Archive of Our Own

“Jeongguk-ah, can you run this down to office seven?”

Jeongguk snaps his head up from his paperwork, nodding drowsily and standing up. He takes the manila folder from his coworker’s hand, heading straight for the elevator with his head down.

The building is quiet this part of the afternoon, just the sun setting, the buzzing fluorescent lights and the occasional small talk drifting down the hall. Jeongguk presses the down button on the elevator as he steps in and sneezes into his elbow. The omega stares blankly at the metal doors in front of him as the elevator starts to move. Before he can analyze the splitting headache making his eyes look sunken, the elevator dings and he steps out onto the second level of the building.

His pounding heart is muffled by the light tip-tap of his shoes on the carpet as he makes his way down the hall to the office, and he protests slightly before hesitantly knocking on the door.

“Come in,” a harsh voice says from inside, and Jeongguk twists the handle.

The man behind the desk looks frazzled, papers scattered all over his desk. He runs his hands through his dark hair before looking up. “What do you need?”

“These papers were to be delivered to you, sir.” His throat feels raw as he tries to maintain his blank face. He hesitantly shuffles forward, putting the folder on the desk separating them. 

The man takes the folder, inspecting the contents, before putting it on top of another stack of folders already on the desk. Jeongguk waits patiently, folding and unfolding his fingers together with an expectant look. 

The man sighs and grumbles. “You can go home now, but take the office laptop with you. I’m forwarding you some documents you need to fill out as soon as possible.”

Jeongguk nods and bows, and the door clicks shut.

He gets back upstairs to his desk to see his other coworkers already collecting their things and hurriedly putting them into their respective bags. Jeongguk stops by the borrowed laptops, before heading back to his desk and packing it into his embarrassingly tattered bag. His throat catches on a cough and he keels over a little, hacking into his shoulder.

“You okay?” His coworker startles him from behind and Jeongguk turns around quickly and bows. He thinks back to his aching head or the fact that he skipped lunch and still wasn’t hungry, but he hurriedly shakes the thoughts off completely.

“Yeah, just tired.” That answer seems to satisfy the man because he nods and walks away, and Jeongguk is alone again.

The walk home is silent, as it always is. Each day grows colder, and the sharp breeze sends a sharp shiver through him. The omega pulls the worn-down bag from his shoulder and rummages inside to pull out the brand-new coat he had received a few months prior.

He recalls one of Seokjin’s many reactions to his destitute living situation.

Jeongguk shivered on their walk in the park for what seemed like the hundredth time. Seokjin glanced over again, a worried expression drawn on his face. 

“Gguk-ah, it’s getting colder now that it's autumn. Do you have a coat or a jacket you can wear?”

Jeongguk casts his eyes down, embarrassed, nodding his head. “I have a jacket at home, hyung, I’m alright,”

The half-hearted brush-off did not soothe Jin’s worries though, and soon enough he was met with a brand new black coat, snug and warm.

Jeongguk brings the soft material to his nose– lightly sniffing the pack’s faded scent– before shrugging on the thick coat and pulling it close. 

Three months ago he’d been calculating whether he could survive another winter in his apartment without heating. Some nights he’d come home so exhausted all he could do was sink into the dirty mattress in the middle of his floor. He’d spend hours staring at the cracked ceiling, calculating his expenses in his head. 

If he skipped breakfast consistently, that would save him enough for the bus passes increasing in price. 

If he picked up extra overtime through November, maybe he could pay off the overdue utility bill before final notices came.

Then Namjoon had dropped him off at his apartment after Hoseok’s dance class one night.

He still remembered the humiliation of the alpha quietly pretending not to notice how empty his fridge had been.

So the Kim pack is special.

Jeongguk knows what it feels like to be alone. Truly alone. To be shut out, talked over, outcasted, pushed aside, so much so to where you make yourself seem smaller to avoid being a problem. So when he first met Hoseok and Jimin, instinct took over. He hung back, heart hammering so hard it almost drowned out their voices, bracing himself for the usual pattern of the passive-aggressive smiles he would receive, the low closing in, and the moment the space around him would shrink, so there would be nowhere else to go.

But Hoseok didn’t do that, and Jimin didn’t do that either.

They noticed him, and they respected him by taking a step back.

Jeongguk has learned how people work. How they can seem warm and inviting on the surface, all friendly, until they find someone smaller than them, someone cornered enough to stay quiet, and suddenly it’s not kindness anymore. They keep pressing until you realize you can’t move. And once Jeongguk is trapped, people decide how long he stays there until they're done with him.

But neither of them did that either. They gave him a preference, and Jeongguk had never gotten to experience that before. There was no pressure disguised as kindness, and no expectation behind polite words, and no silent assumptions. No tests, no traps. 

When he was in serious financial need, they chose him. Now, walking home alone in the cold, he finds himself wanting to choose them too, if he would let himself.

When Jeongguk arrives home, dinner is already made. The meal tastes bare as he tries to shove it in his mouth, and he attempts to ignore the silent ache in the back of his throat whenever he swallows. The running water while he’s doing dishes helps mask the hollow cough that keeps forcing its way out of his chest.

Yoongi is the first to notice when he grabs another tissue after the fifth sneeze of the night.

He quietly asks, “You getting sick?”

Jeongguk immediately denies it. “Just allergies.”

As soon as he’s finished he retreats to his room. The four walls barely look lived in. Not empty necessarily, just temporary in the way hotel rooms feel temporary, like he had entered the space and was expected to leave at any moment.

The mattress sits low against the far wall without a bed frame, and the sheets are pulled tight. There were no decorative pillows or blankets besides the light gray comforter folded neatly at the end of the bed, untouched. Everything he owned was kept in neat small sections, ready to be packed up and moved away at any second. He had a single laundry basket, and his toiletries kept in a small basket inside the bathroom, unlike the other pack members who left traces of themselves all over the house.

No nest, either.

Most omegas had some sort of nest built instinctively and even sometimes unconsciously, like a couple of hoodies, or blankets, or something small for comfort.

Jeongguk had none of it.

The lonely atmosphere suffocates him as he steps fully into the barren room. He flicks on the space heater that was gifted to him when he first moved in.

He wrestles his button-up shirt off, muttering incoherent phrases to make the room feel less silent. Once he’s settled into his pajamas, he quickly crawls into the bed.

Suddenly it’s very, very quiet.

It’s quiet, and Jeongguk feels alone.

He’s awake, until he’s not, and when he opens his eyes again Jimin is in his doorway, eyes squinting in concern. The alpha looks like he wants to say something, but he just looks Jeongguk over and frowns. “You coming downstairs? Movie night tonight,” And the way he says it, he sounds genuinely concerned. 

