Archive of Our Own ^beta

☼

THE SUN HAS NEARLY SET BY THE TIME HYUNJIN GETS HOME. It’s not that late in the evening, but it is late in the year, each day growing darker and colder than the previous. Autumn brings falling leaves, icy fingertips, and near-constant rain. Hyunjin’s shoes are soaked from his journey back through the city, water dripping down the nape of his neck. He wriggles out of his wet, wet coat with a grimace. He needs a new one.

Shoving his shoes off, Hyunjin hangs the coat on the back of the door of his rented room. A puddle forms underneath it, water dripping out the wool and between the gaps in the floorboards, where it would doubtless linger and mildew. Hyunjin dreams of a tiled floor. Smooth, and easy to sweep, and far kinder on his feet, now removed of wet socks, than the rough, splintery floor of his rented room. Beggars can’t be choosers, but the rotten end of the stick is that Hyunjin did choose this room. It isn’t cheap, per se, but cheaper than anything else he had found in the North side of the city, not far from the mill. Still, far enough that he gets drenched coming home from work.

Hyunjin lights one of the two oil lamps, a soft yellow light flickering across the walls. He needs to buy new matches, it’s too dark. There’s one long, thin window in the wall over his bed, to close the curtains Hyunjin has to kneel atop his blankets. The eiderdown he has belonged to Hyunjin’s dam, and it's worn so thin that the sharp ends of the feathers pierce through it. In Hyunjin’s memories it was the colour of a poppy orange, in his nest it’s something vaguely yellowish that could be the faintest suggestion of the shade. He’s tired, and wants nothing more to curl up in his bed, but it’s too early to sleep, and he needs to eat something.

Hyunjin opens the cupboard to examine tonight’s dinner offerings, as if they have miraculously changed from the day before. They have not changed. Half a cabbage, a paper bag of rye bread, a couple of shrivelled gourds. Hyunjin puts them on the table. The meagre pickings were a decision Hyunjin had decided on days ago, when he spent the best part of his grocery budget on a stagecoach to the other side of the city, and so he shouldn’t be so disappointed. Still, the rye bread is unappealing as ever. It looks at him only to make fun of his grumbling stomach.

He is saved from the difficult decision of having gourd or cabbage with his bread by a knock on the door, and a shrill voice calling for Hyunjin. The house Hyunjin lives in has four floors, and each room has a different inhabitant or family living within it. Hyunjin’s on the second floor, thankfully not at the top, he already dreads climbing the stairs in the evening. His neighbours on the floor are numerous, but almost everyone keeps to themselves. Hyunjin doesn’t have to guess who’s knocking.

Kim Jimin lives directly next door. She’s an older omega, windowed or jilted Hyunjin doesn’t know, only that she is single now, and once wasn’t. Her posture, and the disdain she speaks to Hyunjin with, and the fact she has a family name, suggest an affluent past—which she’s lost now, living in a rented room in the cramped north side of the city.

Kismet, the priests speak about. There’s a gaggle of them who hang around outside of the market hall, orating their scriptures about divine plan and punishment to every passerby. Kismet, they say, is that you reap what you sow. You get what you deserve, because your prior actions have shaped your future. Unless you’re rich, and then you can afford to reap whatever you like. Hyunjin does his best to avoid them, and has taken a trip out of his way on several occasions so he doesn’t have to walk past them. Kismet, Kim Jimin’s not rich anymore and is stuck reaping the same barren sods that Hyunjin and every other soul in this part of the city is, and yet, despite this, still looks at him with judgemental eyes.

“Kim Jimin,” Hyunjin greets, opening the door. “How can I help you?”

It’s more likely to be the other way around. Hyunjin’s not illiterate. He can write his name, and he knows his numbers, and can recognise enough words from the teasing and napping orders that the fireman shares. He’s gotten past the last twenty-four years of his life without ever being taught literacy. Still, Hyunjin’s not unaware of his lackings, no matter how much he tries to wear them as armour, and so such is the base of his relationship with Kim Jimin, who helps him read letters from Riverrun, and saves him cuttings from the newspapers sometimes. It’s a strange relationship, for all her disdain towards Hyunjin she still helps him, and he never knows quite how to discern her.

Kim Jimin’s dressed like she’s been out, although Hyunjin knows she doesn’t work, a dark robe with a smart collar, long sleeved and modest. She pushes into the room, letting Hyunjin close the door behind him.

“Are you still producing milk?”

“What?” Kim Jimin stands briskly, impatiently, like it is a normal question to ask of your neighbour, like the relationship between her and Hyunjin is familiar enough to speak about such topics. She is older than him, by a large amount, yes, but that doesn’t mean she’s impervious to tact. Or saying hello.

“Pardon,” Kim Jimin corrects before continuing. “There was an advertisement in the paper today, for a wet nurse.” She holds a piece of paper out. Hyunjin recognises the typography from the newspaper that makes its rounds between his few neighbours who are interested in it. “I don’t know how much you make at the mill, but I’m sure this is a far better wage, and for far less physical labour.”

Hyunjin studies the paper carefully. “Does it say who it’s for?”

“Just that a housekeeper’s looking for a wet nurse, for their Lord’s child. A Lord Bang, and the estate name’s there too, not that it will mean anything to you. The babe is a newborn, or must be close, they just want a cow for it to feed from.”

“I’m sorry?”

Kim Jimin wrinkles her nose. Her hair’s pulled back tightly against her skull, pinned in the kind of intricate braided crown that Hyunjin’s never been able to manage on himself. “Cow, wet nurse, all the same, no? Wherever is their dam? No matter how rich they are, they should be feeding their child, but I guess in this case it works out well for you. Most wet nurse positions turn into nursemaid opportunities, and if the omega’s still around they’ll probably be popping out many more pups for you to nurse.”

Hyunjin traces the numbers on the paper. “This is the weekly rate?” It is better than the mill, considerably, and Hyunjin misses looking after babies like he misses a limb. The implication that he will be working as a glorified cow smarts a little, but a spade is a spade and it’s a good wage. Being in an omega in the city means having a thick skin, and Hyunjin has been living here since birth. Sometimes, he struggles to ignore a hurt but he would never let Kim Jimin know that. “And it’s suitable for my status? For an unmated omega to wet nurse?”

He knows what those Lord types are like. The priests eat out of their hands. Hyunjin and his perilous social status, or lack of it, is worried they wouldn’t think him good enough to look after their children, even as a glorified cow.

“I think they prefer it, really.” Kim Jimin takes the paper back from him to reread it. “Yes. It’s a position for a single wet nurse, not a wet nurse and family. They offer housing and meals compensated, as well as the wage, and in return you just look after the baby and keep it fed. People will think of you less of a slut, you know, a wet nurse is respectable enough.”

People means Kim Jimin. Means the alpha priests who talk about kismet, and his coworkers who can smell the milky dam scent still Hyunjin carries, and the other neighbours he rarely speaks to, but who haven’t forgotten the months of pup cries that had come from his room. Hyunjin knows what Jimin’s saying—not that Hyunjin is deserving of respect, but that being under a lord’s employment is the most respectful job that an omega who had a pup out of matelock can have, opposed to living on his own as a slut, never able to lose his reputation, never able to move past his past.

“I’ll think about it,” Hyunjin says. “The interview date is the twelfth?”

“You should take it,” Kim Jimin says sternly. Her scent swells, astringent. “You’ll never earn enough to move out of this place staying here.”

“Thank you Jimin,” Hyunjin steps back. Swallows at her crossed arms, her sallow face, how thankful he is that she pities him, and how resentful he is for that pity. “I’ll think about it.”

“You won’t be beautiful forever. You’re pretty now, but give it a few more years and no alpha will spare you a second glance, and then you’ll be well and truly stuck here. All that alpha attention you covert, they only give it to you when you’re young enough for those bastards to imagine you as their mate. No alphas buying you lunch or giving you gifts from the goodness of their own hearts. Being unmated is going to stop serving you very soon, Hyunjin, and you’re going to be stuck in this slump without any chance of getting out.”

“What makes you think I don’t know what alphas want from me, Kim Jimin? And what makes you think that I need one to get out of this place?” Hyunjin’s taller than Jimin, he’s taller than a lot of other omegas, but she makes him feel so small. Like a child, unable to understand that the alpha across the road doesn’t actually want to be friends with him. “You are in this place, the same as me. What good has your advice done you?”

“Well, you know you’re fertile,” Jimin rolls her eyes. “You don't need an alpha, you need money. Rarely in this life can any omega have one without the other. Take the job, get away from here. This is a second chance, you can reinvent yourself and make yourself respectful and proper, and when you mate you can have the assurance your alpha won’t throw you away from being unable to pop out his whelps.”

Hyunjin’s hands are trembling, miniature storms clenched in his fists. Kim Jimin doesn’t give him a chance to reply, just puts the advert done and walks out the room. The sound of the door clicking shut knocks something inside of Hyunjin, and he pushes his dinner off the table with a bang. The gourd rolls across the floor, lazily, unaware of Hyunjin’s anger. Watching it does nothing to calm the thunder inside him. Hyunjin’s sick of struggling, sick of working himself to the bone for nothing, and he’s sick of Kim Jimin, and her pity, and how much truth was held in every word she said.

Hyunjin takes the interview. Tucking his tail between his legs, he knocks on Kim Jimin’s door the next morning, apologising for his words from spoken anger, and asking if she can help him reply to the advertisement. The messenger is costly, taking the last of Hyunjin’s grocery budget and the money he was hoping to use for matches, but hopefully the cost will end up paying itself off. Hyunjin is expected to also provide a letter of recommendation, and it would be sensible to ask the foremaster at the mill, Hyunjin doesn’t dare, in case he doesn’t get the job at all. Dowon is an alpha much older than Hyunjin, and he wouldn’t say no, but he would be unimpressed that Hyunjin is looking for work elsewhere, and Hyunjin relies on staying in his good graces. Instead, it’s easier to ask for Hyunjin to ask his landlord—an older alpha who stares at Hyunjin blankly but signs a few sentences about how Hyunjin’s considerate and polite, and never late to pay his rent.

The days pass, and suddenly it’s the twelfth, and Hyunjin’s stood in front of an unfamiliar omega on the other side of the city.

“Hyunjin,” he introduces himself, bowing. He gives the omega a careful smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” the omega replies, marking something off a piece of paper. He does not offer his own name, and neither does he make any motion for Hyunjin to sit down. Hyunjin feels ungainly, standing in the middle of the inn with everyone else in the room sitting, and takes the chair opposite the omega anyway. The omega looks up at this, and Hyunjin squeezes out another smile, and pushes his letter of recommendation across the table. Hyunjin dressed himself in his smartest clothes—a deep brown overrobe, modest in its length and hopefully long enough to hide that he doesn’t have any similarly coloured underskirts to match. His hair is in a single braid and the ribbon around his neck is white, unobtrusive. Hyunjin keeps his overcoat on too, which smells a little damp, but hopefully not enough for the omega to notice. Hyunjin’s worried that even his smartest robe might not be that smart—he had it long before his pregnancy, and his breasts have not shrunk back to the size they were before, so the buttons on his bodice have to stretch to meet just a little too much. Better to smell vaguely of damp, than appear uncouth.

“My letter of recommendation,” Hyunjin offers, explaining the paper. He cannot read it fully, but Kim Jimin did and said it was suitable. Hyunjin is sure his landlord did not recognise Hyunjin as her tenant and just wrote the note to shut him out.

“Lovely,” the omega says, unfolding and scanning it. He nods, an elegant gesture of his neck. Hyunjin crosses his fingers under the table. “So. Hyunjin, tell me about yourself. Why do you think you’d be suitable for this role?”

