Chapter Text
After the winter showcase, life has eased back into what Jeongin refers to as normal. Is it normal for him to be pregnant? No, but in terms of what his life had looked like for the months he’s carried the pup, this is more typical and what he’s become used to. Minho is once again driving him to and from school. They’re eating meals together, watching movies, and their grocery shopping is based off a communal list.
Minho is there on Tuesday night where Jeongin mentions a craving for maple bacon pancakes with sweet and spicy pickles. Rather than picking on him as Seungmin would have, or having to deal with Hyunjin’s squicked out face, Minho goes into the kitchen and looks through his cabinets, pulling out the ingredients for pancakes. He quickly pickles some cucumbers, adding brown sugar for sweetness, and some red pepper flakes for heat, giving them a quick boil on the stove and sets them aside to cool. He fries up some bacon, then makes the pancakes in the bacon fat, serving it all with some maple syrup. He also manages to surprise Jeongin with oven roasted mango and peach slices over vanilla ice cream as a treat.
“Hyung, you’re spoiling me.”
“I don’t know what else I’d do with you, Iyen-ah,” Minho proclaims as he waits until Jeongin’s set aside his ice cream bowl to pull Jeongin’s feet onto his lap and begins massaging them.
Jeongin doesn’t know how to answer that, which may be part of the problem he’s been having since Minho’s absence the prior month had him realising how much Minho does for him, and in turn, how little he does for Minho. What else was there to do with him? What use was Jeongin to Minho? What did he bring to their relationship?
Keeping his face turned to the television, Jeongin hopes Minho doesn’t easily spot the frown marring his features. Jeongin knows how easy he is to read. His feelings seem to be there for anyone with eyes to see. He’s never been good at hiding what’s going on in his thoughts. He’d blame music, and its expressive nature, but given Minho’s ease with hiding his own emotions, and dance requiring a depth of feeling that is perhaps greater than that of music, the argument doesn’t hold.
He doesn’t want Minho to catch him thinking, or ask about what had him frowning. How horrible it would be to explain his thoughts and have Minho attempt to provide him with reasons why he values their friendship. Worse if Minho is equally unable to justify their relationship.
He can be cute, Jeongin can admit to himself, but that isn’t enough. He’s clumsy, which can be endearing or a nuisance, and that’s all a matter of perspective, timing and circumstance. He can’t cook like Minho or Felix. He’s not handy when it comes to fixing things like Chan. He’s more likely to break items than repair them. He’s not good with people like Changbin. His humour isn’t as good as Seungmin’s. He can’t talk about his feelings openly like Jisung. He isn’t sentimental and caring like Hyunjin, remembering everyone’s birthdays and surprising people with their favourite things. He huffs out a sigh. Why does anyone value his friendship?
Minho’s hand stills on his foot, and when Jeongin looks over, Minho’s already looking at him, curiosity plain on his face.
“Baby boy, you’ll get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that.”
Jeongin knows any of his friends would berate him for thinking so terribly of himself. He’s not sure they’d be able to give him better answers, but they’d all feel disappointed and upset that Jeongin was able to characterise himself in such a way that he was useless, and his friendship held no value.
Tucking the disparaging thoughts away, Jeongin offers Minho a tight lipped smile. Minho frowns in response, and then traces a knuckle up the middle of Jeongin’s foot in a way that has him squirming.
“Not a safe thing to do right now!” Jeongin squeals as he tries to tug his foot free.
Minho chuckles, and resumes massaging Jeongin’s foot gently, offering him a lopsided smile. “You’re not going to tell me what you were thinking, are you?”
Jeongin shakes his head.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Minho shakes his foot until Jeongin looks back at him. “If there’s anything I can do to help, I’ll do it.”
“I know, hyung. You do enough already.”
“Not enough, if you’re sitting on the couch frowning and upset.”
“You just set aside all your preparations for dinner to make me what I was craving, and you don’t think you do enough?”
Minho blinks slowly, moving his hands away from Jeongin’s feet to crack his knuckles. “I want you to be happy. I’m not saying you have to smile all the time. That’s not what I want. But if you’re not happy, if something’s bothering you, then…I’m not saying I can fix it, but if I can help, if telling me would ease your mind, I’m here.”
If anyone would understand how not wearing a smile might make a person look intimidating, it was Minho. Though, the alpha likely never had to deal with the constant pressure or societal demands of being happy, energetic and optimistic at all times. If an omega didn’t smile, they were rude; if an alpha didn’t smile, they were seen as reserved. There were so many emotions that Jeongin often felt he couldn’t show, just for how they would be perceived, no matter how justified he might be in that emotional response. Minho had never asked him to smile when he didn’t feel like it. He’d never had Minho demand that he calm down, or quit worrying, or told him that he was upset about nothing. Minho had never diminished his emotions. All Minho had ever done was ask him how he felt while extending the grace to let the issue drop if Jeongin didn’t want to talk about it. Jeongin would always be thankful to him for that.
“I’m not unhappy, hyung.” Jeongin nudges Minho’s thigh with his toes. “I was just thinking.”
“Okay.”
Jeongin wiggles his toes, and then pokes Minho again. “I do know I can talk to you about anything. If I wanted to talk to anyone about anything, you’d be my first call.”
Minho looks over at him, rolls his eyes and picks up Jeongin’s foot again, his knuckles kneading at the bottom of his foot in a way that makes Jeongin’s toes curl.
“I watched your performance again today.”
“Oh?”
Jeongin’s smile grows as he watches the tips of Minho’s ears redden. “I was wondering what you were thinking when you made the choreography, what message you were trying to convey.”
“Is that the thought that had you frowning?”
Jeongin huffs. He’d steal his foot back in protest, but his soles ache and the massage helps.
“Why don’t you tell me what you thought of it first?” Minho’s words are laced with amusement. “I want to know if what you saw was what I was trying to say.”
That’s fair. The moment he knows what Minho had planned, it would change how he viewed things, or how he framed his thoughts on the dance. “I felt you were playing two characters.”
“Mhmm.”
“One that was strong, a hunter, the other timid and cautious.” Jeongin bites his lip to contain a moan as Minho digs the pad of his thumb into the arch of Jeongin’s foot. “There…right there.”