“Oh, I thought–” Jeongguk quickly moves to sit up, using his elbow to support himself. He doesn’t want Jimin to be wrongly worrying about him when he’s fine, it’s just allergies, but when he looks up the alpha looks more upset by the fact that Jeongguk will be alone up here. “Uh. Sure hyung.” He finishes weakly, caving easily.

Jimin grins, the hurt look he had just a few seconds ago fading away. “Let’s go then,” he nods.

There’s a muffled shout from downstairs, followed by the sound of rushing footsteps up the stairs. A moment later, Taehyung bursts into Jeongguk’s bedroom with an excited expression. “Oh my god, you guys are so slow– let’s go, let’s go! We're trying to decide what movie to pick.. oh! And you have to help me convince Yoongi-hyung to watch something that's not depressing as hell.” And then the omega disappears again, rushing back downstairs and then there's more muffled screaming. Jeongguk feels overwhelmed for a moment but then it’s okay because Jimin is laughing and lightly touching his shoulder, nudging him towards the staircase.

He comes downstairs and Namjoon is there, sitting on the couch with confused eyes and a TV remote in his hand. There's a giant mattress on the floor in front of the couch — Jeongguk recognizes it from the pack room — with blankets, pillows, and clothing surrounding the outer edges. The coffee table is carefully moved beside it, where already opened sodas sit.

“No,” Jeongguk hears from the kitchen, and when he glances in, he sees the rest of the pack in there with a candy bowl, trying to operate the microwave. “I already made two bowls, we don’t need another–” 

“But me and Hobi-hyung want extra extra salty!” Taehyung whines, his gentle winter scent souring slightly. “The rest of the pack doesn’t like the popcorn that salty!” He huffs, and Jimin chuckles from behind Jeongguk, entering the kitchen with stride. 

“You’re never going to win, hyung,” He rolls his eyes and grabs another popcorn bag, sliding it into the microwave and pressing the buttons to start it. “Just let them have what they want.” He instructs lazily, leaning against the counter behind him. Jin just sighs in defeat, glad Jimin has mollified Taehyung’s temper. He grabs the two already made bowls, and heads to the couch to plop down beside Namjoon.

Jeongguk whips around at the sound of a voice addressing him. “Want candy?” Taehyung asks, holding the bowl out toward him. Jeongguk shakes his head, his mind going back to his half-finished dinner and skipped lunch. “I’ll have some popcorn if I feel up to it.” Yoongi’s eyes squint slightly from behind Taehyung, but he doesn’t say anything as they all shuffle towards the living-room.

Taehyung and Jimin immediately swarm the nest, and Jeongguk sits down on Namjoon’s other side, curling in on himself, and tucking his legs into his chest. Yoongi and Hoseok sit against the couch on the mattress. 

They end up making three bowls of popcorn, along with tortilla chips and salsa, and then another two bowls with assorted snacks and candy. Jeongguk thinks it’s far too much for a simple movie night, but the others don’t seem bothered in the slightest, settling into the mess with easy contentment as laughter fills the room. 

Before the movie starts, they decide on a round of Mario Kart.

Jeongguk is quick to opt out, choosing instead to sit back and watch. He’s never really had the chance to play videogames before, so he’s sure he wouldn’t be very good at it. But–

“Ggukie, play me next!” Hoseok shouts, and Jeongguk visibly tenses.

He hesitates before admitting, “I don’t know how.”

But Hoseok only grins, unfazed. “That’s okay. We’ll show you. You’ll pick it up in no time, and then you can trash-talk Jiminnie with us.”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to refuse again, already thinking about how badly he’ll mess it up, how he’ll be absolutely terrible, and the embarrassment is too much. But before he can get the words out, a controller is pressed into his hands.

Jimin sits on the couch next to him, and lays his fingers gently over Jeongguks. They show him how to pick the character, how to steer with the remote, and all the controls.

Jeongguk still finishes in eleventh place, but when he finally crosses the finish line, they cheer like he’s won anyway, and Jeongguk can’t stop smiling.

In the end Namjoon ends up picking the movie — an action one (which jeongguk is happy about, he loves the excitement) — and it’s quiet as the lights go off.

He tries to keep his tiny sniffles quiet, burying his face in his arm. 

The movie blurs together somewhere around the halfway point. Jeongguk had been trying to pay attention, really, but the warm atmosphere, paired with Jeongguk settled gently against the couch, leaves him feeling droopy and tired again.

Someone had thrown a blanket over his legs earlier. He couldn’t even remember who.

Suddenly his head felt incredibly heavy and his eyes sagged, and before the embarrassment could keep up his head was tipping onto Namjoon’s shoulder and his eyes slipped closed.

He didn’t even notice the moment sleep finally pulled him under.

He’s vaguely aware of someone softly resting their hand on his forehead, and then he’s being lifted up and carried. He’s set down on his soft mattress and his hands instinctively curl into the blanket.

Someone speaks hesitantly. “Goodnight, Jeongguk,”

“Goodnight, hyung,” he whispers, pulling the blanket around himself.

And when Jeongguk wakes up shivering and coughing and sneezing three times in the span of an hour, he doesn’t want to think anything of it and he wills himself back to sleep.

Jeongguk is reprimanded harshly for his unanswered emails. It’s embarrassing, because he knows it’s all his fault and why can’t he just stay awake for five seconds. When his boss snaps at him again for sniffling during his lecture, he can barely breathe. It’s just– he can’t think. His head is pounding and his hands are shaky and his eyes sting and he just wants to go home.

It’s just allergies, he knows it’s just allergies, because if it’s not then how is he supposed to support himself, how is he supposed to make himself useful so he can prove he deserves to stay. The dizziness gets to him, and soon enough he’s sitting at his desk again, with twice the amount of work as yesterday. He tells himself it’s fine, he’ll get it done, it’s not a big deal. 

He dazes in and out of his work until there's a voice next to him, and he’s staring up at a coworker. 

“The hell’s your problem, Jeon? I can hear you sniffling and coughing from down the hall. If you’re sick go home, nobody wants to catch your disease.” 

It shouldn’t sting, but it does. “I’m okay, I promise. Just allergies, y’know?” The beta’s expression doesn’t change, and Jeongguk fears the man will tell someone that will make him go home, but instead he just scoffs and walks off. He grabs some water, and he’s back to work.

It’s business as usual — Jeongguk gets distracted at one point seeing two of his coworkers strike up an interesting conversation that he wants to interject in but he gets too nervous at the thought of rejection — and soon enough the day is over again, and the sun is setting, and everyone is packing up their things, and Jeongguk is yet again asking for permission to go home. 

When he’s told no — unsurprisingly — Jeongguk ends up back at his desk until night has nearly fallen completely and the streetlights glow outside the office windows. It’s just then when he’s finally allowed to leave and he realizes he’s one of the only people there. It’s easy to pack up his things, and he gets the borrowed laptop again (he’s definitely not going to forget this time), and soon enough he’s in the metal elevator descending to the entrance.

