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17.
The kid could barely be sixteen.
Namjoon eyed him discreetly from the kitchen. The dining table had been hastily cleared of its usual clutter and instead two cups of steaming tea occupied it – one left untouched by Seokjin and one clutched by two shaking hands.
Outside, a storm was raging, but he could hear the beta talking to the kid in low soothing tones. The words seemingly had no effect. The kid sat stock still, almost a mannequin were it not for the incessant tremors.
After a few more minutes, Seokjin rose from his chair with a smile. The alpha watched him make his way over to the kitchen. He immediately moved to wrap his arms around his packmate, the other momentarily slumping against his side. Namjoon breathed in his smell, vanilla and something none of them could name, something green and fresh and oh so delicate. Seokjin let himself lean into him for a few more moments before pushing away towards the cupboard.
The rain picked up outside.
A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed the kid was still there, still exactly there.
“What’s the story?” he asked quietly, all too familiar with how voices could carry in this house.
The beta began pulling out bread and peanut butter. He smiled weakly. “You know how I am with my strays.”
The statement didn’t need an answer; they both knew it was wrong. Usually, it would have sufficed. Usually, Seokjin would come home with a lost little wide-eyed wolf named Jimin or Taehyung. Usually they would slot into their lives like they’d always been there, and Namjoon would love them in a heartbeat.
But this kid wasn’t lost, he was running.
Seokjin placed the toast onto a plate, and Namjoon stopped him before he left the kitchen.
“Let me.” He said, pulling the plate out of his hands. “You go talk to the others.”
Seokjin smiled and leant forward, kissing him gently, before slipping out of the room.
Namjoon took a deep breath, and made his way over to the dining table. He set the plate down gently, and slid into the chair Seokjin had previously occupied.
The kid didn’t move.
He pushed the plate closer. “You hungry?”
That got him the smallest shake of the head, nearly imperceptible, but there.
“Hey,” he said quietly, after a long while, “I know how hard this can be to believe, and I know my word doesn’t mean much to you right now. But I promise you, you’re safe here. This house, this pack, this is the safest place I know. Nobody’s going to hurt you here.”
Two wide brown eyes flicked up, and Namjoon nearly flinched at the fear in them, the sadness.
It was then that Namjoon realized two things. One, that it wasn’t the storm outside that he had been smelling for the past half an hour. It was the boy; his scent smelt like rain.
And two, Namjoon was going to keep him safe.
It had been three months since Jungkook had moved in and Jimin still hadn’t had a single conversation with him.
It wasn’t as though he was being ignored. In fact, as far as Jimin knew he had only spoken twice. Once when Seokjin had asked for his details (Jungkook, seventeen, unpresented, quiet and curt) and once when Yoongi had asked him his favourite food (berries, soft and with the gentlest smile curling at his lips).
The fact was Jungkook was so quiet he almost wasn’t there.
Yoongi had moved into Hoseok’s room to give the boy his own bed but he hardly used it. Instead, he would tiptoe around the house like a ghost, unseen unless someone happened to open a cabinet or wardrobe and find him curled up inside, head resting on his knees, fast asleep.
Taehyung had taken to calling him their little kitten.
Jimin wanted to shake him and demand he tell him how he knew to hide like that – why he knew to hide like that but Namjoon had advised them against it.
He’s not like you, the other alpha had warned, with a pointed look towards Jimin and Taehyung, like Jimin was actually planning on jumping the poor kid and yelling in his face. Then again, that’s what he had done with Taehyung, and that was before he presented as an alpha. Still, he wasn’t an idiot.
Jimin was shaken out of his thoughts by a jab in his side. He glared sideways at Taehyung, who grinned back innocently.
The pair had been shoved out of the house that morning by Yoongi, who claimed they needed to ‘go run around the park or something’ before they ‘drive him completely mad’. Taehyung had claimed he knew a good farmers market on that morning, and though Jimin was doubtful, he had actually found it (after first getting lost for forty minutes).
“You worried about the kitten?”
Jimin sighed and slipped his hand into Taehyung’s, enjoying how the beta’s hand nearly swallowed his.
