneels on the floor. It's the first gesture that someone who disobeyed must show. I'm still loyal to you. But Minhyung isn't. He has his own interests, and he’s loyal to them, whether they're beneficial for his pack or not, and he will follow them unless someone stops him.

“Chief,” he greets, a respectful tone that he didn't use to mention the Chief in front of Jaehyun. “We need a pact to bring omegas here.”

Jaehyun isn't the only one who has known this for years. It's an open secret, and that's why Sicheng's business exists; because both packs are conscious that, if they don't want to disappear, they will need each other. The thing is, they don't have to do it kindly. It can be forced upon them, one pack over another, like it has been since the oldest times.

“And you thought the solution was acting behind my back?” The Chief grunts. “Kidnapping an omega- kidnapping this omega is asking for death.”

Minhyung shakes his head, too intimidated to contradict his Chief with direct words. “It gives us the power,” he reasons. There’s a tremor to his voice, but at this point Jaehyun suspects that Minhyung isn't scared. He's just playing the role that he's supposed to take. “Their Alpha won't attack as long as this omega can get hurt in the process.”

Jaehyun hopes so, too. Trusting Kun's sanity is his only choice.

“You started this, Minhyung,” another person adds. “So you must fix it.”

It catches Jaehyun completely off guard, for many reasons. First of all, one mustn't talk while the Chief is having a conversation with another member of the pack. That counts as rebelling against the chain of power. Second, the alpha that speaks is engraved in Jaehyun's memories as though he had been imprinted with scalding hot iron on the skin of his eyelids. There's no room for mistaking him. Jaehyun has waited for too long.

Only the son of a Chief would dare to interrupt his own father. Only the person who will take the power after him, who has learned from the master, who is ready to take decisions.

And indeed, when Jaehyun lifts his head to confront his destiny, he finds Youngho standing in front of him. And Youngho, despite talking to Minhyung, is looking at Jaehyun with eyes of fire and rage.

It's the first time someone looks at Jaehyun without a little hint of fear. Just rage.

Youngho knows him.

Jaehyun’s visions aren’t perfect, and though they’re pretty accurate, they don’t show him anything beyond facts, actions. What Jaehyun has learned about Youngho comes from the way he behaves around people, how he treats his friends and his enemies, but Jaehyun ignores what his mind hides.

On that bed, while they discuss what they’re going to do with Jaehyun, Jaehyun cowers in himself. Destiny doesn’t always work out, he has experienced that much, but his visions shouldn’t fail him so greatly.

As far as he knows, Youngho has never obtained information about him beyond his name and his powers – he should have the same feelings his father has towards Jaehyun: indifference, frustration, a slight sensation of alert. Yet Jaehyun doesn’t smell any of that in Youngho’s scent. It’s anger, as if they had a personal unresolved issue and Youngho deemed his presence an insult to his own persona. Jasmine and anger. Jasmine and rancor.

Jaehyun doesn’t know what’s going on.

“This omega shouldn’t have contact with our members,” the Chief announces after a while. He sounds far away for Jaehyun, who can’t take his eyes off Youngho, not while Youngho stares back at him. “We will keep him at one of our homes, where the rest don’t have any access to, and Minhyung will make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Chief,” Youngho says, voice raspy. His attention shifts to his father for the first time since he entered the room, alarmed. “An enemy in our own house?”

His father gives him a curt nod. It doesn’t accept complaints.

“I can only trust family not to kill him,” he explains. Jaehyun feels a shiver down his spine. He must not forget where he is: their packs have hated each other for centuries, and there are people who would cut his head off even if that meant rebelling against their own Chief. “Or to help him.”

The Chief doesn’t need any more words to give that order. Minhyung, Youngho, and the other two alphas accompanying them are conscious of what he’s asking them to do. And, for some reason, Youngho looks like he would prefer to die before obeying.

“Father,” he mutters, breaching the formalities. It’s unheard of, an offense, but Youngho is too nervous to remember that he’s not alone with his father. “I don’t think I should-”

Without sparing him a single glance, the Chief cuts him off, “You should do what you have to do.”

Youngho is taking Jaehyun home.

Minhyung avoids looking into Jaehyun’s eyes when they leave.

The Chief abandons the house first, organizes his soldiers so that they clear the path before they can leave Minhyung’s house, and doesn’t come back. Jaehyun will be a secret for a while, so he prepares to lose his freedom in a matter of minutes.

Youngho doesn’t touch him. It’s the other two alphas who cuff him, hands behind his back, and set their hands on Jaehyun to guide him through the town. Jaehyun isn’t allowed to see; they blindfold him, and then force his head down in case he tries to take a peek anyway.

It’s hilarious to him. Jaehyun knows their town to the very last detail. He knows Youngho’s favorite places: the main plaza where children play, the place behind the common kitchens where teenagers meet each other in secret – when their parents haven’t given them permission to find a mate yet – and the backdoor of his house, which he has used a thousand times to sneak out. Jaehyun is sure he could walk all the way back to his pack without getting lost in the town.

He also knows that half of the houses are empty, because the lack of omegas is already having an impact in their population. And that’s why he doesn’t understand that, when they reach home, Youngho grabs his arm like he’s a dispensable item that he could break and throw away.

“You can go,” Youngho tells the guards, cold, serious.

His attitude isn’t directed at them, but at Jaehyun, who senses every one of his feelings through his skin. Youngho is different from what Jaehyun experienced in his visions; he’s not warm, he’s not kind, he’s not going to accept Jaehyun into his life without trouble.

Youngho doesn’t remove his cuffs once they’re inside. The scent in Youngho’s house is oddly familiar, like a dejavu, though Jaehyun can’t comprehend why. Before he can process it, Jaehyun feels Youngho’s fingers over his face, maintaining the distance, and the blindfold falls down.

With Youngho standing in front of him, the world closes around Jaehyun. He has imagined this moment too many times, but none of them were similar to this. Despite expecting the problems, he thought Youngho would be willing; instead he’s a carcass of himself, the façade on and his alpha instinct in the front row, not letting any mercy seep.

“Don’t talk,” Youngho warns him. His lips curl up with disgust as he adds, “Ever.”

Jaehyun wonders if it’s a good idea to disobey. Youngho is taller in real life, more intimidating, with a shadow of evilness to him. He’s not a boy that runs freely with other alphas anymore. Perhaps it’s a consequence of their situation; Jaehyun refuses to believe that his visions have been playing him, that Youngho will hold hatred for him and nothing else, and he holds onto that hope in terror.

“Youngho,” Jaehyun softly tries, like he would talk to a terrified animal.

Instead of having a calling effect on him, it scares him. Youngho’s name should be a mystery to Jaehyun, in theory, and using it against him is the irrevocable proof that it isn’t beneficial for Youngho to ignore him. That Jaehyun either has information on him, or it’s something more important than that.

Listening wouldn’t hurt him, yet the way he flinches away at the sound of Jaehyun’s voice shows otherwise.

Youngho settles a hand on Jaehyun’s chest, shoving him away; Jaehyun doesn’t have time to register Youngho’s intentions before he’s being cornered into one of the rooms. Jaehyun grabs at Youngho’s hand, as if touching him would get him back into his senses, but Youngho is tainted with that kind of madness that convinces one that what they’re doing is right, is necessary.

“You’re in my head,” Youngho snarls at him. He shakes Jaehyun’s hands off him, a last push that drives Jaehyun into a dark room; Jaehyun is already familiar with that room, though throughout the years, Youngho’s family has barely used it. There were no prisoners to trap. Youngho’s eyes are clouded with fear for the first time when he croaks out, “Get out of my head.”

Jaehyun is too confused to react as Youngho closes the door. He hears Youngho’s rushed breathing one last time, and then the locks clicks, resonating inside the room.

It’s a one way exit.

Escaping is the most obtuse idea Jaehyun could have.

The room doesn’t look like a confininig place for prisoners, has never looked like it, but it’s asphyxiating enough for Jaehyun to feel unwelcome. It would be delusional to think otherwise.

Inside the room, time passes drop by drop. The little window over the bed is sealed, almost an illusion, because this room isn’t designed to have low class prisoners. Jaehyun guesses that, just like his pack, the east pack’s encloses regular prisoners in jail. He’s privileged of being a secret, of being close to Youngho even if the alpha rejects his presence, because in any other scenario he wouldn’t have any chance to progress.

He has little chances now, either way. Youngho brings him food –sometimes it’s his servants who do it – lets him out to go the bathroom, and once he asks if Jaehyun wants to take a shower; Jaehyun is used to bathing in the river, but the west pack relies on buckets and heated water, and he has a hard time trying to clean himself up. When he tells this to Youngho, instead of disregarding his comfort, Youngho calls for an omega to help him wash himself.

It’s Taeyong who shows up. He doesn’t dedicate a single word towards Jaehyun, not a single smile, but his hands are soft on him, and he touches Jaehyun like he would touch one of the omegas of his pack. It’s a nice, soothing shift from smelling Youngho’s anxious pheromones.

It’s impossible to keep the count of how many days he spends in that room; by the third one, he stops counting and he starts thinking. Won’t Kun come rescue him? Jaehyun thought it would be immediate, not a long, political war, which he supposes is what is taking place. He can’t underestimate Kun. If Kun is indeed negotiating with his life instead of accepting all requests from the east pack, it means that he’s the perfect fit for that role.

Jaehyun’s well being doesn’t hold more importance than the whole pack’s well being, no matter how much Kun loves him.

In the midst of the eternity of Jaehyun’s imprisonment, Youngho decides to give him a few hours of freedom one day. It’s late at night, and Jaehyun is drifting to sleep, when Youngho knocks on the door. Upon Jaehyun’s silence, he proceeds to walk into the bedroom; his figure a contrast against the light of the hall, and judging by how calm his posture seems, there isn’t anyone else at home.

“Wake up,” Youngho calls to him. “We have a few minutes.”

Jaehyun doesn’t trust him right away. Youngho despises him or fears him, or both, and it’s not a good combination either way. There isn’t any reason why he would decide to free Jaehyun from his confinement, but Jaehyun wouldn’t miss out on the opportunity of figuring out why his visions don’t show him the Youngho he has always believed in.

He shuffles out of the bed in a trance; the clothes he’s wearing belong to Youngho’s pack, but he has seen himself in them a dozen of times by now, and he feels comfortable in them. No blue robes for him, just white, loose clothes that everyone else in the pack wears. In the east pack, they distinguish their rank with their bracelets instead, and they use robes for special events.

When he’s so close that he can breathe Youngho’s air, Jaehyun looks up at him, “Why are you doing this?”

Youngho doesn’t reply, not at first. He extends his hand to him, inviting Jaehyun to hold it, and says, “Your kind needs to walk.”

He’s right. Jaehyun’s body needs activity, and even a stroll around Youngho’s house sounds like paradise after so much time living in circles in a tiny room. So he takes Youngho’s hand, not only for that reason, and breathes deeply when their hands fit against each other like two puzzle pieces.

Youngho either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He leads Jaehyun through the house in silence, no blindfold on, not letting go. This is supposed to be their house, one day, if Youngho doesn’t insist in changing their future.

“I wouldn’t try to escape if I were you,” Youngho warns him in the slight darkness of the house. His candles have been blown off, perhaps because he considered that Jaehyun could use them as a weapon, or just because he wants outsiders to assume that they’re asleep.  “There are guards outside, you won’t make it before you get an arrow in your heart.”

Jaehyun lets out a scoff, the first and only sign of amusement since he arrived at the town. “I’m not stupid.”

Youngho sends him a curious glance. His defenses, his reticence, are off, and Jaehyun can’t understand why. He scans Youngho from head to toe and finds the answer there: his dark circles, his hunched shoulders, the hint of sadness in his eyes. Youngho isn’t the one to make decisions, but he’s the one to carry them on his shoulders; and Jaehyun’s instinct incites him to comfort him, but the truth is that Jaehyun is too disturbed by what Youngho’s state could imply.

Jaehyun has received no news from his pack. And Youngho’s discomfort shows that the feud between their packs is stronger than the will to rescue Jaehyun. The east pack doesn’t have that power Minhyung intended them to have, that power Jaehyun was lending him by offering himself as a sacrifice.

“Did you talk to my Alpha?” Jaehyun asks, stopping in his tracks and gripping Youngho’s hand harder so that he does the same.

Youngho doesn’t appreciate the question. He has given Jaehyun a moment of freedom, and Jaehyun is using it to get the information he wants; it’s natural that Youngho’s first reaction is to shut an omega up, and Jaehyun is ready to deal with it.

Youngho scowls. “You aren’t allowed to ask questions.”

It isn’t that convincing to Jaehyun’s ears. He has nothing to lose while being trapped, yet he has a lot to gain with Youngho in his life.

“I know that,” Jaehyun replies, slowly, calm. He avoids keeping eye contact for too long, even though Youngho’s eyes are deep and familiar to him, in case Youngho’s pride could be hurt. “That’s why I’m asking you.”

Because they’re alone, because Jaehyun will keep the secret, and Youngho could destroy him in one second if he wanted to. Jaehyun is from an enemy pack, and his life has the value Youngho wants to give it, not more and not less.

“Youngho,” Jaehyun insists.

Youngho isn’t weak, but he’s visibly upset when he retorts, “Don’t call me that. To you, I’m an alpha.”

He’s not a Chief yet, which will be what everyone will call him when his father dies. However, Jaehyun is aware that his pack doesn’t call each other by their ranks. It’s either derogatory, or very intimate. Youngho isn’t conscious of what he’s asking for; he’s nervous, riled up by the fact that an omega from another pack thinks he can have a decent talk with him, and willing to impose himself on Jaehyun.

So Jaehyun complies.

“Alpha,” he calls, again, even softer than before. Youngho’s stare lands on him with an embarrassingly obvious weight, the recognition of the term drifting his attention to more basic needs. Jaehyun ventures, “What do you mean I’m inside your head?”

Much to Jaehyun’s shock, Youngho steps back. His back hits the wall behind him, a crash that seems to make him realize that he’s trying to escape from someone who shouldn’t be a threat to him.

“You can’t fool me,” Youngho grunts. He shakes his head, a bitter smirk on his lips, and then gazes at Jaehyun like he can read his soul, like he has known him for so long that they don’t need words with each other. “Your powers- don’t think they will manipulate me so easily. I’ve been blocking your tricks since I was a kid.”

Jaehyun’s heart skips a beat.

“My tricks?”

Youngho breathes out, “The things you put in my head.”

Jaehyun’s mind races through all the possibilities. Youngho fears him because he’s sure that Jaehyun can control his thoughts; not merely sure, he has suffered it, knows that it’s real. Yet Jaehyun has never had an experience of that caliber: not even he can have a grasp of his own visions. They come and dissipate, a thread cut in two, memories and future visions all mixed up.

“At the risk of offending you, I have to say-” Jaehyun lifts his head, hoping that the sincerity is evident in his expression. “I can’t manipulate people’s minds, Alpha.”

The only light in the hall comes from the big window in the living room, but the white light of the moon is enough for Jaehyun to see the way Youngho smirks; bitter, resigned, knowingly.

And then he grunts, “You’re lying.”

Perhaps Jaehyun can manipulate minds and he doesn’t know yet, but he will fight for Youngho’s trust to the very last second, even if it kills him.

“I’m not lying.”

“Don’t cross the line,” Youngho warns him through gritted teeth. He doesn’t want to listen to Jaehyun, not if the truth he offers doesn’t fit in Youngho’s schemes. However, he slips a hand under Jaehyun’s chin, forcing him to look into his eyes, and says between gritted teeth, “If I say you’re lying, you’re lying. Understood?”

It’s not the first time someone tells that to Jaehyun. What an alpha says is what everyone has to preach, and now, lost in Youngho’s brown eyes, Jaehyun is certain that this is the last time Youngho will make him submit over his own truth. This isn’t characteristic of him; he’s not made for this.

But Jaehyun nods, because it’s convenient, because he has to swim through the mud before he can cling by the shore. It satisfies Youngho, who releases him, his big hand jerking away like it was never a personal, yet disturbing gesture.

Jaehyun doesn’t give up, regardless.

“Kun is a good man,” he assures Youngho, serious as Youngho’s eyes inspect his face with distrust. “I just wanted you to know what.”

“I don’t need you to tell me anything about him.” Nothing that Jaehyun tells him will erase years of stories about the west pack’s ruling family. Youngho has his own opinion, and with the lack of surrender that Kun is showing, his suspicions might be confirmed. Kun, merciless and disposed to lose one of his closest omegas, while Youngho’s pack protects omegas first and foremost over everyone else. “We will see that.”

Jaehyun will have to see it too.

Straightening up, Youngho signals him to walk into the living room, and Jaehyun doesn’t hesitate for a second. It’s fresh air, more than he has had in days, and the amount of oxygen makes him dizzy for longer than he has expected. Youngho is attentive enough to catch his lopsided steps, and he passes an arm around Jaehyun’s waist in time, aiding him to sit on one of the stone chairs.

No matter how much Youngho refuses Jaehyun’s presence, taking care of omegas is engraved in him after the education he received and the ambience he grew up in. It’s so natural for him that he doesn’t flinch away once Jaehyun is safe and seated, waiting for his next move.

“I have something for you,” Youngho announces, a little bit nervous.

It doesn’t sound like a sudden idea, but premeditated. As he spins on his heels – surprisingly facing away from Jaehyun and exposing his back – Jaehyun observes the living room: it differs greatly from the living room of his visions, but it’s the same one. Youngho must have moved in alone recently, because he barely has any belongings there, the slight sensation of a soulless place instilled all around. Whether Jaehyun survives or not, their house – his house – will change.

Youngho picks up what’s he looking for from one of the drawers, and then he drags one of the chairs and settles in front of Jaehyun. When he sits down, Jaehyun inspects what Youngho is holding: his pack bracelets, of differing colors and sizes, hanging off his fingers. Jaehyun catches his breath until Youngho casts a glance at him, more anxious than Jaehyun himself.

“These are essential for you to be in this pack,” Youngho tells him. “You’re a prisoner now, but if our negotiations ever work out, you might become part of this pack.”

It’s, somehow, an excuse. Giving Jaehyun a bracelet is an act impossible to understand, not now, not while he’s enclosed in Youngho’s home and hidden away from the rest of the pack. There’s no way Youngho’s father would have approved of this, so Youngho has to be doing this without permission.

Jaehyun isn’t going to stop him.

“Gold is the highest ranking,” Youngho begins. There isn’t any gold bracelet in his grip. “Silver is medium, bronze is low.”

Jaehyun eyes the bracelet that Youngho twirls around, opening it for him. Jaehyun mutters, “I’m not a low rank.”

Ignoring his claim, Youngho clasps the bracelet around his wrist. “Here you are.”

It’s another breach between them. Youngho’s gold bracelet looks so elegant in contrast to Jaehyun’s bracelet that a part of him wants to close his eyes. He has to learn to cherish the bronze bracelet, however, because Youngho is trusting him with this.

“Red for alpha, pink for beta, purple for omega,” he continues. His fingers linger when he adjusts the purple bracelet, right behind the ranking bracelet, and he caresses both of them before moving his hands away. When he speaks once more, his voice inevitable breaks. “White for unmated, blue for mated. You don’t have a mate, do you?”

Perhaps Youngho’s behavior isn’t revealing, but his gaze is. That question, seemingly innocent and compulsory, is hard for Youngho to ask. Jaehyun doesn’t need one of his visions to know that this is a turning point for them, that Youngho is afraid of both a positive and a negative answer, each of them for different reasons.

That’s why Jaehyun doesn’t use his words. He takes a breath, and looking into Youngho’s eyes, he pulls down the collar of his shirt to reveal his neck. Watching how Youngho’s attention is drawn to his neck is beyond satisfying; instinct over logic, instinct over fear. Jaehyun shows him his neck, unmarked, untouched, and he doesn’t need Youngho to tell him that the fleeting thought of marking him invades his head.

When Youngho’s eyes travel up to Jaehyun’s face again, he has turned pale for more than one reason.

“A no would have sufficed.”

Youngho’s hands place the white bracelet around his wrist, and then, with an unjustified tension, Youngho crumples the blue bracelet into his fist.

Whether he has permission or not, Youngho liberates him. It’s a relief to leave the room at last, but it makes Jaehyun realize that Youngho feels alone. The house is half empty, as though he refuses to turn it into his home, and when Youngho is not working for the pack, he’s alone. With Jaehyun now, although Youngho doesn’t always welcome him. It’s easy to forget that he shouldn’t be interested in getting to know Jaehyun, but it’s also easy to remember that they’re enemies.

Jaehyun doesn’t give up. As days pass by, Youngho begins to expose the real pieces of himself. Pretending all the time is impossible, and Jaehyun grips that glint of hope, grips Youngho’s small weakness between his fingers.

It’s always at night when they have a moment for the both of them. Youngho stops blowing off the candles off, even allows Jaehyun to ignite them once, and they sit in the eerie living room and have dinner together. Youngho divides his food to share it with Jaehyun, since the food the pack cooks for Jaehyun is of worse quality; Jaehyun doesn’t dare to point out that sharing makes Youngho eat less than he should, because he fears it will make Youngho self-conscious of treating him well. It might remind him that Jaehyun isn’t there to keep him company.

They don’t always talk. Sometimes Youngho is exhausted, just in the mood to eat and sleep. But sometimes they talk, avoiding sensitive topics and maintaining their words in a safe territory. It feels like they’re dancing around each other, like two teens courting in the old fashioned way, but that sensation dissipates every morning when Youngho’s shame becomes evident.

Youngho tells him everything about their traditional games for kids – games that he barely sees anymore, with the lack of kids around –, their traditional festivities, and explains to him how their Gold hierarchy works. Only the Chief’s family and his right hand have Gold status, and in this case the right hand is Youngho until he has to take over. Their power is thinly confined in his family, unmovable, and it only travels to other ranks through mating.

Youngho doesn’t seem to agree with that, but Jaehyun doesn’t ask. He needs stability for Youngho before venturing into dangerous topics, and it’s obvious Youngho doesn’t completely trust him yet.

It’s a few days later, however, when Youngho comes home with someone else.

And it’s strange, because Jaehyun wouldn’t have guessed that he would feel happy upon seeing someone from the east pack, yet his chest blooms with affection when Minhyung crosses the door.