It's then when Jeongguk realizes just how hungry he actually is. He’d skipped lunch again today — worth it, he’d told himself at the time, and he hadn’t even been that hungry anyway — but now his stomach twisted painfully, growling in protest at being ignored for so long. He’s actually excited for dinner tonight, and Jin’s cooking has always been mouth watering.

He reaches the entrance still half-lost in thoughts of a warm meal. At least, he is until a sudden shove knocks hard into his shoulder, sending him stumbling into the wall beside the doors. 

Being pushed so suddenly makes his head jerk, and the dizziness he’s experienced all day only worsens when he tries to look back up at whoever just hit him.

Everything rings for a moment, and his eyes are squeezed shut, but he hears a couple laughs and doors shutting, and Jeongguk is alone and scared.

The trek back home is a blur, and as soon as he’s stepping through the door his vision is swimming again. His skull is throbbing and his eyes slip shut again as he bends down to take off his shoes. So when a hand cups his cheek, he flinches back, startled. He opens his eyes to the sight of Seokjin’s face, guilt written all over it. 

“Ggukie,” He’s saying, “You okay? Talk to me-” 

“M’ fine,” Jeongguk looks up, his vision speckled with black dots. He feels worse than this morning, and his hands are shaking again. Getting up is a hassle, but he persists. “I’m okay, hyung.”

Seokjin keeps his hands to himself, clearly taken aback by Jeongguk’s flinch. He’s led over to the couch where Jin sits next to him, and they bask in silence for a moment. Jeongguk wonders if he’s supposed to say something but then–

“Are you sure you’re alright? I noticed last night that your scent is a bit.. sweeter? Are you getting sick?” Jin asks.

The comment about his scent makes his stomach do a flip. Considering he’s cold, in pain, tired, and all his symptoms should say he’s sick, he doesn’t want to admit it.

No, Jeongguk should say. I’m not alright. My head hurts, and I’m dizzy, and my throat hurts, and I’m sick of my stuffy nose, and I’m so tired, so so tired. I’m tired of my job and my boss and the people and the unfair work load they put on me and I’m tired of ruining you all. I feel like I don’t deserve to be in this pack.

“Yeah,” Jeongguk slips out, and his mind doesn’t catch up with his body. “I’m okay, just tired from work. I’m dealing with allergies right now.”

And he should say more, considering he was just knocked against a wall with force and he feels sick to his stomach, but he doesn’t, and Seokjin accepts his mediocre answer.

“Well if you ever need anyone to lighten the load, you know you can talk to us, right? We’re all here to support you.” Seokjin says, calm and patient. “I know the alphas may not fully understand, but as a fellow omega I get it. It’s a lot. Nobody will be upset if you were to ask for help.”

Jeongguk nods. “I know,” He says, lying to himself and Jin. He looks away when Jin intertwines their hands together.

They sit in silence for another moment before Jin speaks up again.

“Okay,” Jin starts, “Why don’t you come shopping with me? We’re ordering in tonight, but I still need to get some things for tomorrow’s dinner,”

Jeongguk’s stomach is still growling, and internally he feels a little upset about not having Jin’s food tonight, but he shrugs it off and nods with a quiet smile.

Before leaving, he checks the small stash of cash hidden beneath his mattress, counting what little is left and hoping it’ll be enough for something small.

Jeongguk finds quickly that he should have never agreed to come.

The store is loud and overwhelming, and he lags behind Seokjin through the aisles. He feels distant, and floaty, and most of all he feels really, really tired.

The day had dragged endlessly at work from the moment he got there in the early hours of the morning; extended time of fluorescent lighting, chilly air, and the relentless clacking of keyboards hadn’t made his already pounding head any better. His skin still feels warm as he fiddles with his fingers while walking around. 

But he still has work to do when he gets home, and he can only get started after dinner, and they might expect him to talk during dinner but he really doesn’t want to because there's a burning in his throat everytime he tries to speak and–

“-Gguk. Jeongguk.” Jeongguk blinks and Seokjin is standing in front of him, face painted with worry. “Jeongguk?”

“Sorry,” Jeongguk apologizes roughly. “What did you say, hyung?”

Seokjin frowns. He reaches out gently, grabbing his hand. “I asked if you wanted to get something for yourself. You can look around if you want,”

He thinks about the little bit of cash he has in his back pocket and nods. Looking around, he realizes they’re in the soup aisle which is perfect because his throat is physically aching now, and he really is craving something warm. Seokjin looks pretty engrossed in choosing another brand, so Jeongguk walks over to the chicken-noodle soup and checks the prices. 

He picks up a can and turns it over in his hands, relieved to find the clearance sticker slapped across the front; half off, which makes it just affordable enough. Maybe he can sneak in a couple snacks with it as well, so he won’t be skipping lunch everyday at work once he feels a little better.

Just then, Seokjin appears beside him seemingly out of nowhere. “I’ve tried that brand before,” he says casually, glancing at the can in Jeongguk’s hands. “Honestly? Not the greatest thing I've ever tasted.”

Jeongguk startles hard enough to nearly drop it.

Seokjin either doesn’t notice or politely pretends not to. He crouches down instead, scanning the lower shelf before pulling out a different can and holding it up.

“Try this one instead,” he says. “It tastes much better.”

Seokjin places the can in his hands and Jeongguk wants to cry and protest. Instead, he just nods and clutches the can tightly.

He trails after Seokjin through the store, quietly picking things up only to place them back the second the older isn’t looking. A box of crackers. A microwave meal. A drink he hasn’t had in years because it’s too expensive for what it is. Every time, he checks the price first, and every time he puts it back.

By the time they reach the checkout line, the only thing left in his hands is the can of soup. He’s a little disappointed about giving up the clearance brand, but not enough to risk offending Seokjin after he’d gone out of his way to help. 

Except when he’s done scanning the items, he looks at Jeongguk expectantly, like he’s meant to just hand over the soup too.

“Jeongguk,” Seokjin says, voice firm enough to make his stomach drop. 

“It’s okay, I can pay for it myself, Jin-hyung,” he says quickly. The excuse barely leaves his mouth before Seokjin gently swipes the can from his hands and places it with the rest of the groceries.

And it’s paid for before Jeongguk can argue again.

On the walk back to the car, Jin speaks. “Jeongguk, you haven't paid for your own groceries in months. You can eat whatever's in the pantry if you’re hungry.”

Heat crawls up the back of Jeongguk’s neck instantly, shame settling heavy in his stomach.

Of course he knows that, they’ve told him before.

He just… doesn’t.

Because it isn’t his food. He didn’t buy it, didn’t contribute to it in any meaningful way. Every time he opens the pantry, there’s still a small voice in the back of his mind insisting he’s taking something that doesn’t belong to him.