Minho looks up at him, a smirk on his lips. “And what story did the two characters tell?”
Jeongin’s careful to steady his voice as he speaks, “At first, I thought the hunter was trying to find the other, as if they were prey. The night I saw the performance, I thought the story was the blending of characters, to show that there can be strength in vulnerability, and a vulnerability in being strong. That being cautious can be wise, and being bold can be reckless.”
“Hmm. Did you see something different when you watched it again, Iyen-ah?”
“I think it wasn’t just a display of traits in the one character you would find more typical in the other, but that there was interplay between them, as if one learned from the other, and that at the end, the two characters were one, rather than just being more complex than originally seen.”
Jeongin watches Minho’s hand flex as he massages, the tendons and muscles moving distinctly beneath his skin. Minho has strong, capable hands, something Jeongin has always admired. It has always impressed him how Minho took care of himself, exercised not to look good or the muscles, but because he wanted his body to be capable of whatever task he took on.
“Now I’m glad I didn’t tell you beforehand.”
Looking up from Minho’s hands, Jeongin finds Minho’s expression is one not easily read. It’s disappointing to have missed the mark. “I’m sorry, hyung.”
Minho blinks slowly, his hands continue to press into the bottom of Jeongin’s foot, easing the ache of standing most of the day and running after children. “Why? It’s not as if there is a right answer.”
“But I wanted to get it right.”
Minho shakes Jeongin’s foot. “Baby boy, you didn’t get it wrong. It’s art, and part of art is letting an audience see what matters to them. Our experiences are different, so we’ll see things from a different perspective.”
He doesn’t want to hold Minho’s gaze, so Jeongin looks down, his fingers picking at the cuticle of his thumb. “I want to see what you see. Know what you know.”
“You could ask.”
Jeongin nudges his heel into Minho’s thigh. “You could just tell me.”
“I could.”
Though Jeongin waits, Minho doesn’t continue. When he turns to face Minho again, he’s not at all surprised to see the smirk upon his lips. Jeongin sighs. “Hyung, please.”
Minho takes hold of Jeongin’s big toe and wiggles it before resting both of Jeongin’s feet comfortably in his lap. “I was thinking about expectations, and perceptions. How who we are isn’t always what people see, or even what people want us to be.”
“So at the start of the dance, you acted out what we would expect based on what we saw, and later showed us what was true?”
“That’s part of it. Part of it was also that we are more complex than what you see on the surface. That we’re all more similar than we are strange.”
“Then what we saw at the start wasn’t a lie, or just appearance, but it wasn’t the whole story.”
Minho nods, his hand running up and down Jeongin’s shin. “Right. There was a deeper truth to it, about the roles we have in society. The pressure and expectations we have based on secondary genders.”
“Ah.” Jeongin has fought against prejudice ever since he’d presented. Being a teacher was something he’d wanted to do from a young age. Now, most people he met seemed to think that he’d want to get married, have children, and stay at home to care for them. There were times when people were offended if he declined their interest in him. As if an unmated omega of his age should be desperate to start a family. In a way he was, but not so desperate as to give up the hopes of having a family with someone who would see him as an equal and respect him. There are times when he envies Seungmin the freedom of being a beta, or Chan, Minho, Changbin and Hyunjin the power provided to them simply for being alphas.
Thinking over the choreography, replaying the performance in his mind, Jeongin sees that it wasn’t the timid aspect that was empowered, but the strength of the other was also gentled. “Do you ever wish you weren’t an alpha?”
“No, but I struggle to measure up to the ideal most people have of what an alpha should be.” Minho sighs, his warm hand stills, resting on Jeongin’s calf. “I don’t always want to be in charge. I want to be gentle, kind, caring. I have no interest in being jealous, even if I can be possessive.”
“I didn’t realise it could be so difficult.”
“It’s not as hard on me as it is for you, I think.” Minho starts tapping on Jeongin’s leg, drumming to some unheard music. “I started thinking about this after we ran into Sanghee. About why it never would have worked out, and it was because I’d never fit into her mould of what an alpha should be. Much like you wouldn’t fit into Daehyun’s vision of an omega.”
“Hyung, you are gentle, and kind, and caring.” Jeongin wants to lean forward to take Minho’s hand, and comfort whatever nervous energy he might be feeling to have his fingers dancing against his leg, but the baby bump makes that action prohibitive. “Sanghee is a fool if she didn’t want that from you.”
There’s a wry twist to Minho’s lips. “Just as Daehyun was an ass for dismissing your determination and persistence. Any alpha who has ever slighted you for sharing your thoughts, who was offended because you didn’t always agree and submit, doesn’t deserve to know you.”
“Hyung.”
“No.” Minho’s eyes catch Jeongin’s with a strength that can’t be denied. There’s a growling undertone as he continues, “I saw it when we went shopping, Iyen-ah. The way you were scared. How you expected me to be angry with you because you’d disagreed with me. How you felt there should be a consequence for saying no. I don’t ever want you to feel that way again.”
The sense of shame is overwhelming. He’d never wanted Minho to see him like that. To have Minho feel like Jeongin had been afraid of him, not when Minho is his source of solace and comfort. Jeongin turns his head and closes his eyes. His hands tremble until he interlocks his fingers, nestling them over the pup. Fearing his voice might crack, his response is quiet, “I’m sorry, hyung.”
As Minho’s hand rubs Jeongin’s lower leg, it eases the pressure Jeongin feels in his chest, and he sniffs back a tear.
“Why are you apologising, baby boy?”
“You thought I was scared of you. I…I’ve never been scared of you, hyung,” Jeongin strives to explain. “I was scared of the circumstance, and I was in pain. It felt familiar. In the past, when an alpha offered to help and I said no, it’s…It’s not turned out well. I shouldn’t have expected the same from you. I know you wouldn’t, but I wasn’t…”
Minho removes his hand and Jeongin wants to cry out, his lips quickly bitten between his teeth. His omega is abandoned, lonely, and wants to rise up and pull Minho closer. Then the pine needle and tangy sap draws nearer. When Jeongin opens his eyes, Minho is kneeling on the floor by the couch, looking up at him. Minho catches his eye, then reaches out a hand, hovering over where Jeongin’s hands are tightly clenched. “You were in pain. You were tired. It was a long day, dealing with crowds and excitement. I didn’t think you were scared of me, but I knew you were scared.”