Hyunjin’s never had to interview for a job before. His dam and sire had both worked as cottage weavers, and pre-presentation Hyunjin had taken their work to and from the mill for them. The then foremaster had recognised Hyunjin and offered him a job working the tucking mill, and then from that mill it was easy to transfer to another mill house, and so forth. Hyunjin has never had to sell his appeal, not in any occasions like this where showing his breasts would have an adverse outcome. He doesn’t know what traits or accomplishments this omega is looking for, but he can only think what he would want to look for, if he was interviewing a potential omega to look after his pup.

“I am twenty-four years old, which I know might sound a little old for a wet nurse, but I promise it means I am mature and trustworthy in the way that sometimes younger omegas can not be. I have a lot of experience looking after babies, and I have suckled before, uh, obviously. I’m confident with pups, and will be able to do whatever I’m asked for in the job. I saw your advertisement in the paper, and it just felt like it was written for me.”

“Firstly,” the omega says. “Twenty four years old is not too old for a wet nurse. Maybe an alpha would think that, but an alpha hardly knows anything about child rearing, no? When you say you’ve had experience nursing, I take it that means you’ve had your own pups?”

“I–one.” Hyunjin says. Grips his fingers a little tighter. “I have had one pup. I fed them until just shy of nineteen months.

“You don’t have the child now?”

Hyunjin wonders if he pales visibly. It feels like he should have, the frost that shoots through his heart is so painful that it bleaches all the warmth out of him, surely it must show on his face. Hyunjin knows he should explain. Hyunjin should say that giving his baby up was barely a choice, that he was unable to work with him, to afford food for him, at risk of losing their housing. The omega sat opposite from Hyunjin is painstakingly put together. There is no way his coat smells of damp. It’s dyed a midnight blue, matching his skirts, his clothing well-made and expensive. His face is well-fed. Hyunjin doesn’t know who this omega is, whether they’re the dam of the child he is to nurse or not, just that this is an omega who Hyunjin shares no life experiences with. “No.”

He doesn’t elaborate. He should, Hyunjin knows his omission makes it sound like Seyoon is dead. His lips are frozen though, and the omega just nods again, and takes Hyunjin’s shortness for what it is. “So you’re still producing milk? Naturally, no stimulants?”

“No stimulants,” Hyunjin shakes his head, hitting himself in the cheek with his braid. “It’s been, uh, it’s been a few months since I’ve fed any babies. But I’m still producing, and my milk will come back fully when I’m around the pup.”

The omega nods, making another mark on his piece of paper. Hyunjin can’t even begin to read it upside down. He wonders what the criteria he’s been assessed against is. Kim Jimin said the role was for a sole wet nurse, not a wet nurse and family, so Hyunjin hopes his apparent childlessness is a winning criteria.

“This job is for a wet nurse, but if it’s a good match between you and the pup, and working in the Bang estate, you will continue to progress as a nursemaid,” he says. “Are you aware of this?”

Hyunjin nods.

“So, as a nursemaid, would you raise your hand to the pup? If they were not listening to you, or you felt them deserving of physical discipline?”

Some people, alphas especially, believe in ruling with fists. Iron breeds iron is a phrase Hyunjin has heard enough, both when he was a pup himself and then older, expecting Seyoon and surrounded by far too many people thinking he cared about their unsolicited advice. It’s an old wives tale, that sparing the rod spoils the child. Hyunjin was never beaten and he regards his upbringing as far from spoilt. The child of a lord would be spoilt regardless, the rod would only bring them fear and pain that a child should never have to feel. “No. Never. If that’s what you’re looking for in a wet nurse, or a nursemaid, sorry, then I think I’m not right for your job after all.”

“And say, if the child’s sire wanted you to cane them?”

Hyunjin does not know what answer the omega is looking for but the words “they are a coward, then,” are out of his mouth before he can stop them. Not a good show to insult his potential future employee. But maybe that’s for the best. Hyunjin does not want to work for an alpha who is cruel enough to cane their child, crueller still to get somebody else to do it for them. “They’re a coward, and I won’t work for them.”

Readying himself to stand up, Hyunjin is half out of his chair when the omega speaks. “My name is Minho. I would like to offer you the position as Minseo’s wet nurse and nursemaid.”

Hyunjin narrows his eyes. “Am I expected to give physical discipline?”

“Never,” Minho shakes his head. “There will be nothing of the sort, not from anyone in the household.”

Hyunjin sits back down. “The pup’s sire too?”

“Their sire was the one who made sure I asked about your opinions of it,” Minho explains. “Although I would have regardless. She’s seven weeks old, she does not need discipline, and even as she grows older, neither me nor her sire would ever allow anybody to raise a hand, or a cane, or punish her in any similar sense.”

“Is she your pup?” Hyunjin asks, after a second. Minho’s leaning forwards in his chair a little, more animated than he has been for the entirety of the interview. He doesn’t carry a newborn scent that Hyunjin would expect the pup’s dam to have but there is a hint of something sickly soft from him.

Minho shakes his head once more. “Not mine. I am head of the housekeeping for the Bang estate, and more significantly a friend of Lord Bang’s. His pup is my godchild.”

The family name Bang means nothing to Hyunjin. It might do, if he was interested in the gossip of the upper echelons. He considers this. “And you want me to have the job?”

Minho smiles, and his entire face softens. The sternness in his eyes is no longer rude, but protectiveness, the twist of his lips not scornful but thoughtful. “You seem honest and true, and I consider myself a good judge of character. I like that you called Chan a coward. That kind of protectiveness, that’s the type of omega we want to look after Minseollie.”

Minseo. Minseollie. Seven weeks old. Hyunjin’s instincts pang. He bows his head. “Thank you, I am honoured, thank you.”

Honour is not quite the correct word. This job is a means of getting out of the city. Boarding and his meals included, that means Hyunjin has but a handful of expenses. He’s not interested in rich alphas, and lords of estates, he doesn’t think being a glorified cow is any sort of honour, not really. Hyunjin does care about the number on his wage slip, though. He cares that maybe, maybe, if he’s careful with his money, he’ll be able to afford to take Seyoon back, that they can start a new life together where Hyunjin can look after him properly, away from his mouldy room in the city and Riverrun, and priests and all judgemental faces. It’s outrageously optimistic, and Hyunjin must be careful to not think about it too much for fear of losing himself to melancholy again.

“It will be probationary at first,” Minho continues. “But only to ensure that you are the best match for Minseo. You’ll have your own room, and there will be an advance payment on your wage, if necessary, for any clothing the job requires.” Hyunjin very deliberately ignores Minho’s eyes. He had noticed the coat then. “As per the advertisement, meals are free, and anything you want to do with or for the pup will be taken out of the household budget, not yours. I will be your main point of contact, not Lord Chan, although of course you are expected to obey both of us.” It sounds too good to be true. Hyunjin bows his head again. Not honoured, but thankful. Too thankful to grasp the truth of the situation really, how suddenly everything will begin to change. “When do you think you’ll be able to start?”

“I have to pack,” Hyunjin says, suddenly. He thought it would be a bust, that he’d go back home and then have to do overtime at the mill to make up for the day he took off for the interview, and the stagecoach to and from it. The idea of getting the job was only that; an idea, something abstract, the true logistics of it unformed in Hyunjin’s head. “I have to pack, and cancel my tenancy, and hand my notice in. Collect my final pay cheque. A few days, though? As soon as possible.”

“We’ll send a carriage for you,” Minho stands up in a swoop of coat and shawl, white fabric pouring over his shoulders. Hyunjin can’t see his neck underneath the scarf he’s wearing, but he’s certain Minho must be mated. Every inch of him screamed proper, grand, the ideal that omegas such as Hyunjin are told to strive towards. “Leave your address, and I’ll see you in four days.”

Every time Hyunjin has to say goodbye to Seyoon he loses a little more of himself. He is Hyunjin’s greatest pride and biggest failure, and the sound of his tears haunt Hyunjin’s dreams every night. Riverrun is on the very outskirts of the city, east, half a day’s stagecoach from their room in the northern district. The first time Hyunjin said goodbye to Seyoon, just over four months ago now, he spent half a week in his nest recovering, instincts catatonic with melancholy and the shattering pain of loss. Seyoon did not understand why Hyunjin was leaving him and sobbed when Hyunjin said goodbye. He didn’t scream or howl like pups are want to do; just sobbed, tiny quiet tears pouring down his face, arms outstretched for the dam who had failed him. Seyoon is too little to understand why Hyunjin can’t look after him, but old enough to get upset every time Hyunjin has to leave. Hyunjin’s visited his pup a few times since that initial goodbye. It does not get easier, but the knowledge that Seyoon is safe, the reassurance that he’s well-fed and warm, and has other children to play with, and the omega priests who run Riverrun are kind to him, that is good.

It’s Hyunjin who is the coward. Yeolla county is the furthest from the city that Hyunjin has ever been. That makes it the furthest from Seyoon. Even with them both living in the city, Hyunjin can rarely afford to make the journey to visit his baby. The choice is always there, though. If Hyunjin wants to forgo his grocery budget for the week and take an unsanctioned day off work, he can take two different horse coaches to the mouth of the river where the children’s home is. It won’t be possible anymore, not from the Bang estate. There’s no direct stagecoaches, it would take hours around the way, and there was no way Hyunjin could make it there and back in a day. In the mill an unsanctioned day off would mean he lost his wages, but not his job. The foreman, Dowon, was sweet on Hyunjin, helped by how Hyunjin would wear his hair up to show off the smooth, unclaimed flesh of his neck, or lean against Dowon’s desk to press his breasts together. Hyunjin doubts those tricks will work on Minho.

So, not knowing when he will see Seyoon again, Hyunjin knows he should go and visit. Hyunjin is too big of a coward to do so. He does not want to look at his pup who is growing up without Hyunjin, who recognises Hyunjin less and less the more time they spend apart, and say goodbye for what could be the last time. He doesn’t want to think about that scenario at all.

The morning after the interview Hyunjin hands his notice to the mill,

much to Dowon’s disappointment. He pleads for Hyunjin to stay, offering something like a love confession. Hyunjin points out that he’s seen Dowon eyeing up the new omega who works in the dye house. Then, Hyunjin packs away his room. Clothing, a ragged sketchbook, one of his two pairs of shoes. There’s a children’s storybook he tucks between two skirts, a beautiful, gilded thing that Hyunjin had taken home after seeing a child forget it on a stagecoach. Half the words are too complicated for Hyunjin, but Seyoon will learn to read at Riverrun one day. The book is a silly promise of sorts, that Hyunjin will be able to give it to him. The rest of the packing is easy, the meagre few blankets that make up his nest, his oil lamps. Hyunjin eats the rest of his gourds, and gives his pots and pans to the young family on the floor beneath him. Something dangerously close to hope begins to bubble up inside of Hyunjin. The more he packs and tidies, transforming the room he’s lived in for so long unfamiliar and bare, the more an invisible weight rises off his chest. Hope is dangerous for omegas like Hyunjin, undeserved. He nurtures that hope nonetheless.

☼

CHAN IS WOKEN BY THE SUN. A warmth unfamiliar for the autumn through his bedroom window, the thick velvet curtains never shut the night before. A glance outside shows that it is morning, still, early. There’s a pocket watch on Chan’s desk but he can’t quite bring himself out of bed to get up and read it. Instead, he stretches, buries his hands underneath his pillow, tries to make the most of the silence around him.

It doesn’t last long. A knock on the door, and Minho pours in, a grizzly Minseo in his arms. “Chan! Please will you take your child before my head explodes? I need to finish organising the room for Hyunjin’s arrival today and our darling little Minseo just doesn't understand that some people can’t concentrate with baby wolves wailing in their ears.”