The others contribute. Namjoon pays the bills without any complaint. Jin nearly cooks all of the pack’s meals without a second thought. Hoseok comes home occasionally carrying everyone’s favorite snacks in grocery bags as a surprise. Even the little things; Jimin’s expensive brand of protein bar, Taehyung’s leftover takeout containers packed in the fridge, Yoongi’s coffee containers tucked carefully in the corner of the shelf. They all belong there because they belong there. So instead, he takes smaller portions, pretends he isn’t hungry, waits until everyone else has eaten first.

“…I know,” he says quietly, though even to his own ears it sounds uncertain.

Seokjin is quiet for a moment before speaking again. 

“Jeongguk, did you want us to clear another shelf for you?” 

Jeongguk blinks.

Another shelf?

Seokjin continues on before he can answer. “Everyone in the pack has their own shelf for snacks and stuff,” he explains easily. “And I realized you don’t really have one yet.” Jeongguk nods slowly because he knows exactly what Seokjin means, he just never imagined having one for himself.

“Um…” His throat feels strangely tight. “I mean — if that’s okay.” Seokjin brightens immediately at his answer.

“Of course it’s okay,” he says. “I’ll clear it out when I get home, okay?”

“They reach the trunk, and Seokjin begins loading the grocery bags inside. When he picks up the one holding Jeongguk’s soup, he lifts it slightly with a smile. “This can be the first thing on your shelf,” he says. “Then we’ll get you some actual snacks soon.”

Jeongguk nods, his chest warm and aching at the same time.

They climb into the car a few minutes later, and while Jeongguk buckles himself in quietly, Seokjin quickly types out a text to Namjoon before pulling out of the parking lot. 

He’s still doing that thing again where he tries to buy his own groceries.

Jeongguk is setting the table just as the pizza arrives. It’s given to him, and he’s putting it on the table, and he tries not to sway as he slides in his spot next to Taehyung and Hoseok. He wraps his arms tightly around himself, trying to act normal so they won’t worry, but Hoseok notices, as he always does.

“You okay?” Hoseok asks as he stuffs his face with more pizza, noticing Jeongguk’s stiff shoulders and unnatural hunch, and the fact that he just sneezed for the third time. “‘Gguk?”

“I’m okay,” Jeongguk lies through his teeth as each swallow makes his throat ache more.

Hoseok looks him up and down, squinting, before going back to eating. 

The conversation flows naturally, weaving from one conversation to the next so naturally Jeongguk can barely even keep up with it.

One moment Taehyung is talking about a customer he dealt with earlier, frantically and dramatically reenacting it with Jimin laughing on the other side of him, nearly choking. The next, Namjoon is bringing up a trip they’d been wanting to plan for the summertime.

“Oh, we should totally go to the mountains! Hiking last fall was so fun, I was hoping we could do it again,” Jimin beams.

“But it’s going to be so hot,” Seokjin complains, head fully tilting back. “If we are going to be outside, I’d rather do something water related.”

Yoongi snickers. “You could just stay inside cooking all the meals for us, Grandpa,” 

Jeongguk looks around for a moment, nervous, but Seokjin doesn’t even look remotely offended, just kicking Yoongi’s ankle from under the table.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” He rolls his eyes sarcastically before looking back up. “Jeongguk, where would you like to go?”

Jeongguk’s head snaps up, and he looks like a deer in headlights. Here they are casually discussing future plans that actually include him. They talk like he’s staying. He had just assumed he wasn’t coming.

And he’s fine with that, honestly, but it catches him painfully off guard. Because in Jeongguk’s mind, this whole arrangement and ordeal has been temporary. 

“Um–” He starts, caught off guard. “I’m honestly fine with anywhere, really. It doesn’t matter to me,” Jeongguk ducks his head, his cheeks pink.

Seokjin’s expression only softens, though. “Nonsense,” He waves off, and the others nod with him. “C’mon, if you could go anywhere for a summer vacation, where would you wanna go? Just– hypothetically.”

He tucks his hands into his jacket sleeves and glances up. They’re all looking at him, expectantly. His throat feels even more dry and his face is heating up rapidly.

He thinks about all the times he had been laying in his dingy apartment, tired from working hours on end with little to no break. The way he would dream of a vacation, some sort of getaway, even for just a day.

“...The beach,” He nearly whispers. He’s scared for a moment because no one is speaking, but when he looks up again everyone is smiling, like he just said the greatest thing in the world. 

“The beach sounds so fun!” Taehyung brightens, taking his hand. He doesn’t say anything about the sweat, just squeezing it tightly. 

Jimin also nods in agreement. “God– we haven’t been there in a while. I’m already imagining beating all of you in volleyball again,” He says, which makes Taehyung kick his shin.

The banter continues, and Jeongguk listens in. Nobody speaks over each other in the sharp, intense way Jeongguk is used to. The interruptions are playful, and familiar. Conversations overlap, and they split apart only to reconnect a few seconds later.

Jimin reaches over to steal one of Namjoon’s pepperonis without pausing mid sentence. Seokjin lets Hosoek try a new drink he just bought from the store. Taehyung complains loudly when Yoongi takes the last slice, and the older takes the pizza cutter and slices it in half, giving a little bit to both of them.

It’s loud, and a little messy, but there’s room for him. Nobody forces him to talk when he goes quiet for a while. Taehyung or Hoseok will occasionally bump him on the shoulder with a, “Right, Ggukie?” like he’s meant to be there and meant to be included.

Eventually, dinner settles down and everyone starts to clean up. Jeongguk goes to throw his uneaten crust from his first piece and his half eaten other piece away, when he’s stopped and sat down again by Namjoon.

He gulps when the alpha squats down, resting his hand carefully on Jeongguk’s knee.

“Hey,” He starts carefully, “Are you okay? You seem – I noticed your scent is a little off, and you didn’t eat a ton,”

“I’m okay,” Jeongguk blurts. “I’m okay, I promise. I can work.” Namjoon’s expression shifts a little bit, and his eyebrows pinch, and Jeongguk fears he will make him stay home. “It’s just allergies,” he explains. “Nothing serious.”

Namjoon must contemplate his answer because he sits there for a moment, eyes confused. He looks back up to get a good look at Jeongguk’s face before speaking again.

“Do you want to stay home tomorrow?”

And Jeongguk almost says yes.

He knows his body is so tired. His head is seriously killing him, and he’s sweaty for it being thirty degrees outside, and even a warm drink isn’t soothing his throat that's screaming at him.

In all instances he should say yes, absolutely, I really need the rest and I think I’m getting sick.

His omega instinct is practically screaming at him, desperate to be coddled by his alpha.

But then, his mind is flashing back to his depleting stack of cash under his mattress, and his boss being mad at him, and all the work he still has to do, and he just– can’t.

“No, I’m okay,” Jeongguk forces out. 