It hits Jaehyun then that, apart from Taeyong and Youngho, he hasn’t seen any other face for weeks. Minhyung seems familiar now, because Jaehyun shares a secret with him, because both of them could get each other killed if they wanted to, but they have decided to unite instead. Because they have the same aim, and they’re the foundation of the future Jaehyun wishes for.

But then Minhyung is inside Youngho’s house, for him, and Jaehyun doesn’t care about maintaining the appearances anymore. He nearly runs to Minhyung, stumbling through the hall, and Minhyung looks confused before welcoming him into his arms.

Before Jaehyun can become aware of his mistake, he gets jerked away by the back of his shirt. It doesn’t take a genius to know it’s Youngho who pulls him away from Minhyung. Minhyung glances at Youngho, eyes pleading for acceptance, not for questions, and Jaehyun observes them while Youngho pins Minhyung down with a glare.

“Don’t make me regret letting you in,” Youngho grunts. His fingers still grab the back of Jaehyun’s shirt, keeping him closer to him than to Minhyung. Youngho doesn’t want this to happen, either because the hug evidences that they knew each other beforehand, or because he doesn’t appreciate Minhyung touching Jaehyun. “Know your place. Don’t raise suspicions.”

Minhyung nods, solemn. “I’m sorry, Youngho.”

Youngho signals them to walk into the guest’s room. At least he respects that it should be a private conversation, and it’s vital for them to have that privacy, because Youngho isn’t ready to hear how big this scheme is, how many plans Minhyung has managed to develop behind their backs.

It feels odd to be with another alpha, alone, after being with Youngho for so long. Minhyung sits on the bed with him and offers him his hand; Jaehyun looks at him in confusion at first, until he understands that Minhyung is lending him a soothing touch.

Jaehyun doesn’t vacillate. Minhyung’s touch does wonders; Youngho barely touches him. In fact, he makes sure that he touches him as little as possible, and only when he’s not actively thinking around him, he gives into his body’s wishes: stealing touches from an omega whose pheromones are asking for it.

“I’m sorry it took a while. Youngho kept asking why I wanted to see you,” Minhyung whispers, squeezing Jaehyun’s hand between his.

“What did you say?”

“That you’re my responsibility.” Minhyung shrugs, a slightly accusatory tone when he adds, “But it’s hard to believe after that hug.”

It is. Besides, Youngho must have intuited that Minhyung had secondary intentions, otherwise he would have allowed Minhyung to see him earlier.

Minhyung takes a deep breath and, in a dying whisper, he says, “I met up with Sicheng.”

This is the reason Minhyung came. While Jaehyun is enclosed within four walls, the outside world insists on moving onwards.

“You- what?” Jaehyun blurts out, too overwhelmed to save his composure. “What did he say?”

Judging Minhyung’s dark expression, Sicheng doesn’t bring good news. And it’s a disaster for Jaehyun’s hopes, because Youngho has refused to update him about the negotiations, and Minhyung’s words are the first source of information Jaehyun is going to receive.

“Kun is stubborn. Doesn’t want to come for you.” Minhyung closes his eyes, as if it hurts him to spew such words. He must assume that Kun’s apparent indifference will destroy Jaehyun in one way or another. “Sicheng says you gave him a warning about something like this happening, and Kun is holding onto that to justify that you don’t need him, or that you approve of his decisions.”

Jaehyun’s ears are blocked, his blood shooting through his body, thick and deafening. In that tiny room, in an unknown pack, Jaehyun listens to Minhyung and becomes aware, for the first time, of how important words can be. A tiny, small sentence said in the middle of the night can decide a hundred years long war. And that’s what is happening: Jaehyun’s previously innocent tricks have become the reason the two packs aren’t able to discuss their feud.

Minhyung notices his despair and asks, “Any idea of what he means?”

“Yes,” Jaehyun croaks out. He runs a hand through his hair, repressing the urge to scream. “Shit, yes.”

But Minhyung doesn’t ask what Jaehyun did so wrong to fuck up their precious plans. God, he could have gotten Kun’s pity in a dozen ways, and yet he chose to warn him of a false prophecy. If he tells Minhyung, he will think he’s the stupidest person in the world.

“Any idea of what we can do to change his mind?” Minhyung asks instead. The desperation to look for a solution is primordial, at least over throwing accusations at each other, and Minhyung isn’t interested in their mistakes, just in their solutions. “We requested an audience, but he rejected it. He isn’t up to negotiations.”

Kun won’t ever give into the east pack’s request. Too much pain, too many memories passed from generation to generation. He’s learning, at last, that his mercy is his weakness, and that makes Kun stronger.

Yet there’s something more visceral, more basic, that Kun won’t be able to control. Jaehyun feels bad just by thinking about it, though he knows that it will have the desired effect, and that it will either break hell loose or will make Kun bend the knee for a few minutes. Enough to listen to the east pack’s proposal.

Jaehyun almost laughs when he spits, “Tell him one of you took me.”

Minhyung looks at him like he has gone insane.

“Jaehyun, that’s-”

“Tell him I’m Youngho’s,” Jaehyun interrupts him, before Minhyung can say what they already know: that it’s a bad idea, a provocation.

However, Minhyung shakes his head. “We don’t take our omegas that way.”

“But my pack does.” Jaehyun feels his mouth go dry. The alpha chooses, and though Kun would probably not allow an omega to get hurt after rejecting an alpha, no omega decides to take that risk. It’s for the good of the pack, anyhow, to deal with any alpha that falls on them. “So tell him Youngho took me.”

Minhyung vacillates. The worst part of this idea would be not having permission from Jaehyun, but now he does. He must have run out of options by now, the duty of fixing this mess weighing on him.

“That will madden him,” Minhyung mutters.

Jaehyun smiles.

“It will.”

That night, Youngho leaves at midnight with Minhyung and doesn’t come back. Jaehyun doesn’t sleep.

In war, time doesn’t couple with daylight. Though Jaehyun doesn’t have a say in the east pack’s decisions, he can feel that Minhyung will carry out his idea; he can feel it in his skin, crawling, counting, and he brazes himself for it.

When Youngho returns home, it’s morning. He sits with Jaehyun in the living room, exhausted and stressed, and feeds him with his own hands. He doesn’t eat anything himself, but Jaehyun doesn’t comment on it; Youngho looks like he would vomit afterwards if he pushed him to eat.

Jaehyun doesn’t understand why, not at first. But as Youngho reaches out to wipe a stain from Jaehyun’s chin, he reads the turmoil of emotions in his eyes.

“What’s going on with Minhyung?” Youngho asks in a mutter.

The hug. The proposal. Youngho is smart enough to catch on.

Jaehyun shuts his eyes close. “Nothing.”

“Jaehyun,” Youngho warns him, but it’s not a threat. For once Youngho’s demeanor results as young as he really is, and it reminds Jaehyun of the man he knows he is, not the one he presents to the world. “Lying won’t do you any good.”

“Telling the truth won’t do me any good either.”

Youngho lets out a sigh, dropping the napkin on the table. They’re alone, always alone, always in privacy, but without Jaehyun, Youngho would be lonely.

“He brought you here. He said he found you in the forest by luck, but what were you doing there in the middle of the night, so close to the frontier, alone?” Youngho tells him, resigned. It’s a rhetorical question. This isn’t an interrogatory, because Youngho has all the answers he needs, so he continues, “And then he comes here and talks to you, and you give him permission to use you as sexual bait. Shouldn’t you oppose? Shouldn’t you want to sacrifice your own life for your pack?”

Jaehyun blinks at him for a second, his brain racking for a justification. There’s a tiny breach in Youngho’s reasoning: he never heard his conversation with Minhyung. He shouldn’t known that Jaehyun is fine with the idea.

But when Jaehyun opens his mouth, Youngho’s smile deters him from talking.

“I know you gave him permission. He told me.” Yet Youngho’s smile is void of happiness. “Mating is serious for us. I wasn’t going to let him force you into that, even if my father agreed to, so he had to no option but tell me.”

Knowing that Youngho is trying to protect him is a bittersweet feeling. Jaehyun can take care of himself, even as a prisoner of another pack, and he doesn’t need Youngho to rescue him. Youngho has realized, too, that Jaehyun didn’t need his help, that he’s the one being manipulated, the one who doesn’t share Jaehyun and Minhyung’s little secret. Putting a bronze bracelet around his wrist doesn’t diminish Jaehyun’s power and influence in both packs.

Youngho lifts his chin and shoots, “Are you his?”

It’s not a ridiculous question if Jaehyun analyzes their relationship, yet it still is. Youngho wouldn’t understand his explanations, however, wouldn’t understand that Jaehyun slept with Minhyung, allowed him to kidnap him, and then affirmed that there was nothing between them.

“I’m not his,” Jaehyun decides, because that’s all Youngho needs to know. He holds his chin up too, equaling Youngho’s pride, and draws a sarcastic smile. “Haven’t you heard the news? I’m yours.”

Jaehyun’s intention is to shame Youngho for his behavior, but the result is very different.

Youngho stares at him, well aware that Jaehyun’s words aren’t real, and retorts, “You’ve always been mine.” He brings a finger to his temple, and mutters, “Here.”

You’re in my head, Youngho had told him. It’s Jaehyun’s turn to discover what scares Youngho away from him. He knows there’s a factor beyond Jaehyun having unexplainable powers, and whether it’s a consequence of his exhaustion or he just has his guard off, Youngho seems to be up for that discussion.

“What did you see?” Jaehyun asks, because really, he’s not so sure anymore. He isn’t sure that they had the same visions.

In response, Youngho gazes at him and ignores his question. “Are those things real? The things you made me see?”

The right answer would be no. The desperation in Youngho’s eyes proves that’s what he needs to hear. For Jaehyun, truth should prevail, so he stands his ground.

“I didn’t make you see anything.” He bends his neck a bit, just slightly, so that Youngho receives the impression of vulnerability and loyalty, of submission. He won’t assume Jaehyun is lying, not this way. “I don’t know what you saw.”

Youngho’s mouth parts, and then his lips seal around his own silence. He hesitates, hesitates for so long that his scent grows more intense and invades Jaehyun’s senses, shakes the ground beneath his feet.

Youngho’s voice is just a whisper, but it sounds like a scream in the silence of his house. “I saw that you were mine, and then you weren’t.”

Jaehyun can read between the lines. Youngho isn’t talking about Jaehyun not being his anymore; it’s an entirely different future, one that Jaehyun has never witnessed in his visions.

“I died?” Jaehyun hears himself say. Is he afraid of death? He can’t tell. But he can decipher that this is the rock that weighs so heavily on Youngho’s shoulders, the reason he doesn’t welcome Jaehyun in his life despite knowing they’re destined. “I don’t see myself dying, Youngho.”

Perhaps he doesn’t have to. He already bears the pain of predicting other people’s deaths, so his visions might not be wired to give him any information that he could use to change his future. Yet destiny has its ways, and here Jaehyun has Youngho, revealing the most terrible outcome for them.

“What do you see?” Youngho asks, fishes for hope.

Jaehyun is able to give him that without feeling guilty, because it’s what his head showed him, and he has nothing else to offer.

“I see us together, forever.” Jaehyun licks his lips, drawing Youngho’s attention to them. “Prospering.”

With a shake of his head, Youngho fights, “There can’t be two futures.”

Protesting is useless, because Youngho is right. Jaehyun has always believed that at least he had the certainty of his own visions, and now he doesn't. Youngho has visions too, and Jaehyun is dying to ask about them – about if Youngho experiences visions that aren't about Jaehyun only, or if Youngho doesn't really have any power, his link to Jaehyun producing those images within.

After giving it a second thought, Jaehyun bites his tongue. Visions are too personal. Too crude, sometimes, too scary.

Instead of pressuring him, Jaehyun reaches out for Youngho's hand. And much to his surprise, Youngho, whose hand is facing down against the table, flicks his wrist to accept Jaehyun’s touch. Jaehyun's heart speeds up, but he doesn't retreat, slipping his hand into Youngho's hand. He discovers that it's much more comforting than touching any other alpha – Kun, Minhyung, anyone – and even though Youngho's hand is slightly bigger than his, their fingers interlace with each other like they're part of the same universe.

“You’re afraid of losing me,” Jaehyun mutters. His eyes flicker back to Youngho's face, and when he recognizes his expression – his bare innocence, the Youngho his mind does know – he realizes this is the point of no return. “But you don’t even know what having me is like.”

It's supposed to be encouraging, so that Youngho isn't reticent of opening up to Jaehyun and then getting hurt, abandoned. Yet Youngho squeezes his hand, and for the first time since Jaehyun met him in person, there's pity in his gaze.

“I do know,” he assures. His hold feels heavier, but Jaehyun doesn't want to let go. “That’s why I’m afraid.”

The most exciting, yet terrifying news Jaehyun gets is that he's finally free.

It's conditioned freedom, however. He's Youngho's mate now, it's official, and hiding him from the pack would be suspicious. Taeyong tells him that the word spreads fast, and as soon as they plant the little seed of a rumor, the whole pack knows in a matter of hours.

“That's how we announce sensitive issues,” Taeyong explains. They sit in the Chief's house this time, where Jaehyun was led into in secret. A few betas were waiting for him to prepare him, as they called it. Taeyong arrived later, not to pretty Jaehyun up, but to ensure that he knew the basics of how to behave in their pack. “First a rumor, and once everyone knows, the Chief makes an official statement.”

Taeyong forces him to stay on his feet, walking in circles around him and correcting every tiny mistake in his posture. As the mate of a future Chief, Jaehyun has to be elegant. Back straight, determined eyes up unless his mate or the Chief are talking to him, and the right words always on the tip of his tongue. Taeyong teaches him how to pronounce their dialect correctly, laughs every time Jaehyun slurs a word and the meaning changes completely – usually to a dirty word, because languages were put together by the devil – and convinces him that in his position, and disregarding his secondary genre, he shouldn't submit to anyone except the two men over him.

“How did the pack react?” Jaehyun asks, anxious. In the mirror in front of him, he doesn't look quite as intimidating as he would like to.

“You're worried?” Taeyong sounds shocked, but of course, he ignores that this is a fake performance for Kun to go insane. He doesn't see any reason why one of the future leaders of the pack should fret over his acceptance. “They're surprised, because Youngho has never shown interest in anyone. Some people thought he was into alphas. But now that it's evident that he's not...” He scans Jaehyun from head to toe with a mixture of admiration and appreciation, and then he smiles up at him. “I can't say everyone will love you. They're jealous. You're taking their precious, handsome and kind-hearted Youngho away from them. And once they see you, this face... they will be even more jealous.”

A wave of heat expands all over Jaehyun's cheeks, and Taeyong, well aware of why he's blushing, openly laughs at him.

“There were other omegas waiting for him?” Jaehyun croaks out.

Taeyong shoots him an amused look. “Really?”

“Stupid question?”

“So stupid that I should suspect you're trying to make me offend you,” Taeyong replies. When Jaehyun stutters to apologize, to clarify that it's not his intention, Taeyong rubs his arm to calm him down. His mocking semblance doesn't die down, though. “What do you want to know? The names of the omegas who you have to keep an eye on?”

If Jaehyun thought he was burning before, it was nothing compared to what he feels at the thought of being possessive over Youngho. Youngho has always been his, like he himself said, and Jaehyun has never considered that he could feel jealous of other people. But he can imagine why: he has witnessed how Youngho treats omegas, and he's aware that he's just a stranger in Youngho's life, while the rest have grown up with him, drenched in adoration.

“I-” Jaehyun lets out a laugh. “God, no.”

“Confident,” Taeyong jokes. But then he adds, “You have reasons to be.”

Receiving compliments is new for Jaehyun. He doesn't know if he's pretty for real; no one has ever told him that before, and people often underestimate how silence can shape someone's self-esteem.

“You're too nice to me,” is Jaehyun's conclusion, because whether Taeyong is being honest or not, it still takes kindness to compliment him.

Taeyong just hums in response. He's too preoccupied analyzing Jaehyun, making sure that he has mastered the art of pretending. And like every time he takes a peek at him, he finds another mistake, except this time it isn't Jaehyun's.

“You mustn't wear this bracelet anymore. I can't change it for you, you know that, right?” Taeyong hooks his index finger in his white bracelet, pulling at it, and Jaehyun wonders for a moment if Taeyong would dare to break it for him. As though he's reading his thoughts, Taeyong moves his head from side to side. “It has to be Youngho. And you have to change his as well.”

Youngho is waiting for him at home.

It isn't obvious, not per se, but when the guards announce his arrival at night, the steps coming from inside are rushed, impatient. Jaehyun stands in front of the closed door and watches Youngho's anxious eyes appear, not paying his guards any attention. When Youngho grabs his arm and drags him inside, not a single greeting, like they don't have to hold up the appearances, one of the guards can't help but snicker.

Jaehyun is already flustered by Taeyong's words, but the guard's laughter flusters him even further. He knows what it looks like: the implications of Youngho taking an omega so hastily, his omega, into his house.

However, the reality differs, and Youngho has clumsy hands once they're alone. He wipes them on his pants, asks Jaehyun if he had dinner – he did – and shuffles around afterwards, looking for another topic to break the silence.

His nervousness is what pushes Jaehyun to overcome his own caution. Youngho isn't better at this than him, he's not stone cold, he's not an emotionless leader that can handle any situation.

“We should sleep together,” Jaehyun proposes. He has pondered about it for the whole day, but sooner or later, they will be forced to share a bed. It's better if the first time is voluntary. “We have to get used to each other's scent.”

Youngho doesn't use his words. He nods, dry, and guides Jaehyun into his room. Jaehyun knows for a fact that Youngho has had people in his bed before. Though, just like Taeyong told him, not omegas; that was too dangerous for him, for his status. Just betas, but it’s hard for Jaehyun to wrap his head around the fact that he’s not the only one who will ever be in this bed.

Jaehyun is the first omega for Youngho.

It's a golden chance for Jaehyun, and most important, for their future. Youngho doesn't close the door of his room and, warily, observes Jaehyun from the door frame. Jaehyun has stripped for an alpha before, but he had help: hands tugging at his shirt, distracting lips on his neck. Youngho doesn't provide anything of that. He doesn't have the effect of his heat to undermine the embarrassment either.

Jaehyun takes off his clothes slowly, trying to conceal the shaking of his fingers as he struggles with the buttons of his shirt. Only when he has managed to get rid of his top, Youngho walks towards the bed and imitates him.

Jaehyun fights the urge to glance at him, but it's impossible. His eyes are swept into the shape of Youngho's torso, his arms, the uniformity of his skin, and he has to make a great effort to look away. It doesn't matter. Youngho looks at him too, except that he's not so demure, not so subtle. And when Youngho hands him the proper clothes to sleep, he comes close enough for Jaehyun to smell his pheromones. Close enough to let Jaehyun know that he wants to touch him.

But deep inside, Jaehyun is sure that it would be a mistake to take such a big step in such a delicate moment.

Youngho slips into bed first, a bed that isn't big enough for them to sleep far away from each other, and avoids looking at Jaehyun while he puts on his sleeping robe. It feels oddly natural for Jaehyun to get into bed with Youngho; he doesn’t lie down, a sign that he doesn’t intend to sleep yet, and sits with his legs crossed.

Understanding the subtle question, Youngho sits up too, his hands supporting him.

Jaehyun inhales. “Are you nervous?”

There’s no need for explanations. It’s obvious that Youngho is nervous at the prospect of them being so close, together, but that’s not what Jaehyun is asking. He’s asking about the announcement, where both of them will have to be present, together and exposed.

“Yes,” Youngho replies, such a simple affirmation that it surprises Jaehyun. “Why wouldn't I be?”

Because all this is fake, Jaehyun wants to tell him. Just an idea that, though terribly similar to what their future looks like in Jaehyun’s visions, doesn’t imply their lives will follow that path.

“You shouldn't be if this means nothing to you,” Jaehyun muses.

Youngho drowns in his own silence, but he doesn't take his eyes off Jaehyun. It's the first time Youngho stares at him with different intentions, like he wishes to understand how Jaehyun's reasoning works. Not even Jaehyun would be able to explain it, so he drops his head low, realizing that the sheets might be as well the most interesting object of the whole house.

“Jaehyun,” Youngho says after a few seconds that turn into an eternity. His hand caresses underneath Jaehyun's jaw, a subtle tap to make him lift his head. Jaehyun has to gather a good amount of courage to look into Youngho's dark eyes from up close. “This is my pack. I'm presenting to my pack as a mated alpha tomorrow, and the omega next to me is the boy I've had in my head since I could think.”

Jaehyun feels his tongue entangle in itself. Youngho is acknowledging their link in a moment of vulnerability, and Jaehyun should take advantage of it, but he doesn't have the heart to do so. Not if it hurts Youngho.

Of course it's hard for both of them. Jaehyun doubts it's worse than being away from your pack, with the uncertainty of if he has become an enemy, if the new pack is going to dispose of him if he's not useful. But Youngho has his own problems. He's lying to the people that trust him with their whole hearts. He's doing so to mate with an omega that might be dangerous for them, a mate that could not be the right one for him. And on top of that, a mate that he sees dying in the future.

“We're together,” Jaehyun assures him. When he strokes Youngho's hands, Youngho doesn't retract. Perhaps because he feels safe in this tiny room, perhaps because he's too scared to reject the consolation. Or perhaps because it's the way it has to be. “If failure comes, it will be shared.”

Youngho wets his lips, moves his head just so slightly for Jaehyun to notice that he's shaking his head in denial. Despite that, he embraces Jaehyun's touch, holds both of his hands over the bed with a sigh.

“It feels like we're living backwards,” he says, very low, like it's a secret. His eyes admire Jaehyun's face for a second, no words to conceal what he's doing, and only when his attention drifts to his lips, Youngho whispers, “I've already kissed you. I've made love to you.”

It's immediate: a shiver runs all over Jaehyun, so strong that he visibly shudders. He closes his eyes, partly ashamed, partly overwhelmed, and lets out a groan when Youngho caresses his forearms, pressing on the goosebumps of his skin.

“It's funny that you're mentioning only that,” Jaehyun jokes, tries to lighten the mood. It's too much, all of a sudden, and he needs Youngho to realize that. “I can see your priorities.”

Youngho doesn't laugh, though it's evident he wants to, the little curl of his lips being enough proof of it. His interest wins the battle.