Chan does not so much take his pup as she is thrust upon him. “Hi Minseollie,” he tries. She screams, mouth open wide enough for Chan to see her tonsils. Sighing, Chan lies her done on the bed so he can stand up to change out of his nightclothes.

Minho doesn’t blink at Chan undressing in front of him—it’s been a regular occurrence these last few weeks, both of them swept off their feet by the furious fire of Minseo and her inability to be calm for more than five minutes at a time. Chan had been told that sirehood was hard, but he should have taken the warnings with more sincerity.

“The wet nurse?” He checks, pulling his breeches up. “Hyunjin?”

“Hyunjin. He’s without any airs or graces, sweet. I think he’ll be an excellent fit. Tall for an omega, too.”

“You know I trust your judgement,” Chan yawns, bucking up his final button. He looks at himself in the mirror over his dresser. A worn, ramshackled alpha looks back. The bags under his eyes could hold all of Minseo’s belongings, his skin is rather sallow and he could do with a shave. “Moon, I look a state. What time is he coming?”

“Jisung’s already left with the carriage, an hour or two ago now. I think they’ll be here just after lunch.”

Minseo howls particularly loudly at that, like she disagrees with guests after lunch. Privately Chan agrees with the sentiment. “Can I do anything to help?”

“Feed Minseo,” Minho says grimly. “Seyoung was here this morning, but had to go back to the village, and I just told her not to bother coming back. Providing that Minseo likes Hyunjin. Anyways, for now she’s eaten some but will probably be hungry in a bit. Seyoung left milk in the kitchen, and the bottles are in the usual place.”

Chan closes his eyes, to ask an invisible deity for strength. He’s not religious, much to the disdain of his parents, but he’ll believe in anything if it helps him feed Minseo. She liked Seyoung well enough, but Seyoung had her own family and pups to feed in the village, and was too busy with her own life to stay on as Minseo’s wet nurse. Minho had bought up the idea of hiring someone specifically, as both a wet nurse and a nursemaid, and Chan had agreed, of course, but between funeral plans, contacting two families about the death of his mate, and dealing with a tiny newborn who did nothing but howl, it was hard to find the time to organise the search for one.

Even if Minseo screams all day and does not sleep and takes no bottles from Chan, the thought of entrusting his tiny newborn to a stranger is unsettling. If there is one thing that Chan trusts more than his own instincts, however, it’s Minho’s. Chan doesn’t know where he would be without Minho. Struggling, more than he is now, that is for certain. It would be best for everybody involved, for Minseo to have a wet nurse, allowing Minho to be released from the nursemaid position he’s been playing at on top of his usual duties, for Chan to then finally tackle to mountain of unopened letters and accounts that have been piling up in his study and for both of them to finally be able to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time.

Minseo, wriggling on the bed, kept Chan up till the early hours of the morning. He and Minho had been trading sleep shifts for the last seven weeks, taking turns to soothe her every time she woke up screaming. Chan does not understand how a tiny pup can make so much noise let alone refuse to sleep for so long. Like a cat, Minseo naps in five minute increments. Before her, Chan had thought he’d known insomnia, and nights of restless sleep, the overwhelming cycle of regurgitating thoughts and pressures forcing him awake when he lay in bed. Before her Chan had been a fool.

“Will you sleep for the wet nurse?” Chan asks the terror in question, scooping her up from his blankets. “You better. I don’t even care if you don’t, as long as you don’t wake me up.”

She blinks at him. Chan sighs, lifting her up higher so he can scent her head. At seven weeks old Minseo doesn’t have much of her own scent, pups instead smelling like an amalgamation of the people around them. She does smell soft and milky, the way that all babies smell, and on top of that there’s layers of other people—Minho’s scent, briny and a little sharp, Chan’s own smokey richness, and the fading notes of something sweet and floral. Minseo smelt a lot more like her dam in her first week or two, but all traces of Minkyung are slowly disappearing. It’s why she’s been so inconsolable, the doctor told him, having no dam scent to soothe her. The bond between pup and dam is nigh miraculous, pups born depending on their dams for everything, and for all of Chan’s efforts, he fears he has done more harm than good in trying to replace it.

Chan puts Minseo down again, so he can shave himself in the mirror. Kyuri, his betamaid, brings him a basin of hot water. Minseo bursts into tears again, upset that Chan cannot manage shaving his face and holding her at the same time. Chan closes his eyes and counts to ten, and pretends he cannot hear Minseo.

The shave helps him look a little more together, Chan hopes. Rinsing his razor off and tapping it against the side of the basin, Chan then picks Minseo up. The two of them venture to the kitchens and Chan hopes that today will be the day she accepts her bottle from him.

The afternoon finds Chan outside, waiting on the drive. He should be holding Minseo, except she had continued to scream and howl and refuse to feed for the remainder of the morning, and he did not think he could hold her without bursting into tears himself. Minho had also pointed out that it would not give a very good message if Hyunjin arrived and Lord Bang’s own pup was screaming her head off at him.

So Minho is holding Minseo. She’s grumbling still, but finally took a little of her bottle from Minho, and has since stopped scrying like she had been all morning. Minho’s own face is worn, cheeks painted hollow by sleeplessness, and he’s holding Minseo gingerly, like she’s primed to combust. Chan cannot wait for the wet nurse to arrive. He loves Minseo—his firstborn child, his only child—he loves her and wants nothing more to protect her, to hold her and see her well and safe. He has been failing on all accounts. Chan longs for the ability to be able to hand her back, as if she was his sibling’s pup and Chan was just visiting, and got to hold her for a few hours before she started screaming, and Chan would hand her back to her parents and go home in peace. No, Chan is Minseo’s parent and their house is filled with screams, howls and headaches. No peace.

Minho, watching the open road, is tapping his foot. Perhaps they were too eager, waiting outside when they didn’t know exactly when the carriage would be coming, except Minho had some sort of sixth sense for Jisung, and had sat up straight after lunch and declared that they would be here within the half hour.

Despite Minho’s vows that he will never have children of his own, inside of him his nature is so soft and nurturing. Minho keeps it close to his chest, pretending otherwise, but Chan’s known him since before he became Lord Bang, when they were just post-presentation, two almost-children, running around pretending to be adults. Seven years is not that long, but can be a lifetime when Chan compares it to the seven week old pup in Minho’s arms.

The sound of hooves fills the air and Chan, sleepless, and Minho, slightly better rested, and Minseo, the most well-slept of the three of them, watch the carriage pull into the front of the house. Jisung’s driving with ease, leading his twin horses around the driveway. He raises a hand to wave. Minho waves back, and Minseo grumbles as she’s jostled.

“Hush, brat.” Minho sighs but his tone is nothing but affectionate as he shifts Minseo up on his hip. “We’re going to meet your new best friend, and you better be nice to him.”

“Well met,” Jisung calls out to them as he draws the horses to a stop. Both are black, white stars on their muzzles. Jisung likes to tease Chan that he's incapable of owning any animal or thing that is any colour other than black. He jumps down, stretching his arms above his head before walking around to knock on the carriage door. “We’re here, Hyunjin.”

Jisung opens the door, holding his hand out to help the omega climb down, and Chan feels his breath slip away. Minho was right, the omega is tall, but he hadn’t mentioned how pretty Hyunjin is. Lithe, and dark eyed and sharp cheeked, dressed in a long brown coat, he looks like he would be found in a romantic lithograph poster for an opera show. His deep brown hair tumbles around his shoulders unbound. He’s wearing travelling clothes presumably, with how faded they are, and his face looks drawn and tired, but he’s still the most beautiful omega Chan has ever seen.

Jisung climbs back in the carriage, taking out several battered trunks that hold everything Hyunjin has bought with him from the city. Chan, unsure of his demeanour and words at the best of times, has lost all ability to use his voice.

“Well met, Hyunjin.” Minho says, thankfully. He glances at Chan, something pointed on his face. “It is good to see you again.”

Hyunjin bows his head. “You too, Minho.

“Yes, I’m glad to meet you,” Chan tries for a smile, and steadily ignores how the pinkish red ribbon around Hyunjin’s neck is exactly the same colour as his lips. Chan should not be looking at his neck, nor his lips, no matter how part and perfectly shaped they are. Chan is Hyunjin’s employer, for Moon’s sake. He should not notice these things about him. He swallows, carefully looking at the spot above Hyunjin’s eyebrow. “I hope your journey was a pleasant one, Hyunjin. My name is Chan Bang, the lord of this estate.”

“It is an honour,” Hyunjin says softly, bowing his head. “The journey was fine, thank you very much. This is your child?” He looks at Minseo, bundled in Minho’s arms and finally, finally not grizzling. Instead she’s staring at up Hyunjin with her big, bronze eyes.

“Minseo,” Chan introduces, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. “Yes. A baby alpha.”

Hyunjin bows his head again, a loose curl falling across his cheek. “You and your mate are blessed, Lord.”

“Chan, please.” Chan corrects automatically, because none of his staff call him Lord, he insists on it, deems it is embarrassing to be the only one who doesn’t use their first name in the household. Chan pauses, and wonders if it’s inappropriate to tell Hyunjin to call him Chan when they are strangers to each other, and Chan was just looking at his neck, and Hyunjin may think he’s being too familiar as they have only just met. “My mate is not with us anymore, I am afraid.”

Hyunjin ducks his head for the third time. Overly apologetic, hesitant in every word. “I am so sorry for your loss, Lord. Chan. Forgive my presumption.”

Chan notices, as much as he’s trying to avoid Hyunjin’s eyes, Hyunjin is avoiding his. He’s scared of him. Chan can’t smell Hyunjin, unsure if he is wearing the customary scent blocking paste that is preferred for public spaces, or he is just shy, on edge.

“You were not to know.” Chan reassures, waving his hands like the words are in the air between them, and by moving his hands through it he could banish them. His damsire used to criticise this habit of Chan’s as childish but for all his schooling, he has never managed to shake it. “Please don’t apologise, Minho should have let you know. Regardless, yes I am blessed to have Minseo, and we are both blessed to have you joining us, to look after her.” Chan hopes Hyunjin finds his words proper and not childish, but hopefully comforting and genuine still. Not too familiar either but professional, a clear boundary between them.

Hyunjin, thankfully, replies not to Chan, who dreads to know what will come out of his mouth next, and instead turns slightly and lifts his arms towards Minho. “May I?”

Minho hands Minseo over, and Chan holds his breath as Hyunjin readjusts his position, cradling the baby against his chest. Minseo yawns, gums flashing, and miraculously, does not cry.

Hyunjin looks down at Chan’s pup with soft, gentle eyes. He runs a long, graceful finger down the bridge of her nose. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispers. “Hello Minseo.”

Something in Chan’s heart warms. An early spring breeze pushing through icy leaves, melting autumn frost anew. Chan’s instincts which have been churning anxiety around his stomach all morning, settle. Hyunjin’s closer now, the proximity allowing Chan to pick up his scent. Hyunjin smells mellow, sweet, something milky and dam-like that Minseo can clearly recognise with how quickly she settles in his arms. Still, Chan’s heart burns as he watches his pup choose a stranger over himself, a bewitchingly beautiful stranger at that, and he leaves before he can make a fool of himself.

Chan had excused himself saying that he had work to do. The excuse of having work to do was not really an excuse. The Bang Estate does not run itself, and Chan has abandoned many of his duties in the last two months following the birth of his pup and the death of his mate.