When Jimin had presented as an alpha the smell of cinnamon had twined into his normal smell of honeycomb (something that happened to everyone when they presented, a second scent joined their original to signify their designation), he had thought he would lose this feeling. However nothing had changed, and Jimin still loved to – sometimes – curl up in his packmates’ arms, to feel small and cherished.
Realising his thoughts had drifted again, he squeezed Taehyung’s hand.
“I just know what it feels like. We both do.” Taehyung watched him thoughtfully from the corner of his eye. “We’ve both been where he is right now. Yes, Jungkook’s a bit of an extreme case, but I want him to know that he can be happy here. And loved.”
Taehyung stopped abruptly, and started pulling Jimin over to a fruit stand.
“Hey – have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying?” he demanded.
Taehyung raised an eyebrow and pointed to the display. “Berries, right?”
Jimin looked down and was greeted with the sight of the ripest looking raspberries he’d ever seen in his life.
He pulled on their connected hands to bring the beta closer, smiling brightly. “I love you.”
Taehyung laughed and pulled him into a kiss.
Jimin didn’t believe in fate like Taehyung, but he did believe that someone was smiling down on him, because when they got home Jungkook was actually sat at the kitchen counter.
“Hey.” Jimin greeted, a little breathless, for some reason suddenly nervous.
Taehyung handed him the box of raspberries they had bought and gave him a pat on the head, before trotting out of the room happily. Jimin cursed him silently.
He turned back to Jungkook, swallowing, to find him staring at the box in his hands. Jimin looked down, then back up, swallowing again.
“Uh, right. These – these are for you.”
He set the box down on the table and Jungkook stared up at him with wide eyes. Jimin’s heart did a somersault.
“You, um, like berries, right? They’re raspberries. Not that you didn’t know that. Of course you know that. Not that it’s bad if you don’t know…”
His ramblings trailed off as he watched Jungkook pull the lid off the container and pick up a raspberry like it was made of gold. He lifted it to his mouth, and then paused, staring at Jimin again.
He was confused for a few seconds before he realised Jungkook was checking it was okay. He smiled gently. “They’re all yours.”
Apparently, that was all he needed to hear, because the next second he was devouring them like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Jungkook let out a pleased moan and Jimin decided he really needed to be somewhere else right now.
Cheeks hot, he turned to scurry out of the room, but was stopped by a hand darting out to grab a clump of his jacket.
Jimin looked back at Jungkook, and found him staring again, red staining his lips.
He wasn’t sure how long it was before Jungkook opened his mouth, but however long it was, was worth the wait for the tiny, precious, “Thank you.”
Jimin felt his nerves slowly replaced by an indescribable fondness, and he smiled wide enough to rival Hoseok. “You’re always welcome.”
18.
“It’s my birthday.”
Seokjin looked up from the parsley he was cutting, masking his surprise with a smile.
Jungkook was getting better at it, but this was probably the most personal information he’d shared – unprompted – in the nine months he’d been with them.
Seokjin pressed a kiss to the tip of his own index finger and tapped it gently onto Jungkook’s nose. Jungkook ducked his head but Seokjin caught the red on his cheeks and the small curve to his lips.
Jungkook was comfortable enough around them now that he would accept hugs, even ask for them sometimes, but Seokjin still couldn’t pepper kisses all over his face like he wanted to. Instead, he’d figured out a compromise.
“Happy birthday, Kookie.” Not wanting to overreact and scare him off, he went back to cutting. Jungkook folded his arms on the counter and rested his head on them. “Do you want to tell the others?”
Jungkook seemed to tense at that.
“It’s okay.” Seokjin smiled, and brown eyes flicked up to watch him carefully. “There’s always next year.”
The eyes blinked, still watching, and long fingers reached out to curl around Seokjin’s wrist, stopping its motions. “Next year.” The two words twisted up at the end, forming a question.
Seokjin hardly dared to breathe. “Next year.”
The hand retreated and the eyes glanced away, but the shoulders fell back down, calm again.