“Did you see it, too?” he asks Jaehyun.

Sexual visions aren't common for Jaehyun, maybe because he has always repressed them. They give him the impression that he's intruding in a place he doesn't belong to, even if they're about himself. He'll live them when he lives them. And among all his visions, they come second in intensity. Death comes first.

It's unbearable.

“That's such an indecent question,” Jaehyun shoots back. He does his best not to sound combative, but still firm enough for Youngho not to push him forward. “Don't live backwards, Youngho. Live forward, without skipping any steps.”

Youngho can't help but paint a lopsided smile, and he backs away then, finishing the conversation, and assures him, “I won't skip any of them.”

The announcement is set for midday, yet they’re woken up when the sun hasn’t begun to set.

It’s the first time Youngho’s house is full of people, all sort of pack members, bronze, gold and silver, omegas, alphas and betas, without distinction. Youngho keeps an eye on Jaehyun all the time, though Jaehyun pretends he doesn’t notice the attention. They’re dressed up in different clothes for the occasion: a bright red tunic for Jaehyun, open on his chest, loose enough to feel comfortable but attached with a belt on his waist; Youngho’s tunic is tighter, equipped with long sleeves, a strong, sweet purple. It takes Jaehyun a few minutes to realize, looking at Youngho across the house, that they’re wearing the color of each other’s rank. Red for his alpha, purple for his omega.

Even though Jaehyun has many servants around him, there’s a young boy that is assigned to him for specific reasons. From now on he must stick to Jaehyun, Youngho tells him, because every member of the lead family has a companion to help them. He’s a servant, of course, though they don’t use such words to describe them.

“What about yours?” Jaehyun asks. He has never seen a boy tailing after Youngho since he arrived, but it’s true that he hasn’t seen much beyond these four walls.

“I don’t let him into my house, and I only need him sometimes, so he comes to me only when I call him. That’s up to you,” Youngho explains.

However, among the ruckus going on inside the house, he slicks his lips with saliva and releases a soft whistle; one of the servants, an omega that is cleaning their shoes with excessive effort, jumps on his feet right away, turning to Youngho. In a matter of seconds, the boy has answered the call, stands in front of Youngho with questioning eyes.

Youngho pats his head, and smiling, he tells Jaehyun. “This is Jeno.”

Jaehyun looks at him.

He knows Jeno. Of course he does. He has accompanied Youngho in most of his visions. A little omega, worshipping Youngho anywhere he went to, but with honest love in his sparkling eyes. Youngho has always treated him well, has played with him, and in some way, Jaehyun always thought that Jeno was part of his family. Maybe he is, just not by blood. It’s hard not to love Youngho, so Jaehyun can’t blame him for it.

“Jeno,” he greets him. For a second, he is about to express how happy he is to meet Jeno, but he remembers that’s not what is expected from him. So instead, with a little smile, he firmly tells him, “Take good care of my alpha.”

Saying that Jeno is embarrassed is an understatement, but that’s not what catches Jaehyun’s attention: it’s the speed at which Youngho turns to stare at him, surprised by the sincerity in Jaehyun’s voice. Jaehyun gets it. They’re pretending to be together, so Jaehyun isn’t supposed to sound like he means it.

He ignores Youngho’s insistent gaze, however, and takes a peek at his own companion instead. When Jaehyun asks for the boy’s name, he introduces himself as Donghyuck. He’s an alpha, much to Jaehyun’s shock, who expected to have an omega to take care of him. That’s how it works in his pack – in his former pack now, he tells himself – but the east pack seems to value their societal status over their rank. Realization hits Jaehyun a few seconds later, with a knot of his throat, that their companions have an opposite rank to serve as courtesans too.

“What are people saying, Donghyuck?” Jaehyun asks him, watching his reaction closely.

The lack of reaction is an important sign for Jaehyun. Donghyuck is smart, with the sort of intelligence that one needs to play powerful games; that’s why, upon being directly addressed, he prefers showing nothing to showing a weakness: surprise.  

Donghyuck tilts his head to glance at him, and with feigned shyness, he mutters, “About you, my omega?”

“Yes, about me.”

Youngho is observing them, perhaps because he wants to find out what Jaehyun intends with this conversation. Both Jeno and Donghyuck are cautious, and it humors Jaehyun. They don’t know if they have to be respectful, if they have to be afraid of him, because they have no idea if this new omega in their pack is kind, reasonable, or a sadist with a knack for younger boys.

“I can’t tell,” Donghyuck settles for in the end. He warily eyes Youngho before adding, “It’s not proper in front of your alpha.”

It’s Jaehyun’s turn to conceal his own embarrassment. Donghyuck doesn’t need to explain what he’s talking about; his tone, his body language and how he shuts up afterwards, lips tightly pressed are enough of an answer.

“You guys made sure to talk about him every time you’ve gone out today, didn’t you?” Youngho laughs.

Gossiping would be the normal thing to do, and if they have, Jaehyun should at least be grateful that they’re spreading rumors about his looks – risking that it could become obscene instead and madden Youngho, or Jaehyun himself.

Youngho reaches out for Jaehyun, even moving away from the people adjusting his tunic just to touch Jaehyun. He doesn’t hesitate, even if they’re not used to have physical contact with each other, and lands an arm around Jaehyun’s hips. Donghyuck straightens up, ready to pull away if necessary, but he doesn’t let go of Jaehyun’s belt.

Youngho grunts, “Be careful where you touch, Donghyuck.”

It’s on purpose. A small threat, though Donghyuck isn’t surpassing any limit with Jaehyun, to remind him that he’s not treating with a normal omega.

Donghyuck’s hands hover around Jaehyun’s waist, suddenly trembling. It’s not real, just an act, and Jaehyun admires it for a long moment. Jeno might be close to Youngho, but Donghyuck isn’t.

And then, as though Donghyuck can read his thoughts, he looks up at him with a newfound shade of recognition. When Jaehyun stares back, he’s not expecting to share a silent mutual feeling of nakedness. Jaehyun knows that Donghyuck is more than he lets on, maybe a bit dangerous to have around. And Donghyuck’s scrutinizing eyes analyze him back with the security of someone that knows all his secrets, a silent tale that neither of them can speak about out loud.

Jaehyun just doesn’t know why.

By the time Youngho and Jaehyun manage to find a moment of privacy, it's midday. The ruckus around them has transformed into a ruckus around the preparations of the announcement, and thus many people run in and out of Youngho's house, but not to improve how Youngho and Jaehyun look anymore.

Trying to escape from the chaos, Youngho drags him into the bedroom – their bedroom, now. Jaehyun relaxes right away, the tension of pretending gone, and realizes what this implies: that when he's with Youngho, he's not putting up a façade for him. Neither is Youngho. Finding comfort in each other's presence is a familiar sensation; a backwards sensation, like Youngho would say.

“Is Donghyuck to your liking?” Youngho asks him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

His tunic crumples under his weight, but Jaehyun couldn't care less, and so he imitates him.

Jaehyun lifts an eyebrow at Youngho, interested in his choice of words. For once, he can't predict what Youngho is expecting from him; his question could have many meanings. Does he like Donghyuck as a servant, as a friend, or as an alpha?

“Is he to yours?” Jaehyun shoots back.

Youngho shrugs. “He’s friends with Minhyung,” he points out, like that explains all of his thoughts. “I used to trust him by default. But after knowing Minhyung took you here willingly, I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

It's a valid fear. Youngho still trusts Minhyung, otherwise he wouldn't have risked giving him the power to handle the whole negotiations, but he's aware that Minhyung wasn't completely honest with him. Jaehyun bets Minhyung would reveal the entire story if Youngho asked, but Youngho is bright enough to know that some things are better off in the dark.

“Youngho,” Jaehyun calls him, placing a hand on his arm. That tiny zone of contact anchors him to reality, and Jaehyun takes advantage of that to continue, “You’re not being betrayed. There isn’t a net of traitors around you, I can assure you that.”

Depends on what he describes as treason. But everyone that is disobeying rules is doing so for the greater good, especially for Youngho.

“I'll have to rely on your words,” Youngho replies in the end, after a long silence. He allows Jaehyun to rub his arm, crinkling the tunic, and sighs, “It's you who sees the future, after all.”

Doing his best not to be flustered, Jaehyun whispers a joking, “Good decision.”

Both of them smile, the gloomy atmosphere dissipating around them. It can't be that hard, Jaehyun realizes, to feign that he loves Youngho. It shouldn't be hard for Youngho either, if he feels the connection that their visions provided them with.

But then Youngho's attention travels down, and he hastily notices, “I haven't changed your bracelets.”

Out of instinct, Jaehyun peeks at them too. He's about to say that it's fine, but before he can spit such nonsense, Youngho is striding out of the bedroom. Jaehyun comprehends that they can't overlook this detail, for it would be a huge disrespect to the pack's culture, and for that same reason none of the assistants has dared to either change them or just mention it.

When Youngho comes back, Jaehyun is restless. Even though he hates to admit it, there's some sort of thrill for having Youngho put a blue bracelet on him.

The blue bracelet is what Youngho indeed changes first. Jaehyun grins at him as Youngho ties the bracelet around his wrist, and Youngho can't help but release a small scoff, like he finds Jaehyun's happiness very funny. It is, somehow, and yet Jaehyun can't be brought down by the fact that this is an act. It feels too real, too undecorated, when it's only the two of them.

When Youngho twirls the new gold bracelet in his fingers, however, Jaehyun stops him.

“If you change my bracelet to gold, that makes us equals,” Jaehyun excuses himself upon Youngho's questioning expression. “Kun won’t believe I was forced.”

It's almost ironic that Jaehyun is refusing the gold bracelet, since he made sure, in the beginning, that Youngho knew that his status wasn't low.

“But my pack-” Youngho starts, confused. It's the first time Jaehyun hears him stutter. “My pack must see us as equals.”

 Jaehyun understands that. A silver rank won't want to serve a bronze rank, no matter if he's married to the Chief's son or the Chief himself. It doesn't work that way.

“Tell them it's my choice,” Jaehyun decides, his mind still on Kun. Kun is intelligent, and he's playing this game better than they are, so Jaehyun can't let any detail escape. He looks into Youngho's eyes, slightly embarrassed, and whispers, “A form of submission towards you, of devotion at the start of our mating.”

Naivety has never characterized Jaehyun, but he's not expecting his words to affect Youngho so much. His eyes darken, his pupils dilate, and for a second Jaehyun thinks he should have obeyed and kept his silence.

Submission. That's the reason why Youngho lets out a guttural grunt, so low that Jaehyun swears that he has imagined it, so low that he's tempted to press a hand against Youngho's chest to feel the vibrations. Telling Youngho that he's submissive to him is as intimate as opening his legs for him, and Youngho can't control his natural reaction, much to his own shame.

“What if you only wear bronze when we finally meet up with Kun?” he croaks out in the end, breaking the eye contact with Jaehyun.

Jaehyun shakes his head. “They have eyes in your pack, Youngho.”

Not Minhyung. Sure, maybe it could slip out of his mouth while talking to Sicheng, but Sicheng is on his side anyhow; unless Kun had enough dirt on him to make him switch sides and drop all his ethics, Sicheng wouldn't mess up with their plans.

But after all, Sicheng didn't orchestrate Jaehyun's breakout. It was someone else. And Jaehyun doesn't know if they're trustworthy.

Youngho blinks at him, soaking in his insinuation, and corrects, “Our pack.”

In response, Jaehyun draws a derisive smirk. He can do this for Youngho.

“Our pack, my Alpha,” he repeats after him.

It feels like he has said it a thousand times already.

Jaehyun has an advantage in this game.

Since the moment he witnessed Sejun’s death in his head, everyone has stared at him. Everywhere he went, there were judging glances, the sort of judgment that is born from fear. As a kid, Jaehyun didn’t understand them; he wanted to fit in, repress his visions, and be another normal member of the pack. As time passed, he grew to deal with the reaction he caused around him. It was part of him, and as he learned, all aspects of his life had a reason to be.

Jaehyun stands in front of Youngho’s pack, a thousand heads and two thousand eyes, and realizes that he’s ready for this. At his right, Youngho is tenser than usual – tenser than the Youngho from his visions – but Jaehyun breathes in and out with a calmness that, he hopes, can be shared between them.

The Chief doesn’t even acknowledge Jaehyun’s presence, but that’s not surprising, because Jaehyun knows the Chief will die without accepting Jaehyun as his son’s mate. He has seen it. The Chief talks first, makes a hand signal for Youngho and Jaehyun to step forward to his position, and explains to his pack what they already know: Youngho is mated to an omega from the west pack, and it isn’t the end of the war. It’s just the beginning.

In the middle of the speech, Jaehyun realizes that Youngho isn’t going to talk. It’s a bad move. From this perspective, surrounded by guards and having the Chief speak for them, their whole mating looks like a fraud. A truthful event wouldn’t need so much security, wouldn’t assume the possibility of a riot, especially because Youngho usually walks around town without security.

When Jaehyun holds Youngho’s hand, he can feel everyone’s attention shift from the Chief to their hands. Even Youngho, who is caught off guard, turns his head to glance at him. Just enough not to be caught by his father, who has definitely noticed that they’re doing something distracting for the audience, but so evident that Jaehyun feels his stomach churn.

Yet Youngho sends him a demure, grateful smile, well aware of his intention.

“You’re good at this,” he compliments in a whisper.

Jaehyun smiles back at him, forgets that they’re not alone, and says, “I’ve already done it.”

They’re living in a circle, and yet it doesn’t take less courage to do what they’re destined to do. There are a few changes, anyway; in Jaehyun’s visions, Youngho stood on his left, not his right, and it was almost night, the sun setting on the horizon.

“And what did I do next?” Youngho asks, his voice mixing with his father’s in the background.

Jaehyun’s smile fades away, and like a mirror, Youngho’s does as well. His hand is warm in Youngho’s hold, and maybe because Jaehyun finds security in a sea of threats, finds the certain aspect of his future in a sea of doubts, he’s brave enough to tell him the truth.

“You fell in love with me.”

But just like the small changes in the present, Jaehyun can’t be sure anymore.

Jaehyun’s freedom is part of the program – if he’s mated to Youngho, there isn’t any reason why he should be enclosed like a prisoner.

It’s, however, dangerous for the pack. The Chief refuses at first, since anyone in their right mind would try to run away back to their pack at any chance, but Youngho convinces him. Youngho trusts him. Jaehyun doesn’t ask how he manages to talk his father into giving him full autonomy, and though Youngho already knows that Jaehyun is here for his own will, Jaehyun is still surprised at the small gesture of trust.

Jaehyun wouldn’t go anywhere, not while his future is here.

Jaehyun declines the possibility of having security around him when he goes out, but on the first day, Youngho still insists that he should have some company. To his luck, company means Minhyung, perhaps because Youngho wants to give him someone that he’s comfortable with, or perhaps just because Minhyung is an alpha with a decent rank, and no one will dare to confront them that way.

“This is considered my day off,” Minhyung tells him. “There’s not much I can do now. Just let this run on in its course.”

In the morning, the town is simmering with life. There aren’t many kids, like Jaehyun expected, but the few of them run all around the town, free and undisciplined; playing games that Jaehyun isn’t familiar with. On a piece of wasteland conditioned for fighting, young boys and girls practice with arrows, swords and some are immerse in body to body combat, regardless of their rank.

It’s their first stop, per Jaehyun’s request, since he has never had the chance to see betas and omegas fight each other. He doesn’t hope to learn by just watching, but the curiosity wins him over.

“I’m sure Kun must know about the mating by now,” Jaehyun assures Mark, not sure if it’s a soothing thought or an incredibly unnerving one. “If he changes his mind, he’ll inform you soon.”

The fighters, Jaehyun notices, meet eyes with him one by one, as the news of his presence expand all over the wasteland. Jaehyun doesn’t mind; attention is power, and he plays his role well, pretending to evaluate their skills instead of admiring them.

As Minhyung leads him around the wasteland, making sure they don’t invade the territory, he comments, “I hope informing isn’t attacking us without warning.”

It’s not a wild supposition. If Kun is mad enough, if he loses his patience, his head or both, he can potentially take a wrong step to destruction. Jaehyun would have never considered it while he was by his side, but without the support of Jaehyun’s visions, Kun might feel beyond lost. Paranoid even, after what has happened.

“Let me tell you a secret,” Jaehyun says with a smile, meant more for himself than for Minhyung. He doesn’t take his eyes off the fighters, amused when one of them makes a mistake out of nervousness – none of them are used to a stranger’s eyes watching them. “Our omegas aren’t allowed to fight unless it’s crucial. Even if the whole pack came here to fight you, you would be up against a bunch of omegas that have never received any training.”

Jaehyun has never understood the logic of it. They were ancient rules, and questioning them wasn’t on his hands, so he kept quiet. But it didn’t make sense that, just when it was a suicidal mission, they were forced into their own extinction. Either alphas survived or no one did, because the rest didn’t have the medium to stand for themselves.

Minhyung sounds softer when he replies, “We don’t want to kill your pack, Jaehyun.”

There’s a silence, and as Minhyung frowns at the lack of response, he glances at Jaehyun just to find him with defiance in his expression.

“It’s not my pack anymore,” Jaehyun reminds him, stern.

“Of course.” Minhyung nods. It wasn’t on purpose, but he has to get used to treating Jaehyun as he deserves; not only because Jaehyun plans to stay, but because anyone could overhear them. “But you know what I mean. You’re our salvation, not our damnation. We don’t want blood.”

Jaehyun nods. This whole scheme doesn’t make any sense if a battle winds out. They need to balance each other’s population, to prosper together, so if half of them are dead the probabilities of that happening are almost zero.

“Can I ask another question?”

Minhyung is more cautious this time; Jaehyun can feel that he’s learning that he’s not a desperate omega with an utopian dream, that Jaehyun isn’t manipulable and easy to fool.

“I should say no now, shouldn’t I?” he tries, pressing his lips together not to laugh.

He should, but that doesn’t stop Jaehyun from continuing. “Luckily for me, now I have the power to not let you do that.” He gives Minhyung a mischievous look, well aware that he’s surprised at his bravery. Even if Jaehyun is still wearing his bronze bracelet, now it’s known that it’s a gesture towards Youngho and no one else, and therefore everyone must treat him like a gold rank. “So, to what extent is Donghyuck roped into this mess?”

No matter how fast Minhyung is learning, it’s not fast enough. The question catches him off guard, and unable to conceal his reaction, he looks at Jaehyun with a shade of horror. He composes himself one second later, but the smile that blooms on Jaehyun’s face shows him that he has no escape.

“What-” he begins, tries to repress his shock. His jaw clenches, clear frustration towards himself on his semblance, and claims, “He isn’t.”

Jaehyun doesn’t bother to contradict him; his judgment is so evident that Minhyung’s little serenity breaks down in a matter of seconds.

“Shit,” he curses, running a hand through his hair. However, he doesn’t admit his fault just yet, gazes at the fighters as though they could hear them. It takes him longer than it should, a period long enough for Jaehyun to know that Minhyung feels loyalty towards Donghyuck, until he shakes his head. “That’s not my story. It doesn’t belong to me.”

Jaehyun respects that, but the silent confirmation piques his interest. Pressuring Minhyung into telling him is an awful move, so he decides not to – besides, Jaehyun isn’t that comfortable with giving orders yet.

In the end, Jaehyun opts for asking, “Should I be careful around him?”

And that’s a responsibility Minhyung can’t neglect: it would be a form of betrayal if Donghyuck hurt Jaehyun and Minhyung could have prevented it.

With a sigh on his lips, Minhyung closes his eyes and concludes. “He’s not your enemy.” And Jaehyung might have enemies in this pack, he’s aware of that, until he becomes what they need him to be. “Have in mind that he has a reason to be on our side, but we don’t share the same aim.”

Minhyung’s words sound indecipherable, but they’re not.

When Jaehyun comes back that night, Youngho is already at home.

And though he’s awake, he’s on the edge of the bed, his hands entangled in the sheets. Jaehyun doesn’t need to speak to him to know that Youngho, despite being tired, despite not having eaten dinner with Jaehyun, has endured his exhaustion just to wait for him.

The obviousness of the situation makes Jaehyun shy, the sort of shyness that he has rarely experienced before. Sure, Kun has always cared about him, but it was a brotherly sentiment. When he observes Youngho on the bed, how his stare transcends any words he could offer, Jaehyun feels the urge to trust Youngho with his whole soul. Youngho doesn’t look at him like he has looked at other omegas all his life; he doesn’t look at him like an enemy or a friend. His glances are quick, but for Jaehyun the time runs slowly, and he notices how Youngho appreciates the way the tunic sticks to his body, how the belt tightens around his waist, how his collarbones peek out enough to attract his attention.

“How did it go?” Youngho asks him, and though he tries not to disclose his nervousness, it reflects in his voice.

Any story Jaehyun has seems to be important for Youngho, so Jaehyun indulges him, “Fun, I’d say. Minhyung walked me around.”

Jaehyun approaches him, slowly, feeling out of place. This is his home now, but Youngho’s eyes are following him everywhere, and when he’s not facing him, Jaehyun’s instinct warns him where Youngho is setting his sight on. It’s thrilling, and for the first time in a while, Jaehyun is excited.

“Did you talk to anyone?” Youngho asks, like he’s trying to distract himself with questions. Maybe tomorrow, when his mind is clear, he would honestly care about if Jaehyun talked to anyone. Not now, however.

Jaehyun could strip in front of Youngho, like he has done since they started sleeping on the same bed, but an alternative slides into his head. He takes a spin on his heels and, instead of walking to his side of the bed, he walks to Youngho’s.

Youngho tenses up as soon as he predicts his moves, an oddly satisfying effect that Jaehyun bathes in.

“Not really,” Jaehyun breathes out. Neither of them is paying attention to the conversation anymore, but to the distance between them. Jaehyun’s feet, warm on the stone floor, bring him closer, too close, until Youngho has to lift his head to look at him. “Your people don’t look approachable.”

Youngho’s expression is a mystery for Jaehyun, but his pheromones aren’t. They clog the atmosphere, asphyxiate every one of his thoughts, and make him forget every promise that he made to himself. Burning jasmine. If Jaehyun is gone, Youngho is ahead of him, so far away that he can’t catch up.