Chan had never loved Minkyung, not in the way that theatre and novels liked to portray love. Their relationship had been more of a business deal than a choice, arranged by their respective families years before when they were both still children, and carried out years later when Chan reached his twenty fifth. Remarkably late, in the eyes of society and according to the friends of Chan’s dam who liked to talk disparagingly about him when they thought he couldn’t hear. Minkyung was three years younger than him, though and besides, Chan had been busy in the years after his presentation travelling, accompanying his sire across trading routes around the country. Chan’s parents had not been in any particular hurry for Chan to mate—aware that would mean a less accomplished heir, for he wouldn’t be able to dedicate so much of his time to working once he had a mate and pups, and Minkyung’s family had been well aware that the more Chan made himself valuable to his grandsire’s trading company, the more wealth they would get when Chan claimed their child. Minkyung, prickly and quiet, was not upset that she had to wait for their mating either. She had been fiercely independent, and had her own list of priorities and interests that did not include Chan at all. Still, he had never wished her unwell. Her death had been a shock, mere hours after Minseo’s birth, and Chan had lost all and ability that he might have had in separating Minseo from the thick tangle of grief. Minseo can feel it on him too, Chan is certain, feeling how Chan looked at her and saw Minkyung, and every inch of pain he felt over her death, even if she is too little to understand what that feeling means.

If Chan had continued with his merchant duties, insisting on travelling for years longer, or maybe if he’d never travelled at all, and he had mated much younger, would things have been different? Chan had grown up knowing childbirth was a risk, but as an alpha, and a young, child-less one at that, that knowledge existed on the brink of his peripheral, something that he had heard of happening from distant discussions, but never something concrete, something rooted in the world around him. Minkyung, an omega, was doubtless taught from childhood that childbirth could be the end, but she’d been healthy and hale, and if she had fears about the ordeal, she had never shared them with Chan. She had not shared much with Chan. She wore pregnancy like she did her second favourite riding boots, when her best needed to be resoled, slightly exasperated, mildly inconvenienced, a could take it or leave it attitude. It was bitter to know that Minkyung had never been that interested in having children, and that it was having a child that took her life. Simultaneously, Chan worries that he does not feel enough grief at all. Their relationship had barely been a relationship, his bite had never taken on her neck, Chan did not know Minkyung enough to mourn her as she deserved, and, a rotten, ill part of himself did not care about her death as much as he knew he should.

It was a terrible thing for the Choi family to lose their child, and for Minseo to grow up without her dam, and for Minkyung herself, with so much life ahead of her. Chan was not bed stricken, though. Chan was not drowning in grief for the loss of his mate, not in the way that he was told that losing a mate would be. Chan could hardly be that upset, for he laid eyes on Hyunjin that morning, and thought if love at first sight was truly real, then this was it. What a cruel, dreadful thing, to be entranced by an omega, and at no fault of the omega himself, when you are supposed to be grieving your dead mate.

Minho, unfailingly pragmatic, is pragmatic about the matter. “You barely knew her. You were together for ten months, and met maybe twice before that when you were children. How long can you mourn a stranger for?”

“But she shouldn’t have been a stranger,” Chan frets. They’re in his study, the business matters he should be attending to having long fallen to the wayside, instead turning to Chan, Minho, Jisung and a bottle of honey wine. The wine is making the turmoil inside Chan’s chest bubble outwards and speak in anxious, heavy words. “She was my mate.”

“She didn’t talk to you,” Minho looks up from his glass. “She didn’t want to talk to you. I get it, you’re the alpha, and she had very little choice in mating you, but you gave her the choice to ignore you, and she took it.”

“Minho,” Jisung interrupts, nudging Minho with his knee, and simultaneously putting his hand on Chan’s shoulder. The younger alpha smells unfailingly fresh, something like wind and rainwater, a scent traditionally unalpha-like in a way that attracts a hoard of admirers that every traditional alpha wishes they had. Chan had been one of them when he had first met Jisung and admired the breadth of his shoulders, and the shape of his lips. They’ve known each other for too long, any attraction turned to friendship by familiarity but the thought had been there, and sometimes Chan worried that Minkyung had known and had wanted nothing to do with him because of it. ”Calm down. They both ignored each other, and they were both happy with that, no? Chan, Minkyung agreed with you on the parameters of your relationship before you mated.”

“She did,” Chan acknowledges. It had been important to him, and undoubtedly to Minkyung as well, to meet in the first week of their courting, and lay all duties on the table. A heir—Chan wasn’t picky about their child’s sex, although he knew his parents would be—and for public respect for each other in their mateship, and for the ability for both to live their own lives outside of it. Horrifyingly modern, his sire had critiqued with a roll of her eyes, once when asking privately why Minkyung rarely attended family dinners with Chan’s relatives.

“Well then,” Jisung shrugs, as if there is nothing more to say. “Obviously you can mourn her. You don’t need to have been in love with her to feel bad that she died Chan, or that Minseollie will have no dam, but you don’t need to feel grief over the fact that you think you’re not grieving enough. Chan, that’s not a thing.”

“She spoke to you for about five minutes once a week,” Minho interjects, stubbornly. “And that wasn’t because you didn’t try to speak to her.”

“We are not speaking ill of her,” Jisung, nudging Minho again. The two of them are sat on separate armchairs, but might as well be on one, Minho’s legs thrown over Jisung’s lap since they first sat down together. “But he has a point. You were strangers. Your bite didn’t even scar on her.”

It hadn’t. Rarely did the initial mating bite scar. Most mates would have to bite each other two or three times over, regularly over the first few months, disrupting the healing mark to ensure the bite scarred. It was common, too, for a claiming mark to be torn anew during a heat or rut, even years after the initial mating. Chan and Minyung had slept together once, their mating consummation, and their dual marks had both healed like they were never there. It would’ve been the talk of the town if people realised neither wore the other’s mark, but fortunately, it was not unfashionable to wear a neck scarf.

“I think the fact you’re worried about not grieving enough,” Jisung continues, face soft, voice warm, “is evidence that you’re grieving enough. You carry this guilt complex like a cloak, Channie, you always have.”

Minho raises his glass in mock-toast at Jisung’s words, and Chan follows suit, draining his all at once, unable to offer any of his own words in reply. Chan loves Minho and Jisung both, and trusts them with his estate, his business, with his life and with Minseo’s. Nevertheless there is something about their assurances, how they make promises to him and offer soothing words, that feels lacking. Impermissible. Or rather, it’s not their assurances that are lacking, it is Chan himself. He does not want to broach the topic of his wandering eyes, of Hyunjin, he does not even want to think about it, but he knows it is just another failure on his part, another thing he has done wrong.

Pouring himself another glass of wine Chan promises himself, then and there, that he will keep his distance from the omega, and banish all notions of love at first sight from his mind.

☼

Hyunjin learns Minseo’s routine quickly—at three months old she has very little of one. She naps, never as peacefully or for as long as Seyoon had, but her cries are soft when she wakes, and she takes to feeding from Hyunjin like a duck to water. Or, alternatively, a duck takes to water like a pup to an omega’s tit.

At first Hyunjin had worried that Minseo wouldn’t take to Hyunjin, that she’d know he was a stranger and not her dam, or the wet nurse that had been feeding her previously, but those worries proved unfounded from the first time he held her, cuddled her, taken his breast out his shirt and Minseo latched on and drank immediately. One month later, he and Minseo are as thick as thieves.

Kim Jimin’s judgemental eyes are still living in Hyunjin’s head, and her spiel about the job as a cow grows longer and more disparaging every time Hyunjin recalls it. The life of a cow is peaceful, though. Hyunjin has little to do aside from feed and clean and cuddle Minseo, he has never had so much time for himself before, not since he was a child pre-presentation, if even then. Despite Minseo’s naps being lightning fast, Hyunjin finds enough time around them to sit with his sewing or sketchbook, and even when she is awake, looking after her barely feels like real work. Hyunjin had worked in the mills since he was thirteen or fourteen, and the hours had been long and physically intensive, the noise of the fulling mill so thunderously loud as it spun river water from dawn to dusk that sometimes it made Hyunjin sick. When Hyunjin had Seyoon, the fulling machines had been too long and dangerous to have a baby nearby, and he’d been fortunate enough to get a job in the sister mill, gigging, where he developed fingertips tougher than the sharpest of teasels, and a susceptibility to cry if somebody looked at him the wrong way. Now, being paid to spend all his days solely looking after a baby feels like a dream.

It had taken a few days for Hyunjin’s milk to come in heavily enough to properly sustain a pup, and Hyunjin had worried that it wouldn’t, that he had inadvertently lied to Minho, and would not be able to feed Minseo. It was a foolish worry. Holding Minseo for so many hours, and her soft, sweet pup scent reawakened Hyunjin’s body like it had never stopped, and then he was, well, a cow.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin says to the tiny pup in his arms, in her favourite place latched at his left breast, both of which have grown sizeably larger now that he’s actively feeding a pup again. The smart bodice Hyunjin had worn to his interview with Minho, of which then had only just fit, has long been abandoned to the back of his dresser. “Look what you’ve done to me. I don’t think Seyoon ever drank this much.”

Minseo looks up with unblinking eyes. She’s old enough to smile now, and can recognise the scent of her parents, this Hyunjin remembers from Seyoon. Hyunjin’s not Minseo’s dam, of course not, and he doesn’t consider himself to be, but the fact of the matter is at the moment Hyunjin is the closest thing to a dam that Minseo has. She smiles wide, gummy smiles at Hyunjin when he talks to her and her eyes sparkle when he picks her up. Minho has joked on several occasions that she cries far less for Hyunjin than she does for him or Chan. Those jokes make Hyunjin uncomfortable, he tries to show a polite amusement that he does not feel at all, because surely it is an insult for Chan, her sire, to suggest that Minseo prefers Hyunjin over him.

It’s different, parenting, for alphas, presumably. Being a sire is far less hands on—Hyunjin barely remembers his sire ever having a role in his own upbringing, although perhaps it would’ve been different if Hyunjin had been born an alpha. Minseo is an alpha, but then again Chan is a Lord, a fact which Hyunjin has to remind himself very hard to not forget, so it makes sense that he’s always busy, shut away in his study, or travelling to other lord’s estates to do whatever it is alpha lords do when they are in a room together. Probably nothing suitable for polite conversation.

Chan appears polite. He spends time with Minseo between his travels, or before lunch some days, although he spends the meal sequestered in his study alone. Chan talks to Hyunjin briefly, but always respectfully, asking about Minseo and what she’s been doing, and reminding Hyunjin to call him Chan, and that he can ask Minho for anything that he might need. Hyunjin found it odd at first, that Chan has Minho, an omega, running his household—not just in charge of the servants and chores, but with access to Chan’s accounts, and in charge of security—but after knowing Minho for the last few weeks, it makes an inherent type of sense. Hyunjin cannot imagine any of the alphas he knew growing up letting an omega be in charge of anything more than pups or cleaning. It is a sign, perhaps, that Chan is truly nice, not just polite to Hyunjin for appearances sake, but truly, that he actually does treat omegas well despite his lacking presence in Minseo’s life as a sire. Hyunjin misses Seyoon more than ever, and cannot imagine living in the same house as his pup and being so uninvolved. Minseo, so darling in Hyunjin’s arms, her coos and tufts of inky hair, is a knife. Hyunjin’s quickly fallen in love with her. It’s dangerous, he knows the affection he has for her is improper, and it feels like a wound against Seyoon, to find so much joy and love for a baby that is not his when he struggled so much to love Seyoon at this age.