Jeongin unknits his fingers and closes the distance, encompassing Minho’s hand with his own. “I was. All of that.”
Gently resting his other hand against the back of Jeongin’s neck, Minho guides him forward until Jeongin’s nose is pressed against the side of his neck, letting the alpha’s scent flow over him. “I never want you to be scared like that again. Not of anyone, alpha or not. I want you to be free to be yourself, always.”
Jeongin nods, his nose rubbing against Minho’s scent gland. The shame flees and a wonder spreads throughout him, euphoric. Jeongin wraps his arm around Minho, pulling him closer and breathing deeply. He feels giddy as his lungs are infused with Minho’s scent. Is this what they mean by being scent drunk? “I’ll remember that, hyung. Thank you.”
“Good.” His hair is ruffled as Minho rubs his cheek against his head, and takes a long sniff. Minho’s voice is gruff. “You don’t need to thank me.”
Jeongin understands better now, nestled against Minho’s broad chest, surrounded by his care, what he’d failed to understand before. The performance was about the roles people play in society, but moreover Jeongin now believes it was Minho’s need to be seen, to be understood, that drove him to dance as he did. He sees it now.
Minho is so many things. Strong, caring, introspective and often indecipherable. He’s an enigma, a puzzle you can only solve with time and effort. He’s also gentle, generous and kind. Minho is wise enough to not only see how Jeongin struggles, but able to find ways to support him. Jeongin doesn’t know how he’s earned a place in Minho’s life, but he’ll strive to stay there, because he sees Minho, and even undeserving, he wants to remain in Minho’s life.
Minho feels almost feral when he picks Jeongin up that evening to attend Hyunjin’s art gallery exhibit opening. His tie is uncomfortably tight, and he’s glad of his scent blockers, because the sight of Jeongin opening his door wearing an asymmetrical black dress which has a swath of fabric only over his left shoulder and fit perfectly over his chest, then flows down to his calves, has his alpha drooling.
He tries looking down so he can avoid the contours of Jeongin’s sharp cheekbones and the delicate eyeliner which defines and seems to brighten his eyes. Minho can’t bear to look at Jeongin’s exposed collar bone without feeling an urge to scent and mark and claim him. But looking down doesn’t help, as there are tasteful gathers at the the side of the dress, below the bust line, allowing for extra fabric to fit comfortably over his growing waist.
Jeongin looks stunning.
Minho wants to tell him to go find a scarf or a shawl, or anything to cover his neck. A silk scarf would work well, if he can’t leave his mark upon Jeongin’s skin to proclaim to the world that he has an alpha who loves him. An alpha who is diligent, patient and precise enough to leave a mark. Perfectly placed and subtle, rather than savage. There’s a desire to tuck Jeongin away and keep him from anyone who might show interest.
As much as his alpha may want, Minho has no claim to Jeongin. Even if they were together, there’s no reason to believe that Jeongin would allow himself to be marked. It was an older tradition, along with courting collars, that had been set aside and replaced with rings and signed pieces of paper. For the first time, Minho was struck with an instinctual imperative, and he would hold himself and his alpha from taking action, no matter how necessary that action now feels.
“Hyung, just let me grab my jacket and we can go.”
Right, they actually have to be somewhere. Black tie, formal event, for Hyunjin’s opening night for his new exhibit. All Minho wants to do is step further into Jeongin’s apartment, close the door behind him, and spend the evening persuading Jeongin that not only has Minho earned the right to be his favourite hyung, but that he should be granted allowance to be more. That Minho isn’t the only one who wants to move beyond their friendship, but that Jeongin desires the same.
Minho swallows roughly. His throat feels raw. “You’re wearing the long one, right? Let me hold it while you put it on. Need to put anything in my pockets?”
Jeongin hands over the long jacket he’d pulled off the hanger in the closet. “I’ve got my clutch by the door.”
Holding up the coat, he guides the sleeves so Jeongin can put it on. He lifts the jacket to smooth it over Jeongin’s shoulders, and Minho leans in, closer than needed, just to inhale. Jeongin doesn’t even smell like himself, just clean lavender soap and that hazelnut hair product he likes. Minho waits until Jeongin stands up straight again after fixing all the buttons to step away. Setting aside the need to remove the scent blocker so he can properly scent Jeongin and extend some protection, Minho assuages his alpha with his resolve to remain by Jeongin’s side for the entire evening.
It’s a resolve he affirms when they arrive at the venue and check their coats and Jeongin’s long neck and pristine collarbones are displayed once more. When they move into the gallery, Hyunjin is waiting, a nervous smile and fingers that can’t stop smoothing the fabric of his suit. Jeongin steps forward and takes Hyunjin’s hands, and Minho watches as Hyunjin seems to settle, his spine straightening and his smile relaxes to something genuine with relief.
“Oh good, you made it.”
Jeongin laughs and gently squeezes Hyunjin’s hands, leaning in to whisper something. When he pulls back, Hyunjin is scowling, his cheeks aflame, and Jeongin’s smirking, his eyes squinted shut in amusement. If Minho had to guess, Jeongin likely said something about Jisung. Minho doesn’t need to guess why Jeongin would ask; Hyunjin is no longer an anxious mess.
Placing his hand on Jeongin’s lower back, Minho steps closer to divert the conversation. “Anyone else here yet?”
Hyunjin nods. “They’re already walking through the gallery. Feel free to join them. I’ve got to hang out here to greet people for another twenty minutes.”
“Should we head in then, hyung?”
Minho finds he and Hyunjin are talking over each other to agree, causing Jeongin to laugh
“We’ll see you inside later, Hyunjin-ah?”
“Of course. And we’re going out to celebrate after, don’t forget.”
How could Minho have forgotten? He’d had to taste test a cake Felix had made the other day in preparation for this very event. They’d both agreed that it needed a little more vanilla, and less sugar in the frosting. Otherwise, it was a perfect buttered almond cake, vanilla sponge layered with custard and a light icing with slivered almonds.
“Never! You deserve to be celebrated. I’ve really been looking forward to seeing your exhibit. You never show me anything while you’re working on it,” Jeongin reassures.