“We’re going out together tomorrow,” Youngho whispers. His gaze is touring down, from Jaehyun’s lips to his neck, and then to his waist. “If you don’t mind. They’re used to me, it’ll be easier.”

“I don’t mind,” Jaehyun replies.

But he’s answering a question that Youngho hasn’t asked yet. Perhaps it’s because Youngho can recognize it in his scent too, or because he can’t resist the temptation of touching Jaehyun: his hands carefully wrap around his waist, hesitant yet needy, and before Jaehyun can reassure him, his fingers are undoing the tie of his belt. It falls off easily, like it’s made to strip him down, and Jaehyun’s tunic loosens around his body.

There’s nothing else holding the tunic together, and when the belt slides down to the floor, it’s just Youngho’s hands what keep the garment in place.

When Youngho glances up at Jaehyun’s eyes again, his determination burns Jaehyun from the inside.

“My father is mad,” he says, with intent, maybe looking for support.

Jaehyun knows why the Chief is mad. For him, Youngho is probably just a young alpha that is too inexperienced to keep his hands for himself, his instinct in check, and vulnerable to the charms of any omega that crosses paths with him. Men like him, men that don’t know what love is, always think that’s how the world works.

Jaehyun won’t let Youngho’s father convince him that his blooming feelings for Jaehyun are a consequence of the most basic aspect of his nature.

He caresses under Youngho’s chin, more tender than sexual, and whispers, “What about?”

“The way I look at you,” Youngho replies. He’s quick, impatient, as though they’re running out of time. They could be, Jaehyun will never be completely sure after Youngho told him that he saw a different future. And yet, whatever future he witnessed, is similar enough for him to shoot a, “How do I look at you, Jaehyun?”

“In a way you shouldn’t.” Jaehyun licks his lips, his heart hammering in his chest. Youngho has a shade of boldness on his face. “Like a man that wants to skip too many steps.”

Youngho’s scent is too strong, too much. It speaks for himself. Jaehyun lets Youngho pull at his tunic a bit more, enough to reveal his stomach; Youngho grabs there, not bothering to take the clothes off for him, and his hands burn on Jaehyun’s skin like pure, painful madness. Skin to skin, Jaehyun doesn’t think he can bear with it, not without going crazy.

“So what if I do?” Youngho defies him. “I need proof.”

Every second is an eternity for Jaehyun as he leans down. If Youngho needs proof, Jaehyun can provide it. That’s better than letting Youngho touch him further, because Jaehyun swears that if Youngho says another word, no matter how simple and innocent it is, Jaehyun will submit by his own will.

When Jaehyun shifts a leg between Youngho’s legs, knee on the bed, the world around him slows down. He hears Youngho's heart beating in the silence of the room, his senses sharpening to feel every part of Youngho – body, mind, heart – and finds comfort in the heat of Youngho's palms against his body.

Youngho holds him tighter, looks up at Jaehyun until they're on the same level, and his eyes shut close. The distance between doesn't disappear right away: Jaehyun takes advantage of the moment to admire Youngho's features from up close, the curled ends of his lips, the long lashes and the subtle harshness of his jaw.

In Jaehyun's world, he would never be allowed to kiss an alpha first. He would have to wait for Youngho to take the first step. But this isn't Jaehyun's world only, it's Youngho's world too; and Youngho, for what concerns him, doesn't care.

That forbidden choice becomes their little secret, and as Jaehyun molds his lips against Youngho's mouth, with so much ease and naturality that it's unbelievable, Jaehyun realizes it was always supposed to be that way. They've kissed many times in his visions, but instead of feeling like a routine, it makes Jaehyun feel like a kid kissing a boy for the first time. It reminds him of the first time he saw Youngho in his visions; that wildness and freedom that made Jaehyun ache, that adoration he thought he would never be worthy of.

Youngho brings him closer and closer, and the world tumbles down with him– the bed curves under their weight, adapting to their shape. Unlike his pheromones, Youngho tastes like sugar and fire, and every lick of his tongue into Jaehyun's mouth leaves a trail of tingling heat behind.

And yet, Jaehyun feels far from poetic. Youngho's body is hard, and they meet each other with more obscenity than delicacy; impatience can't be concealed in the way their bodies move against each other. Jaehyun kisses Youngho, but he also rubs on his thigh when he lies on his back, grabbing Jaehyun with him; and Youngho lifts his leg on purpose, giving him more friction, like a small trap to drive Jaehyun into madness.

That's what snaps Jaehyun's consciousness in two; Youngho wants him. It's their destiny. But he had doubts just days ago, doubts about wanting to love Jaehyun, doubts about if loving Jaehyun is the reason he dies in his visions, doubts and doubts. And no matter how much Youngho yearns for him in secret, it would never be enough for him to prioritize it over his own beliefs, his ethics.

Jaehyun knows that much about Youngho. He always puts other people first.

However, as Jaehyun pulls away from the kiss, Youngho's hands desperately tug at his waist. It's a request that Jaehyun has to decline, and in a raspy whisper, Jaehyun accuses him, “Your rut is nearing.”

Youngho held the information from him on purpose. Despite the differences between their packs, no one disrespects the implications of a rut or a heat, at least not in relationships, not if they care about the other half.

Youngho didn't tell him because Jaehyun would feel like he's taking advantage of him. And he would be. There's nothing more horrible than the thought of Youngho regretting this – their first kiss, the first time they touch each other more intimately.

“I can handle it,” Youngho lies, a small frown appearing on his face. The plea in his tone proves otherwise. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want to.”

It’s too late, and Youngho is aware of that. Jaehyun is already propping himself out of the bed by the time Youngho finishes talking, and he looks at Youngho panting on his back, completely gone after just a few minutes of kissing. It’s tempting, but so wrong that Jaehyun doesn’t want to think about it.

“I know you won’t. But I know I’ll want to,” Jaehyun tells him, and unlike Youngho, he’s saying the truth. He doesn’t need anything beyond this: Youngho wants him, even if it’s in the deepest, most buried corner of his instinct. Jaehyun isn’t wasting his time. He steps back, avoiding giving Youngho his back in case he takes it as an insult – mockery, even – and it becomes a barrier between them. “And that’s not how our story goes.”

It should be enough of a reason, but for Youngho, who merely wants and wants, it isn’t.

“Don't go,” he begs, a last attempt to keep Jaehyun by his side. Jaehyun moves faster, not trusting himself to bear with Youngho’s pleading without falling into the trap. “Please.”

When Jaehyun closes the door behind him, leaving Youngho alone when he needs him the most, he realizes this is how real loneliness feels.

Despite his rut, Youngho keeps his promise of accompanying him.

If Jaehyun thought he gathered too much attention alone – or with Minhyung, for that matter – that’s nothing compared to what Youngho gathers. However, unlike Jaehyun, Youngho is approached by his people from time to time, whether they are kids looking for approval or just acquaintances that want to talk to their future Chief for a while.

As Jaehyun stands in silence next to him, listening how he talks to people, realization hits him: being an untouchable, stranger omega is a strategy that will only work in the beginning. He can’t be absent and distant forever, not if he intends to stay by Youngho’s side; Jaehyun will have just as many responsibilities, and it’d beneficial for him to inspire respect, but not fear; trust, but not permissiveness.

Youngho’s intention isn’t simply taking a walk around the town, that much is clear when Jaehyun sees where they’re going. In a town with a severe lack of children, walking into a small fenced zone full of kids isn’t a coincidence; there are around twenty kids, playing games in groups, and three adults supervising them from afar. It’s noisy, the sort of noisy that Jaehyun isn’t used to: they educate their youngest ones to be silent and careful, and so they are.

“I figured that it would be easier for you to talk to kids,” Youngho tells him, watching Jaehyun like he wonders if he did the right thing. It’s not an offense, but it’s still funny that Jaehyun has to train his leader skills with them. “There are too many alphas in this pack and, even if you don’t notice, I do notice how you hold back sometimes.”

Jaehyun blinks at Youngho in surprise, momentarily forgetting the crowd of children in front of them. The supervisors have already detected their presence, and one of them is trying to control a running group of kids, as if they’re embarrassed their children got caught behaving like wild things.

“It’s a habit,” Jaehyun excuses himself.

It’s not an excuse, but the truth. After twenty years of learning to shut up when an alpha spoke, to adapt to their beliefs even if Jaehyun disagreed, to obey even when it hurt him, it’s complicated to look into an alpha’s eyes and use the power that Jaehyun has now acquired.

“You’ll eventually get rid of it.” Youngho smiles, like it’s not a big deal, and in an attempt to lighten up the mood, he jokes, “Besides, it looks bad if you submit to other alphas that aren’t me.”

Jaehyun can’t help but laugh, yet he’s embarrassed enough to look away from Youngho. It might be a joke, yet Jaehyun would hate to give that impression; just like he would hate if Youngho behaved that way towards anyone else besides him.

Upon noticing his abashment, Youngho sets a hand on his back and softly guides him forward. It’s the signal the children’s supervisors need to greet them, even neglecting the kids in their favor. Youngho dismisses them right away, tells them that they’re just visiting and they can pretend that they’re not here if they want to. Jaehyun is about to point out that, considering they look like they’re going to have a heart attack, it will be impossible for them to ignore them. But Youngho knows that: his words are a polite way to tell them that they should give them space, not attention.

Jaehyun appreciates that, and interacting with children is, like Youngho thought, much easier. They have a raw honesty to them – a lot ask about Jaehyun’s smell, say that not many adults smell like him. Other kids ask to be carried in his arms, and though Jaehyun is reticent at first, Youngho assures him that it’s fine. Jaehyun understands that these kids aren’t used to omegas, unless it’s their parents, so they’re naturally drawn to Jaehyun.

“I should be jealous,” Youngho complains, observing the two year-old beta that Jaehyun has just lifted. His small hands tug at Jaehyun’s hair with curiosity, and he sniffs down his neck without any shame. “They’ve always preferred me first.”

Jaehyun laughs, but he’s pretty sure that Youngho is still in advantage. There’s a tiny alpha, not even one year old, perched to his leg like a leech, a big grin plastered on his face as he squishes his face against Youngho’s leg.

“Time for change,” Jaehyun plays along, however.

They don’t spend much time with the children, but enough to tire themselves out. It’s pretty comical to see Youngho play games with them, given the size difference, but as he watches them run around, Jaehyun realizes he hasn’t laughed this much in a while. Leaving is difficult, if having kids dragging them back counts as an obstacle; Youngho detects his weakness then, and grabs him by the hand so that he doesn’t fall for the children’s charms.

The little amount of time they invest on the children gives Jaehyun a few clues about Youngho’s adoration for them. Even if Jaehyun’s pack is starting to suffer the consequences of not having alphas, they’re doing better than the east pack’s at maintaining their population. Jaehyun has grown up surrounded by kids, taking care of kids, so their presence isn’t that remarkable for him. However, he understands the value they have for Youngho and the rest of the pack, especially omegas. They might be other people’s children, but in the end they’re everyone’s children, and Youngho treats them as such.

He doesn’t voice out his thoughts, anyhow, and Youngho doesn’t let go of his hand as they explore the town.

“I don’t think you’d have any problem going out alone,” Youngho tells him after they’ve spoken to a couple of betas that crossed paths with them. “But Donghyuck could be handy, still.”

Jaehyun nods, and then sends Youngho a playful look, “I don’t seek for solitude that much. I’m fine with having company.”

Instead of acknowledging him, Youngho points out, “You already knew the town.” He doesn’t have to say why he knows that: Jaehyun never takes the wrong turn, and though he lets Youngho guide him, it’s unnecessary. “When did you start having visions?”

Jaehyun wonders, for a second, if he should lie. “I have a hunch it began at the same time for both of us,” he concludes. “What was the first thing you saw about me?”

Youngho avoids talking about his visions, even just to mention them, and Jaehyun tries to tread carefully. While Jaehyun is in close touch with his visions, Youngho has always considered them a threat.

“Suffering.” Youngho looks ahead of them, blinks rapidly. “A death.”

All in all, it feels great to be right. Jaehyun treasures that Youngho knows, without Jaehyun telling him, that it’s a sensitive topic. And deep inside it’s a relief that their visions synchronized; it makes Jaehyun feel less alone, no matter if it’s years later, knowing that there was another boy going through the same trouble.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Youngho mutters then.

Jaehyun can’t help but let out a small laugh. “You don’t have to be.”

Youngho knows that. Nothing happened, and despite being on the edge of a rut, his only mistake was not to tell Jaehyun.

“But I am.”

Fighting Youngho for his guilt is useless, thus Jaehyun nods to accept his apology. He lifts a hand to feel Youngho’s cheek, his temperature, to observe how Youngho reacts to his touch; it’s easy to tell he’s not in a good place: he flinches almost imperceptibly, as if Jaehyun could hurt him, but he doesn’t jerk away.

Youngho is burning.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Worse,” Youngho confesses. It’s just that, in the daylight, his symptoms aren’t so obvious. Jaehyun can’t understand his ability to hide them and function like it’s any other day. “Perhaps we’ll have to stay apart for a couple of days, while my rut is in full force.”

Those words startle Jaehyun, and he flickers his eyes to Youngho’s pupils in a silent plea. Separating from Youngho sounds like a nightmare, and besides, it might not be the best idea in the middle of a political game. If any of their packs realize they’re not together, that they’re mated but don’t want to have any sexual contact, they will be suspicious. They can’t afford that.

Well aware of the answer, Jaehyun asks, “Does having me around make you suffer?”

“Yes.” Youngho closes his eyes, feeling his hand, like a little game in which he has to learn to bear with Jaehyun’s scent on him. “But it’s not your fault.”

It’s no one’s fault, even if Youngho is hinting that he’s the one to blame. Jaehyun detaches from him, giving him space, and watches how the tension in his shoulders deflates right away.

“Where am I supposed to stay, then?” Jaehyun says; the idea of leaving Youngho alone, or of Youngho leaving him on his own is dreading, but they have no alternative. Youngho opens his eyes, blinks at him slowly, not able to go back to the conversation so fast. “With Minhyung?”

“I think you’ll be the most comfortable with him.” Judging his tone, it’s because Jaehyun can’t trust anyone else in the pack, and so can’t Youngho when it comes to Jaehyun. “Or Donghyuck?”

Jaehyun thinks about it from an outsider’s perspective. Minhyung brought him to the pack, and everyone knows that, though they ignore it was supposedly a kidnapping. If Jaehyun spends Youngho’s rut at Minhyung’s home, some people will inevitably link both choices, will assume that Minhyung wants him away from Youngho.

“Donghyuck should be the best choice,” Jaehyun decides. No one will question him if he stays with his servant. “We don’t need unnecessary rumors.”

Despite his ability to pretend, Donghyuck doesn’t bother to hide his unhappiness when the news arrives.

Jaehyun is patient. Since the one in charge of his security is Minhyung, Jaehyun wanders around the house while Minhyung and Donghyuck argue in one of the bedrooms. They’re not quiet, and Jaehyun doubts they’re even trying to be, at least not Donghyuck. Jaehyun is used to people talking bad about him when he’s there, so he’s unfazed at the discussion while he inspects Donghyuck’s house.

Donghyuck lives with another alpha, a boy named Jaemin, who casts the greatest grin at Jaehyun upon recognizing him, and he shows Jaehyun around. He ignores the argument as well, and judging his lack of awkwardness, Donghyuck fighting with someone isn’t an unusual event.

“We don’t have any extra rooms, my Omega,” Jaemin laments. “But I’m sure Donghyuck will lend you his. I thought that he would move out when he was appointed as your helper, but he’s too stubborn for that, says that he doesn’t need a whole house for himself.”

Jaehyun makes a mental note to not forget that. If Donghyuck doesn’t want to drop his life in exchange for a more comfortable, full of luxury life, there must be a reason.

“You don’t have to address me that way,” Jaehyun tells Jaemin instead, like the rest doesn’t have any importance.

Being addressed by the east pack’s rules still feels foreign to Jaehyun, and while he can accept them in public as a way to assert his power, in private he prefers people to call him by his name. Jaemin, however, turns a bright red at the proposal, perhaps because it’s not decent to use a personal name on someone that is over his rank – Jaemin wears a silver bracelet – and even less decent if he’s an omega.

Yet it’s an order, somehow, and Jaemin nods.

By the time Donghyuck and Minhyung put an end to their argument, Jaemin has served him dinner, has given him a nice talk – the first interesting conversation Jaehyun has had since he arrived at the east pack, since it was all about politics, tension and a pull and push game with Youngho – and called him pretty a few times. Jaehyun doesn’t mind; Jaemin isn’t flirting, just admiring from the position of those who can’t touch the gold rank.

Donghyuck looks like he has fought for a hundred years instead of a couple of hours, yet in Jaehyun’s presence, he tries to keep a façade of security.

“My Omega,” he greets for the second time, a sign of acceptance towards their deal.

“Donghyuck,” Jaehyun greets back. He peeks at Minhyung past Donghyuck, and realizes he’s just as tired. Jaehyun’s intention is far from this: having everyone on edge for him as if he was the most important person of the pack is an insult. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but as you must suppose it’s not the best time to mate.”

Whether Donghyuck is expecting him to be so direct and explicit, he contains his reactions. The silence from Jaemin and Minhyung is noisy, but Jaehyun doesn’t back off. Telling Donghyuck an aspect so intimate about his relationship with Youngho is a step forward, and he won’t apologize for it.

“I know it isn’t,” Donghyuck says. He can’t utter any other words, not about Youngho, not about his mate.

Satisfied with the small exchange, Minhyung pats Donghyuck’s back and sends Jaehyun an apologetic glance.

“I have to go,” he says; in fact, Jaehyun is sure that he should have never spent so much time on convincing Donghyuck. Donghyuck should have complied with the request before it became an order. “Don’t hesitate to call me if you need me.”

“We’ll be okay,” Jaemin chirps up. Minhyung stares at him for a second, surprised, either at his enthusiasm or at his interruption. “Don’t worry. Donghyuck is his guardian, after all.”

Guardian. But by duty.

Minhyung doesn’t say that out loud, even if the three of them could fling that retort at Jaemin, and Jaehyun ushers him to leave at last. Unlike he imagined, he’s not nervous without Youngho. Donghyuck isn’t his friend, but Jaehyun has enough suspicions about him to buy his loyalty.

Even so, without any blackmail, Donghyuck treats him like he must. He dismisses Jaemin off despite his will to stay around Jaehyun, and he appreciates that, because Jaemin’s energy can be quite tiring.

“My bed isn’t much,” Donghyuck observes, clearing his throat, as they step into his room. “You must not be used to this.”

Funnily enough, his words don’t match his tone. His humbleness isn’t exactly that, because Donghyuck seems to be content with what he has, and Jaehyun would never tell him otherwise. He has the right not to want better commodities, and Jaehyun doesn’t need them either, not after a whole life without them.

“Where are you going?” Jaehyun asks. Donghyuck’s feet halt mid turn, and he glances back just in time to hear Jaehyun say, “Stay here.”

The last sentiment Jaehyun wants to instill is fear, but it’s impossible for Donghyuck not to assume the worst. Hoping a little smile will calm him down, Jaehyun adds, “What’s with that face?”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate,” Donghyuck confesses, a sincerity that could cost him dear if it wasn’t directed to Jaehyun.

It’s brave of him, after all, that he’s disposed to stand up for himself at least in such matters. It alleviates Jaehyun to know that he has the opportunity to say no, even if he’s saying no to a wrong assumption of his.

Jaehyun doesn’t lose his patience, contains his laughter not to shame Donghyuck. “I’m not asking for that,” he assures him. Carefully sitting on the bed, he glances up at Donghyuck and signals him to come closer. “But we need to have a talk. A private talk.”

It’s instantaneous. Donghyuck’s demeanor shifts in that one second, as he finally understands that Jaehyun is here for more reasons than he let on, and that this isn’t just an issue related to Youngho. He locks the door to avoid Jaemin spying on them – which Jaehyun doubts, but one never knows – and takes a deep breath before joining Jaehyun on the bed.

There are many ways to approach the topic, but with people that have mastered the art of pretending, it’s better to be straightforward.

Jaehyun locks eyes with Donghyuck and demands, “Who is it?”

To Jaehyun’s surprise, Donghyuck looks confused. “Who is what?”

It’s a dangerous game. But like Minhyung told him, Donghyuck is on their side, and he won’t risk losing the battle out of pettiness.

“The person from my pack that you’re connected to,” Jaehyun replies, pronouncing every word so clearly that it won’t leave room for mistake. “The one you’re in love with.”

That does the trick. Donghyuck pales, so fast that Jaehyun might have as well punched him in the guts. He observes every tiny hint of evidence on his face. Donghyuck isn’t stupid: he knows that Jaehyun has his own plans, for that’s an intelligent thing to believe about anyone involved in a war, yet it’s obvious that he ignored to what extent Jaehyun is informed.

Donghyuck fights against that, jaw clenched and hands becoming fists. “I don’t know anyone from your pack,” he grunts, a lie that seems to hurt on his lips.

“You do.” Jaehyun tries not to be condescending. This talk is from equal to equal, because if Donghyuck has risked his neck to communicate with someone from the west pack, he shouldn’t be underestimated. “It’s not Sicheng, right?”

Donghyuck opens his mouth a little, caught off guard.

“I said I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insists, however.

Jaehyun can tell that Donghyuck knows Sicheng, but perhaps it’s just by association with Minhyung. If Donghyuck was closely tied to Sicheng, he wouldn’t oppose to Jaehyun with so much determination, he wouldn’t be so afraid.

Then it all makes sense in Jaehyun’s head. Sicheng wasn’t the only one dealing with forbidden acts.

“It’s Renjun,” Jaehyun breathes out, more for himself than for Donghyuck.

A confirmation isn’t necessary, not when Donghyuck stands up, pheromones clogging the ambience with panic. And it’s the first time he looks at Jaehyun with an expression similar to defiance, to a threat, but Jaehyun controls his own emotions not to spiral along Donghyuck.

“Don’t say his name,” Donghyuck spits at him. The fury blinds his reason, and he doesn’t remember his own lies. “Don’t you dare.”

Contrary to what Jaehyun should feel, he’s calm. All the pieces fit at last, and if more people are embroiled in their illegal deals, Jaehyun doesn’t need to know about them. Donghyuck isn’t on his side, he’s on Renjun’s side; Minhyung thought they were the same, but Jaehyun is aware that they don’t have to be.