“You do terrible things to me,” Hyunjin whispers. He finds himself speaking to Minseo at all times, about all manner of things. He does not have many other people to talk to, and none who would listen as nonchalantly. “Terrible, terrible things. What kind of dam am I to spend all my time with somebody else’s child?” Minseo coos. She doesn’t know what he’s saying, but she knows the sound of Hyunjin’s voice. “But I love you anyways,” he promises. Holds her tiny hand between his forefinger and thumb. “I know I shouldn’t, but I do.”

It’s not the same love he has for Seyoon. Hyunjin has to remind himself of this. It only feels like it could be because Minseo is in front of him now, and he spends all his time with her, and has no rent or work to worry about, nothing to think about or do that is not Minseo. It remains that Hyunjin has only known Minseo for a handful of weeks, and Minseo does not know Hyunjin as anything more than a warm breast. And Seyoon, so far away, probably no longer knows Hyunjin at all.

Hyunjin takes Minseo downstairs for lunch. The Bang house has many floors, but most of the household is based around two of them. Minho gave Hyunjin a tour on his first day, numerous corridors and rooms leading to various libraries and storage rooms, dead ends and doors that opened in places where they had just been. Minseo’s nursery is up one flight of stairs, above the kitchens which help keep it warm. Hyunjin’s room adjoins to the nursery, and it’s the same size as his previous room in the city, but that had been for everything—eating, cooking, nesting, cleaning. This bedroom is just that, a room with a bed. It feels obscene to have so much space and nothing to do with aside from sleep and store his meagre wardrobe in the dresser there. Hyunjin cannot fathom the need for so many other rooms in this house, not when the house has so little occupants. Luckily his room is next to the Minseo’s, for Minho showed him the servants quarters and Hyunjin immediately got lost.

Downstairs is easier to navigate. The kitchens, the drawing rooms, two dining rooms—one grander, for visitors and guests, and a smaller, well-lit room with a wall of windows, that the Bang household frequents. Lunchtime is the most Hyunjin socialises with anyone above 3 months old, as Minseo goes to sleep early, and so he normally takes dinner by himself in her rooms. Despite Chan’s continual absences, Hyunjin knows that he used to take lunch with everybody else before Minseo’s birth, and has been told by the kitchen hand, Yerim, that his mate never did. Minho would’ve scolded the kitchen maid for gossiping if he’d heard, but Hyunjin, eager for any information about the illusive lord of the estate, said nothing.

“Well met, Hyunjin,” Jisung greets as Hyunjin and Minseo enter the dining room, Jisung standing up from his chair to pull out Hyunjin’s. “How are you today?”

“Sick of your posturing,” Minho retorts. He’s sat across from Jisung, opposite Hyunjin, and smiles at Hyunjin as he sits down. “Jisung doesn’t realise his greetings would be nicer if he didn’t say them at all.”

Jisung sits back in his seat next to Hyunjin. “Hyunjin and Minseo think I am very nice,” he says mildly. “Don’t you?”

Hyunjin laughs a little. He’d been unsure of Jisung and Minho’s friendship at first, taken aback by both how friendly and extroverted Jisung was, and how sarcastic and mock-annoyed by him Minho pretended to be. Their relationship was one Hyunjin had never seen between an alpha and omega and if it was the other day around, and Minho the alpha, Hyunjin would think Minho awful. Jisung, however, only smiles at Minho’s insults, and laughs when he tells him to stop talking, and seems to never raise his voice in anything except laughter.

“We do,” Hyunjin says, repositioning Minseo in his lap. There’s a bassinet in the dining room, bought in especially for Minseo at mealtimes, but often after spending all day holding her it feels foreign for Hyunjin to lie her down. There’s also the fact that she howls and cries deafeningly loudly in the bassinet, and that would not make a peaceful lunchtime experience for anybody. It would be different, if it was just Hyunjin and Minseo by themselves, then he’d let her scream and shout while he finished his food, but it hardly seemed fair to put the rest of the staff to suffer.

“I can hold her for a bit,” Jisung offers, seeing Hyunjin’s deliberation. “Let me.”

Hyunjin looks at the alpha carefully, but his smile is genuine, and he’s always gentle with Minseo, even with his statue, broad shoulders and thick arms. Hyunjin passes her over, carefully, bundled up in woolen stole, for the house is getting colder and colder as the year continues to grow later. “I’ll eat quickly,” he promises.

“Nonsense,” Jisung grins. “Hi Minseollie. You don’t mind having a break from our favourite Hyunjinnie, do you? Got to let him eat his lunch in peace. I don’t know how you have her all day.”

“It is my job,” Hyunjin laughs slightly. “And hardly a chore, she’s a dear.”

“She’s a dear for you,” Minho interjects. He’s stood up again, helping Yerim bring in a tray of bowls. Half go to Yerim, Taeyang and Kyuri, sitting at one end of the table, and then Minho sets a bowl of rice soup in front of Hyunjin, before serving Jisung, and then finally sitting back down with his own bowl. “You would not believe how much hard work she was before you got here. It was Chan and I doing everything, and she’d sleep for about five minutes and then scream all day. I was always told that babies get harder after weaning, and newborns don’t do much of anything.”

“That’s Minseollie, always subverting expectations.” Jisung says. “But no, Hyunjin, you have the magic touch. I don’t think Chan had slept for more than an hour at a time since her birth.”

“She does still wake in the nights,” Hyunjin says carefully, accepting the carved soup spoon Minho passes him. “But less than she used to. And usually, she just wants to be walked around a little bit and then drifts back off,”

“Magic touch,” Jisung shakes his head, tutting at Minseo.

Hyunjin allows himself to smile. Is it wrong to take pride that Minseo settles for him when she didn’t settle for her own sire? But then, it’s not like her sire is involved much, or at all, in looking after her right now. Hyunjin knows Chan is busy, but he still can’t understand how he can be in the same house as his pup, and spend so little time with her.

The rice soup is warm, deliciously spiced. Lunchtime is an informal affair, all staff eating as soon as they get their food, especially as several have pressing chores or routines to attend to afterwards. Hyunjin was given a lunch break in the gig mill, ten minutes away from the teasels with whatever leftovers he had scavenged from his dinner the night before. Occasionally, Dowon would bring him something to eat, if Hyunjin stood with his hip cocked out, or drew Dowon into conversation the night before. Hyunjin doesn’t miss it. He can tell he’s been eating well these last few weeks, the mirror shows the curve of his hips rounding in a way they never were before.

The cook, Rowoon, finally leaves the kitchen and joins them, pulling out a chair next to Kyuri, and then that’s everybody. Seven staff, one Minseo, and no Chan. Hyunjin turns to Jisung, unsure how to best phrase his question. “Did you not accompany Lord Chan on his travels this time?”

Jisung looks up from his bowl. “Oh no, Chan is still here. Eating in his study, or foregone lunch all together I imagine.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin says, stirring the chicken around in his soup. How strange, to eat meat for a lunchtime meal. Stranger, for Chan to sequester himself away from everyone else in the house. Hyunjin wouldn’t think it weird at all, a Lord not wanting to eat with his servants, if he hadn’t been told that before Minseo’s birth, he more often than not did. “No lunch at all?”

“Gets caught up in his accounts that man,” Jisung rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, Kyuri normally takes him something if he doesn’t come and join us.”

Hyunjin hesitates. Everyone else at the table is caught up in their own conversations, and he and Jisung are talking quietly. The chances of being overheard are small. Still, Hyunjin lowers his voice. “He hasn’t joined us at all since I have been here. Do you know if I have offended him in any way?”

“Oh, no it’s not you,” Jisung looks at Hyunjin with wide eyes. “It’s not your fault, don’t worry! He’s a chronic overachiever, and a fool to not be delighting in your company.”

“No,” Hyunjin leans forwards, catching eyes with Minseo, happily sitting up against Jisung’s chest, looking around the room with wide eyes. She coos at Hyunjin, reaching out with curling fingers. “I meant more that he does not seem to want to spend any time with Minseo. Is that because of my presence?”

“Oh,” Jisung says. Looks down at the pup in question, and smiles when he sees her fawning at Hyunjin. “Oh wow, look she’s besotted with you. What are darling. And yeah, no. No, it’s not you at all. He’s very busy with work, and then when he has free time I imagine he doesn’t want to interrupt your and Minseo’s routine.”

“But that’s exactly it,” Hyunjin hisses. “I don’t want him to feel like he’s interrupting anything. I’ve only been here a month. Lord Chan’s her sire. I’m not here to come in between the two of them.” He sits back in his seat, exhausted suddenly. Hyunjin doesn’t think Jisung would lie to him, but Jisung doesn’t seem to understand Hyunjin’s frustration. Even now, eating lunch, Chan is nowhere to be seen—and that’s with six other adults around to stop him from having to talk to Hyunjin. When Chan comes to kiss Minseo goodbye before his travels, or they see each other in the corridor he seems to freeze. Hyunjin doesn’t know what it is about him that makes Chan so uncomfortable, but he wants it to stop.

“I can talk to him,” Jisung says, understandingly.

“No, please,” Hyunjin whispers. “I didn’t mean—it’s not for me. I don’t mean to sound like I am asking after Lord Chan, I don’t want to speak out of turn, I just think Minseo would like to see him more. That it would be good for her.

“No, no, I’m glad you’ve told me,” Jisung says. He’s put down his spoon entirely, giving Hyunjin his full focus. It feels a little embarrassing. “Even I get shocked with how fast Minseo’s growing, and I see her most mealtimes. Chan doesn’t, and he is her sire. He will regret missing out on seeing his pup grow.”

“I didn’t mean to chastise,” Hyunjin continues, now all too aware that his tone might have been considered biting, his frustration too visible on his face, in his posture. This is different from the city, where Hyunjin was on the same footing as most, and could verbalise his annoyances as he wished. On the estate they speak in tongues, and even their rudeness sounds polite. Here, Chan is a lord, and Hyunjin his employee, and he cannot imagine he’ll remain employed if he continues like this. “I just don’t want him to feel like he can’t spend time with Minseo because I’m here. Not that I’m presuming that is why he is not. Of course he has priorities.”

“I’ll speak to him,” Jisung says firmly. “Don’t look at me like that. I won’t say you said anything, I will just point out—nicely—that he’s not been spending much time with Minseo lately, and that he should be.”

“Thank you,” Hyunjin breathes. He’s not religious, barely at all, but he crosses his fingers beneath the table and prays that nothing negative comes forth from this conversation. It is easier for Hyunjin to have nothing to do with Chan, but he feels for Minseo, and even for Chan too, for Hyunjin knows what it is like to have strangers raising your pup.

Jisung does not tell Hyunjin if he speaks to Chan or not, only that he must have spoken to him because it’s only a few days later when Chan joins them—everyone—for lunch. Then, a week later Chan asks Hyunjin to accompany him and Minseo around the gardens. “I’ll be travelling tomorrow,” Chan explains apologetically. “For the next week, so if I could spend some time with Minseo beforehand, I’d appreciate it greatly.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say that Chan doesn’t need permission from Hyunjin—Minseo’s wet nurse—to spend time with his own pup but it’s a close thing. Instead, he swallows his tongue and agrees of course, and bundles Minseo up to best face the weather. It is colder in the countryside than it was when Hyunjin lived in the city, and the gardens of the Bang estate are long and sprawling. Hyunjin’s been in the first one, a courtyard garden at the back of the house, because that’s where the privies are—one building fancier, with a tiled floor, and the servants' outhouse, smaller but still well maintained. Minho had told Hyunjin he could use either, but since being shown the first on his tour of the house, Hyunjin has staunchly avoided it. The chances of bumping into Chan entering or leaving the privy are logically very small, but the thought of it feels like a scandal.