“I never show anyone what I’m working on.”
A falsehood that Minho won’t call attention to if an earlier mention of Jisung had Hyunjin scowling. Minho has been told by a preening and proud Jisung of the few times he’s been allowed to see inside Hyunjin’s studio. Jisung has regaled him with how Hyunjin would bite his lip nervously and run his fingers through his hair while waiting for Jisung’s affirmations of his talent. The two of them really need to get their shit together.
Minho doesn’t know much about art. He is unaware of the various techniques involved in the different painting styles or mediums. Colour theory isn’t something he’s ever studied. He appreciates art for the emotions it evokes or the story it tells, much like he imagines anyone who doesn’t dance appreciates one of his performances. Without knowledge of the technical aspects or the difficulties, but only seeing what catches the eye and inspires.
Jeongin experiences art through a similar lens, which has them moving through the gallery at a moderate speed. They trade comments about what impacts them, a splash of colour, the definition of contours, or the emotive expression of a piece, but it’s not an in-depth conversation. It doesn’t rival the overheard bits and pieces which reach them from Jisung and the person at his side.
“The subtle shading in this bottom corner is wonderful. It conceals or distorts the reflection of the flowers in the vase perfectly. I wonder if the artist would be willing to discuss their brush strokes.” Lifting her hand from where it was resting on Jisung’s forearm, his companion gestures to that part of the canvas. “You can see how the flowers appear to be alive in the image, where they’re limp and dying in the vase.”
“You could ask Hyunjin,” Jisung is quick to suggest, “he’d be pleased you caught that detail. I didn’t see it myself when I saw it while it was still drying. Which is why I think he added more details to the flowers themselves, the fallen petal laying on the table specifically.”
Minho tries to keep a smooth expression as Jeongin looks at him and hisses quietly, “He lied to us!”
“Hmm.”
Jeongin peers at him a moment longer. “And you already knew he’d lied.”
“I wasn’t about to bring Jisung up when Hyunjin already scowled at you for doing so.” Minho temporises, “Shall we go introduce ourselves?”
Minho hopes Jeongin remembers that Hyunjin was the one who lied as he follows the younger who stalks over to greet Jisung and his guest.
Jisung sees them coming, and the broad smile on his face seems to bleed the tension from Jeongin’s shoulders as Minho stands beside him. “Minho-hyung, Jeongin-ah, glad to see you.” Jisung turns to his date. “Minji-noona, these two are likely the last people I’ll be able to introduce you to. I doubt I’ll recognize anyone else. They’re both old school friends.”
Jeongin grins as he steps forward and inclines his head respectfully. “That’s not even a very good introduction, hyung. I’m Jeongin. Pleasure to meet you, Minji-ssi.”
Minho arches a brow and forces himself to keep his face otherwise blank. While Minji is focused on Jeongin, he mouths the word ‘noona’ at Jisung and feels rather smug when Jisung glares at him. Though he would never mention that old song Jisung made in first year which he’d sworn was amazing and forced Minho to listen to, it is still too much fun to tease him about it.
“Do you have much interest in art, Jeongin-ssi?” Minji’s voice is a pleasant alto, her tone soft and fuzzy with comfort. Minho imagines her scent would likely follow suit, something neutral, but light, an everyday scent. Perhaps milk tea or aloe vera.
“No, not really. I admire it, and I think it’s beautiful and can speak to many people, but I have no talent with it. Nothing like Hyunjin-hyung.” Jeongin’s cordial. He’s good at making small talk and being friendly with strangers. “I’m better with music.”
“You should hear him play the piano,” Jisung adds to the conversation, “especially if he decides to sing along.”
As Jeongin blushes, Minho decides to introduce himself, “I’m Minho, and also not well versed in art, unless you count Juremi.”
Jisung laughs a little louder than Minho had expected, but it’s the further darkening of Jeongin’s blush that catches Minho’s attention as Minji asks for clarification, “Jureumi?”
“It’s this wrinkle faced caricature that Minho’s been drawing for as long as we’ve known him.” Jisung smothers his laughter to answer. “It may almost be his signature.”
“How about you, Minji-ssi? You seem to know something about art,” Jeongin asks.
“I took a few art history classes as electives when I was studying. I can’t draw a straight line, but I can tell the difference between brush techniques and mediums.”
“Hyunjin can’t draw a straight line either. He says that’s what rulers are for,” Jisung’s quick to comment.
Minho can see signs of Jisung’s nervousness, the quick comments, and his laughter seems almost performative, as if he’s struggling to be social. Perhaps there’s something Minho can do to help take the edge off the evening for him. “Shall we walk through the gallery with you? We can benefit from Minji-ssi’s commentary.”
Though Minji smiles, Minho doesn’t know how genuine her expression is. “I’m not sure how much you’ll benefit, but that sounds good.”
As they tour the rest of the exhibit, Minho decides the smile was genuine, as was Minji’s concern about the value of her assessment of Hyunjin’s pieces. He can understand that it could be a daunting task to evaluate or find something to say about the work of an artist to his friends, especially when they’ve come along to the event as a date. It also likely doesn’t help Minji’s nerves to have Jisung relate Hyunjin’s intentions for the piece they’re viewing after she’s spoken, especially when neither Minho, nor Jeongin, have anything to add on that front. It’s painfully evident how close Jisung and Hyunjin are from Jisung’s comments describing the inner thoughts of the artist. Minho doesn’t envy Minji if she’d accepted this date thinking she had any chance of being with Jisung.
The section at the start of the exhibit was full of flowers, some in vases on desks, others in fields, or laying discarded on a road. The last section was more abstract, people, or parts of people, arms, legs, hands, all in various colours as they seemed to be reaching for something, or struggling in some way. Minho isn’t sure how to properly describe what he saw, but Minji had commented about the use of colour, and how there were parallel pieces between the two sections, in the hues, but also in the framing or in the staging of the focus of the piece. While Minho can see her perspective, he’s not certain if that was what Hyunjin had planned, or if he’d just been set with the same paints and hadn’t made a trip to the art store. From what Minji said, it seems intentional, and it likely was. Hyunjin’s come a long way from afternoons spent on the university lawn between buildings sketching whatever caught his eye.