Instead of imposing his power on Donghyuck, Jaehyun remarks, “You know I’m here because of him, right?”

Donghyuck’s chest rises, his eyes burn wet. “I don’t care. Just keep him out of your mouth.”

Sicheng had warned Jaehyun about it. Alphas with alphas.

Unbothered, Jaehyun scans Donghyuck from head to toe. This is the boy Renjun has secretly been meeting for years, while Jaehyun and the rest of the pack lived their normal, boring lives without suspecting anything.

“You can’t talk to me like that,” Jaehyun reminds him.

But Donghyuck doesn’t care about that, not right now. He strides around the room like a tiger in a cage, as to find the solution to all of their problems – or just the key to buy Jaehyun’s silence, to reduce him to background noise that doesn’t have any effect on his life. It’s too late for that.

“You think you’re so important to this war, don’t you?” Donghyuck reproaches him. And there isn’t any camaraderie intended, yet Jaehyun looks at him and understands him better than anyone in this pack could ever understand Donghyuck. “You stepped into our lives weeks ago, but some of us have been doing this for years. You’re playing to win all or nothing because you don’t have anything to lose, not yet, but I do.”

That’s true. Staying immobile implies he has to renounce to Youngho, but his starting point was a life without Youngho anyhow. He’s playing to win or remain the same.

“Are you afraid you won’t be able to see Renjun again?” Jaehyun observes. And then, ignoring all the possible outcomes, he proposes, “Our pack’s rules hardening?”

Donghyuck glares at him, no trace of his fake self anymore.

“I’m afraid you will provoke a war and he will die,” he retorts, clear, harsh, as though Jaehyun beating around the bush is an offense.

Perhaps it is. One doesn’t play with fire and avoids getting a few enemies, but Jaehyun wants Donghyuck on the right side – his side.

Jaehyun stands, straightening taller than Donghyuck in the darkness of the room. It’s surreal for Jaehyun too to be away from Youngho, trying to convince another alpha to trust him, with the only aim of tricking his former pack – his real pack – into a trap. Kun would never forgive him if he knew the whole truth, but Jaehyun isn’t looking for forgiveness anymore.

“Then help me,” Jaehyun tells Donghyuck, chin up, certain that he will.

Jaehyun feels like his life is a countdown.

And it is, somehow, because they’re stuck in time until Kun makes the next move. However, they can’t freeze their lives in favor of Kun, and thus Jaehyun does his best to adapt to the circumstances.

For a couple of days, he works during the day, helping with ordinary tasks and hunting with guidance from Donghyuck. He tries not to think about Youngho, even though his absence is a notable hole in the pack, and he gets a few weird glances when he’s outside. People aren’t naïve, and they know that Youngho isn’t around because of his rut, so Jaehyun should be with him.

His stay at Donghyuck’s house is a secret, though, and they keep it that way. Donghyuck learns to deal with him, realizes that when someone knows his deepest, most important secret, there’s no need to pretend anymore. It’s a strange feeling to know that Jaemin, who has been friends with Donghyuck since they were kids, ignores that Renjun even exists.

That’s the reason Jaehyun manages to bond with Donghyuck at last. Both of them are in this for love, though Jaehyun’s aim is based more on hoping to love than in love itself. He shares that fear with Donghyuck, a Donghyuck that listens in shock about his visions, about Youngho’s visions, and learns to hope for a better future too.

Waiting is never a good strategy, and because the universe follows its own rules, the news Jaehyun wishes for come right when he’s not waiting for them.

He’s startled out of his sleep, huddled in Donghyuck’s bed, the warmth of Donghyuck’s body serving him as a source of heat. At first, it’s impossible for him to recognize the voice, but there are hands tugging at his clothes and lifting him up, and soon Donghyuck’s voice blooms in the silence of the night as well.

“Jaehyun,” someone calls him, and it’s then, when Minhyung’s hands seize his face and he meets eyes with him, that Jaehyun recognizes him. “I need you awake. Now.”

His urgency scares Jaehyun, but the adrenaline travels slowly through his body. He blinks until he’s able to see in the dark, until he distinguishes Donghyuck running across the room to get dressed.

“What’s going on?” Jaehyun mutters. Outside the window, the darkness is complete. “It’s so late and-”

Minhyung doesn't allow him to finish.

“Kun has arrived,” he announces in a panicked whisper. “We don’t have time to prepare you.”

Jaehyun's sleepiness evaporates within a second, and then his body sets the alarm: his heart speeds up, his legs tremble, his mind races through everything this could mean.

Kun is there, in the east pack's territory, for him. Kun has surpassed a frontier that his family didn’t cross during decades unless it was to kill. Jaehyun isn't sure he's there to rescue him, not after so long, but he's ready to discover what Kun has in mind. His bronze bracelet, the only strategic weapon he has kept, weighs heavier around his wrist.

“Bring me to Youngho." Jaehyun picks up the robes that Donghyuck hands him, but his attention doesn't shift from Minhyung. "Is he awake?"

"He's ready. Outside," Minhyung remarks. Of course, Jaehyun is the last person to be informed of the situation, just in case he's a traitor. Not because Minhyung believes so, but because the Chief isn't disposed to be that naive. "Don't be afraid of the unit."

Jaehyun doesn't understand, but a quick glance downwards exterminates his questions. Minhyung has a whole arsenal of weapons around his hips, swords, arrows, daggers. It sends a shiver down Jaehyun's spine. That security is the consequence of not knowing that Kun is planning to do, and despite his fear, Jaehyun can't hold a weapon himself, for a hostage would never be given an arm.

It gives Jaehyun an impression of what to expect, but neither his imagination nor Minhyung's words are capable of drawing the real situation outside. Jaehyun walks out, flanked by Minhyung and Donghyuck, and counts around fifty warriors before he stops, his eyes falling on Youngho.

He's not wearing the fancy robes he sports on a daily basis, but war clothes. Protection; firm, elastic clothes, and a belt big enough to support double the weapons Minhyung has. Not even in his visions Jaehyun has witnessed Youngho having so many weapons, so he has to fight against the shock of their own reality: if Youngho has to kill, he will. He has trained for it, unlike Jaehyun, and he will prioritize his pack over anyone else’s pack.

Youngho steps forward, skipping protocols and, judging his father's expression, explicit orders. Yet it's the first time they see each other after a few days, and Jaehyun can't feel happier, can't feel more relieved. Youngho's rut isn't as strong anymore, but Jaehyun still detects his pheromones, those who turn Youngho into a more hectic version of himself.

"Jaehyun," he says, so low that only Jaehyun can hear him. His eyes are frenetic, and so are his hands; Jaehyun has to stop him from touching too much, conscious that everyone is looking at them. And then, Youngho grunts the most unexpected thing, "Don't go with him."

He comprehends why Youngho would suppose that might happen. Kun has been his alpha for so many years that Jaehyun's instinct might betray him and make him submit to Kun, as though he isn't in control of his own body. An involuntary reaction, out of habit.

"Calm down," Jaehyun shushes him. He scans the amount of warriors behind Youngho, and then he centers on Youngho again, on his face, his presence, his scent. "We can do this. What did he request?"

Purposely not saying Kun's name is an act of betrayal itself, that somehow feels bigger than leaving the west pack.

"He requested a meeting, but he brought his own army," Youngho tells him. It must be a bad sign for them. Whatever his intentions are, Jaehyun knows that Kun wouldn't be so reckless not to bring his own warriors. The blood spilled in both packs has always been his most relevant lesson. "Only you can keep us safe, do you understand that?"

Jaehyun bites down on his lower lip, hesitating. Contrary to what Youngho thinks, there are many scenarios in which Jaehyun won't be able to fix what has already been done. Serving him on a silver plate so that Kun has him, has who belonged to him in the first place, isn't a viable option if Kun has given up on him. Or if he has convinced himself that Jaehyun's life isn't worth killing the pride of their pack.

"I'll keep you safe," Jaehyun says, regardless, because even if he has to die, he will die trying to save Youngho from his decisions.

The first thing that Jaehyun learns that night is that Kun has changed.

The second realization is that it’s the first time one pack has crossed the frontier since the last war. And Kun’s caution has led him to surround himself with his best warriors, almost every alpha of their pack, and a few omegas and betas. The view is intimidating, but while they stand in line, apparently calm but ready to fight at any moment, Jaehyun just recognizes familiar faces.

They haven’t always been friendly, so the familiarity doesn’t soothe him. He clings onto Youngho’s hand, not being aware of what he’s doing until Youngho presses back, trying to tell him that it’s fine. They’re not supposed to hold hands. Jaehyun knows that. He’s not supposed to find consolation in Youngho, not in front of Kun, but no matter how many times Jaehyun has seen this scene in his visions, facing reality is harder.

The east pack takes their position before Kun’s pack, but Jaehyun and Youngho stand in the back until everyone is perfectly placed. The Chief walks up first, and then both leaders follow a protocol that hasn’t taken place in years – presentations, a ridiculous rule that will fade away in a matter of minutes.

Jaehyun stays silent through it, but he can hear Youngho’s rushed breathing next to him; and then the inevitable happens: Kun asks to see him, first and foremost, and the Chief accepts. For the Chief, Jaehyun is disposable. He will hand Jaehyun back if the situation becomes dangerous, yet at this point there’s a tiny problem in his plan: Youngho won’t.

Youngho holds him with no intention of letting go, and Jaehyun’s legs are heavier by the second as he strolls to the front line. And for once, with all the eyes on him, Jaehyun doesn’t feel comfortable.

And for once, in Kun’s presence, he’s truly scared.

It couldn’t be any other way. Whether Jaehyun likes the adjective or not, he’s a traitor. Not only a traitor to his pack, but also to the person that has taken care of him when no one else did, the person that kept him in a safe space instead of deserting him, of shunning him.

Now that person stares at him across the field, maddened eyes and a turmoil of feelings on his face, and Jaehyun wishes he could change both the past and the future. But he can’t, not with the future in his right hand and the past in front of him.

The distance between them, less than four feet, allows him to hear Kun when he says, “That omega isn’t yours.”

Kun tears his eyes off Jaehyun at a painfully slow pace, but his rawness doesn’t change when he meets eyes with Youngho. Despite the force of his words, of his stare, Youngho doesn’t flinch.

Jaehyun flickers his gaze down, aware of what Youngho is going to answer. As an omega, being owned was always part of his self in the community, and that’s a tradition he can’t shake off so easily. There’s a my alpha on his lips as soon as he smells Kun’s scent, the will to submit like he has done the last twenty years, but that’s not his duty anymore.

Youngho lifts his chin, his expression blank.

“Jaehyun is mine,” he says, flat, as a fact. Unlike Kun, Youngho steps into personal territory. He uses Jaehyun’s name, not his rank, wraps Jaehyun’s existence with just that choice. “And he was never yours.”

Kun doesn’t react to the evident defiance; he tilts his head to the side and inspects Youngho’s face, calculating. Jaehyun used to believe that Kun could read people’s intentions that way, but he doesn’t; he ignores the truth about many members of his pack. Jaehyun, Renjun, Sicheng, and he can only imagine how the list goes on.

“I might have gotten the wrong impression that you wanted to negotiate,” Kun states. It’s a warning, a way to let Youngho know that his defiance is an open threat. Jaehyun wasn’t conscious of how hard this could be: he thought that their extinction would be enough of a reason to convince Kun and push their differences aside, but he underestimated their pride. He didn’t think that Youngho would oppose Kun’s first request: to give back what didn’t belong to him. “Did I?”

Behind Kun, Jaehyun analyzes the sort of soldiers he chose for this meeting. Sicheng is there, in third row, with his eyes fixed on Youngho. It unsettles Jaehyun to the core; Kun shouldn’t wish to have Sicheng, the main perpetrator of treason, in such an important moment. One doesn’t pick traitors to guard their back. And then, on the left corner of their formation, stands Renjun. He’s too far away for Jaehyun to read his expression, but he distinguishes his calm posture, a serenity that the rest of the pack doesn’t present.

“We won’t negotiate about Jaehyun,” Youngho affirms, however.

Jaehyun sucks in a breath, and then, conscious of what game Kun and Youngho are playing, he directs his attention to Kun. Kun smirks at him, the slightest movement of his mouth for Jaehyun and Jaehyun only: Youngho’s refusal gives him the information he needs. Youngho isn’t merely being possessive over him, and it’s not just a matter of pride.

If Jaehyun didn’t want to mate with Youngho, he would have taken the risk of being killed. He would have tried to escape. He would, right in this moment, try to run to Kun’s protection.

“Your father seems to disagree,” Kun comments instead of disclosing his small discovery. It’s amazing how fast Kun recognizes the breach between them, how he’s not afraid of pointing it out, and Jaehyun has to squeeze Youngho’s hand to calm him down. Kun grunts, “My pack doesn’t need your alphas. You need our omegas.”

To some extent, Jaehyun knows that Kun believes that. He believes that, if their extinction comes, omegas that don’t love the available alphas will submit to them by their own deliberate choice. Jaehyun has witnessed the contrary. Omegas won’t let alphas touch them, not unless they love them. They will rebel. Just like Jaehyun did.

Youngho doesn’t lose his patience, because he has the certainty of his own visions too.

“That’s a lie,” he says, not welcoming any more contradictions. “You need our alphas.”

There's no point in fighting with words. And Jaehyun might not understand their power games, but he realizes that up to this point neither of them is arguing, neither of them is picking a fight. They're laying out what they know about each other: Kun lied to discover if Youngho was aware of his pack's problems, if – just like Kun – they have quiet rebels breaking the pack's rules to meet forbidden people. Of course, Kun doesn't appreciate knowing that the east pack is up to date with their situation; it has been many years without contacting them, and it's people like Jaehyun and Sicheng who exposed their own pack to this loss of power.

Perhaps that's the reason Kun drifts his attention from Youngho to the Chief, a subtle sign of disdain in his expression. Negotiating with a fool in love is never a good strategy, but Jaehyun could tell him that offending Youngho isn't a good option either.

“Let me check that the omega is fine, that you didn’t hurt him,” Kun tells the Chief, demands. As if he's not in enemy territory, being blackmailed with one of his omegas' lives; yet Kun has shown up after a long time, when he deemed it appropriate, and he never ran to rescue Jaehyun. It can look like a deliberate choice in people's eyes, at least for those who ignore the rumor of Youngho forcing himself on Jaehyun. Kun claims, “If he’s fine, we will talk. If he’s not, I won’t accept this deal, and you will have to face war.”

It's a reasonable petition.

Kun won't take him away with a whole army facing him; he won't risk their well being just to get Jaehyun back in the worst situation.

The Chief doesn't even confirm if Youngho, Jaehyun's supposed mate, is fine with the request. After all, his rules prevail over Youngho's wishes, and that's why he gives them green light.

“Go ahead,” he orders Jaehyun with a penetrating stare that no one could disobey.

And so Jaehyun steps forward.

The world around him slows down. Youngho's grip on him loosens as he approaches Kun, and it's in that moment that Jaehyun can only smell Kun, can only see him, and his mind twists and twists to put all the pieces together. It's a warning, almost as though destiny is trying to guide him, but Jaehyun doesn't have time to interpret the signals. Kun moves forward, a hand on the bow perched on his hips, and at last Jaehyun realizes that Kun isn't the man he used to know anymore.

And when the world speeds up again, it moves too fast for Jaehyun to understand.

Youngho's hand closes around his wrist, pulling him back with such force that Jaehyun trips and has to hold onto him for support. He doesn't fall, however, and looks up at Youngho in horror, aware of the gravity of Youngho's decision. He's rebelling against his father. He's defying Kun.

Youngho's voice blooms in the night without a trace of fear, “No.”

“Youngho," Jaehyun mutters in shock. He doesn't comprehend why Youngho is opposing. This is their chance to convince Kun. A simple check up and then he will listen, they will break the barrier that separates them. "What-?”

Kun takes another step towards him, but he's not hesitating anymore. He has pulled out the bow out of his belt, and his fingers are hastily threading an arrow between its chords.

“What’s wrong?” Kun snaps, but he sounds more animal than human, more madman than leader. “Did you hurt him?”

Youngho pins Kun down with a glare, a snarl slipping past his lips. The east pack's soldiers tense up, prepared, and Jaehyun watches in horror as his own former pack, those who were family, throw their hands to their weapons.

And Youngho doesn't answer Kun's question, just assures him, “You’re not going to check anything.”

Jaehyun feels his legs weaken. It's not just an order towards Kun, but also towards him – don't go with him. Craziness cripples the remainder of his own conscience, because Youngho is ruining this, is ruining peace, and Jaehyun doesn't comprehend why. It doesn't make sense that it's just about possessiveness, that Youngho is so far gone that he would prefer death to letting Jaehyun get taken by Kun.

“Have you gone crazy?” Jaehyun cries out; he doesn't have energy to shake Youngho's hands off him, however, not while his body screams obey, obey, and Youngho's pheromones obscure any other thought. “He’s accepting the deal. Just let him.”

It happens in the split of a second: Youngho glances at him, eyes full of desperation, and whispers, “Trust me.”

Jaehyun wants to, but it's hard to follow through.

It's hard to when Kun lifts his bow and aims it straight to Youngho's heart, no vacillation in his moves. Kun has considered this possibility before, and he's not afraid of it. He's not afraid of the way at least a hundred arrows are aimed back at him; if he has to die to kill Youngho, he will.

Jaehyun spins on his heels, raises his palm for Kun, begging him to stop. From his perspective, another hundred arrows are being directed at Youngho. Not a single one at the Chief. Neither Kun or Youngho will survive this if Kun lets his arrow go.

“Calm down, he didn’t hurt me,” Jaehyun croaks out, even though Kun isn't looking at him anymore. His visions never showed him this. Perhaps the future has already changed, but Jaehyun can't tell which decision of his messed up their chances, or if it was never meant to be how Jaehyun saw it. Still, he has to try, and if his future is dying for Youngho, he will gladly take it over letting Youngho die. “Kun, I promise he didn’t touch me.”

Jaehyun realizes his mistake too late: calling Kun by his name. Refusing the power Kun should have on him. Jaehyun has a different leader now, but he shouldn't. He should call Kun by his rank, he should run away from Youngho and not defend him, and if this is a trap set by Kun, both of them have fallen right into it.

The silence spreads all over the west pack as every soldier processes Jaehyun's words. His bronze bracelet loses all its meaning right then, but the blue one hurts around his wrist, hurts more than Youngho's fingers sinking on his skin.

And then, very slowly, Kun points his arrow at Jaehyun's heart. A heart that stops beating for so long that Jaehyun wonders if he's already dead.

“I see,” Kun's lips pronounce, voice trembling, yet his words aren't comprehensible for Jaehyun anymore. Not as long as Kun is disposed to kill him after so many years of protecting him, of protecting each other in their own little way, of considering mating with each other for the sake of their pack. It all comes to this now, to Kun scoffing in the middle of two rival packs and understanding that he lost this battle long ago. “He didn't touch you in any way?”

If Youngho didn't hurt him, Jaehyun was never forced into their mating. Kun wanted to see bruises, the proof that he needed to save Jaehyun, but he knows now that he's cheap, voluntary bait. His question is mocking, since he's certain that Youngho didn't fuck him, otherwise the mark on his neck would be visible.

“Kun," Jaehyun pleads.

But Kun grunts, "Traitor."

And his arrow flies.

Jaehyun doesn’t feel any pain.

He feels the hard ground against his face, excessive weight over him, and a hit that takes out all the air from his lungs. But he hears what’s happening: the noise of arrows flying across the field, the screaming, someone calling Youngho’s name, even though he doesn’t know if it’s his own voice or someone else’s.

Jaehyun wants to stop it, wants to change it, but there isn’t any purpose to his words anymore. Kun has deserted him at last. He has publicly renounced to Jaehyun with the strongest adjective that one could use on a member of his pack, and Jaehyun doesn’t expect to be welcomed back.

He doesn’t expect to get alive out of this, either. And hit after hit, he flails on the ground, gripping at his own consciousness not to pass out, wondering why Youngho couldn’t let go of him, and wondering if Jaehyun would have ever let him go.

When Jaehyun wakes up, his mind is still in the middle of the battle.

He has woken up in sweat and panic a hundred nights, a hundred mornings, but it has always been about his visions. He could open his eyes and relax, tell himself that it was just a scene in his head, and that his body reactions were a side effect of them.

It’s the first time Jaehyun opens his eyes and finds no consolation in the excuses of his head. The noise of the war has died now, replaced by a silence that is nothing but unsettling, and Jaehyun doesn’t have the raw ground under him anymore.

Moving is a knee-jerk reaction. Move, find Youngho, check that everyone is fine. But he can’t, because as the bed creaks beneath him and he tries to jump out of the sheets, a strong arm blocks the way. Jaehyun’s senses are too clouded to recognize the scent, but he gives up into the hand that forces him to lie down again.

“Don’t get up,” the voice tells him, but it’s not an order. It’s an order in another sense, because they have made clear that Jaehyun won’t be able to move. “You’re not in a good condition.”

Jaehyun knows that much, but he isn’t worried about himself. He breathes in, and when he manages to focus on the stranger’s face, Donghyuck’s features come into view. That’s all Jaehyun needs to speak: he’s not in the west pack, he doesn’t have to pretend.

He lifts his hand to grab at Donghyuck’s shirt, and croaks out, “Youngho-”

Donghyuck is faster than him. Instead of acknowledging his silent question, he removes Jaehyun’s hands from him and inclines over the bed, more serious than before. Hovering over Jaehyun is his way of confining him, but Jaehyun couldn’t care less.

“Don’t move, my omega,” he repeats.

Jaehyun takes a deep breath and looks into Donghyuck’s eyes. At last, there’s pain all over his body, but he can’t pinpoint where it’s coming from, or if he’s severely injured. He’s sure that he’s under the effect of drugs, and yet he can still feel the pain.

Speaking is a hard task, both because Jaehyun can’t remember the right words and because his tongue feels heavy inside his mouth, but he’s as concise as he can, “Arrow?”

He should be dead. When Kun shot at him, the arrow was aimed straight to his heart. It wasn’t a mere warning or a punishment. Kun doesn’t have any more second chances for him.

“Arrow?” Donghyuck repeats, his eyebrows knitted. “No arrow ever reached you. A stampede of people ran over you.”