The rest of the gardens, perfectly positioned flowerbeds and rows of orchard trees, Hyunjin has only seen from the windows upstairs, and so he is quietly pleased that Chan asked him to walk with Minseo. Some might say it’s redundant to go on a walk with a four month old pup, but Hyunjin thinks Minseo would love the fresh air, and the trees and flowers, and is glad that Chan does too. What does feel slightly odd is the fact Chan has asked Hyunjin to come on a walk with them, but if his presence helps facilitate the bond between Chan and Minso, who is Hyunjin to complain?

She looks like a dumpling by the time Hyunjin has finished dressing her, tiny woollen stockings and chemise under a swaddle, and a white knit bonnet, and then several shawls over the top. Hyunjin can only just see her face poking out, bronze eyes glistening.

“We’re going to meet your sire,” Hyunjin says to Minseo, buttoning up his own coat. Minho had given Hyunjin his first wage in advance but Hyunjin figured he would wash his brown coat and fix up the tears along the hem, where the garment dragged on the ground. It looked considerably more tidy, and no longer smelling of mildew, served him well enough. The money for a coat would serve better being kept for more important matters. Hyunjin had bought a green scarf, however, a long rectangular one which he wraps once around his head, and then twice over his neck, tucking the loose end into his coat. “And see the gardens! There won’t be many flowers at this time of year, I imagine, but the autumn leaves are all sorts of pretty colours, and maybe we’ll find some acorns or something.”

Minseo would love an acorn. Lately, everything she can get her hands on has been jammed inside her mouth. “Maybe I will just show the acorns from a distance,” Hyunjin remedies, thinking about their small size.

Minseo babbles, unable to understand what Hyunjin’s saying but loving any chance to join in a conversation.

“Well met, Hyunjin.” Chan greets them formally, standing near the bottom of the stairs in the manor’s foyer. His hands are in his pockets, he’s dressed for the cold with a long, black coat. It’s a fancier garment than Hyunjin’s own, a wide lapel adorned with silver buttons, and a thick buckle clasp at the hollow of his neck. The buttons continue all the way down the front, to wear the coat ends at midthigh. Underneath, Chan’s breeches and long boots are tight, showing off the form of his legs. Hyunjin, under a million underskirts and a much longer coat, must look like a floating head in contrast. His own boots are far from visible. “Minseo looks very warm.”

“I didn’t want her catching a cold,” Hyunjin explains.

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Chan says hurriedly. “I just think she looks sweet like that. A little dumpling.” He leans forward, to stroke his finger across Minseo’s cheek. Hyunjin, still with Minseo in his arms, stands very still. For a second, Chan is so close his Hyunjin can feel his breath against his cheek.

“Would you like to hold her?”

“I am more than happy to,” Chan says carefully. “But I fear she might cry if I take her from your arms. If you are content with carrying her for a little, I can lead the way and show you around the gardens? We can come back anytime if you or Minseo get cold.”

“That’s fine with me,” Hyunjin nods, repositioning Minseo against his side. It’s clumsier to hold her like this as she’s wearing so many layers but Hyunjin puts his elbow underneath her, his hand holding her body against him.

Chan watches in something like wonder. “I don’t know how you can hold her with one arm like that, you don’t even have to think about it. Unless we’re sitting down, I have to have both arms cradling her, I’m so scared that she might wiggle out, or that I will drop her.”

Hyunjin snorts, and then turns away, praying that Chan did not hear. When he feels more composed he replies, “I can show you, later if you like? She can support her own weight now, she can’t sit up by herself yet but if I hold her up she has no problem pushing back into me. It’s pretty hard to drop a baby if you’re holding them like this, it’s not like I’d just open my hand and she’d fall like if I were holding a pencil or something.”

“Please,” Chan says, holding the door open for Hyunjin to step outside. He then shuts it behind himself, walking alongside Hyunjin. “I am rather a useless sire, I am loath to admit, scared of my own pup.”

“She can feel your nerves,” Hyunjin says, “or that’s what I have always been told. Pups are very good at picking up the slightest scent changes, so if you are scared around her, she’ll become more uneasy.”

“Kind of like horses then,” Chan jests. “Minseo, are you a horse?”

“She snorts like one, sometimes,” Hyunjin points out, laughing. This makes Chan laugh too.

Chan leads Hyunjin out the courtyard gate, past almond trees losing their leaves, and a row of slowly dying lavender shrubs. There is a row of three beautiful ginkgos with dark moss growing up their trunks, their fluted yellow leaves lining the path. Hyunjin finds himself stopping constantly, to marvel at an array of tiny mushrooms growing along the side of the path, or the pink white flowers of the hoster, still flowering well into the late autumn. Hyunjin kneels to pick up an empty snail shell, brown and worn underneath his fingers, rolling it around in his palm. “A snail lived here,” he tells Minseo. “This was their home. A little bit smaller than your home, but the snail is smaller than you too.”

Chan watches, quietly amused. He doesn’t seem peeved with how often Hyunjin stops, or when he picks a sprig of mint for Minseo to smell. Hyunjin watches Chan carefully, out the side of his eye, for any signs of annoyance, or impatience from the alpha, but only finds a content smile and warm eyes.

The gardens are beautiful. Hyunjin is glad Chan asked him to accompany them. He had never been in anything like them before, never seen so many types of ornamental grasses or winter flowering plants. More than anything else, Hyunjin notices the silence. Apart from his and Chan’s footsteps on the stone path, the only sounds are the odd bird chirp. The city was never this quiet. Hyunjin rarely had much chance to visit the parks, but they were always full of people walking, salesmen with carts, horses and dogs and gulls. The gardens of the Bang estate feel eerie, almost, and endless, behind each hedge there is another flower bed, or walled garden.

“The vegetable gardens are up there,” Chan points to a little wooden gate. “And then continue around the back of the house. These are all just my cousin's vanity gardens. They’re prettier in spring, when everything’s in bloom. The gardeners decided to let most things seed for this winter. They’ll take out a lot of the dead flowers after the first few frosts, it’s easier when the roots are dead. Until then we’ve got this strange amalgamation of things living and not.”

“It’s beautiful,” Hyunjin says, turning around. “The dead plants too. Their dried-out stalks and leaves, they have such pretty shapes in this sunlight. Look at their shadows, how they elongate. It would make a good painting, I think.”

“Do you like painting?”

“Oh. Well, once or twice I have been lucky enough to visit a gallery. I don’t know enough about painting, really, to understand what makes a good one.” Hyunjin wishes he did. Most galleries cost a lot to enter, and most people there do not want omegas like Hyunjin in them. He draws, however, with sticks of charcoal and any surface he can find to use them on. Sketchbooks are expensive and Hyunjin doesn’t like to waste his, but often he can find a newspaper, or old catalogue of paper. “I like drawing,” he offers, emboldened by the beauty of the gardens, and Chan’s trust when he told Hyunjin how he was scared of holding Minseo, his own pup. “I don’t think I’m very good, but I enjoy it.”

“You’re welcome to come and draw in the gardens whenever you like,” Chan says. His eyes are very gentle as he looks at Hyunjin. “The gardeners are on leave, you wouldn’t be disturbing anyone. Either you can come with Minseo, or you can always ask Minho to watch her for a while. Or me. I’m aware I’ve not been around much since you started here, but when I am. You can always ask me if you need any time apart from her.”

“Are you not busy?” Hyunjin asks, the boldness still on his tongue. “Is that not why you’ve spent so little time with Minseo?”

Chan flushes. “I—well, yes. I was very behind on work. I’ve caught up since, and I am trying to be better now, more present.”

“I’m sorry, I spoke without thinking,” Hyunjin apologises, Chan’s discomfort so visible on his face that he feels guilty. Chan is so passive, in a way that Hyunjin is not used to from alphas, and he needs to catch his words, and learn to think before he speaks. Hyunjin cannot begrudge Chan for struggling with a dead mate, and a newborn pup, nevermind the fact that Chan is his employer. “I did not mean to be rude. I meant to ask if you’re managing your work now, I don’t want to be disturbing you from it.”

“You say what you mean,” Chan says, hands swinging as he walks. “It’s refreshing, around here. I was brought up to speak behind pretty words, and it’s the same for most of my peers. Not that your words aren’t pretty, Hyunjin. There’s an honesty in them, which I find very endearing. Even when you insult me a little.”

It’s Hyunjin’s turn to flush, ducking his head. “What is that?” he asks desperately, pointing at a tree with orange wood. Chan, thankfully, accepts the change of conversation with mirth, and continues on to tell Hyunjin about paperbark maples.

Returning from his most recent one-week trip, Chan has lunch with everybody else. The first day he’s back Hyunjin holds Minseo, except she is in a foul mood, too angry to sit while he feeds himself, and Hyunjin ends up having to leave the meal early, to calm the pup down by walking endless loops around the Nursery.

On the second day, Chan offers to hold Minseo while Hyunjin eats. She’s in a better mood than the day before, having slept most the morning, and fed just before lunch, and she goes to Chan without any fuss.

Chan looks at Minseo, surprise coating his face as she babbles at him. “She’s not crying?”

“Told you,” Jisung says matter of factly. “Hyunjin’s got the magic touch.” He turns to give a gaudy wink to Hyunjin, closing both eyes before opening one. Hyunjin’s never seen anyone wink like that, and turns away so Jisung doesn’t see him laugh.

“I think she’s a bit more settled in her body now,” Hyunjin says, insteading, directing his words to Chan. He’s cradling Minseo so delicately, a contradiction that’s amusing against his large, muscular arms. “Being so new to the world must be scary. Everything is unfamiliar to you, you have no routine. Some pups struggle more than others, that’s just how they are.”

Chan smiles, genuinely, gratefully at Hyunjin. He remains quiet for the most of lunch, letting Jisung lead the conversation although joins in once or twice, to refute something Minho says, or tease Jisung for dropping his spoon on the floor. Hyunjin watches, quiet himself, having not seen Chan in a casual manner before. He’s comfortable around Minho, but not in a way that feels like an alpha is around an omega, more so in a way that just feels like friends. Hyunjin hasn’t considered that both sexes can be friends like this before, not firsthand. The softness Chan speaks with, not just to his friends but to Rowoon and Kyuri, also eating with them, feels genuine too. He smiles when Hyunjin adds something, the stretch of his wide lips making him handsome, but more human than Lord Bang. This is Chan, and Hyunjin’s glad to finally meet him.

“She was a terror before you,” Minho says, to Hyunjin, when they’re clearing the plates. Chan is still sitting at the table, lunch half eaten in front of him as he plays with Minseo, covering his face before revealing it, Minseo beaming every time. “I know I’ve said it to you before, but I really wasn’t exaggerating. Nothing settled her for weeks, no matter what Chan tried. This isn’t me putting any blame on you Hyunjin, so don’t you dare think it, but after you came, it was a breath of fresh air. Minseo stopped howling every night and refusing to feed, she took to you straight away. It was definitely a relief for Chan, but then well—I suppose it would be easy for one to think they were causing their pup’s grief, if it stopped after meeting a complete stranger.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin says. He doesn’t know what to say. “Oh, no, I am not blaming Lord Chan though, that Minseo was unhappy.”

“I know,” Minho reassures. “And Chan does not think you blame him either. I just want you to know that he thought it was for the better, taking a step back from her. That there was no intent to hurt Minseo in doing so, instead that he was trying to do what he thought best. So that is why I must also thank you, for seeing the opposite and worming Minseo back into his life. I know it was you that told Jisung to speak to him.”

“Not quite so directly,” Hyunjin protests. He hopes. He’s trying, oh he’s trying, to think before he speaks. “There’s no secrets between you and Jisung.”