Namjoon looks like he wants to protest, to say something, but instead he just sighs. “Alright, I trust you to know your own limits. But if you need anything, even just a little bit, just let me know, okay ‘Gguk?”

Jeongguk nods, and his heart throbs.

Namjoon pushes him to get some water, and sends him away from the kitchen, even after his protests.

Later that night, a house by the beach is booked for two weeks in June.

The headache is unbearable.

It sits heavy behind Jeongguk’s eyes, sharp and throbbing and making the dim glow of the screen of his laptop feel painful. Every few minutes a pulse of pain comes and makes his vision blur for a moment before briefly refocusing.

His eyes slip shut for the fifth time in two minutes, and his head dips low before he catches himself nearly falling asleep again.

The apartment had gone quiet hours ago, everyone disappearing into their bedrooms around ten after telling him not to stay up too late. Jeongguk had smiled and said he’d head off to bed soon, despite knowing it was a lie.

His boss ended up sending him a lot more than just “some” documents. He’d forwarded an entire pile of unfinished reports onto Jeongguk. The list looked impossibly long when he first glanced at it, and now hours later he can confirm it still does. 

By two in the morning he’s still sitting at the empty table, completely submerged in darkness besides the blinding light coming from the work laptop. The digital clock glows faintly on the oven.

2:07 am.

His shoulders ache from being hunched forward all day. His throat burns heavily every time he swallows. Every few minutes he coughs harshly, and it only agitates his throat more. No matter how many times he rubs his eyes, the words on the screen blur and smear together.

He’s worked through about two thirds of the documents by now, maybe .

He wants to stop badly, but his boss is ruthless in a way that makes him feel humiliated. The kind of person who corrects employees loud enough for nearby coworkers to hear. The public embarrassment is too much.

He swallows, not wanting a repeat of this morning.

Jeongguk straightens slightly in his chair, blinking hard at the exhaustion weighing him down, and he forces himself to open the next file.

Suddenly, there's a quiet “Hey,”.

The voice comes from directly behind him, low, and Jeongguk startles so violently he almost jumps out of his chair.

When he turns around, Yoongi is standing near his chair wearing loose sweatpants and a hoodie, hair flattened unevenly from his headphones. He tilts his head, not expecting the reaction.

“Damn,” He says, eyes widening, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Jeongguk blinks repeatedly, trying to steady his breathing. The sudden movement makes his head spin and his headache spike, dizziness impairing his vision.

“Sorry,” He mutters. “I’m fine.”

Yoongi looks unconvinced as he steps forward, pulling out the chair next to Jeongguk and sitting down. The kitchen is quiet for a moment except for the faint hum of the refrigerator. In the darkness, Jeongguk’s laptop casts a slight glow on his face, probably making him look as awful as he feels. Yoongi’s gaze drifts over.

“Watcha’ working on?” He asks casually, resting his face on the palms of his hands as he settles at the table.

 Jeongguk instinctively curls into himself. “Just– work stuff. Gotta get this done before tomorrow,” He leaves out the part about his boss screaming at him about it, probably for the best.

Yoongi hums softly, staring intently and seemingly reading his screen, and then glancing at the clock. “Why don’t you ask for an extension? It’s pretty late and you’ll be tired in the morning.” 

“I’m almost done.” Jeongguk says, almost defensively. It’s a little bit of a lie, but Yoongi doesn’t have to know that. Yoongi hums again, sounding seemingly unimpressed by his answer. “Besides, it's not that simple, anyways. I have to do it before tomorrow.”

“Why?” Yoongi questions simply, expression the same.

Jeongguk huffs. “Because– it’s my fault. I forgot to do this last night, so I have to do extra now.”

Yoongi must accept the answer, because he doesn’t say anything for a long time. He just sits by Jeongguk, watching him mindlessly tip-tap the keys. He must be thinking really hard, though, because Jeongguk glances over multiple times in five minutes to see him staring at the same spot on his laptop.

They sit in silence for another five minutes before Yoongi speaks up again.

“Do you like your job?” 

Jeongguk blinks.

No, is the immediate response in his head. But that's not what they’re expecting of him. There's no point in saying no, anyways, because he has to make money, because what happens when they inevitably get tired of him? He has to have this job, his feelings don’t matter.

“Does it matter?” He gulps, looking away. 

“Of course it does,” is Yoongi's immediate reply, and he straightens in his chair a little bit. “If you’re unhappy, then yeah, it matters.”

Jeongguk stares. Yoongi says it like it’s so obvious, so matter of fact. 

“You can’t just quit jobs because you don’t like them,” He shrugs after a moment of silence.

“I know,” Yoongi says firmly. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

They sit in silence for another few minutes before Yoongi sighs, and he’s speaking up again.

“Y’know the pack will support you if you want to quit? You have time to look for a new job, and we can help you with the process.” He explains, like it’s easy. “You shouldn’t have to exhaust yourself.”

Something tight twists painfully in Jeongguk’s gut, and he puts his palms to his eyes. “I can’t,” He whispers. “... I don’t really know how to do anything else.”

Saying it out loud makes it worse, somehow. He doesn’t know why, but he expects Yoongi to belittle him, to tell him how his living situation is all his fault, and he's expected to be out by tomorrow. He braces for impact, but nothing comes.

Instead, Yoongi grabs his hand from his face and rubs it gently with his thumb.

“When I first met the pack, I was in a pretty bad spot.” He starts. “All I wanted to do was produce music, but I was in a shitty spot, and working a super shitty job. As a beta, I was rejected from a lot of studios because it was seen more as an alpha’s job, but I was like– screw that, y’know? Nobody's subgender should dictate what they want to do. So when I met Namjoon, and he actually gave me a chance, it felt like a dream. We spent years building the studio to what it is today.” 

He goes silent for a moment, clearing his throat, and continuing. “All that to say, Jeongguk, we have more than enough money to support you and what you want to do. C’mon, hit me, money aside, what do you want to do?” He lightly nudges Jeongguk’s shoulder a bit.

Jeongguk contemplates for a moment, and the question settles heavily for a moment.

“It’s stupid.” He mutters, and Yoongi taps him again.

“No it’s not,” Is his immediate response. “It’s not stupid, Jeongguk.”

They sit in silence for another moment, and Jeongguk realizes Yoongi is not giving up on this.

“... A tattoo artist.” He says, lifting his head up like a blooming flower. “I want to be a tattoo artist,”

Yoongi beams.

“See, I told you it wasn’t stupid. I’ve seen your sketches, Jeongguk you’re incredible.” Jeongguk’s face burns, and he pulls away to put his head in his hands. “You’d be a perfect tattoo artist, I might even let you do me,” He says cheekily.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’ve seen the sketchbook you’ve left laying around,” Yoongi says. “The portrait studies you do, flowers, animals. Jeongguk, you’re incredible.”

Jeongguk immediately falls forward and buries his face in his hands. “Oh my god,”

“I’m serious.”