They find Chan, Changbin, Yongbok and Seungmin in the large room at the end of the gallery when they’re done viewing Hyunjin’s artwork. In the post show space, staff are moving about with drinks and small appetisers. Around the room, there’s framed articles of past exhibits, and articles. On the far wall, a subtitled video is projected, showing clips of Hyunjin progressing through his artistic process, and providing details about his intentions for his art.
With Minji present, the talk is small, and the teasing they might otherwise indulge in is subdued. They stick to catching up and sharing recent stories. Changbin diverts Seungmin’s interest in riling Jisung up by trying to get Seungmin to commit to coming into their studio to record some guide tracks for their newer songs.
Jisung seems almost too eager to accompany Minho when he announces he’s heading to the bar to get Jeongin some water to drink as only alcohol seems to be making the rounds as the staff circumnavigate the room.
“So, what do you think?” Jisung’s voice is hushed as they make their way across the room.
“I’m thinking you still haven’t talked to Hyunjin.”
Jisung sighs. “You’re not wrong, but…what do you think?”
“She seems nice,” Minho admits, “how did you two meet?”
“Friend of my sister-in-law. I said I was going to an art exhibit when she and hyung had us both over for dinner, and Minji kinda invited herself along.”
“Pushy?” Minho considers revising his neutral opinion about Minji.
“It wasn’t like that. Hyung’s the pushy one. I mentioned the exhibit, Minji mentioned she enjoys art, and while we were doing the dishes, hyung pointedly suggested I invite her and I couldn’t give him a good reason why I couldn’t.”
“Hyunjin wasn’t a good reason?”
Jisung whines, stalling a few feet away from the bar. “Not one hyung would have accepted. The way he sees it, if it hasn’t happened by now, it won’t, and I should cut ties and move on. Says it’d be better for me.”
Minho likely pats Jisung’s butt and moves towards the bar, “He’s probably right. You need to either act or let it go.”
Jisung’s thoughtful frown remains until they return to the group. Minji’s talking animatedly to Seungmin, while Yongbok has shifted over beside Jeongin. Chan and Changbin seem to have done what they often do when they all meet, which is talk about work and music unless they’re otherwise engaged.
“Doesn’t he look gorgeous?” Yongbok has taken Jeongin by the hands, and is looking around the rest of the group asking for their collective agreement. “Where did you get this dress?”
“My parents were briefly in town last weekend, so Eomma took me out shopping.” Jeongin is flushed, a hint of embarrassment. As long as Minho has known him, Jeongin has always shied away from being the centre of attention. “Did you know there are high fashion maternity clothing stores?”
“You’re pregnant?” Minji’s voice contains a wealth of joy and excitement. She glances away from Jeongin and meets Minho’s eyes. “Congratulations. You must be thrilled.”
It irks Minho that Minji’s first response is to congratulate him, rather than Jeongin. His eyes are drawn to Yongbok though, in case the words or their implication inadvertently sets him off.
While Jeongin’s blush deepens, his mouth hangs open while he says nothing, as if uncertain what it is he should say. Yongbok is trying not to laugh.
To all their benefit, Chan is quick to step in and is often the case, his kindness as he explains the situation gives Minji just enough details to understand without making her feel ashamed of her incorrect perception. Minho doesn’t miss the concerned look Jeongin gives him when Minho struggles to keep his face stoic as Chan’s explanation covers both how Minho and Jeongin aren’t a couple and how Jeongin’s pup isn’t theirs.
As the conversation continues, Minho is left to stew on the thought that he’d been clueless to Jeongin’s parents having been in town, or the shopping trip. He should have questioned where Jeongin had gotten such a dress, because Minho hadn’t seen it before, but he also recognizes that where the dress came from was the last thing on his mind when he first saw Jeongin wearing it. He’s still doing his level best to not let his eyes stray where they would be unwise to settle.
Minho leans towards Jeongin when he notices him shifting weight from one foot to the other. “There’s chairs around the room, if you’d like to sit for a while. The gallery director should be making his speech soon and introducing Hyunjin. Then Hyunjin will talk for a bit before we’ll head out.”
Jeongin shakes his head. “It would be rude. No one else is sitting.”
“Hyunjin won’t think it’s rude. He’d berate the rest of us for not making you sit if your feet are sore.”
“My feet are fine.”
Minho lifts a brow and peers at him.
Jeongin pouts, looking disgruntled, which delights Minho. Jeongin being stubborn is attractively endearing. “Fine. We can sit for a while.”
Everyone moves over to the seats by the edge of the room with them, where they remain as the speeches are given. Hyunjin takes a while to settle into his speech, talking more comfortably and his posture relaxes. As the artist of the evening, he’s forced to hobnob about the room before he can make their way over to meet up with them to end the evening.
Things are awkward when Hyunjin joins them, not that anyone outside their friends would recognize just how strange the interactions are. Hyunjin doesn't repeat the error he’d made when they’d all attended the 3RACHA gig. He’s not fawning over Jisung. It’s almost the opposite, only looking at him if the polite conversation requires it. If Minji hadn’t been inundating him with questions about his art, Minho suspects Hyunjin wouldn’t have said a word to Jisung at all.
When Minho checks his watch, it’s later than he’d expected. Maybe there’s a way they can escape how strained this event has become. “Hyung, we have reservations, right?”
Chan nods. “Right, so we should probably head over.”
“Then this is where I’ll leave you to your celebrations.” Minji turns to Jisung. “Will you be able to get a ride home?”
Chan places his hand on Jisung’s shoulder. “We’ll see he gets home safely.”
“Let me walk you to your car,” Jisung offers.
“It was a pleasure to meet all of you. Hyunjin, if I end up working at the art magazine, I’ll get in touch.” Minji looks at Jisung shyly. “I really appreciate you inviting me to come. Being new to the city isn’t easy.”
“No, it isn’t,” Jisung agrees as he leads her away. “I remember my first days here after leaving Malaysia.”
Their voices trail off into the distance, and Hyunjin seems to relax, the further away Jisung becomes. Minho sighs. They’re idiots. He’s starting to think they should collectively just toss them into a room together, but they’d likely end up fucking rather than talking, which wouldn’t do anything to sort them out.