The complaint is mostly in jest, but Minho is completely serious as he shakes his head. “Never. It didn’t need to be a secret Hyunjin, I’m glad you did so. A new face, a new voice is what this house needs. I said when I interviewed you, I like your honesty.”

Hyunjin can’t hide his smile. He remembers how he saw Minho in that interview, prim and put together, completely unreadable and foreign. Hyunjin thinks since then he’s picked up on how to read Minho, at least a little. He’s never had a close omega friend, not as an adult. Hyunin doesn’t know what friends Minho has in his life, but he would like to be considered one of them. He’ll work towards it, Hyunjin decides, looking at the other omega.

Chan, still at the table, is humming to Minseo, a little ditty half under his breath. Minho and Hyunjin continue to press against the doorway so they may watch unseen. The alpha is ever so gentle as he lifts his pup up and down, blowing kisses against her tiny fists. Minseo giggles, kicking her feet out every time Chan blows her a kiss, and every time she giggles it makes Chan giggle too. The idea of an alpha lord giggling at his four month old pup is obscene. It looks natural on Chan, laughter. Hyunjin is warm watching them, and even after Minho slips away, Hyunjin stays there, not protective or judgemental, but happy, honoured to see such love bloom.

After Minseo was so happy to be held by Chan all lunchtime, Chan seeks Minseo out much more freely. He’s still away a lot, although his trips shorten to a day or two at a time rather than weeks. Chan also spends more time with Minseo by himself, the two of them in her nursery while Hyunjin walks around the gardens, or goes to distract Minho from his work. Chan still asks Hyunjin if he can spend time with Minseo, and Hyunjin’s not sure why he’s become her keeper but he can be kind to a pathetic alpha—and he needs to be, when said pathetic alpha is his boss.

Chan’s face in the garden is painted in Hyunjin’s eyes, the guilt in Chan’s eyes when Hyunjin accused him of spending no time with Minseo. It is an accusation, if it’s true? Still, Hyunjin had made hasty judgments, he’d been putting a jigsaw puzzle together without half of the pieces. Minho had said as much too, he’d told Hyunjin about how hard it had been to look after a newborn Minseo, and how Chan saw Hyunjin succeeding where he hadn’t as a sign of his inadequacy. When Seyoon had been a baby; five, six, seven months in Hyunjin’s arms, both of them would cry themselves to sleep on the regular. Hyunjin only had his bed, a sorry excuse for a nest, and he’d curl himself around Seyoon, and be so terrified that he might hurt Seyoon in his sleep, while simultaneously his instincts made him sick at the thought of taking Seyoon out of the nest. He’d been near feral, Hyunjin thinks back, at most of the first year. It was a wonder he’d managed to keep his job at all. Hyunjin cannot judge Chan for his hesitation around Minseo, not when it comes from a place of care.

Still, the protectiveness Minseo raises inside Hyunjin remains. He can do so much with her that he could never for Seyoon, and while there is guilt, there is also a promise, an overwhelming feeling that Hyunjin must do everything he can now, to make up for what he couldn’t with his own pup.

Minseo loves spending time on her stomach, which is something Hyunjin insists on so that she can develop the strength to push herself up and roll over. As a five month old she’s already full of so much movement, constantly kicking arms and a wiggling body. Hyunjin imagines her older, Seyoon’s age, running around the house, all those untouched corridors finally getting put to use. Chan, knocking on the nursery door that morning, is bemused to see Minseo lying on her stomach, and Hyunjin doing the same next to her.

“Is the view nice down there?”

Hyunjin turns over, staring up at Chan from the floor. He’s grown complacent the last few months, working at the gig mill had been such a physical workout and since then he’s mostly just been sitting around. Rolling over takes more effort than Hyunjin thought it would, and somehow he’s winded, panting up at Chan.

“She’s nearly rolling,” Hyunjin explains, brushing his hair off his forehead. It’s sweaty, which feels like an insult. “It’s good for pups to have stomach time, to build up their strength and muscles. Minseollie enjoys it too, pushing herself up on her arms. She’s very strong.”

Chan smiles. He’s been smiling more lately, at Hyunjin, more of the real smile, more of the real Chan coming through. “I like that you’re doing it too. I don’t know how you know all these things about pups, you know. I never would.”

“It is my job,” Hyunjin points out. Chan laughs, startled. “To know these things. I’m pretty sure stomach time was also on the advertisement but I think it’s nice for Minseo if I’m doing it too.”

“Can I join?” Chan asks, like it is a normal thing for a lord of an estate to lie on the floor with his pup and his pup’s wet nurse. “Only if I’m not being a bother. Either to you or Minseo.”

“I think Minseo would like it,” Hyunjin says, rolling back on his side to examine the pup’s face. She’s also panting too, a little, growling a little in her throat as she pushes herself up on her arms. The panting is a lot more understandable coming from a baby with no muscle mass.

“And you?”

“Hm?”

“Would you mind Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin looks up, Chan’s standing nearly over him. He’s dressed down, a dark tunic and breeches with none of the trims Hyunjin has grown used to seeing him in. His hair is in array, sticking up oddly at the back of his head, and there’s an ink stain on his left cheek. Despite that all, he is well groomed. Chan is always clean shaved and perfumed, something smokey that is so appealing to Hyunjin, he is nearly certain it cannot be Chan’s natural scent. The white scarf around his neck hides his scent gland, Hyunjin can’t see if he’s wearing a scent paste or not. Hyunjin’s not wearing any scent paste, he rarely wears any in the house. Hyunjin’s scent is important for Minseo, and really Minseo is the only person he spends much time with so it doesn’t matter. Hyunjin’s suddenly very aware that he’s a sweaty mess lying on the floor looking up at his employer, his milky mellow scent probably stinking the room up.

“Oh. I wouldn’t mind, no,” Hyunjin shakes his head. “Sorry, I have no blocker on though.”

“That’s okay,” Chan kneels on the other side of Minseo, stretching his arms out. “You are at home. I don’t have any on either.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” Hyunjin checks. He doesn’t want to think about how the rich, smokey scent Chan carries is not a fragrance. He can’t think about that.

Chan flushes. “No, no, not at all. It’s natural to have scents, I am not offended.”

Hyunjin hums, burying his face back against the floor. Minseo squeals, Hyunjin peals open an eye to see Chan lying on the floor, Minseo reaching out to him.

“Hello Minseollie,” he says. “Are you having fun down here? Oh, it is kind of nice isn’t it?” Minseo growls. Chan copies her, making a tiny grumbling sound in the back of his throat. It’s rather charming. “Such a threatening alpha, hmm?” Chan teases her. “What a ferocious sound!” He pauses. “Are you laughing Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin, muffling his giggles into the floor, says “no.”

“I think he’s lying to us Minseollie,” Chan mock-whispers, poking his fingers into her side. “Can you hear him? He’s laughing at you, terrifying alpha that you are. He thinks your growls are funny.”

Hyunjin’s trembling, he’s laughing so hard. It’s Minseo, her baby grumbles are so sweet, and it’s Chan, lying on the floor with them like it’s a normal thing to do, and it’s an overwhelming sense of relief, suddenly, that this is a good job Hyunjin has, that he doesn’t have to walk on egg shells, that he’s happy here. The realisation is both sudden and obvious, and it’s a feeling Hyunjin wishes he could bottle and store forever.

“How often do you do this?” Chan asks. He looks funny, lying on the floor with such model posture. Minseo is clearly loving it, turning her head to look at her sire before pushing herself up from the floor a little, before going back to looking at Chan again.

Hyunjin breathes his giggles back in. “I make Minseollie have stomach time everyday, the last two weeks. She can nearly roll, she’s quite stubborn so I think she’s impatient to get there. I don’t have stomach time everyday.” He pauses, considering his next words. “But I’ve realised that maybe I will have to, or have some kind of exercise, because I’m sweating just lying here.”

Chan laughs. “Tiring work.”

“I used to work in a mill,” Hyunjin offers. “I was constantly moving, doing all sorts of tasks, being with Minseo has made me lazy, now I’m out of breath rolling around on the floor.”

“You worked in a mill? I didn’t know that. What kind of mill? What did you do?”

“I thought Minho might’ve told you,” Hyunjin says. “It wasn’t very glamorous, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Well, actually I used to work in a fulling mill and that was nearly the worst thing in the world. The fulling machines were river powered, you know, they put a massive stone wheel in the river, and it pushes the wheel around, which powers the machine. It made an awful, awful sound, the water, it was loud. We used to have to wear wax in our ears so we weren’t deafened.”

“That sounds intense,” Chan sympathises. “Every day?”

“Everyday,” Hyunjin groans. “I moved mills after a while, stopped fulling so it was a lot better.”

“I’m showing my inadequacies here, but what is fulling exactly? I’ve heard of it, my dam’s sire owns several mills but to be honest, I’ve never been that interested when she’s been speaking.”

Hyunjin laughs, propping himself up on his arm, so he can look at the alpha. Chan’s on his side, already looking at Hyunjin. “You know what broadcloth is, right?”

“Like cloaks?” Chan asks, unsure.

Hyunjin nods. “Yeah, exactly. Your coat is made from broadcloth too. My parents were both cottage weavers, they had looms at home and they’d weave a length of broadcloth, and then it would go to the mill. Fulling is where the fabric’s pounded, it meshes all the fibres together.”

“So it makes the fabric stronger?”

“See, you do know,” Hyunjin says. “Water resistant, too, that’s why the rain beads up on your coat.”

“You’re so smart,” Chan compliments. Hyunjin can tell he’s being genuine, which is silly.

“That was my job,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “I didn’t invent the process, Chan. I just did what my foremaster told me too.”

“They were lucky to have you,” Chan insists. “Stop rolling your eyes at me. I don’t need to know much about mills to know you were good at it. Did you have any other jobs?”

“Well, different mills,” Hyunjin thinks aloud. “A gigging mill, which was a lot quieter. I liked gigging, the most out of them I think. That’s where you brush the fulled fabric with these big bats with teasels on them. It sounds strange, out of context. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

“No, it’s interesting,” Chan says. His eyes are very earnest as he talks to Hyunjin, but maybe he is just being polite. Hardly like a Lord of something or other would be interested in grunt work of a wool mill. “I don’t know anything about fabric production, and I like hearing you talk. You have a good way of explaining things.”

Hyunjin wrinkles his nose. “I feel like my explanation was barely comprehensive.”

“You have taught me more in five minutes than my dam’s sire has told me in years,” Chan retorts. “Is it selfish, if I say I am glad you don’t do it anymore though?”

“You wouldn’t be lying on the floor if I wasn’t here.”

“Exactly,” Chan laughs. “I would be missing out significantly on the joys of the nursery floorboards.”

“What about you, Lord Chan Bang? Was being a lord your first job?” Hyunjin pauses. “Are you offended if I say I don’t really know what a lord does?”

Chan scoffs, shaking his head. “I am not offended. It’s an inherited title, so not quite a job as such. I’ve never had to do anything as physically intensive as you. Lots of arithmetic, I keep accounts for my grandsire’s business. He’s a big trading merchant, selling all sorts of goods around the country. Crops mainly, grains and such. It’s a family business, so not just me working there, but I would say I have a sizeable part in it”

“Arithmetic?”

“Numbers, and sums and sorts. Who owes this person what, what profit came from that. It’s dreadfully boring, honestly.”

“Do you enjoy it?” Hyunjin flips onto his back.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that before.”

“Well? I’m asking you,” Hyunjin retorts, then winces. “Sorry. I mean, I am interested.”

Chan is laughing still, hands coming to cover his face. “I wasn’t insulting you, Hyunjin. Nobody’s ever spoken to me like you do, either. I think I quite enjoy it. It’s not a bad job. I’m paid well, I get to travel a lot.”