“Stop talking.”

Yoongi’s expression softens.

They fall into a comfortable silence again, and Jeongguk makes it through exactly one more document before his body gives up on him. One minute he’s looking at the spread sheet, the next his eyes are drifting shut. His cheek sinks into his palm, elbow propped on the table, and the words scramble on the screen. He hears Yoongi snort to the left of him.

“Jeongguk,” he teasingly sings. 

A low hum leaves him. “Mm.”

“You asleep?”

“No.” Jeongguk mutters and his eyes blink open. The laptop screen is bright on his sensitive eyes, and he realizes pitifully that his throat still burns painfully. Beside him, Yoongi glances towards the screen, then at the clock, then back at Jeongguk.

His chair is scraping against the floor, and Jeongguk looks up to see the beta standing. “Alright, up, bedtime now,” He pats Jeongguk’s back and his shoulders sag.

He barely has the energy to protest. “Hyung–”

“Nope, up.” Yoongi grabs his laptop and gently shuts it, taking it away. The kitchen instantly feels darker, and warmer, and Jeongguk feels extremely sleepy.

By the time they reach his room, his eyelids are practically glued shut. Yoongi pushes open his door, and he immediately flops onto his mattress. He feels it dip as Yoongi adjusts the blankets on him, making him comfortable. He goes to step out of the room, and Jeongguk is speaking again.

“Hyung?” 

Yoongi stops. “Hm?”

Stay, he wants to say, but he cuts himself short. 

“Nevermind.”

Yoongi nods, not pushing further. “Night, ‘Gguk.” He says lightly, and the bedroom door clicks shut behind him.

Jeongguk is asleep before the sound fully fades.

Jeongguk knows he’s in trouble before he even walks through the office doors. The seven unfinished reports sit in his inbox. Seven he never finished, and that should have been completed before morning. 

His stomach twists painfully, and his slight fever hasn’t improved since last night. If anything, it’s worse. His head feels dizzy, his throat is raw, and every muscle in his body aches from the combination of sickness and very few hours of sleep. He'd found some medicine in the cabinet before anyone else woke up, but it had done little to ease his symptoms.

He walks quickly to his desk, unpacking his things and swiftly sitting down. Maybe if he finishes quickly before his boss notices–

“Jeongguk.”

His stomach drops. The older alpha stands beside his desk, and he doesn’t even offer a greeting. “Conference room, now.”

Every nearby conversation goes quiet as they all stare at the two. His face heats up as he stands up carefully and follows the older man away. The conference room is silent as he closes the door behind them, and then he’s shown a computer screen. The unfinished documents.

“Would you like to explain this?” The alpha sneers and Jeongguk’s heart races.

The apology comes out automatically and practiced. “I’m sorry.” His eyes flicker between the dirty floor and the screen in front of him. His hands tremble and squeeze into fists at his sides. “I had every intention of–”

His boss snaps. “I don’t pay you for intentions, I pay you to actually do your job,” Jeongguk’s mouth goes dry. He doesn’t know what to say. He has no idea how to fix this, and all he wants to do is cry. His hands curl tighter at his sides.

“I’m sorry.” He says again, defeated. Before he can stop it, an excuse slips out. “I stayed up working on it.”

His boss raises an eyebrow. “I– I was feeling sick,” He admits quietly. He swears in regret, wishing he hadn’t caved so easily when Yoongi asked him to go to bed. Staying up all night would’ve been better than having this conversation right now. He can’t stink of anything to say, his head filled with cotton, and his body shaking with chills, and not from the air conditioning.

“Everybody gets sick.” His boss dismisses. “Do you think deadlines just stop existing because you don’t feel well? This is pathetic. Do you even know how easily replaceable you are?” Jeongguk’s eyes widen.

“You really think this office needs you? We can have you sent out and replaced with someone else who will actually do their work today.” 

“Please,” Jeongguk begs. “I’m sorry, I’ll have it done in the next couple of hours–”

His breathing picks up as his eyes dart around the room. He’s messed up once, and they’re threatening to kick him to the curb. Do the endless overtime, late nights, and the constant fear of making a mistake mean nothing? Yet somehow, he still feels guilty. Maybe his supervisor is right, the world doesn’t stop because he’s a weak piece of shit. He should have finished by any means necessary, even if that meant staying up longer, or pushing himself harder.

The sickness makes it difficult to stand up right, and his ears ring loudly.

His boss must be done rambling, because his mouth clicks shut and he goes to pick up his things and he brushes by Jeongguk, knocking against his shoulder. “They better be done by the end of the day.”

The door clicks shut, and Jeongguk is alone.

For several seconds, he doesn’t move. His eyes sting enough to cry, and he shivers again. He takes a slow breath, and another for a few minutes.

His shoulders straighten, and he returns to his desk.

Nobody says anything when he sits down, but he feels the stares and curious glances. He lowers his head, opens the work laptop to the first unfinished report, and starts typing again despite the fever making the words blur together. 

His brain fogs as he works through each one, and by the time he’s done he’s shivering so violently he has to grip his jacket for support.

Jeongguk has never hated work more than he does now. He’s always downplayed the downsides of his work, because at the end of the day, he was getting paid. He’s never been mad. Some days were worse than others, him coming home to an empty apartment and wishing he made enough to have a hot meal, or others where he wished he could just spend twenty-four hours in total and complete darkness because his head would be pounding so hard. Those days were the worst, and left him in pain and alone.

But today, he finds himself miserable, and an anger settles deep in his bones. He wants to go home, to Seokjin’s amazing dinners, to Namjoon’s soft and comforting hugs, to Taehyung and Jimin’s light bickering, to Hoseok’s silly humor, to Yoongi’s reassuring words and advice.

He frowns as he finally sends the last document over, his eyes slowly slipping shut at his desk. The sun is setting now, and everyone is slowly shuffling out of the office.

“Yo,” he jolts awake at the voice coming from behind him, and he turns his chair around to see one of his coworkers standing with a stack of papers in her arms.

She looks him up and down before putting the stack of papers on his desk. “I’m going home, and they need these papers by tomorrow, so you might have to rush–”

“I can’t,” He blurts before he can stop himself. Her jaw drops open.

He’s going to be sick. He’s genuinely going to be sick. “I– I’m sorry, I have to go–” Some of the papers fall to the floor as he grabs his bag and bolts out of the room. 

He makes it outside and immediately leans forward, pressing his forehead against the cool brick wall. The chill seeps pleasantly into his overheated skin, drawing a quiet, involuntary whine from deep in his throat. 

His fingers fumble as he draws his coat out of his bag, clumsy from exhaustion and his growing fever. By the time it’s on, his fingers are shaking so much he nearly misses the pockets. He quickly shoves them inside, curling his fingers as another shiver works through his body.