The parsley was well beyond chopped by now, so he turned to scrape it into the bubbling pot. As he stirred the stew, he let a smile bleed over his face. He adored these moments, adored Jungkook. The way Seokjin would start cooking and five minutes later he would turn around and Jungkook would be sat on a stool, watching his movements. These moments were so precious, pumped his heart full of honey and made his beta more omega and more alpha than it had any right to be.
Seokjin had asked him about it one day. Asked him in the way you asked Jungkook anything, like you’re not really asking at all.
“I wonder what’s so entertaining about my cooking?” He’d said lightly, smiling (easy does it). “Maybe I should start a TV show, hm?”
They had fallen back into silence for nearly ten minutes, before Jungkook had replied.
“It’s your smell.” He pulled the sleeve of his jumper – Hoseok’s jumper, Seokjin realised – over his fingers.
“Vanilla?” he’d asked, turning back to stir the pot.
Jungkook hummed in agreement. “Like vanilla and honey tea. The kind you drink when you have a sore throat. And your other smell, like – like aloe vera. Like cough drops.” The next sentence was quieter than a whisper. “My mum used to give them to me when I had a cold.”
Seokjin didn’t dare look back at him, knew it would spook him. Instead he had trained his eyes on the sauce, and laughed quietly. “So, I smell like sickness?”
There had been a rustling and Seokjin glanced back quickly to see Jungkook shaking his head. The boy bit his lip then, and hesitated on the next words. Like they revealed too much. Like if he told too much Seokjin would change his mind. Like any of them had the ability to let Jungkook go. Like they didn’t all need him to breathe. “You smell like getting better.”
Seokjin breathed.
19.
Namjoon had barely made it two steps in the door before he was tensing, nose scenting the air. An unfamiliar scent flooded his senses.
Namjoon knew he should be growling out a warning, calling Hoseok and Jimin, but something about this scent had him relaxing again. It was so sweet, but not sickeningly, almost refreshing. And somehow, so familiar. His alpha let out a whine, demanding he track it down.
Following the scent, he frowned when it led him to his and Seokjin’s room. He threw open the door, registering on some level that he was shaking, and oh-
Oh.
That’s why it was so familiar. Because it was accompanied by the smell of rain, of Jungkook. Jungkook was in heat.
The boy – no, the omega – was on his bed, rolled onto his side and clutching the sheets for dear life.
The second Namjoon entered the room Jungkook let out a pained whimper, one hand reaching out towards him blindly. “Alpha.” He sobbed, voice cracking.
The alpha stumbled onto the bed, pulling him into his arms. “Oh, baby, sh. It’s okay. I’m here.” He pressed kisses along his hairline, his neck, his shoulders, and Jungkook clung to him so tight it should have hurt. He was perfect.
Through the fuzz in Namjoon’s head, he realised it was raspberries. That’s what he could smell. God, he was drunk on rain and raspberries.
Eventually Jungkook’s grip loosened slightly, the presence of an alpha momentarily calming the heat. “Namjoon.” He whimpered into his neck. “I – I -”
“I know baby, I know.”
At some point, Namjoon managed to clear his head enough to call Yoongi and Seokjin. They were there in fifteen minutes, even though he knew for a fact their workplace should have been a twenty-five minute drive away.
Seokjin had coaxed him out of the house gently, promising they would take care of Jungkook. Namjoon’s alpha was furious, screaming in his head that he was Jungkook’s alpha, he could take care of him. But Namjoon knew they would need to sit down with Jungkook first, outside of his heat, and let him decide if he wanted to spend his heat with the pack.
It was two agonising days later when Yoongi finally gave the alphas the okay to come home. The hotel staff seemed slightly perturbed when Jimin demanded they be allowed to check out right then – at three in the morning – but once Namjoon explained the situation they were more than obliging.
When they got home they found the two betas and the two omegas curled up in a nest on the living room floor, clean blankets and pillows heaped around them.
The three of them slipped in quietly, wriggling their way into the pile. Namjoon curled himself around Yoongi’s back, feeling his whole body breathe a sigh of relief as the omega settled back into his chest. He peered over Yoongi’s shoulder at Jungkook, the boy almost hidden under a snoring Taehyung. He had dark circles under his eyes, but he looked peaceful, more peaceful than Namjoon had ever seen him.