Turning to Jeongin, Minho offers him his hands to help him stand. “Let’s head over to the restaurant before we miss our reservation.”
After reclaiming their coats, their breaths frost the air as they make their way across the parking lot. Jeongin clings to Minho’s arm, while taking careful steps. With the rain earlier, and the chilly night, there’s bound to be some ice in their path. Minho pats Jeongin’s hand reassuringly. “No falling on the way to the car.”
Jeongin rolls his eyes. “You have more control over that than I do. No telling when I’ll Iyen again.”
Minho chuckles, “I’ll keep you steady, the car’s not far.”
The car warms as they drive to the restaurant and Jeongin yawns, made comfortable by the surrounding heat. “Hyung?”
“Mhmm.”
“I’m feeling pretty tired, do you think everyone would mind if you took me home?”
Shit. Neither he nor Yongbok had thought of that when they’d been planning the celebration. Maybe he can convince Jeongin to make an appearance. “Yongbok baked a cake.”
“You can go if you like, once you drop me off,” Jeongin suggests, turning his face to the window while Minho can hear him yawn again. “You can bring me back a piece.”
“He made your favourite cake.”
Minho knows he’s erred when Jeongin shifts and looks back at him suspiciously. “Why would he make my favourite cake when we’re celebrating Hyunjin’s opening?”
“Hyunjin likes that cake too.” Which is true, but it’s not Hyunjin’s favourite, and Minho already knows he didn’t sound as convincing as he’d need to in order to pass Jeongin’s litmus test for truth.
Jeongin’s eyes narrow. “We agreed not to celebrate my birthday this year. I told you all I didn’t want anything.”
At the red light, Minho looks over at him. “Will you really object to us showing how much we care for you and appreciate you?” As if it might help mitigate their transgression, Minho offers proof of the compromise they’d agreed on when planning this evening. “None of us bought you anything. No gifts. Just a cake, and warm wishes for your birthday.”
“Promise?” A glance to the side proves that Minho is correct. Jeongin is pouting.
“I promise.”
“Alright then, but not too late.”
“I’ll get you home right after the cake, baby boy,” Minho agrees. “The rest are thinking this will still be a surprise for you.”
“So you’re asking me to play along, hyung?”
“Hmm.”
Jeongin’s current yawn tapers off to a sigh. “Okay. It’ll be our secret.”
Minho likes the sound of that. A secret between them. Not because it’s a secret, but because it’s theirs.
Jeongin is looking forward to the end of the day. It’s been a long day, a longer week, and an even longer month with the preparations for the end of the school year recital. While each class he teaches has been perfecting their own performances well while in class, it’s the larger all class ensemble choir which he’d have referred to as herding cats, if he’d never met Soonie, Doongie and Dori. Young children are more difficult en masse than cats. Cats can be tempted with tuna or chicken or catnip. Children have a variety of likes and dislikes and as a group, no single thing could convince all of them to pay attention and behave.
He is exceedingly grateful that he allowed Beomgyu and Heesung to convince him to select a less challenging piece to perform as their choral ensemble. For as much as Jeongin might be one of the school’s favourite and most beloved teachers, the students were still between the ages of 8 and 12 and acted accordingly.
Jeongin is also grateful that he’s accompanying the choral ensemble by playing the piano, so he gets to sit for the longer after school practices while Beomgyu plays the guitar and Heesung is left trying to conduct and corral the choral efforts of the near 150 students from the various classes. His feet are sore from teaching alone. If he’d had to stand that much longer, he might have cried. He’d spent so much time hobbling around after his fall in December and he doesn’t want to have to rent another pair of crutches.
Both of his co-workers have grown to be good friends in the past couple years. While Jeongin hasn’t yet informed the school board that he’ll be taking a short parental leave in the spring, Beomgyu and Heesung are aware of his surrogate pregnancy, and they seem to enjoy teasing him regularly for the way in which his scent has changed over the past six months. First, with a hint of ocean and fudge, but more recently, with the mountain forest crispness that accompanies his scarf and sweaters he’s worn over the winter months. They both refer to Minho as Jeongin’s ‘favourite hyung’ as if it’s code for something more intimate, and if Jeongin protests, the teasing only seems to get worse.
It’s a comfort at the end of the day when Minho picks him up and takes him home. Even though Minho’s day must be as long as his, and likely more physically demanding, Jeongin finds himself sent off to change into more comfortable clothes before he’s manoeuvred to sit on the couch, his feet propped up on a pillow while Minho makes them both dinner.
Minho will let him help with cleaning up the dishes after dinner, but then they’re back on the couch, watching a show. Jeongin is snuggled into his corner, the soft but firm cushion of the couch supporting his back as Minho raises Jeongin’s legs into his lap and starts massaging his feet.
Jeongin is nurtured, he’s comfortable, and he knows he’s spoiled by Minho. They’re just friends, and Minho is treating him like this. It makes Jeongin wonder what Minho would do for someone he loves. It makes Jeongin wish that he could be someone Minho loves. Is that even something he’d be able to handle or accept?
Already he feels overwhelmed by how careful and caring Minho is around him. Minho is attentive. If Jeongin asks for anything, Minho does his best to provide. He’d be afraid to ask for anything if Minho actually loved him. How driven would Minho be to fulfil his every request? It’s too much to ask of anyone, that sort of perfection.
And he wouldn’t ask for it. Jeongin would never want anyone, especially not Minho, to feel compelled to suit his needs that they set everything else aside. Jeongin knows Minho turned down a dancing job in Japan to stay with him. What more would Minho be willing to sacrifice? It’s too much. Minho didn’t even talk to him about it. Just said no and stayed. Jeongin would be an overly loved plant, smothered in attention, drowning in water.
It scares him. Even if Jeongin felt that he deserved that level of affection, he doesn’t want anyone to give up what matters to them. Love should be about communication, should be something that can be trusted and relationships are best maintained through compromise, not unspoken sacrifice.
Maybe that’s why none of his past relationships have worked out well. When he tries to talk about what worked, what didn’t and what he needed, most often it was implied that his needs were at most amusing and at worst irrelevant. There were always subtle, or not so hidden, comments about how a proper omega would act in a relationship, but it was never acceptable for the alpha to be the one to adjust to his needs.