Someone pushed him to the ground, he remembers that. Perhaps it was an accident, for the east pack had guessed Kun’s intentions and had set into action, but it could have been on purpose so that Jaehyun didn’t get shot.

“You’re alive,” Jaehyun mutters, blinking up at Donghyuck. He’s unharmed, in fact, considering he’s taking care of Jaehyun. “Did anyone-?”

Before he can finish, Donghyuck shakes his head. “Several are injured, but no one has died yet.” Yet. Donghyuck’s pupils tremble down to the bed, a clear sign of avoidance. Jaehyun can’t interpret what that means, or he doesn’t want to. “I’m not sure about the west pack.”

Realization blows Jaehyun after that: Kun might have started the fight, but that doesn’t free his own soldiers from being hurt. No one has died in the east pack, but they can’t be sure about the west pack; and if any of them was mortally harmed, then there’s not going back. Vengeance is a never-ending wheel.

Aware that he’s stepping into dangerous territory, Jaehyun whispers, “Renjun?”

Contrary to what he expected, Donghyuck doesn’t tense up at the mention of his mate. It’s not a positive reaction, however. Donghyuck is defeated, a sigh falling off his lips, as though he has pondered so much about this that he doesn’t have the emotional energy to go on. Jaehyun wishes it would be easier for them, that Donghyuck could just walk into the west pack with total freedom and have a peaceful heart.

“I don’t know,” he mutters at last, so low that Jaehyun believes he would prefer not to reply, not to hear the truth from his own mouth.

Jaehyun lets the silence crowd around them. But it’s a silence full of secrets, a silence that brings questions and doubts, and Jaehyun’s mind goes to the worst place: Donghyuck hasn’t mentioned Youngho at all. And even a more obvious hint, Youngho isn’t here with him. Jaehyun knows for a fact that Youngho wouldn’t leave him alone and hurt.

“Donghyuck,” Jaehyun hears himself say, so far away that he feels like a bystander. “Youngho?”

Donghyuck isn’t going to lie to him. It wouldn’t make sense, not when Jaehyun can find out sooner or later, but he makes sure to confine Jaehyun to the bed. The fact that Donghyuck assumes that Jaehyun will try to get up is revealing enough, and yet Donghyuck’s words still cut through his chest like a scalding knife.

“He took the arrow for you,” Donghyuck confirms, anyhow, and that’s the last of it.

Jaehyun pleads and screams and cries, but no one listens to him.

He’s not allowed to see Youngho, not until he himself recovers; and it takes him a few days to understand that the distress he’s under is another reason his body isn’t healing as fast as it should.

They’re at home, Donghyuck tells him, but Jaehyun barely recognizes the guest room from the bed; it feels foreign, with people coming in to attend him, with the noise and the hushed conversations behind doors. It used to be Youngho and Jaehyun only, but now they have become strangers in their own house while everyone else cooks, cleans and takes care of them.

Youngho’s scent is stronger at night, the only proof Jaehyun has of him being alive; it’s still a ghost of what has always been, a faint smell of jasmine, and through it Jaehyun can sense how tired and weak Youngho is.

He becomes stronger for the both of them. By the third day, the vigilance isn’t as extreme, and he convinces Donghyuck that he’s not planning to stand up and run around the house. It’s a lie, nevertheless.

As the sun rises, Jaehyun rises as well. His legs aren’t ready to face gravity, and so he slips down the bed, the world spinning around him and an immediate headache taking over. He doesn’t ask for help, however. He breathes in and out, spread out on the cold floor, and wonders how he wound up in this situation; wonders what the future has in store for him now that his life didn’t follow his visions. He slips back into bed, but his heart is beating fast for the first time in days, a tiny bit of adrenaline in his body, so he doesn’t give up.

On the sixth day, Donghyuck catches him in the middle of the room, one knee on the floor as he tries to get up.

“You’re so stubborn,” he grunts, taking big strides to him. However, he must be aware that Jaehyun isn’t so weak anymore, because the way he grabs Jaehyun and pulls him up is far from delicate. “So stubborn. No wonder Youngho couldn’t get rid of you.”

Jaehyun can’t help but laugh, even if the vibrations shoot a wave of pain in his chest. The support Donghyuck lends him is handy, so he takes full advantage of it and looks at Donghyuck from up close. The silence outside the room speaks for itself, so Jaehyun gathers the confidence he needs.

“Let me see him,” he asks Donghyuck; and it’s not a request anymore, but an order.

Donghyuck understands that he has no excuse now. Youngho must have requested the same, so unless the Chief has explicitly forbidden them to meet, Donghyuck has to obey.

“Alright,” he laments. He curls an arm around Jaehyun’s waist to guide him, since Jaehyun won’t bear the whole way to Youngho’s bedroom, and warns him, “You think it will be a relief, but it won’t be. I will let you discover it yourself.”

It’s not a relief.

Jaehyun never intended this to be a self-alleviating encounter. He merely wanted to be by Youngho’s side, so that Youngho knew that he hadn’t given up on him. In a war between their packs, Jaehyun will stay with Youngho. He will die for him, if that’s what his destiny has prepared for him, if Youngho’s visions are the accurate alternative.

Seeing Youngho in bed, unclothed and his wounds bare, is an image that shocks Jaehyun to his core. He’s lucky that Donghyuck is mostly carrying him, because his body stops responding as soon as he locks eyes with Youngho. Maybe it’s the pheromones, or just the certainty that he’s alive, even if not well. The certainty that when Youngho stares back at him, there’s no one else in this world for him either, no one that matters beyond those four walls.

Even though Donghyuck accompanies him, Jaehyun is incapable of sitting on the bed with Youngho. He falls onto his knees, out of instinct and out of horror, clinging to the edge like the world will stop moving if he uses enough strength. Donghyuck doesn’t help him up: Youngho is trying to sit up, and so Donghyuck has to force him back on the bed with the resignation of someone who has been doing exactly that for days.

When Donghyuck backs away, both Jaehyun and Youngho’s hands meet in the middle. Their hands, their eyes, and nothing else exists around them. Jaehyun clasps his fingers around Youngho’s hand until he’s sure that he’s real, that he’s not hallucinating. In his visions, sensations aren’t so intense, and right now Jaehyun feels himself overflow.

“My alpha,” he tells Youngho, and despite the pain he feels inside, he can’t help but smile.

Youngho smiles back at him. There’s a big, sewn wound under his ribs, a mark of an arrow that will never completely disappear. In Jaehyun's visions, Youngho never carried that scar when he was naked, but he will now.

He has other wounds, but none of them look as painful as the one caused by the arrow. Jaehyun can tell that it got infected at some point, and he closes his eyes for a moment, attempting to suppress his own guilt.

It's odd how both of them are so happy, despite being hurt, just for having the chance of being with each other. Youngho's smile widens, and he touches more of Jaehyun; first only his hand, but then his arm, his neck, his face, as though he also needs to check that Jaehyun is indeed in front of him.

“Jaehyun,” he mutters. He inspects Jaehyun's face inch by inch, his lips, his cheeks, and drags his thumb over his cheekbone. Jaehyun tilts his head to press against Youngho's touch. “I’m so sorry.”

Jaehyun opens his mouth in shock. “Sorry?” he repeats, and Youngho nods. His eyes drift to Donghyuck for a second, however, and even though he doesn't say a word, the three of them understand that it's a silent order for Donghyuck to leave. Jaehyun waits for him to close the door, never taking his gaze off Youngho, both indignant and impatient. “You should be sorry for being a fool. That arrow wasn’t meant for you.”

It could have killed him, Jaehyun is certain of that after studying the wound. A few inches up and it would have perforated one of his lungs; no miracles could have fixed that, and less could have any healer's hands.

Yet Youngho keeps smiling, no trace of shame for what he did.

“It was,” he assures, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Because I changed the future.”

Youngho isn't making much sense, but Jaehyun has learned not to disregard seemingly crazy words. Judging by his wounds, he must have received stronger drugs than Jaehyun, but there's logic in his gaze and determination in his touches.

Jaehyun wonders if curiosity will finish him, but he wets his lips and asks, “What do you mean?”

“In my visions, Kun killed you,” Youngho confesses.

And though he whispers the words, it's evident that he has always wished to tell Jaehyun. He couldn't. Jaehyun would have never believed him, and even now his mind has a hard time wrapping around the idea that Kun shot at him without any hesitation. Youngho has kept that secret because otherwise Jaehyun would have put himself in danger; in fact, Jaehyun can picture that he would have thought Youngho was pitting him against his former leader.

Jaehyun nods, giving him permission to continue, and Youngho says, “He asked to check that you were fine, and we agreed. But Kun didn’t come here with the intention of making peace." Youngho looks at him with a strange sentiment; it makes Jaehyun feel that Youngho still fears he will disappear. "When he put his hands on you, it was to break your neck.”

Blanking out is all Jaehyun can do. Youngho's hand holds him in place, but soon it isn't enough and Youngho has to sit up to catch Jaehyun before he passes out on the floor. Youngho groans out of pain, his wounds stretched, and Jaehyun wants to tell him to stop, to abandon him to his fate, but he can't even utter any words. The next thing he knows is that he's on the bed, Youngho wheezing and bringing a hand to his wound, the other hand cuddling Jaehyun against him.

Jaehyun breathes his pheromones, takes refuge in the only source of calm in his life.

That's the reason he recovers the ability to talk, to think, and his mouth mutters a, “Kun was going to kill me?”

He was naive to think that Kun was a leader that would ignore hundred of years of war. Youngho is an exception. The Chief, despite being his father, doesn't appreciate the unifying of their packs either. He's doing what he has to for the sake of his pack.

But there's a difference between Kun and Youngho, between Kun and the Chief. They were the winners of the war, the ones with less losses, so for them making peace with the west pack is an act that doesn't bring so much rancor to light. In Jaehyun's pack there's a lot of pain to compensate for first, a lot of thirst for blood and vengeance. Kun would be making a pact with their tyrants.

“He meant to destroy the only thing that made him weak,” Youngho explains. He observes Jaehyun, careful, and caresses his nose with his fingertips. Jaehyun's distress is almost palpable, and Youngho does his best to lessen it with his presence and touch. “My omega.”

There's a knot in Jaehyun's throat, but he hasn't cried in years. He doesn't remember how it feels to cry and he's too scared to let go and experience it again, so he sinks his head in Youngho's neck and breathes peace there.

There's no going back: he lost Kun. He's a traitor, and Jaehyun would never deny that. His real family is here, with Youngho, and no matter how much his visions have deviated from reality, the fact that Youngho's visions were more accurate proves that destiny wasn't just playing with Jaehyun's head. His family is Youngho.

"Why aren't you afraid anymore?" Jaehyun asks, because he's still afraid. He's more terrified than ever, for losing Kun is like losing the main anchor in his life. "What are we going to do?"

Youngho doesn't waver for a second, "Stay together."

Yet he's aware that Jaehyun isn't asking about that. They can't stay in bed together forever, pretending that only this tiny room full of strange happiness exists, not while the world around them crumbles down. Youngho gives him that moment anyhow, allows him to believe in it, before being honest with him.

Shifting on the bed to look at Jaehyun better, Youngho reminds him, "You told me they had eyes in our pack." Jaehyun did, and he's sure that besides Donghyuck and Minhyung, there must be more members tied to either Sicheng or Renjun. "Isn't it the same the other way around?"

Jaehyun's mouth becomes heavy, the weight of his own regret blocking his tongue. Youngho is stepping into the topic he has always wished to avoid, but he knows that he will never be able to have a honest relationship with Youngho if he doesn't explain the whole, truthful story of how he got there.

Upon noticing Jaehyun's reticence, Youngho pets his hair, an affection Jaehyun doesn't feel deserving of.

"Jaehyun, it's time for you to tell me the truth," he says, like he knows Jaehyun has lied to him.

And he did, somehow. Jaehyun has too many secrets, and one secret that could annihilate them. Youngho is still in a bad condition, and Jaehyun knows for a fact that upsetting him can have an adverse effect.

"I will, when you're well," he answers, but he avoids Youngho's eyes and looks past him instead.

Youngho shakes his head, and though his lips curl up with the hint of a smile, he manages to embrace the seriousness that this conversation requires.

"I know the truth will hurt me," Youngho cuts off, much to Jaehyun's shock, before he can excuse himself further. "I've known since the first time I asked you, and I'm ready to take it."

Jaehyun doubts that he is, but he's not one to decide for Youngho. Even Jaehyun, who deals with submission as a part of his rank, doesn't appreciate when doors close for him, and therefore he would never close a door for someone else.

It's still complicated for him to have a general view of his life – of those who have influenced it and those who have been treading webs behind their backs. Jaehyun isn't the best to tell the story, yet he's the only one who can.

"There's an omega in the west pack that should have been Kun's mate," he begins. Because that's the beginning; this story doesn't start with his visions only, but with the person that has enabled his visions to follow the right path to Youngho. Jaehyun smiles to himself, feeling a sort of defeat that is both sad and sweet. "His name is Sicheng. He has always fought to unify the packs, but-"

"But Kun didn't," Youngho finishes for him.

His pupils have darkened with interest, but his fingers still caress Jaehyun with the same delicacy. Youngho is smart: he knows that Jaehyun is sharing a story that carries the whole power of this war, and his respect is evident. No one has ever listened to Jaehyun like Youngho does, and even if someone had deemed him important enough to listen, Jaehyun doesn't think he would have trusted them enough for it. His words didn't seem to be that vital before, but the attention Youngho gives him makes him conscious of their importance.

Jaehyun nods. "Kun didn't, and he couldn't let a man with those thoughts handle the power by his side."

Kun preferred being alone or taking Jaehyun, to allowing Sicheng to change the course of his leadership. It was against his father's education, and even if Kun learned through physical mistreatment and screaming, it was impossible for him to dismiss the basis of his training.

"Was Sicheng in our meeting?" Youngho pries, an innocent question that is anything but.

"He was," Jaehyun confirms. And he survived it, Jaehyun would never doubt that. Sicheng might not be the best fighter, but unlike other omegas, he did receive some lessons on fighting when Kun was considering him as a mate. Besides, he's too smart not to dodge the worst zones of a fight. Jaehyun sighs at the memory of his pack, at how well he knows them even if they didn't open up for him. "They still love each other, so Sicheng would never let Kun go to war without him. Sicheng wants a different future for all of us, but he will never kill Kun for it. He will die for Kun first, second for the rest of the pack, third for peace."

Youngho understands that. Because he proved that he will die for Jaehyun first, second for his pack, and third for peace too. They're not that different, despite their upbringings.

The warmth of Youngho's eyes extends to Jaehyun's body when he asks, "Did Sicheng bring you here, with me?"

This is the hard part, the story that scares Jaehyun. He owes it to Youngho, however.

"In a way, you could say so," Jaehyun replies. Sicheng gave him his first chance to escape, though not the last. "He introduced me to Minhyung."

Jaehyun doesn't dare to continue, not when this is so delicate that it could break them into pieces. He has never shared his bed with anyone besides Minhyung – and Youngho, but only in his visions. That creates an odd link between them, however, because both Jaehyun and Youngho feel that they have explored each other to the last detail. Jaehyun has experienced that with someone that he should have never touched, or for that matter, with someone that should have never touched him.

Youngho has always suspected it. Perhaps it was the unexplainable connection with Minhyung, the way Jaehyun trusted him when he had no reason to, but Youngho has figured out more than Jaehyun would have liked him to.

Youngho presses his lips into a line, as if he's repressing a hundred words, and then concludes, “You slept with him.”

Denying it would be useless. Jaehyun still wishes he had the guts to lie.

"I'm so sorry, Youngho, I-"

Before Jaehyun can apologize, Youngho shushes him. In another circumstances, Jaehyun would have presumed that it was a negative turn, but Youngho is at peace. He's not mad, but resigned. None of them can change the past, and though Jaehyun was in Minhyung's arms once, it was when Youngho wasn't in the equation. It's justifiable that they hid it afterwards.

"Don't be," Youngho tells him. He could accept the apology, but it would imply that Jaehyun has a reason to feel guilty. "Go on."

Jaehyun hesitates, still. He looks for any sign of anger in Youngho's expression, a little desperate to believe in Youngho's mercy.

"I mean it," Youngho assures him, noticing his doubts. "Go on. I don't care that you slept with him, you must have your reasons, and when you're ready – actually ready – you can tell me." He draws a subtle smile, as though it's an inner joke he's telling himself. "In fact, if you keep it a secret forever, I will be okay with it as well. It will save me some imagery."

It's amazing how Youngho can make him smile in a moment like this, but Jaehyun finds himself laughing at the idiocy of his reasoning. He's aware that, as an alpha, Youngho cares that he slept with one of his closest friends. The difference is that as Youngho, as the boy that knows that Jaehyun belongs to him, both because of destiny and because his own will, he doesn't care.

Jaehyun can pretend that he doesn't mind either, as long as Youngho wants it that way.

"When I said there are eyes in your pack, I was talking about Donghyuck," Jaehyun continues. It's a big drift from his last revelation, and it catches Youngho completely by surprise. Any other day Jaehyun would laugh at Youngho's shock, his lips parting in a silent curse; it's just natural that he had bought Donghyuck's act. He's good at it. Only other people with big secrets can read their equals' intentions. "Sicheng must have cut contact by now, because he wasn't the one who planned my kidnapping, but Donghyuck-"

Youngho frowns, looking at the door, as though he can force Donghyuck back into the room just with a glance. Jaehyun has to regain his attention, and plants his hand against his cheek and guides his head towards him, torn between being amused or worried.

"Donghyuck's mate gave me the chance to meet Minhyung again, and that's when it happened," Jaehyun explains. But just like Donghyuck, he's not sure if Renjun is on their side, or just on Donghyuck's side. Perhaps after experiencing first hand how war could be, how the uncertainty of Renjun being alive might kill Donghyuck along, he will realize that they should be united for the same aim. "We can't reach Sicheng, but we could reach Donghyuck's mate. And his mate will talk to Sicheng."

Youngho lets out a faint huff, holding onto his wound. Jaehyun imitates him, because he's as restless and it's hard to stay down while having this talk. He never thought that the plans would become a scheme in the dark, but given the point they have fallen into, public confrontations are out of their options. Fighting is the only possibility, unless they transform it into a personal matter; and in some ways, it has always been personal, about love and power and friends that turn their back to their pack.

Youngho's eyes glint as he realizes, "And Sicheng will beg."

Jaehyun nods. Only Sicheng's begging would make Kun listen, for Sicheng doesn't beg. He has never been as submissive as the pack dictated he should be, and if he sinks to kneel and does that for Kun, Kun won't doubt his sincerity.

"Sicheng will beg, because he knows enough about your pack, and he knows that all of them will die if we go to war," Jaehyun whispers. It'd be different if Sicheng lived in the dark, if he hadn't been contacting the east pack for years. Jaehyun is now learning how valuable all that innocent information is: Sicheng knows their ratio of alphas, knows that they're fighters, soldiers, and that they use their omegas and betas for war as well. "He won't let Kun die."

The west pack has no chance against them: it's the never-ending tale of the losers' side.

Youngho needs five more days of rest before he can walk.

Jaehyun doesn't leave his side at any moment, despite his healers' protests and Donghyuck's incessant nagging. His presence helps Youngho to recover faster, even if everyone avoids mentioning it and there's not a single person that is comfortable around them two. Jaehyun understands that taking care of them when they're just interested in laying together, in talking to each other to late hours of the night and holding hands while Youngho gets his bandages changed, isn't ideal. There's no one to order otherwise, however, and the healers are too busy attending other patients as well to make the effort of separating them.

At first, they don't approach Donghyuck with their new, suicidal idea. They agree that Youngho must be healthy before they take any risky step, and they need to have real privacy with Donghyuck to propose the plan, which they can't achieve in their own home.

All eyes are on Youngho, on his recovery – his father is hurt too, and judging how the pack sets their hope on Youngho, he has bigger chances to recover in time. That's why they let Jaehyun be around him, why they don't bother them, since any inconvenience could mark the difference between curing Youngho in time or not.

And then Youngho walks, and Jaehyun reads the immense relief in every healer's face, not a relief born from the will to cure him. It's the relief of having a leader at last, after days and days with no one with enough power to make decisions, to confront a war if Kun decides to attack them.

“I’m dying to run,” is what Youngho announces, once he’s standing on his feet, to a room full of horrified healers.

Jaehyun watches him from the bed, his legs crossed, and discreetly laughs at how dismayed the healers are at the prospect of Youngho wanting to run. He has just stood up, and he’s already thinking ahead.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t use the metaphor of dying,” Jaehyun points out, but Youngho turns on his heels, turns and turns, not minding the little gasps extending all over the bedroom.

“Don’t look at me that way,” he scoffs; if at Jaehyun’s skeptic stare or at the healers’ tension, no one is sure. He softly runs a hand over his ribs, touching his own wounds, and claims, “I’m fine.”

“That’s an overstatement,” Jaehyun complains, but Youngho sends him a feline smile, as though he’s ready to prove otherwise. “Be careful.”

Youngho hums in agreement, but Jaehyun knows not to trust a man with his self-esteem. All in all, he admits that Youngho looks fine. He moves better than Jaehyun himself, though Youngho has received more care and attention than him for obvious reasons, so it’s natural for his body to be in a better shape.

The healers are still on his heels, anyhow. Youngho has to dismiss them a few times during the day, even emptying their home so that they can breathe a bit of peace; they come back before an entire hour goes by, every time, to claim that it’s unprofessional to neglect him.

And Jaehyun wishes to believe him, yet there’s another reason why they have such a tight vigilance. With the Chief injured, Youngho is days, hours, or minutes away from starting to give orders and take the reins of the war. Leaving him alone with Jaehyun might seem harmless, but it’s the easiest path to let a conspiracy surge behind the Chief’s back.

That’s what it’s happening, so Jaehyun can’t blame them. He can’t blame the Chief for wanting to supervise his son’s movements.

It’s not enough to halt their intentions. They still need to discuss their idea with Donghyuck – not discuss it, but impose it. It’s the only solution that doesn’t involve blood, and they will stick to it.

Jaehyun lays with him late at night in their bedroom, whispering to each other possible ways to have a private conversation with Donghyuck, without the healers behind the wall, with indiscreet ears hoping to catch a trace of their secrets. It’s Youngho who proposes the most indecent excuse, his fingers playfully tugging at the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt and his smile glinting under the dim light of the candles.