Namjoon sniffed the air subtly, trying to pick out his scent. It wasn’t hard, given it was still lingering slightly in the air after his heat. He smiled into Yoongi’s hair, pleased at the way the tang of raspberries complemented Jungkook’s usual earthy scent.
He breathed in deeper, let his pack’s scents fill his lungs, fill his whole being. Namjoon liked to think of himself as a pretty stoic alpha, but in that moment he felt he might cry at how right it felt. How perfect.
It had been a few months since Jungkook’s heat, and Hoseok was happy.
Jungkook had grown ever more relaxed in his pack, and the boy who would flinch at the slightest touch had all but disappeared. He was still quiet, gentle, didn’t like to talk about himself, but Hoseok was happy for him to be as quiet as he liked as long as he could kiss him afterwards.
He was currently with the boy in question, the omega tucked snugly into his chest, Hoseok’s nose buried in his hair. The pair were on the couch, had been for over an hour now, but he didn’t want to move.
Hoseok smiled as he felt his hand being slowly pulled up towards Jungkook’s face. It was quiet for a few minutes, and Hoseok could feel the hole his stare was burning into his wrist.
“I can hear you thinking.” He said softly.
Jungkook jumped slightly, and he brushed his nose along the nape of the omega’s neck in apology. “What are you thinking about, baby?”
He didn’t really think he would get an answer back, so it was his turn to be surprised when Jungkook replied quietly. “What do your tattoos mean?”
Hoseok smiled and opened his eyes, moving his chin to hook over the boy’s shoulder. He was quiet for a few minutes, admiring the way Jungkook’s fingers smoothed over the skin, tracing over the black lines on his wrist. Five words, one after the other in simple but beautiful calligraphy.
“It’s our pack.” He said finally. He didn’t miss the happy flush on Jungkook’s cheek at his phrasing. Hoseok watched the delicate fingers trace over the first word.
“Aurora.” Jungkook whispered.
The alpha smiled. “That one’s for Yoongi.”
The finger brushed lower. “Vellichor.”
Hoseok closed his eyes again. Focused on the smell of rain and raspberries and the feeling of the gentle touch on his skin. “Namjoon.”
“Serendipity?”
“Seokjin.”
“Mell… what’s this one?”
Hoseok didn’t need to open his eyes. “Mellifluous.” He breathed into the omega’s hair. “Jimin.”
Jungkook’s finger rested on the last tattoo. “Iridescence.”
“Taehyung.”
Hoseok expected Jungkook to fall silent again after that, but instead his fingers curled around his wrist. Hoseok let his hand be pulled and his alpha purred like a damn cat as Jungkook pressed a soft kiss to his wrist.
“How do you choose them?”
Hoseok hummed, considering his answer. “I don’t really know. Sometimes it takes a while but… when I hear the right word, I just know.” He huffed a laugh. “Sorry, that probably doesn’t make sense.”
Soft hairs tickled Hoseok’s nose as Jungkook shook his head. Then the omega was lifting his head, craning to look over his shoulder. “It makes perfect sense.”
Jungkook smiled at him as soft as sunshine, and Hoseok wondered if he would ever find a word that described how this kid could fill him head to toe with pure starlight.
20.
When Taehyung had first presented, he had hated his scent.
He was born with the smell of fresh basil floating off his skin, and that, he loved. Loved how something could be so refreshing yet so rich at the same time.
Then he had presented as a beta, and the basil was joined by the smell of mango. He had spent the first weeks after presenting scrubbing furiously at his skin, trying to get rid of the citrusy sweet smell. It was too weird, it clashed with the basil, it was wrong.
But then he had met Seokjin. And then Namjoon, and Hoseok, and Yoongi, and Jimin.
And try as he might he found he couldn’t hate it when he smelt it on their clothes, on their skin. Eventually he grew to love it when he smelt it wrapped together with his packs scents, and when Yoongi would rub his face into his neck and breathe it in like oxygen.
And he loved it even more when it meant he could help Jungkook.