Jeongin knows why he started to acquiesce to the demands of his partners. He was getting older. No one is perfect. If he can accept just this one small thing, change just a little bit, then the relationship still works, right? He doesn’t have to keep trying to find someone he can be with if he can manage to make his current relationship work.
He has examples of healthy relationships. His parents work well together. His older brother’s marriage is harmonious. Felix and Chan make it look easy, even when they butt heads. But Jeongin doesn’t have Felix’s sunny and forgiving disposition. He’s not an easy or outgoing person. He doesn’t make friends quickly. When faced with the option to just let something go, or to modify himself a smidge, is it surprising that he’ll do so to hold on to a relationship?
“Hyung, do you think it’s possible to be unfaithful without cheating?”
Minho looks over at him and slowly blinks. It’s the way Jeongin knows he’s processing the question and if he waits, Minho will give him a thoughtful answer. “I think there’s a lot of ways someone could be unfaithful. Not all of them would involve cheating.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“Any particular reason?”
Jeongin nibbles on his lower lip. “I was thinking about the past, and how none of my relationships worked out. And I don’t think any of them were faithful to me. They never cheated, at least, not that I knew of. But they weren’t loyal to me. It was more like they enjoyed what I represented, rather than accepted me for who I actually am.”
“Then they never really saw you.” Minho’s expression turns wry. His hands which had been kneading at the bottom of Jeongin’s feet flatten and soothe the soles instead. “They should get their eyes checked.”
Jeongin’s tone goes bland, “Absolutely. If they can’t see the gangly, clumsy omega in front of them, then they really should.”
Minho grips his big toe between his thumb and index finger, giving it a stern shake. Jeongin can’t take his eyes away from the way the muscles move under Minho’s skin, the veins in stark relief. “You’re not allowed to talk about my friend this way.”
“I can talk about myself anyway I like.”
“No.”
“Hyung, even you complain about how clumsy I am.”
Minho shakes his toe again. “No. I don’t complain. I plan and anticipate. I realise you’re likely to spill or break things and I compensate.”
“I think that might be worse.” Jeongin’s bottom lip trembles as he pouts.
Minho’s brow arches. “I think that makes me better than any alpha you’ve ever dated. I see you. I don’t ask you to change for me. I accommodate.“
Jeongin’s pout morphs into a frown. “Doesn’t that mean you’re changing for me? I don’t see how that’s any better, hyung.” He’ll just ignore the implications of what Minho said. It’s not as if Minho would consider having a relationship with him, or be his alpha.
“But I haven’t changed?” Minho’s hands release Jeongin’s foot and he lays them on his calf. “Unless you think I’m not attentive or considerate.”
“You are!” Jeongin’s quick to agree, because he can see from Minho’s stoic expression that any other response would hurt him. It’s also a truth he must support. When he thinks of all the ways in which Minho has been thoughtful and compassionate, it throws into stark relief just how poorly any alpha he’s ever dated has measured up. Gifts of jewellery, flowers and candy may be expensive, but certainly aren’t expressive of any real thought given to whether or not Jeongin would like them. Typical dates of romantic movies or restaurant meals. There’s a twinge in his chest as he realises his closest friend, his favourite hyung, has done better than anyone he’s ever dated. It worsens when he thinks how unlikely that is to change. His voice is softer, but more sure when he speaks again, “You are, hyung. And you’re right, you didn’t need to change at all.”
The stoic expression flees as Minho gives him a firm closed mouth smile as his ears flare with heat. “Right.”
Jeongin nudges Minho’s thigh with his toes. “Don’t ever feel like you need to change for someone else either.”
As Minho looks away, Jeongin sees the blush spread down the back of Minho’s neck, and Jeongin feels giddy with his ability to fluster him.
“I wouldn’t think of it. How could I keep being your favourite hyung if I were to change, hmm?”
Jeongin rolls his eyes, even as he feels his cheeks redden. “Can we watch the next episode now?”
Minho just chuckles as he presses play on the remote.
When Jeongin invited Minho to attend the year end recital, Minho hadn’t been sure he’d be able to make it. With Jonggyu and Vata in Japan, the rest of the instructors had to pick up additional classes and pitch in. Given how busy that had made him with the extra course load, he’s almost glad he didn’t go as well. He wouldn’t want the rest of the team to suffer even more than they already are.
Originally, his plan was to stick with the classes he’d been assigned and sneak into the school auditorium as soon as he was able, but Redy had a family event spontaneously thrown her way and needed to switch a class. Minho would be up earlier than he’d like on a Saturday, but he’d been able to swap classes and arrive at the school on time.
He’d even managed to stop by the apartment long enough to put on a pair of trousers, paired with a button up shirt and pullover. A rushed pitstop at the local florist meant he’d arrived with flowers. Though, the bouquet was nothing as special as what Jeongin had given him. Minho had recognized many of the flowers from hikes he’d taken in the mountains, and the wildness of those flowers. He’d appreciated them more than any rose or lily, though he’d never mention that to Chan. Not that he’d have to. Minho’s certain that Chan already knows any flower given to him by Jeongin is going to mean more to him than any other flower.
He knows Chan already suspects something is going on. Or at least, that Minho’s feelings towards Jeongin have shifted. Minho knows he’s not exactly subtle when it comes to how he responds to Jeongin or how he cares for him. While he’s not known for outward displays of affection, he recognises how he’s both gentle and soft when it comes to Jeongin, and Chan isn’t blind. The way Chan looked at him during their Christmas celebration made that clear.
Minho steps through the auditorium doors just before the recital is about to start. As much as he’d like to find a chair near the stage to sit in, he’s not about to take the privilege away from any parent who has a child performing. It’ll be enough for him to be able to lean against a wall, near where the piano is set up so he can watch Jeongin play.
His expectation is that the children will perform music about as well as any of his students of the same age will dance. He’s not not wrong, though he’s left wondering which of his senses are better to have left disappointed; his eyes which will catch each misstep, or his ears which attempt to ignore every note off pitch or instrument poorly played. Regardless, he knows that if one of the students on stage was his, he’d be proudly clapping, like any other parent attending that evening.