The walk home is agonizing, and he nearly dissociates the entire way. He doesn’t remember walking through the doorway, falling to his knees, or the way Taehyung carefully lowers him to the ground while frantically calling for Namjoon. 

Suddenly the alpha is there, in front of him, and he flinches back in surprise. Pain seers through his head and he whines again pitifully. Namjoon just shushes him gently, and there's a cool hand being pressed against his forehead which makes him sigh happily. Just as soon as it’s there it’s gone, and the next moment he’s being hauled up into the arms of the alpha. 

He doesn’t realize he’s whining again until Namjoon is gently soothing him. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” He whispers, his voice shaking a little. Jeongguk grips his shirt a little harder.

He's gently changed into pajamas, the entire process handled with such care that makes his chest ache. By the time Namjoon settles him onto his bed, Jeongguk is too exhausted to do much more than sink into the mattress and stare hazily at the ceiling. 

Then, Namjoon leaves. Or at least, Jeongguk thinks he does. His fever-addled brain latches onto the absence, and he curls beneath the blankets, fighting back the disappointment.

Only a few minutes pass before Namjoon returns, carrying a small wash cloth and a cup of water. He sits on the edge of the bed and gently lays a cool cloth across Jeongguk’s forehead. The relief is immediate, and a shaky sigh escapes him. The alpha’s hand settles in his hair, and long fingers comb slowly through the strands, brushing them away from his forehead.

The repetitive motion is enough to make him drift lazily, and Jeongguk floats. 

When Jeongguk wakes, it's to the distant murmur of voices drifting up from downstairs. The sounds blur together first as the occasional rise and fall of conversation, but they’re enough to gently pull him from sleep.

For a moment he feels disoriented, blinking blearily at the ceiling, but through the exhaustion it clicks. Everyone had arrived home while he was out.

The once cold wash cloth has now gone warm, and he takes it off his forehead, placing it on the nightstand. He grabs one of the blankets in the nest, carefully wrapping it around himself before standing.

Jeongguk eventually manages to drag himself down the stairs. The blanket stays tightly wrapped around his shoulders, trailing behind him like a cape. His fever feels like it’s only worsened since Namjoon carried him upstairs, and every joint aches as he descends the stairs. 

The conversation in the living room dies immediately when he appears, and six pairs of eyes turn towards him. They all have a concerned look on their face, and Jeongguk hates how pale and miserable he probably looks.

“Hey sweetheart,” Seokjin says softly, and Jeongguk barely manages a hum, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

Before he can try to look around for a spot, Taehyung is already moving from the couch, offering a spot between Jimin and Yoongi. He walks over and slowly lowers himself on the couch, clutching the blanket around him firmly.

For a few minutes, conversation resumes, or at least they try. Every few sentences someone’s glancing at Jeongguk, checking on him, or watching him sniffle into his sleeve. Finally, Namjoon sets down his mug on the coffee table, and the sound cuts through the room. He looks up at Jeongguk.

“We all talked and we think it’s best–” The alpha cuts himself off, clearing his throat before starting again. 

“You’re staying home tomorrow.”

The room is completely quiet, and Jeongguk’s stomach drops .

Namjoon’s voice isn’t harsh, but it’s firm and final. Typically, Namjoon wouldn’t do this. Ever since Jeongguk joined the pack, he’s gone out of his way to avoid throwing around authority as pack alpha. He’s been careful not to overwhelm him, and not to let his alpha instincts take over, or be possessive. Careful not to make Jeongguk feel trapped. Every decision has been presented as a choice, and every preference mattered. But right now, as he looks into Namjoon’s eyes, he can see the alpha is desperate, and his instincts are going haywire. The alpha is pissed – not at Jeongguk, but at the situation. The fact that the omega is burning up with a fever and somehow is still trying to go to work.

And Jeongguk knows it, which makes the words he says next hit even harder.

“No.” 

Namjoon’s response comes immediately, his voice taken aback. He blinks. “No?”

“I can’t.” 

“Jeongguk–” 

“I can’t.” He says desperately, and his fingers clutch tighter around the blanket. “You don’t understand.”

Namjoon’s expression softens, and the alpha squats in front of Jeongguk, gently resting his hand on the omega’s knee. “Then explain it to me.” He says gently, but it only pushes Jeongguk farther.

“I can’t miss work.” Jeongguk shakes his head.

“You have a fever.” 

“I don’t care.”

“Jeongguk.”

“I don’t care!” Jeongguk turns away, trying not to cry, but the stinging reaches his eyes. The words come out louder than intended, and the entire room stills, and even Jeongguk is startled by his own voice. His breathing quickens and his eyes burn as all six pack members look at him with not angry, but concerned faces. That somehow makes it even worse.

Jeongguk hunches, curling in on himself even more. “You don’t understand," he says again, and his voice cracks this time. “I can’t keep calling out.”

“You’ve barely taken any sick days,” Yoongi says carefully, his eyebrows pinched.

“Thats not the point,” 

“Then what is?” The question hangs in the air for a moment, and he inhales, and exhales, and when his eyes drop to the blanket pooled in his lap he sees the tiny water droplets that have landed there from his face. And all at once, his fears start pooling out.

“If I stop being useful, then what am I even doing here?”

Jeongguk immediately regrets saying it, and when he looks up, they’re appalled. They all have no response to Jeongguk’s question, so he continues on.

“If I lose my job–” 

Jimin interrupts. “You’re not losing your job,”

“But if I do ,” His voice breaks. “If I stop helping, if I stop paying for things, If I become more trouble than I’m worth–” He stops for a moment to sob into his sleeve pathetically.

“Then what am I even doing here ?” The room goes deathly still, because they suddenly understand now. The real fear, the one that’s been sitting underneath everything since the day he arrived.

“I already live here for free,” He chokes. “I eat your food, you buy things for me, and I keep messing things up. And now I’m sick and I’m forcing everyone to take care of me and–”

His voice shatters as tears slip down his face. “I don't know how to do this,” The confession comes out broken and raw. “I don’t know how to just– let people do things for me.” 

They all look at each other, letting him speak without interrupting. “I keep waiting for someone to realize I don't deserve this, or for someone to get tired of me,” Another sob catches in his burning throat. “But I’ve been in so much pain these past few days– I’m trying I promise .”

The room is silent except for Jeongguk trying desperately to breathe through his tears. Namjoon, still crouched in front of him, pulls away from his hand and reaches up, carefully brushing his damp hair from his forehead.

“Tell alpha what hurts.” The words are impossibly gentle, and it breaks him inside more than anything else, because Namjoon isn’t just asking about his illness, he’s asking about all of it. The fear, the shame, the loneliness, everything.

And so, he does tell them everything. All of it.