He had first come to Taehyung a month after moving in. It was the middle of the night, and he had been stirred awake by a shaking, which he discovered was Jungkook. The kid had woken from a nightmare and run into Taehyung’s bed.
Taehyung had carefully stroked his fingers along his back, and when Jungkook relaxed slightly, smoothed his whole hand down. The tremors had gradually slowed, until Jungkook had been calm enough to fall back to sleep.
It had been the same routine ever since. The first year was the worst, Jungkook terrified and trembling nearly every night. These days, Taehyung would get worried if he had to comfort him more than a couple times a month.
He had asked him, six months in, why he came to Taehyung. His answer was small, simple, and made Taehyung happy every time he thought about it.
“I guess, the other’s scents are so familiar. They all remind me of things.” Taehyung had smiled at that, remembered Jimin’s indignation at being told by Jungkook that he smelled like raisin toast. “But yours is so completely different. When I smell it all I can think of is you. It helps to remind me I’m home. I’m safe.”
And so Taehyung would hold him until he remembered, and then keep holding him until morning.
He knew there were things Jungkook wasn’t telling him. Didn’t know if he’d told them to Namjoon, didn’t care.
Jungkook could keep his secrets and Taehyung would love him, or he could tell his secrets and Taehyung would love him.
After all, Taehyung’s a firm believer that actions speak louder than words, so he pulled the boy closer and let his body scream and whisper I love you.
Yoongi trudged down the street with Hoseok and Namjoon, Seokjin striding ahead like they hadn’t just spent eight hours at work.
He let out a huge yawn, and snorted when the two alphas immediately shifted towards him with concerned expressions.
“I’m fine you idiots.” He grumbled, but didn’t complain when one arm wrapped around his waist and another around his shoulders.
Seokjin looked back at them and gave them one of his rare goofy laughs. “Do you think you can make it Yoongi?” he asked dramatically, eyes wide.
Deciding seven in the evening was too late in the day for maturity, he stuck his tongue out at him. Seokjin laughed again, pulling his keys out of his pocket.
When they finally stumbled inside, they were greeted by the smell of… of – what?
Hoseok blinked. “Why does the house smell like you?” he asked, glancing sideways at Yoongi. The omega shrugged back, equally puzzled as he breathed in the smell of chocolate and caramel strong in the air.
The confused procession of four shuffled down the hall, pausing at the entrance to the kitchen.
In a strange reversal of roles, Jungkook was pottering around at the oven and Jimin was sat on Jungkook’s usual stool, his head resting on his folded arms and eyes closed.
Taehyung lifted his head from his phone and grinned at them from where he was perched on the counter. “Our kitten’s baking.”
Yoongi peered at the tray on the table. “What is it?”
For some reason, a blush bloomed across Jungkook’s cheeks.
Taehyung giggled, the sound weirdly beautiful in his deep voice. “Caramel slice.”
Jungkook turned around to face the sink and started scrubbing furiously at a bowl. Yoongi tilted his head, a smile spreading across his face.
God damn it. This brat made him feel so soft. It was ridiculous.
“It’s Yoongi hyung’s fault.” Jungkook muttered, and Yoongi couldn’t stop smiling. “He smells like chocolate and caramel all the time and so of course it’s going to make me want caramel slice. It – it’s not like I missed him or anything.”
Yoongi practically skipped across the room, exhaustion all but forgotten. He curled his fingers into the back of Jungkook’s collar and pull him down to press a kiss to the back of his neck. “I missed you too love.”
Jungkook relaxed almost completely, slumping down into Yoongi’s arms.
There was a loud cooing behind them and Yoongi turned around to glare at the offender, finding the rest of his pack watching the interaction fondly.
“As you were.” He sniffed, pulling Jungkook over to the table.
Seokjin laughed quietly as he took in Jungkook’s face. He leant across the table to swipe a thumb across his cheek, smiling affectionately at the flour on his face. “You should have a shower, baby.”
Jungkook blinked, deer-like, and he wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. An adorable grimace scrunched his nose as he inspected the flour he had pulled away.
The kid (and really, Yoongi should stop calling him a kid given that he was now twenty) nodded quickly and slipped out of the room. Yoongi wondered how he ever thought the omega was easy to overlook. He would be able to sense his presence from a mile off.