“Are you out of your mind?” Jaehyun spits at him, not knowing if the heat of his body comes from Youngho’s hands on him or his words. Outside the room, steps reverberate like final sentences, almost with the intention of making their presence notable. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Exactly,” Youngho confirms. “They will be, too. They won’t risk hearing us, you.”

Jaehyun takes a deep breath. Donghyuck will hate it; in fact, he might assume that they’re indeed calling him for sex, even though he should be smarter than that.

Jaehyun is certain that it will work, for both packs are too prudish to stay and listen to them have sex; and that, added to the fact that the east pack respects omegas’ intimacy and that Jaehyun is a higher rank than them, will push them to grant them the solitude they need. No one is going to stay to hear Donghyuck fuck Jaehyun because Youngho isn’t in a condition to exert himself.

Youngho twirls on the bed, setting his feet on the ground, and asks, “Do you want to have the honor of telling them?”

“I’m just going to hide behind you,” Jaehyun chuckles. It will fit his role; a false sense of shame for using his guardian that way. “Your idea, your doing.”

It’s worse going through it than imagining it: when Youngho opens the door of the room, there are at least ten healers close enough to eavesdrop on them. That’s another reason why they prefer walking all the way to Donghyuck’s home. Some of them could have the guts to stay inside, since they’re already there, but no one will step into Donghyuck’s house – it will make it look like they want to listen, and that’s counter-productive for their diplomacy.

Youngho gives them the nastiest, most explicit explanation possible, and Jaehyun is divided between laughing or just sinking his face on his back, too self-conscious. It’s a lie, but the pheromones of the atmosphere drift so heavily, so fast, that Jaehyun doesn’t need to look at their faces to know where their minds are going.

The effect is immediate. All of their requests are heard, fulfilled, and the next thing Jaehyun knows is that they’re being announced for Donghyuck. It amazes that Jaehyun’s protests have been ignored for days, even Youngho’s protests, but the moment sex was involved, they got away with it. It proves that war and peace is all about the same: power, sex, love. Three things that resemble each other enough to mistake them.

Donghyuck is half asleep when he welcomes them, messy hair and the darkest circles under his eyes. He pales when the announcement is made, because even if it’s not as explicit as Youngho told them, Donghyuck is smart enough to figure it out. Jaehyun feels bad for a moment, because Donghyuck – or any other guardian, for that matter – must like thinking that they won’t take advantage of them, yet no matter how much they believe in that, there’s always a ray of doubt.

“You’re free to go,” Youngho tells the soldiers, a hidden order as he leads Jaehyun inside with one hand.

Donghyuck steps away to give them space, or just because he’s too scared to not to keep a distance. Jaehyun tries to send him a soothing glance, but Donghyuck avoids his eyes. It makes his stomach churn and his guilt burn afloat, so as soon as Youngho closes the door, Jaehyun rushes to calm Donghyuck down.

“It’s about your mate, Donghyuck,” Jaehyun says, direct, not adorning the news. They have wasted enough time, and he’s not going to waste more by playing games with Donghyuck. “Not sure what you would prefer to hear, given that.”

Donghyuck doesn’t look sure either. If not sexually serving them is a relief, hearing Jaehyun talk about Renjun in front of Youngho isn’t. It’s a revelation itself, that his secret isn’t a secret anymore, and he gazes at Youngho for confirmation, slight terror in his semblance.

“Renjun, was it?” Youngho asks, but it’s not a question. Not really.

Donghyuck makes a noise in the back of his throat; a lament, Jaehyun would call it. And then he’s dropping to his knees, hands on the ground and head down, a full posture of submission towards Youngho.

“My alpha,” he pleads.

Jaehyun expected this. Donghyuck is a traitor as well, thus Youngho has the right to punish him if he wishes so – if they didn’t need him, maybe Youngho would punish him. Maybe he will when all this is over, if it ever is. But Jaehyun is certain that Youngho would never desert someone for secretly meeting up with the enemy pack, less when it’s about mating and when Donghyuck wouldn’t have fallen for an omega anyway.

Youngho hooks his index finger upwards, even though Donghyuck can’t see him. “It’s not the time for apologies, Donghyuck. Get up.”

He shouldn’t even be apologizing in the first place, in Jaehyun’s opinion, yet he understands why Donghyuck is behaving this way. Jaehyun has apologized a thousand times, whether it was his fault or not, just because he’s an omega.

So Donghyuck stands up, and his legs tremble and his eyes are wet with the threat of tears, but he never disobeys. Instead of looking for silent forgiveness in Youngho, he glances at Jaehyun and mutters, “Why did you tell him?”

Like Minhyung once told him, it was not his story to tell. The difference is that Donghyuck never told him the story and it was just Jaehyun connecting the dots until he discovered the truth. Jaehyun can’t regret it; every one of them is responsible of their own acts, and therefore of the consequences they bring.

Jaehyun is clear and concise. “Because we need you to use Renjun as a link to Sicheng, and then to Kun.”

Use is the key word. They could embellish the message and Donghyuck would still catch the insinuation underneath. Being honest is harsher, but easier.

“You’re asking me to put my mate in danger,” Donghyuck says, tasting the words on his own tongue as though he needs time to comprehend them. And he does, since his expression shifts from confusion to anxiety, and he turns to Youngho with newfound panic. “Please, I beg you.”

It comes out as a weak, pathetic whisper.

“He’s already in danger,” Jaehyun reminds him. It’s not a nice move, though it’s the truth, and Donghyuck needs a wake up call. He’s directing his frustration to Youngho, yet just like him, Youngho will never put Jaehyun in danger before putting someone else’s mate, less knowing that Jaehyun’s head has a price now. “He’s braver than you’re deeming him.”

The boy that gave him a cloth that reeked of Minhyung in front of a bunch of guards won’t even blink at the idea of talking to Sicheng.

“I know he is,” Donghyuck retorts. He sounds firmer, as if it’s offensive that Jaehyun is trying to tell him how his mate is like. They’ve been breaking the rules for years, so of course Renjun is brave. So is Donghyuck. “I don’t even know if he’s fine. We meet every Thursday, but last two Thursdays I was taking care of you and couldn’t leave.”

Jaehyun has to make an effort to push that thought away. He can’t imagine the pain Donghyuck is going through; the uncertainty of if Renjun is alive, if he’s hurt, if he’s healthy and sane is worse than any sort of certainty.

“You should have gone, you know I wouldn’t have held it against you,” Jaehyun mutters, because really, he wouldn’t have. In fact, if he had been in Donghyuck’s shoes, he can’t assure that he would have behaved with so much kindness.

Donghyuck shakes his head, however, and adds, “It wasn’t that easy. I couldn’t explain to the rest why I was going to abandon you.”

There’s a moment of silence, a moment in which Jaehyun and Donghyuck look at each other and, weeks after the first time they met, understand that there’s a place inside them that can only be trusted to each other. Both of them betrayed their packs to be with their soulmate, and even though there must be dozens of them out there, only them had such a important position in their packs. In their own way, their treason was direct. To Kun. To Youngho.

Youngho breaks their connection just a second later, stepping forward and blocking Jaehyun’s vision. Jaehyun looks away, aware that this is intimate, that Youngho isn’t coincidentally cutting in the direction of his gaze for no reason. Jaehyun has always found that receiving an order from his leader, in private, was indeed intimate. It was with Kun, for better and for worse, and it feels the same with Youngho.

“Donghyuck, listen to me.” Youngho shuffles closer, and then his steps halt, Donghyuck sucks in a breath. Jaehyun doesn’t need to check if Youngho is touching him, because Donghyuck wouldn’t have reacted that way otherwise. Youngho isn’t using force on him, but tenderness, and that’s what catches him off guard. “Do this for your pack. If it doesn’t work out, you have my permission to bring your mate here before the war explodes.”

Jaehyun’s heart skips a beat. That’s unheard of, forbidden, and Donghyuck’s reflects the gravity of that permission.

“His family-” is what Donghyuck croaks out next.

It touches Jaehyun’s most sensitive fiber. Renjun doesn’t have much family, but his mother is still alive, and there’s not a better way to define his relationship with Donghyuck than the fact that he’s asking Youngho to shelter her too.

“His family as well,” Youngho accepts without missing a second. If Renjun works for them, he will be on their side, and Youngho wouldn’t abandon him to his luck. “We won’t hurt them.”

Youngho won’t, at least.

“Alpha,” Donghyuck tells him. They’re close enough for that to be unnecessary, but after Youngho’s offer, Donghyuck decides to show him a higher respect. “The Chief won’t approve of that.”

He’s right. Bringing Jaehyun into their lives was already a mistake, but it had a reason to be. Bringing a random alpha from the west pack just because Donghyuck loves him is insane.

And yet, Youngho doesn’t recognize that point. Instead, he claims, “I’ll soon be the new Chief.”

The night is starred and cold, and Jaehyun burns amidst confusion.

They leave Donghyuck’s house through the backdoor, there where no guards are waiting for them, and don’t talk to each other for a few minutes. Youngho rests against the wall, closing his eyes, perhaps considering the crazy promise he has just made and wondering if he will ever be able to carry it out.

Unlike him, Jaehyun isn’t worried about Donghyuck. For once he can let destiny lie in another person’s hands, and he’s going to do so. His concerns revolve around the man next to him, around the secrets he has kept in their own secretive lives.

“What were you talking about?” Jaehyun confronts him, tugging at his shirt. Youngho doesn’t respond, a huff on his lips, conscious that he had to sacrifice a secret in exchange for a favor. “Youngho, what?”

When Youngho opens his eyes, he gazes at Jaehyun with the most exhausted expression he has seen on him. Jaehyun would pride himself in knowing why, but he has a hunch that he wouldn’t even be able to imagine. Youngho walked for the first time a few days ago, allowed people to control him after a whole life in which no one ever ruled over him, and he never showed a glint of desperation. He does now.

That’s how Jaehyun intuits his words in the deepest corner of his heart, and when Youngho speaks, the surprise is subdued by the rawness of his revelation.

“My father is dying,” he confesses, pressing himself harder against the wall. It’s not just that, Jaehyun can tell. The possibility of the Chief dying was real before, so if Youngho is being so definitive, it’s because his father reached a point of no return. “I protected you and he protected me. He got the worst of it.”

Worse than an arrow under the ribcage, and worse than the few deep cuts Youngho had. His father is dying so that Jaehyun lived, and though the connection isn’t direct, Jaehyun is familiar with the cascade of deaths that one’s life can provoke.

And he’s familiar with losing a parent, too, even if he was barely five years old when his parents were murdered. Youngho doesn’t deserve to be scolded, but it maddens Jaehyun that he’s suffering in silence instead of sharing the load, that he’s taking responsibilities instead of giving himself a rest.

“Your father is dying and you’re here, planning a war?” Jaehyun asks, incredulous.

It might be a strategy to avoid reality, but Youngho will regret it over the years. He’s closed up, not listening to Jaehyun, because he’s conscious of his own mistakes; so Jaehyun takes his hand between both of his, interlacing their fingers, and lets Youngho come up with the most useless excuse.

“Jaehyun,” he whispers, both confused at the affection and at his own tone. “It’s my duty.”

It’s what he has to do. What his father taught him.

If Jaehyun learnt something from his solitude, it’s that no one likes to die alone. He has witnessed enough deaths, has accompanied dying men as the invisible audience his visions turn him into, and he doesn’t need to see the Chief to know what he needs.

“Your duty is to be by your father’s deathbed,” Jaehyun contradicts him, tender yet not indulging Youngho’s excuses.

Youngho’s lower lip laps over his upper lip in an attempt to hide the slight trembling of his mouth. He guards silence for that same reason, not to break down, but his pupils focus on Jaehyun like he’s the only anchor keeping him afloat in the sea. He is. No one else will dare to drift Youngho’s attention to a personal matter while there are pack matters to attend; Jaehyun won’t forgive himself if he doesn’t.

“He opposes our relationship,” Youngho reveals then, as though that will change Jaehyun’s mind.

“I know that.” Jaehyun gives him a sad, resigned smile. The lack of acceptance doesn’t pain him anymore; he was never one to be accepted by others. “If my parents were alive, they would oppose too.”

And Jaehyun wouldn’t listen to them, not after experiencing the way his chest swells with nervousness when Youngho looks at him, or the way his legs tremble during a kiss, or the peace he finds in his arms.

“He just wants the best for me,” Youngho continues. It’s a familiar statement, one that alphas use often to control other ranks whether they’re right or wrong – and Youngho twirls it on his tongue with that same intention: well aware that his father isn’t right, and that he already disobeyed him enough not to care. His gaze travels to Jaehyun’s eyes, his fingers stroke Jaehyun’s like he needs the reminder of his presence. “He thinks you will manipulate me and will bring our pack to its ending.”

Even in the west pack, people used to fear that Jaehyun could manipulate them. Luckily for them, Youngho believes in him. Jaehyun would have never jumped into a suicidal mission like meeting Kun was if he didn’t.

Jaehyun has to repress a gasp, “He doesn’t know that you have visions?”

Judging Youngho’s remorse, he doesn’t.

“I told him the first time I saw you,” he confesses. It was when both of them were kids, and all Youngho had seen was an anguishing Jaehyun confronting death and crying. Any kid would have run to their parents out of fear, and so Youngho did. “And of course, he thought it was witchcraft, that it was a trap. I grew up hiding my visions because I didn’t want him to believe that I was a lost cause, and I grew up believing myself that you were controlling my head.”

That revelation aches through the last bits of pride Jaehyun has. He didn’t imagine a better past for Youngho, not after knowing that he suffered visions too, but he wishes Youngho had enjoyed a more supportive family. Despite his lack of friends, Jaehyun always had Kun to firmly believe in his visions.

“Go to your father,” Jaehyun insists, eliminating all his second thoughts. Youngho’s soul needs that moment of peace with his father to say goodbye, and he won’t deprive him from it. “Minhyung and Donghyuck will take care of it meanwhile.”

Youngho scoffs, but he nods at Jaehyun’s words. “They already were doing it, weren’t they?”

“Sometimes you have to step aside,” Jaehyun hums as a confirmation. “I promise I will tell you when you’re needed.”

Youngho will have plenty of time to be in the front row of the pack’s future, but this tale was never about him, and it isn’t his time to shine. It was about secret meetings and people falling in love with people they shouldn’t, and there’s no one else that can put a decent ending to their story.

Perhaps Youngho trusts his promise, but doubt clouds his voice as he says, “Don’t look for danger, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun can’t promise that. He doesn’t enjoy danger, but throughout his life he has realized that it’s necessary to take certain risks on purpose. He wouldn’t be there with Youngho if he had been a coward, and he would look for danger once and again if he could go back in time.

He won’t lie to Youngho again, however, so he chooses to ignore his petition. He closes the distance between them, molds against Youngho’s hands and body, and lifts his chin with the unspoken promise of a kiss instead. Youngho’s gaze remains on his eyes, much to Jaehyun’s surprise, as he tilts his head to press a kiss on his lips.

Jaehyun understands then why he’s disposed to lose it all for Youngho. He would sacrifice a dozen packs just to feel Youngho’s warm lips on his, to feel the way his fingers creep on the back of his neck with delicacy and firmness, like Jaehyun belongs to him, like Youngho won’t let him go. And Jaehyun does belong to him, regardless of their past, present and future.

It hits Jaehyun, on Thursday night, that he has been left alone in Youngho’s house.

Not only Youngho’s home, but Jaehyun’s too. The clothes the pack gave him are mixed up with Youngho’s, they always cook food for two, and Jaehyun is familiar with the deepest corners of the house. The interior doesn’t feel as desolate as it did when Jaehyun first arrived: their messiness has added life to it, as though their real selves are finally showing up in the decoration. With the healers gone, following Youngho instead, there’s no one to control the house.

Youngho spends the majority of his day with his father, though he always makes sure to pass by and update Jaehyun with any news, bad or good. Ironically, it’s a lot of desperate touches and little talking, but Jaehyun doesn’t mind. After seeing his father suffer and before having to spend the night with him, Youngho finds relief in the peace Jaehyun can grant him. It reminds him that besides his family, there’s someone else that loves him, loves the real him and not just the leader, and that he’s not losing everything.

When Youngho leaves at night, Jaehyun doesn’t sleep. He sits in their living room and looks outside the window until his eyes close by themselves, thinking about Youngho and Donghyuck and Minhyung. Usually, when he wakes up, Youngho has come back and is cuddled by his side, his arms around Jaehyun.

But that Thursday night Jaehyun doesn’t drift to sleep. He stays awake, waiting and waiting, aware that Donghyuck will visit as soon as he’s done with the mission. And when Donghyuck does, the sun is rising in the horizon, and it’s just the beginning of their denouement.

“Renjun isn’t sure about Sicheng,” Donghyuck concludes hours later, sitting besides Jaehyun.

There’s a new light in his eyes that wasn’t there before tonight. Jaehyun doesn’t point it out, for he knows where it comes from: Renjun is alive, well, and that’s Donghyuck’s priority. Not this war, just making sure that his mate is safe.

“About his loyalty?” Jaehyun asks.

“He supports Kun.” Donghyuck shrugs, like that’s definitive. Yet Sicheng has always supported Kun, despite his little rebellions, his stubbornness for carrying out the projects he deemed suitable. “Perhaps just romantically, but he has detached from his own business.”

It doesn’t shock Jaehyun to hear that. After the fight, letting individual members of both packs meet up would be a dangerous mistake: it’s inevitable that some people are looking for vengeance, to return the pain and wounds their loved ones were inflicted, and Sicheng won’t dirty his hands with any murder.

“Sicheng knows how to play power games,” Jaehyun mutters. Or that’s what he wants to assume. If it’s not a game and his loyalty has become blind and visceral, the west pack is done for. “He’s doing this so that Kun doesn’t lose his mind and takes a fatal decision for the whole pack.”

Donghyuck scoffs, “Like killing you?”

Jaehyun nods.

“Renjun will talk to him in the morning,” Donghyuck continues. Even though it was implied that he would, it’s a relief to have a certification. Donghyuck looks much calmer after being with Renjun too, as though seeing him with his two eyes has reminded him that Renjun is capable of playing war games as well. “If Sicheng isn’t on our side, it’s because he must think that you were brainwashed, or mistreated, or anything of the sort.”

Jaehyun wonders about the image he gave to his former pack. Kun wanted to end him because he was the most important pawn of the war, but perhaps also because he realized that Jaehyun was already out of reach. It didn’t matter much if it was voluntary or not; both packs have firm beliefs about witchcraft and curses, and Kun was grabbing onto the warning Jaehyun once conceded him. It was a mortal combination.

“So Renjun will explain the situation to him,” Jaehyun repeats, making sure that he understood well. “Why would Sicheng believe your words, though?”

Sicheng ignores if Donghyuck has a honest relationship with Jaehyun or if he’s following orders from the Chief instead, so he could suspect that Donghyuck is baiting them into a trap.

“As you must suppose, Renjun is a great liar.” Donghyuck’s smile expands into a satisfied, mocking gesture. Both of them are. They’ve been doing it for years, for each other, and they can do it once more. “And he guided you here. Sicheng knows that you and Renjun are linked somehow, and he’s going to take advantage of that.”

Days later, the consequences of their actions cascade on them.

Sometimes wars are slow, careful, more about diplomacy than about blood. It’s part of the process, as though they’re tensing a rope until it snaps in two, and then the war speeds through its final phase like a falling star.

Donghyuck and Renjun meet every night from then on. The first two nights, Renjun claims that he didn’t have the chance to talk to Sicheng: he reveals that he and Kun are enclosed at Kun’s cabin, and that no one knows if they’re hurt or healthy, if they’re sane or crazy. Their alphas train day and night, with the perspective of an upcoming fight in the horizon, and Renjun has to sneak out every time. On the third night, Donghyuck brings an advancement, but also tears in his eyes and a knot in his throat.

Renjun has proposed the idea to Sicheng, and though Sicheng has affirmed he will consider it, it was a long process that included Sicheng choking Renjun until the mark of his fingers was printed on his neck. It’s not grave, but Jaehyun sits with Donghyuck and calms him down for a long time, aware of how it feels to see your mate with bruises.

“If our plan fails, we’ll leave,” Donghyuck confesses as Jaehyun caresses his hair, head on his lap. “We won’t stay for the war.”

If Jaehyun was reasonable, he would scold him for wanting to desert. But his heart understands that they took that decision; it’s not just about to battle for your own pack, but the fact that they would be up against each other. Cowardice isn’t always shameful.

“How will you survive?” Jaehyun asks instead, for he’s curious. “Only the two of you?”

Donghyuck doesn’t even hesitate, which is a sign that their decision isn’t based on a whim. They’re ready for it.

“There are smaller packs out there, nomads,” he explains. Jaehyun has been taught about them, but his pack paints them as beasts that have given into their instinct completely. After spending some time in the west pack, he knows that the perception one can have about other packs will always be exaggerated and discriminatory. Donghyuck gestures at their surroundings, shoulders hunched. “They’re not as civilized, but we don’t need all this.”

Jaehyun doesn’t comment on that, because there’s a bigger obstacle for them. “Youngho won’t approve that,” he points out.

Donghyuck raises his eyebrows, skeptic.

“Won’t he?”

Won’t he? All in all, Jaehyun can’t put words in Youngho’s mouth. Losing a few alphas won’t affect their chances of winning the war, and Youngho still has a naïve heart, naïve enough to let a soldier desert.

Jaehyun observes Donghyuck in silence, a boy that despite not wanting to be there, has stayed by Jaehyun’s side. And he wishes for once that they could exchange their positions, for Jaehyun would renounce to everything just to leave with Youngho, and leave this lifestyle behind.

Some men aren’t made to run away, and some are just not allowed to.

The Chief dies on the fourth night, after midnight.

It doesn’t come as a surprise to Jaehyun. He never knew how Youngho’s father would die, but he knew when. His visions displayed him alone, waiting for Youngho, full of anxiety and desperation. Jaehyun didn’t comprehend it back then; there was no context, but there is now: the war, the guilt, the last chance they have to fix their packs’ relationship.