They’re horrified. The realization passes visibly between them, as eyes widen and their expressions fall and someone inhales sharply. Nobody says anything for several long seconds, the room completely silent. Jeongguk’s stomach immediately drops, and regret crashes into him almost instantly. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything, and kept his mouth shut, maybe just laughed it off–

“Jeongguk,” Jimin’s voice sounds strange, and small, and when Jeongguk finally glances up, the alpha looks devastated. “Is that really what you’ve been thinking?”

Jeongguk immediately looks away, and his silence tells them everything. He fiddles with his fingers before muttering, “I didn’t want to make things difficult.”

“Jeongguk, I thought you didn’t trust us yet.” Jimin says, devastated. “I thought you were still adjusting, and maybe– maybe we were moving too fast or making you uncomfortable. I never thought you were sitting here wondering if we would kick you out,”

“Yesterday,” Yoongi interrupts suddenly, “Yesterday you looked happier talking about art and tattoos than I’ve ever seen you talking about work.” Jeongguk’s face burns as he recalls the conversation the two had late into the night. “We know you’re not happy at your job, you told me your true passion. You don’t need to work when you’re sick, in fact… you don’t need to go back at all,”

Jeongguk’s stomach drops so suddenly it almost hurts. His mouth parts, but no words come out. Next to him, Yoongi reaches forward and gently takes his other hand. “So please,” He begs, “Please, let us support you Jeongguk. Let us help you be happy. Let us care for you, pay for you, and love you.”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to argue. He wants to say that he’s not worth all this, that they’ll eventually realize–

But the words never come, because when he looks up, every member of the pack is looking back at him. They're certain, and patient, and they’ve made their choice. And that choice is him.

 “And in return, all you have to do is stay. Stay with us, tell us what you need, and we’ll take care of the rest.”

Jeongguk simply stares at them through tear-filled eyes. The people who built space for him in their home, who cleared a pantry shelf for him, who stayed up with him at two in the morning, who carried him to bed, who looked horrified at the thought he believed he had to earn his place here. The people who keep choosing him over and over and over again.

Jeongguk lets out a wet laugh, wiping clumsily at his cheeks. “Okay,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Yoongi smiles.

Vaguely, Jeongguk hears Namjoon start talking about contacting his company and figuring out the work situation. Seokjin stands up to make some soup. Someone mentions art classes, and another mentions apprenticeships or schools. The conversation flows around him again, but he barely hears any of it. All he can focus on is the warmth of their hands holding his, and the certainty in their voices. They aren’t asking him to earn this, or to prove himself, or to be useful. They just want him.

And for the first time since arriving at the Kim pack’s doorstep three months ago, Jeongguk allows himself to believe they mean it.

The bath leaves him feeling warm. By the time Seokjin wraps him in a towel and guides him towards the sink, Jeongguk is swaying on his feet, still exhausted from the fever. “Sit,” The omega says, and Jeongguk gets on the counter.

The blow dryer hums to life and warm air brushes through Jeongguk’s damp hair, his eyes immediately drifting shut at the comforting touch. The sensation feels embarrassingly nice as Seokjin’s fingers comb carefully through the strands as he dries them, untangling any knots. Jeongguk’s eyes re-open when the older speaks up again.

“You’re going to fall asleep sitting up,” He smiles. Jeongguk makes a sleepy hum.

By the time his hair is dry, he’s practically unconscious, and all he wants to do is lay his head on a soft pillow. Then, Seokjin presses a toothbrush in his hand.

“Noo.” Jeongguk groans, tilting his head back dramatically.

“Yes,” Seokjin sighs, crossing his arms. Jeongguk stares back, snatching the toothbrush, and Seokjin gives a victorious smile.

Namjoon eventually enters the bathroom, snatching up a very sleepy Jeonggukie up, and bringing him to his bedroom. While Jeongguk was taking his bath, Taehyung must have been very busy, because when he’s carried in, there's a carefully and lovingly built nest on his bed. Pillows surround the edges while clothing and other items from the pack are meticulously placed on top. A hoodie from Hoseok’s room, a blanket from Namjoon’s. One of Yoongi’s sweaters, Jimin’s pillowcase, and a shirt Seokjin wore yesterday. Anything carrying pack scent was added, and the bed is practically gone beneath the many layers of soft fabric and comfort items.

He’s gently placed in the middle, Namjoon readjusting his pillows to be just right. Jimin comes in from behind carrying a thermometer, asking for Jeongguk’s permission before taking his temp.

The thermometer beeps, and Jimin frowns. 

“That is not a fun number,” He winces. Jeongguk attempts to grab the thermometer, but Jimin moves it out of reach. “What is it?” He asks, and Jimin smirks.

“A bad number.”

Jeongguk groans. 

Jimin laughs softly before reaching over and lacing their fingers together, and the gesture makes him melt. His chest aches, because no one has ever held his hand through being sick before, or just because. Jimin squeezes once, and it's warm and comforting.

“I’m glad you’re staying home.” He whispers, and Jeongguk’s throat tightens, because for the first time he is too.

Hoseok then arrives, carrying a cup of ice water. “Drink,” He says, holding the glass in front of Jeongguk. He takes one look at the cup, then at Hoseok, then back at the cup.

“I can hold it,” He says, but Hoseok shakes his head. “Drink,” He repeats, and when his hands tremble too much on top of Hoseoks he can simply put them down as his hyung holds the glass for him. There’s no teasing or embarrassment, just patience until he’s done drinking. 

A cool cloth comes shortly afterward, placed carefully on his forehead, and the relief is immediate. The cold settles against his burning forehead, and Jeongguk practically melts. Hoseok smiles.

“Thank you,” He whispers, “Thank you, all of you.”

Yoongi sits on the edge of his bed, grabbing the omega’s hand and stroking it gently with his thumb.

“Stop thanking us for loving you.” He says, “You don’t have to earn it.”

A tear slips free as he looks up at his pack surrounding him, all looking at him with admiration and love. 

“Sorry, I just don’t want to be a burden–”

Namjoon cuts in, stopping Jeongguk’s ramble. “You’re sick Jeongguk,” He says quietly. “Not inconvenient.”

He nods, and looks up at Yoongi again, the older beta still holding his hand lightly. They settle into a comfortable quiet before Jeongguk gathers enough courage to speak.

“...You can come into the nest–” He hesitates, “Only if you want to of course, it’s okay if you don't."

He doesn’t know why he expects rejection, because Yoongi immediately nods, crawling under the soft covers with him. Warm fingers disappear into his hair as the beta starts to comb through it slowly. 

Sleep begins pulling at him. The fever still hurts, his throat still aches, and his body still feels terrible, but none of it feels frightening anymore. His room is quiet now, and it looks more lived in, like somebody belongs here and is expected to stay.

Jeongguk’s eyes drift closed, and the last thing he feels is Yoongi’s hand in his hair and the soft presence of his pack around him.

It’s quiet.

It’s quiet, and Jeongguk doesn’t feel alone.