There was a moment of comfortable silence before Taehyung let out a loud “Aha!”, brandishing his phone. Yoongi stared at him with an eyebrow raised, waiting for him to explain.
“Petrichor.” he announced, grinning proudly.
The eyebrow went higher. “Bless you.”
“No,” Taehyung stretched out a foot to poke Yoongi in the leg. “That’s what it’s called. Petrichor. The smell of rain on dry earth.”
There was a silence around the room, and Yoongi knew Jimin wasn’t asleep because he could see a small smile stretching across his face.
The next week Hoseok had a new tattoo on his wrist.
21.
“Hey, Kookie.” Namjoon rolled onto his side to face the omega properly. They were outside, laying on the grass under the night sky. Namjoon was bloody freezing, but Jungkook loved the stars and Namjoon would gladly risk frostbite to make Jungkook happy.
“Yeah?” Jungkook’s eyes stayed trained on the sky. Namjoon let his eyes trace over his profile, took in the way the cold moonlight transformed into something warm and so incredibly beautiful on his skin.
“Everyone else, their smells remind you of things, yeah?”
Jungkook hummed in agreement.
“Does mine?”
His eyes pulled away from the sky at that, meeting Namjoon’s. Sometimes, at times like this, Jungkook reminded him of something magical, of something out of those books of Greek mythology he used to read when he was a kid. Maybe he was a Fate, maybe when he looked into his eyes he was reading his soul.
Maybe Namjoon was just in love.
“Honestly?” the omega asked quietly.
He nodded. Namjoon knew his own scent, knew the smell of old books and smoke so well it faded into the background. But for some reason, this was important.
Jungkook’s eyes turned back to the sky. “It’s… like a library. Like somebody’s burning down a library.”
Namjoon didn't speak, didn't know what to say.
Jungkook frowned slightly, seemingly dissatisfied by his own words. “That makes it sound bad. It’s not bad. You could never be bad, hyung.” He turned to look at him again, eyes intense. And Jungkook may not be a Fate but Namjoon decided he’s definitely something magic. “It’s kind of like – rebirth. Like… sometimes the only way to fix something is to burn the whole thing to the ground. Let it grow back into something beautiful. You know?” His words were quiet, hesitant, like there’s a memory there. Like there always is with Jungkook, a memory and a past and a secret, and a pair of beautiful pink lips that clamp down shut for fear of fear and hatred.
And Namjoon vowed that one day he’ll know Jungkook, he’ll know every dark corner and old rusted chest. And then once he knows he’ll stay, and he’ll love as furiously and carefully as he can. And maybe then Jungkook will realise that he has them, has them all, infinitely and unconditionally.
“Yeah,” he smiled, and rolled onto his back, thought of what Hoseok had once said, drunk and laughing (Of course he loves the stars. He’s made of starlight.) “Yeah, I know.”
Seven’s a crowd, but Namjoon never liked being alone.
The living room was dark and quiet, the TV long turned off. The only sound was the quiet breathing of the seven bodies curled together, and the occasional shuffling of someone shifting closer (closer, always closer).
Namjoon felt himself drifting off, too content with his alphas and betas around him and his omegas curled into his chest to stay awake.
He was nearly asleep when a quiet voice stirred him slightly.
“Namjoon?” the whisper was so small he almost didn’t hear it. Jungkook.
“Yeah baby?” he whispered back.
He didn’t get a reply for a few minutes, and began to think Jungkook was sleep talking, when he spoke again.
“What… what do I smell like to you? To all of you?”
Namjoon opened his mouth, and then closed it, breathing in the scent of Jungkook. Breathing in thunder and strawberries and dust and blackberries and dirt and (always) raspberries and wondering how he could possibly put it into words. How he could ever put how his heart swells and aches and sings at the slightest hint of it into words.
In the end, it was Yoongi who answered for him. The omega, curled tight around Jungkook’s back rubbed his nose along the younger’s neck, breathing deeply.
“Home.” He said firmly, and god Namjoon was so in love. “You smell like home.”