Most of his focus remains on Jeongin, as he sits on the piano bench, his long fingers poised over the keys. Watching Jeongin play is something he’s been able to enjoy more over the last few months. It fills his heart with warmth, to see Jeongin’s hands move over the keyboard, the precision and accuracy with which they play the notes, and the expression upon his face. It is a marvel to behold someone do something they love. For as long as he’s known Jeongin, music has been a part of his life.
Perhaps this explains the way Jeongin would swing by the dance rooms on campus the last year Minho attended university. Jeongin would sit on the floor and watch Minho dance for the last half hour he had booked the room. Then they’d go and get americanos and make their way to the bus stop so they could head their separate ways home. Jeongin said the dance studios were on the way off campus, and the bus schedule would have him waiting anyway, but Minho knows Jeongin could have studied for that half hour, or found something else to do. Minho also knows he always worked that much harder for the half hour Jeongin was there than he did in the hour before he arrived.
Watching Jeongin play now isn’t exactly the same as it is when they’re in Jeongin’s apartment. The piano is further away and Minho can’t see Jeongin’s hands upon the keys. He can see Jeongin’s smile, and the way his body sways towards the piano as he plays, his arms lifting to reposition over different parts of the keyboard. The gentle lift of his hand as he swiftly turns the pages of the music score before he continues to play.
When the piece is over, Jeongin stands up from the piano, facing his students so he can smile at them. He lifts his hands, clapping in small movements, almost seal-like. Beomgyu stands near him, resting his guitar against his stool and claps as well. When he sees Minho, he steps closer to Jeongin and nudges him with his shoulder and leans down to tell him something. Minho’s not certain what was said, but Jeongin’s now looking over at him, appearing flustered. Moments later, when the auditorium lights turn on, Minho sees the pink stain across Jeongin’s sharp cheekbones.
Children make the way from the stage to find their parents. Some take the time to greet the teachers before leaving. Jeongin basks under the attention of his students, smiling widely and though Minho can’t hear him, he knows Jeongin is praising each of them by the way the children shyly return his smiles.
It’s almost an hour later when Jeongin is finally free. The auditorium is empty of parents and students. Only the teachers remain. They’re up on the stage, where Heesung and Beomgyu are stacking chairs and Jeongin is collecting all the sheet music from the stands.
Heesung takes the last stack of papers from Jeongin and then turns him about and gives him a nudge towards the stage stairs. “Go head and head out. Not like we’re going to let you help us pick up and move things anyway.”
“I can help move some chairs and stands,” Minho offers, climbing the stairs to the stage and hands off the flowers to Jeongin. “I don’t mind helping while Jeongin rests.”
Jeongin looks torn between enjoying his flowers and finding somewhere to set them down so he can still help until Heesung leads him over to the piano bench and gets him to sit down.
Meanwhile, Beomgyu had taken advantage of Minho’s offer, showing him where the chairs are stacked on rolling carts. The music stands are collapsed and placed in a cupboard off stage. Between the three of them, it doesn’t take long to take down all the equipment and they’re ready to go.
“–smells so good, Jeongin-ah, that friend of yours.” Jeongin catches Minho’s eyes over Heesung’s shoulder. He blushes as Heesung continues to talk, oblivious to Minho’s approach. “Is he still single? I mean, if you’re–” Heesung bristles and steps back with a yelp. “What was that for?”
Jeongin stands up, and Minho can see the way he glares at his friend before he lifts his face and smiles. This isn’t Jeongin’s normal smile, but the one he pulls on his face to cover discomfort. “Are we ready to go, Minho-hyung?”
There’s tension in Jeongin’s posture and colour in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Heesung turns around and sees Minho before he turns back to Jeongin, and mouths ‘Sorry’ before he walks away.
Knowing there’s nothing he can do to really help the situation other than pretending it never happened, Minho clears his throat. “I’m ready. Let’s get our coats and we can head out.”
Closing the car door behind him, Minho turns to Jeongin, already nestled into the passenger seat. “Are you hungry? Can I take you out to dinner?”
“I’m always hungry!” Jeongin says quickly, in a style familiar to them both, sounding like a protesting Changbin.They share a quiet chuckle as Minho starts the car and starts driving.
His mind is still processing Heesung’s words earlier, wondering what he might have said if Jeongin hadn’t intervened by poking or pinching his friend. Was Jeongin objecting to his friend finding Minho attractive, or was Heesung about to say something that Jeongin didn’t want him to hear?
As he’s pulling into the parking lot of Park’s Joomak Banjum, Jeongin’s sharp inhale has Minho glancing at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Jeongin states quickly, though he’s now nibbling at his bottom lip.
“You sure?” Minho pulls the car into a spot and puts it in park, but he doesn’t turn off the engine yet. “If you need to go home, or would rather eat somewhere else, we can. I just remember you enjoyed eating here.”
“I did. I do…” Jeongin’s voice trails off and he bites his lower lip again before he sighs. “I haven’t been here since Daehyun and I celebrated our anniversary.”
“Oh.” Minho reaches to put the car in reverse, prepared to head elsewhere, but Jeongin’s hand covers his, so he hesitates.
“It just surprised me. I didn’t think I’d ever come back here,” Jeongin explains with a nervous smile, “but the food is good, the servers are friendly and I think rather than never coming here again, I’d rather make better memories and enjoy being here again.”
Minho nods and moves his hand to turn off the car instead. “That sounds like a great idea. Don’t let anyone take anything from you that you enjoy, Iyen-ah.”
He doesn’t remember what they ordered. Minho doesn’t even taste any of the food, though he knows he ate it. All he can remember is the way Jeongin smiled, bravely at first, determined to set aside older disappointments. Throughout the meal, Minho ensured the best pieces landed on Jeongin’s plate. He asked questions about the performances, and the students while Jeongin shared his favourite moments and the smile grew brighter, settled in the present.
What he remembers from that night is when he dropped Jeongin off at his apartment door, Jeongin turned to him, wrapped his arms around Minho’s waist and leaned in to inhale Minho’s scent as he brushed his nose against Minho’s neck. The exhaled breath feathered across Minho’s skin as Jeongin spoke, “Thank you, hyung.”
Even with Jeongin’s head ducked as he turned to quickly enter his apartment, the flush on his cheeks and the deep imprint of his dimples could be seen as far from as far away as Gimpo.