But as soon as he hears Youngho cross the door, Jaehyun becomes aware of what this implies. Youngho has grown up viewing a future in which Jaehyun died; a future in which his father didn’t die because of him. And by saving Jaehyun, Youngho’s visions are invalidated all at once, because in Jaehyun’s head he was alive during The Chief’s death. If the arrow had shot through Jaehyun’s heart, Youngho’s visions would have been accurate for the rest of his life. The vital point was if Youngho already loved him enough to defend him, to cut in and get an arrow for him.

He did, and thus they’re following the path that Jaehyun’s mind traced for them.

 “Youngho?” Jaehyun calls him, his own voice resonating in the silence of the night.

Youngho doesn’t answer, but he leans on the door, head thrown back. Jaehyun can’t see his eyes, can’t even distinguish his face, so he takes one of the candles of the living room and, with careful steps, he approaches Youngho as he lights up every candle in the hall. He doesn’t rush, however, because he intuits that Youngho needs time to find himself, to be aware that he’s finally at home.

When Jaehyun ignites the last candle, the light of the flame illuminates Youngho’s expression. He’s looking at the ceiling, and there is no trace of tears in his eyes, but his red cheeks and the prominent dark circles tell Jaehyun that he has indeed cried. He knows that Youngho hasn’t cried enough yet, but it often happens with deaths. It’s as time passes, when they realize that their loved one is gone in all aspects of their life and has been replaced by simple emptiness, that tears become present.

“Jaehyun,” Youngho responds at last, the light pulling him back to reality.

There’s no need to talk, anyhow. Jaehyun just needed to make sure that Youngho is comfortable with his presence right now, that he doesn’t want to be alone. His tone reveals all that to Jaehyun.

Jaehyun throws his arms around Youngho’s waist, and Youngho imitates him, so slowly that he looks like he’s in a trance. Yet once Jaehyun slants forward and their bodies fit against each other, Youngho sighs. He drops his head on Jaehyun’s shoulder, and Jaehyun has to make an effort to hold him in place upon noticing how Youngho is letting himself go.

He can’t tell for how long they stay there, embroiled in a hug; and it doesn’t matter anyway, not while Youngho grips onto his hips like he fears Jaehyun will fade away as well. Jaehyun can bear the whole night by the door if Youngho needs it.

Youngho doesn’t intend to, because after a while he detaches from the hug, his arms still perched around Jaehyun’s hips, and looks into Jaehyun’s eyes with a glint that both of them know well. It’s predictable that the next thing Youngho does is leaning down for a kiss. Jaehyun doesn’t jerk back, since he needs it too, needs to feel Youngho on his tongue to reaffirm that he’s the same man that left through that door hours ago.

Youngho’s lips promise him what his words can’t, and so do his hands, which travel underneath the hem of his shirt and press against Jaehyun’s skin without hesitation. It’s easy to guess what Youngho yearns for, but Jaehyun doesn’t want him to regret this decision.

“You should rest,” Jaehyun mutters against his lips.

But Youngho doesn’t listen to him; he ignores the advice, comes forward to leave a kiss on Jaehyun’s mouth, and another one, and a deeper one, until Jaehyun is breathless and overwhelmed. And though deep inside Jaehyun is scared of this, he loses himself in Youngho’s arms, tastes the pheromones in his tongue and savors them, and allows Youngho to asphyxiate the atmosphere around them.

“I won’t rest until you’re safe,” Youngho mumbles, more to himself than to Jaehyun, and it’s a promise.

Jaehyun can’t distinguish his own scent, but he imagines how strong it must be when Youngho pushes him across the corridor. His intentions are clear, clearer than they have ever been to Jaehyun; his touches aren’t delicate anymore, and he corners Jaehyun against the wall of their bedroom, not even giving him time to step inside. Jaehyun doesn’t care much. Every part of Youngho burns against him, and he feels dizzy, so gone that he doesn’t remember his own name. Just Youngho’s. And that’s what he mumbles as Youngho rips his clothes off, as he bites down on his lips and leaves him no time to breathe.

Jaehyun doesn’t need to breath; his body enjoys the clogged up atmosphere, enjoys the way Youngho cages him against the bed and hovers over him, not minding that all his weight falls on Jaehyun. It feels beyond good, much different than touching other alphas or touching Minhyung, much different than a vision.

Perhaps because Youngho wants the whole of him, not just body, not just physical relief. Perhaps because when Youngho thrusts inside him, he moans louder than Jaehyun, shaking hands gripping at his hips. And though Jaehyun smiles into their kisses, Youngho doesn’t, too uncontrolled to laugh, too lost in the heat of Jaehyun’s body to do anything but enjoy it.

It’s different, but not just because it’s with Youngho: the way Youngho rams into him doesn’t have a single trace of sweetness, and despite that Jaehyun feels loved. Youngho isn’t clumsy, but he’s nervous, a nervousness characteristic of a man that has imagined this too many times, or in their case, that has replayed it a thousand times.

Jaehyun feels nothing but pleasure; skin against skin, smooth and wet, and pheromones that invade each one of his senses. He comes with a moan that dies in Youngho’s mouth, and then holds onto his back, legs wrapped around his waist to allow him to go deeper and deeper, until Youngho is lost and gone.

Jaehyun is woken up at dawn.

His body responds before his mind does: there’s a deafening noise coming from outside, so insistent and terrible that Jaehyun doesn’t even consider that it might be from his dreams. When he rolls out of the bed, he recognizes the noise as someone banging on their door, mixed up with a conversation in whispers and someone clearly trying to force their way in.

Too tired after the rollercoaster of emotions, Youngho doesn’t stir up from his sleep for the noise. It’s Jaehyun shaking him what manages to make him open his eyes, but it takes him a whole minute to move, to understand why Jaehyun is speeding through the bedroom to grab some clothes.

“What’s going on?” Youngho mumbles, sitting up and observing Jaehyun. “Wait for me.”

Jaehyun doesn’t. The noise will alert the whole town if it continues, and a hunch tells him that they don’t wish for that.

“Hurry up,” he tells Youngho, and then jerks the door open and leaves, deliberately ignoring Youngho’s protests.

He’s expecting Donghyuck, of course, because he has become so comfortable with Jaehyun that he can afford being that inconsiderate. Minhyung, on the other hand, is an unsettling surprise. It means that Donghyuck doesn’t bring mere, simple news; he’s there to collect them.

“Have you lost your mind?” Jaehyun asks, anyhow, a little bit irritated. “You can’t wake your Chief up like he’s an animal.”

The choice of words is deliberate. The Chief’s death hasn’t been announced yet, for it’s tradition to wait until morning, and therefore both Donghyuck and Minhyung ignore the change in power. With that statement, Jaehyun communicates all he needs to share without having to explicitly explain a story that is too recent and painful for Youngho. It saves Youngho the pain of justifying why he’s giving high orders, too.

“My omega,” Minhyung breathes out, not able to hide his surprise. His lips part and close several times, but as soon as Jaehyun hears Youngho’s steps in the hall, Minhyung composes himself and announces, “We have a meeting to attend.”

Jaehyun hoped so, feared so. He’s not sure anymore.

Youngho is slipping into his shirt when he asks, “What happened?”

“Kun summoned us," Minhyung says. "Renjun arrived half an hour ago, but he already left to join them.”

Youngho doesn’t question how Renjun trespassed the frontier and reached Donghyuck without getting caught, but he will have to ask some questions one day.

Youngho sets a hand on Jaehyun's waist, almost unconsciously, and asks, “What sort of meeting did he summon?”

That's vital to know. If Kun is summoning a meeting similar to the last one, Youngho is too smart to accept. The west pack is in disadvantage, so they would only take that risk if they were certain of their win.

“A truce. No weapons, no soldiers, just us.” Donghyuck explains, pupils going back and forth between Jaehyun and Youngho. Being Jaehyun's guardian confuses him over who he should direct his explanations to, so Jaehyun tilts his head towards Youngho, and Donghyuck registers the silent signal. “You, my Chief, as the representative of our pack, and Minhyung and I as witnesses. And for his pack, Kun as the representative, and Renjun and Sicheng as witnesses.”

The same amount of people for both sides, except for one of them. Youngho doesn't overlook that.

“What about Jaehyun?”

Donghyuck hesitates for a second. “Middle ground.” And then, in a lower voice, as though he will be punished for communicating such message, he adds, “He’s not allowed to talk.”

Jaehyun knows why, and so does Youngho. And after spending so much time with Youngho, he can predict his reaction, so he hurries up to look at him and assure, “I’m fine with that.”

Youngho isn’t. His jaw clenches, the lines of his mandible protruding under his skin, as he finds the right words to express himself.

“He’s trying to make you submit to his orders,” he grunts in the end, and he’s right.

Kun is still forcing his power on them through Jaehyun, and it’s an offense for Youngho both as the Chief – or even as the son’s Chief, since Kun ignores what happened – and as Jaehyun’s mate. Jaehyun is familiar with Kun’s trick, and even if he can be quite merciful sometimes, he also brings political topics into the personal territory. That’s why he pushed Sicheng away, and why he’s trying to humiliate Youngho despite being on the loser side.

“Youngho, my loyalty lies with you,” Jaehyun reminds him. He chose him the moment he agreed to leave with Minhyung, and he’s not backing away after so much time. He sends Youngho a significant look and mutters, “Forbid me to talk.”

Youngho is stunned at the petition, but he recovers from his surprise before Minhyung and Donghyuck realize that Jaehyun is giving him an order as well. If Youngho imposes the same order Kun is imposing, then Jaehyun will be obeying to his mate first, and to Kun as a side effect of it.

Youngho indulges him, however, a shadow of appreciation in his eyes.

“You’re not allowed to talk in Kun’s presence, unless it’s important,” he says, but he caresses Jaehyun’s nape with his palm, and that touch is filled with pheromones that tell Jaehyun that it’s the last order Youngho will ever give him.

Halfway through the path to the frontier, Jaehyun catches glimpse of the dagger in Minhyung’s boot.

The mere view of it makes bile rise in Jaehyun’s throat. They have an explicit prohibition not to bring weapons, and the rest of them – Donghyuck, Youngho and Jaehyun – are completely naked for a fight.

Jaehyun sounds harsher than he intends to when his voice blooms in the night, “No weapons, Minhyung.”

Minhyung turns around in confusion, but given how his hand immediately clasps on the leg that carries the dagger, he knows what Jaehyun is talking about. Youngho eyes him from head to toe until he finds the small weapon, and then remains silent, allowing Jaehyun to handle it.

“It’s for security,” Minhyung says with a subtle furrow of his eyebrows.

A soldier would always think so. Yet for Jaehyun is a clear threat to Sicheng and Kun’s well being, and that’s what they will interpret too.

“If they see your weapon, it will be over,” Jaehyun assures him. In fact, Jaehyun doesn’t discard that some of them are carrying weapons with them, so confirming that they don’t believe in the truce is the fastest way to provoke a fight. Truces are based on trust. “Sicheng acceded to help us. You know that he’s a man of word.”

Sicheng might not be on their side anymore, but Jaehyun will grip his foolish hope until the last second. If there’s someone that can value the lives of a pack different from his, it’s Sicheng.

Minhyung owes Sicheng more than one favor, and that’s what he seems to remember as he crouches down and pulls his dagger out. He drops it on the ground, hidden under the dry leaves of the trees. There’s a resigned air in his face, still, because he can’t take this decision by himself.

 Even though Renjun was very precise with the location, once they’re close to the frontier Jaehyun realizes that it wasn’t necessary. In the middle of nowhere and at dawn, their scents remain in the humidity of the air, marking their position like a line on the ground.

Upon recognizing Kun’s perfume, Jaehyun holds onto Youngho. It feels too real, too dangerous, that they’re betting their whole future on Kun’s sanity – or Sicheng’s sanity as an extension of him. Besides, the last time he saw Kun, his scent was masqueraded to some extent by the amount of people in the meeting; this time the ambient is imprinted with clear, unique scents, bringing a sensation of familiarity.

The clearing where they’re waiting for them is unknown for Jaehyun, but it’s not very far away from the place he met up with Minhyung the second time. It’s probably Sicheng’s spot for negotiations.

Renjun is the first person Jaehyun recognizes, for he’s in the front. It’s not a random choice, but a strategy coming from Kun. If Youngho’s pack had the intention of killing them, they would have to kill Renjun first, the responsible person of bringing the west pack there. Renjun stands without fear, certain that he’s safe for now, and his eyes look for Donghyuck right away; and then he doesn’t look for anyone else.

On the other hand, Jaehyun can only look at Kun.

If the stress had already left a print of him last time, now Kun looks like he’s about to crumble down any time. Jaehyun can understand why, though he’s falling into realization just now: Kun hoped to talk with Youngho’s father. The Chief. Youngho’s presence signifies that his father is either dead or too wounded to show up, and Kun would never be so innocent to believe the latter.

Kun had never killed anyone before, and Jaehyun doubts he had any intention to do so beyond his madness. The calmness of this night, with a cold mind, evidences what his actions have provoked. Youngho might have stolen Jaehyun from him, but Kun has done something far worse to Youngho. It’s not about Kun forgiving the west pack anymore, for they’re equals in their crimes.

“Alpha,” Youngho greets him. He waves his hand to the side, asking Renjun to move aside so that they can face Kun and Sicheng, and once he does, he continues, “You requested to meet up with the Chief.”

Youngho doesn’t sound afraid, but he is. If Kun has brought weapons and intends to kill them, he will do it as soon as possible. If he intends to talk, to negotiate, he will listen to Youngho regardless of if he expected him or not.

Kun doesn’t falter, his surprise hidden in his features. “I did,” he admits. His gaze analyzes every one of them, stopping on Minhyung and Donghyuck for a moment as well, and then looks at Youngho again. “Let your mate step forward.”

Given the circumstances, any other leader would deem it a stupid move. And Youngho visibly tenses up, because the vision of Jaehyun being murdered didn’t take place in this clearing, but both of them ignore if destiny can play the same cards until it gets what it wants.

Jaehyun tilts his head to send him a soothing glance, and just like Youngho asked to trust him the first time, Jaehyun’s eyes plead for the same. They don’t have any other options: if Kun has weapons on him, Jaehyun will die anyway if Youngho refuses the petition.

“Go, my omega,” Youngho whispers, softly, almost like he aims not to be heard.

Jaehyun’s legs barely respond as he approaches Kun, and every step feels heavy, stuck on the ground. He’s not scared of Kun, despite both of their treasons, and therefore he stares into his eyes like he has always done when they were alone. Even if Kun might be hard to read after so long, it’s evident that he doesn’t think it’s insolent, and he holds Jaehyun’s gaze with the same determination, the same strength.

And to Jaehyun’s shock, when he stands in front of Kun, the first thing Kun does is to go on his knees. It startles Jaehyun, and he doesn’t need to turn around to know that Youngho, Minhyung and Donghyuck are just as surprised. Sicheng, tall behind Kun, watches them in complete placidness.

Comprehending what Kun is doing isn’t that difficult, however, and Jaehyun imitates him in a matter of seconds. He falls with a small noise and his knees sink between leaves, and it’s a circle closing on them. Jaehyun has vivid memories of the countless times Kun has knelt with him, to be on his level, and that’s how he knows Kun won’t hurt him.

Kun’s serenity is a mirage, and it might work on the rest, but it doesn’t work on Jaehyun. Jaehyun doesn’t fear him, not even after he tried to kill him, for destiny is on his side. That, and the fact that Sicheng would have never agreed to this if he thought that Kun was still out of control.

There are things he can’t control, no matter how much he tries. He can’t control the frail shaking of his arms as he cups Jaehyun’s face. Jaehyun has the urge to close his eyes, but he fights against it and returns the look that Kun is dedicating to him. No one else has ever stared at Jaehyun that way except Kun, and in some sense, Kun was the one who never stared at him like others did.

“What did you do, Jaehyun?” he mutters, his thumb caressing the line of Jaehyun’s cheekbone. Why did you leave me? is what Kun is asking. When he could have stayed with Kun and live the life that he was raised for; it was the easy option, and Jaehyun decided to complicate it instead. “Why did you do it?”

Jaehyun presses his lips into a line, remembering that he’s not supposed to answer. Perhaps Kun merely wants to lament, to show him that he still cares about him, before letting go all at once.

“Did you see it?” Kun insists. His attention drifts to the alphas standing behind Jaehyun, like he reproaches the possibility of them hearing him, like Jaehyun’s visions are still their little secret. Kun ignores that Jaehyun has shared more visions with Youngho than he ever shared with Kun, but it’s natural for Kun to think that he had a special, trustable space for Jaehyun’s powers.  “Speak.”

Permission granted, Jaehyun hesitates. He has never spoken about Youngho to anyone but Youngho, and just because he had experienced the same. Telling Kun feels like opening up his soul at last, after more than a decade of keeping his visions to himself.

Jaehyun’s voice trembles with a confession, “I’ve been seeing him all my life.” Because time is a circle, and there was no beginning and ending for them, and there won’t be. Jaehyun flutters his eyelids in an attempt to conceal the threat of tears. “And he has, too.”

That revelation takes a while to slip into Kun’s system; it breaks his schemes. He ignored that Jaehyun had been witnessing Youngho’s present and future from the other side of the frontier, and that he had treasured those moments in private, over his Alpha’s orders and his duty towards the pack. And needless to say, Kun would have never imagined that someone else was able to have visions, less the Chief’s son.

“You never told me,” Kun breathes out at last.

“It wouldn’t have changed your mind.”

Kun doesn’t contradict him. Both of them are aware that it’s the truth. If Jaehyun hadn’t known every one of his flaws and every one of his strengths, he would have been guileless enough to reveal it.

Dropping his arms at both of his sides, Kun jerks away from him. It’s not a sudden movement, but the natural acceptance of an alpha that doesn’t own Jaehyun anymore, that doesn’t have the right to touch him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jaehyun catches Sicheng’s smile, so brief and inconspicuous that it could have been a hallucination.

And then Kun asks the most unexpected question, not because it’s odd or unusual, but because of what it means.

“What’s your future?” he pries, a mixture of resignation and curiosity in his semblance.

Kun isn’t trying to change his future. Jaehyun’s future is, and it will prevail.

Despite the amount of visions he has related to Youngho, there are some of them that they don’t talk about. Youngho hid Kun’s attempt from him, because he was scared that it would happen; and Jaehyun hid some aspects of their future as well, because he was scared that they wouldn’t happen if he spoke about them out loud.

“I stay in the east, have children, and die when I’m old,” Jaehyun answers, so slowly that he feels like he’s reciting instead of talking. His chest feels heavy, but he won’t be satisfied until he lets out the most hurtful fact, the fact that seems so impossible and distant right now. “You’re in my life.”

“Does he love you?”

Kun’s words are very specific. He wants to make sure that Youngho loves him now, not if Youngho will love him until the end. If Jaehyun is miserable and subjugated, or if he’s happy and at peace.

Jaehyun gulps down the knot in his throat. Youngho has never told him, but it’s not necessary. They’ve told each other a thousand times in their visions, and sensed it a dozen of times in each other’s arms.

The answer will hurt Kun, for it’s the confirmation that he lost Jaehyun forever, and Jaehyun shifts his gaze away from him, looking at the sky.

 “He does.” And Jaehyun does, too, but Kun never doubted that.

Wars are personal, Jaehyun repeats inside his head. Kun would start a war over an alpha kidnapping Jaehyun, and he would end it after Jaehyun assured him that he ran away for love. It’s game over for him, because no one with a heart could look into Jaehyun’s eyes and tell him that there’s no truce, that his little happy life with Youngho will be a nightmare and they will deserve it for disobeying.

It’s Kun’s turn to disobey. To disobey and live, or obey and die.

He spins his head to glance at Sicheng, who immediately sends him a simple, gentle nod, and and then looks past Jaehyun.

“My pack will never forgive me for this,” he concludes. A conclusion that brings a pact, that brings acceptance and hope and that makes every fiber of Jaehyun’s body tremble with expectation. “Father would hate me for this.”

Jaehyun agrees. Kun was taught that death was preferred to surrendering, and those lessons are engraved deep in him. But Kun doesn’t wish to die, and most important, dreads the idea of pushing his whole pack to death with him. Dying by themselves, extinguishing, was a passive way of leaving the world that didn’t cause so much guilt; but dying in pain, with blood and tears, won’t allow Kun to rest in peace.

“But he’s not here,” Jaehyun reminds him. Luckily for the both of them. With both former alphas gone, replaced by their sons, they have a chance to survive. “And you’re not him.”

Kun stares at him for so long that Jaehyun wonders if he has offended him. He hasn’t, however, because Kun stands up with great effort and leaves stuck on his knees, and extends his hand so that Jaehyun can get up too.

Jaehyun feels very frail when he holds Kun’s hands, and oddly enough, he has never felt stronger. His legs support his weight with a newfound stability, his senses are soaked in his mate’s pheromones, only in his, and he feels everyone around them encircle them, as though they finally have the freedom not to fear.

They’re not wrong. Sicheng passes his arms around Kun’s torso, briefly smiling at Jaehyun over his shoulder, and Kun slants backwards into him. It’s their way to say goodbye for now, because they’re coming back to the arms of those who keep them safe, and Jaehyun detaches from Kun’s hand, feeling like an intruder.

“May you belong to whoever you want to,” Kun blesses him.

Jaehyun never needed permission, but it’s comforting that Kun has decided to support his decision. Jaehyun doesn’t have to belong to the east pack either. Not even to Youngho, for they belong to each other and belong to themselves first and foremost, and those are their deliberate choices. They’re not forced to love each other, and that’s why Jaehyun is sure that it will be fine for them.

When Jaehyun steps back, Youngho’s arms drown him in a delicate scent of jasmine. Kun doesn’t look back as Sicheng and he abandon the clearing, but Jaehyun knows that sooner or later they will have to find each other in negotiations. Jaehyun isn’t certain of how they will fuse their packs, but he’s certain that it will be a slow process, and that it will be painful for Kun. Turbulent times. Renjun doesn’t follow them, however, and he’s not requested to; he’s the first one to change packs after Jaehyun - and just like him, he will never really belong to any of them.

Youngho presses a kiss on Jaehyun’s nape, a smile on his lips. Jaehyun doesn’t move, enjoying the last moment of peace before his life shifts to what should have always been. The sun has risen in the horizon, leaving a night full of pain and fear behind, and Jaehyun breathes at last.