“Is it what you dreamt of doing? When you were a pup?”

“I played piano as a child,” Chan says, after a pause. “I think maybe I wanted to do something with that. I also liked swimming, I always thought I could have been a sailor or something, although I don’t think my parents would have liked that. Grunt work, they’d call it. I think my dam envisioned me doing something a bit more fancy, more fitting for a lord.”

“I wouldn’t want my child to do grunt work,” Hyunjin agrees. “If I got the choice. Most people don’t get a choice.”

“Did you have one?” Chan asks gently.

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “I worked in a mill, Chan. What do you think?”

“What did you want to do then?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I ever had a thought about it. There’s nothing else I really could’ve done.”

“I’m sure there is,” Chan says. “You’re plenty smart, and kind. Very observant.”

Hyunjin wants to brush all Chan’s platitudes away. Sweet, sweet words, full of hot air. “I’m an omega, for starters. And I’m not smart, I can’t even read. I was never getting any other type of job.”

“You can’t read?”

Hyunjin stills. “I can get by. It doesn’t affect me looking after Minseo, I promise.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Chan sits up. “Not at all. You’re brilliant with Minseo, Hyunjin, this isn’t me trying to trick you. I was just asking, I don’t know. You’re so well-spoken, I would have never guessed.”

“Well, now you know.” Hyunjin shrugs, suddenly prickly and unsure. He has lowered his armoured skin, and now Chan’s not even trying to hurt him, but the way he looks at him hurts regardless. Hyunjin keeps slipping, keeps forgetting that they are not the same, that they can’t have the same kind of friendship Chan does with Minho, Hyunjin’s at the bottom of the social ladder. Chan forgets too, if his shock at Hyunjin’s illiteracy is anything to go by.

“Would you like to learn?”

Hyunjin tilts his head

“I could teach you,” Chan says, unsure. His face looks very earnest, lips red, skin pale as he looks at Hyunjin. He’s handsome in a classical, unmistakable sort of way. “If you want to learn. Or, I could get somebody else to teach you, a beta or somebody, if you’re uncomfortable with the idea of being with me.”

“I am with you right now,” Hyunjin points out. Then he focuses on the meat of what Chan was saying. “You’d teach me to read?”

“Only if you wanted to,” Chan says. His scent swells, unbidden, deep, brushing the fire out of Hyunjin’s thoughts.

Hyunjin doesn’t want to be calmed by Chan’s scent. It’s not that Chan is trying to calm him, it’s just that Hyunjin can smell him and finds him calming which is, in all aspects of the words, much worse. “Not because you feel like it's lacking, having an omega who can’t read for your pup's wet nurse?”

“Because I value you Hyunjin, and you just told me you can’t read and you sounded quite upset about it. If that’s me reading into things that aren’t there, I apologise. I can get ahead of myself sometimes.”

“I will think about it,” Hyunjin says. His own scent is worked up, it must be. You can never smell yourself as well as you can smell other people. “Maybe one day. You’re busy enough, no? You only started spending time with Minseo.”

Chan sighs. “I—yes Hyunjin. But I wouldn’t stop spending time with her, if I did help you with your reading.”

“But you stopped because of your work,” Hyunjin reminds Chan. He doesn’t know why he’s being so cutting, except he cannot make himself stop.

“When my mate passed,” Chan says patiently. “I fully focused everything on Minseo. All my work fell to the wayside.”

“Oh. So when you employed me?”

“There were no distractions from everything I’d been ignoring,” Chan agrees. “I am sorry that I was so distant in the first few months you were here. Jisung spoke to me, pointed out how much of Minseo’s life I was missing, and I didn’t even realise I was missing it. It was nothing you had done, and no fault of Minseo’s own, either, rather my own. These last few weeks though, spending more time with Minseo, and getting to know you, Hyunjin, have helped. Getting to spend this time with you makes me feel much better. This time with the both of you. It’s not part of your duties to make nice with me, so this is me thanking you for it.”

Hyunjin groans. Chan is very hard to remain annoyed at. Hyunjin doesn’t even really want to remain annoyed at Chan. As always, there is honesty in every word he says. Hyunjin is so aware of the social divide between the two of them, and Chan seemed to think of it like nothing—which is typical for an alpha, really. Hyunjin needs to rebuild the wall between them, just a little. Asking about him, and his past, and offering to teach Hyunjin to read, none of it is proper. Hyunjin has spent years not caring about proprietary, and the only thing that resulted in was a pup out of matelock. Why now, when Hyunjin’s finally trying to stay in his social line, has he met the only alpha he’s known to be unconcerned about?

“I am glad you’re spending more time with Minseo, it is good for her. Especially, forgive me, as she has no dam, it’s important that she spends time with you.”

“I—thank you Hyunjin,” Chan nods. “I am glad to hear that.”

“I like spending time with you too,” Hyunjin admits. He cannot not say it, not when Chan is sitting opposite him, so honest, so earnest. Not Hyunjin’s own scent is an open book for Chan to read. “I think we could grow to be good friends, one day.”

Chan smiles, bleedingly heartfelt. “I would like that, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin, as much as he knows it is a bad idea, would like that too. Hyunjin would like that very much.

☼

Chan has to travel out of Yeolla county for a week, and the physical distance from Minseo causes an emotional hurt. It had hurt before, when Hyunjin first started working as her wet nurse, and Chan had dragged Jisung away repeatedly for weeks at a time, but there had been something like relief in that distance too, Chan’s alpha determined that it was best for Minseo if he left her alone.

It is amusing how quickly things have changed. Amusing, how quickly Hyunjin has changed things. His presence not only settles Minseo in a way that she had never been settled before, but he settles some yearning instinct within Chan’s alpha too. Minseo howls less, sleeps more. Chan can spend time with her, and she will not cry or scream at him. The last few weeks have been full of Chan spending time with Minseo and Hyunjin, walking in the gardens and playing together in her nursery. Chan has grown closer to Minseo, closer than he had been previously, which rendered his most recent trip out of Yeolla more hurtful than ever before.

After returning, Chan had written a long–awaited letter to inform his sire that he would be busy over the next year, too busy to keep going on such long travels for him. A day or two here or there, acceptable, but Chan’s priority was now his pup, like it always should have been.

“I wonder whether you’ll look more like Minkyung or I?” He asks her sleepily. Minseo is curled upon Chan’s chest, awake but peaceful, blinking into the distance. Chan is determined to not move for as long as possible, so he may not disturb her. Chan can be with Minseo now without the shadow of Minyung’s death over her, and it is a blessing he is determined to make the most of.

Minseo has a few tufts of dark hair but it is too early to say if it will stay that colour, or grow any of Chan’s loose waves. Her tiny features will all change as she grows so any resemblance to either parent is invisible for now. Chan’s dam claimed she has Chan’s lips, but they’re pouty in the way that all babe’s lips are pouty, Chan hardly thinks they’re recognisably his. Chan’s dam had always been like that, biased in favor of her children. Chan misses her. He last saw her when she visited for the week after Minseo’s birth to help with both the pup and Minseo’s funeral preparations, but she could not stay for long, having to return to her own household and Chan’s array of younger siblings. Minkyung’s dam only came for the funeral. He did not speak to Chan at all. Minseo was too little to be respectful through the funeral, Minho held her outside the church, walking around the gardens with her. Even from inside, Chan had been able to hear her howling.

“I want you to have a good life,” Chan runs his hand over her head, her baby hair so downy and soft it barely feels like touching anything at all. She smells content, sweet in a way that is inherently pup-like. “I want you to always be content. I’m sorry we had such a rotten go of it at first Minseollie. I want to promise you that it shall change from now on.”

On paper, Minseo’s future as Chan’s heir is straightforward. She will grow up as a capable alpha, and work for the family trading company, just as every Bang has before her, and inherit Chan’s estate, just as every alpha heir does. Chan was not lying when he told Hyunjin that nobody had ever asked if he liked his job. It was never a decision Chan could have, the choice to like his duties or not, and while he does not begrudge his parents for it, Chan has slowly come to realise that not once has he ever chosen his own path. Not his pastimes, not his job, nor his mate. He doesn’t want that for Minseo. If Minseo wants to be a pianist, Chan wants that for her. If Minseo wants to travel for pleasure, not work, Chan will say go. If Minseo wants to mate for love, Chan will tell her that there’s no other option.

She is so small now, curled up on his chest. She holds Chan’s finger with her whole fist. Six months old this week. Post-presentation Chan would travel for six, eight months at a time and think nothing of it. So much has changed in the last half year, Chan feels like he has to grab every moment now before it slips out of his fingers. He will blink, and Minseo will be a year old. Chan will blink again, and then Minseo will be five, fifteen, twenty-nine, newly widowed with a newborn she has not given the love that they deserve. The thought makes him feel sick.

“I’m glad you like me now Minseo,” Chan blows her a kiss, pulling the blankets down around them. “I am sorry I struggled so much with you, but I am hopeful that is changing now. I think this is the longest we’ve spent as just the two of us without you crying.” She looks up at her name, or maybe just Chan’s voice all together. Her tiny eyebrows are pinched, a classic Minseo expression that Chan’s come to recognise as the prelude to hunger. “Should we go find Hyunjin soon?”

Hyunjin is another conundrum. Chan had been so determined to not see the omega, and that was manageable when he was avoiding both Minseo and his grief too, burying himself in work for 3 months. Then, Jisung had told Chan that he was blinking Minseo’s life away. The intervention had been needed, and Chan has been trying to make an effort in spending time with his pup since. Making that effort also means spending time with Hyunjin, who Chan was loath to learn was not only supernaturally gorgeous, like a fae from a poem, but witty, and introspective, and personable in a way that made Chan crave to spend time with him. Hyunjin is refreshing in his bluntness, never truly rude, just honest, and finds awe in things that Chan never would— the shapes of a dead plant, a crescent moon visible at midmorning. The other day he hadn’t let Chan kill a woodlouse they’d seen in the nursery, instead he cupped it in his hands to show Minseo, before letting it out of the window. The gentleness Hyunjin sees the world with is inspiring.

Chan hopes that the more the tentative friendship Hyunjin had suggested to him grows, the more that Chan’s feelings of attraction will fade, just as they had when he had gotten to know Jisung. They are not fading yet, but now Chan cannot ignore Hyunjin again without causing him offense. It would be rude, to rescind the tentative friendship between them and more than that, Chan does not want to. He has grown up putting duty and propriety at the front of all his actions. If Chan keeps his attraction to himself, out of sight and scent for Hyunjin, then there is no harm done. If the last few months have taught Chan anything, it is that he cannot gain peace by ignoring all of his problems—not for lack of trying. So now, Chan will try to reach a friendship with Hyunjin, although maybe not ever grow comfortable enough to change his clothes in front of him.

Minseo starts to whimper, high pitched cries that only a pup can make. “We’re getting up, we’re getting up,” Chan cajoles, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Let me put a shirt on and we can go and find your Hyunjin.”

He has to put her down to change which of course Minseo does not like. Chan does not understand how Hyunjin manages to do his buttons up on his coat while also holding a baby. He puts two pairs of socks on before his shoes, the floor is wickedly cold compared to the warmth of his bed, and grabs another blanket to wrap Minseo in. Her lower lip wobbles furiously but she does not howl, and that Chan is counting as a win.

The nursery proves empty, and Hyunjin’s room too. Chan does not mean to look in Hyunjin’s room but the door adjoining the two is open, and Chan cannot help it. It’s bare and tidy, nothing on any of the shelves, and just a handful of items on the dresser next to the bed. It is not appropriate for anyone to see an omega's nest without invitation, especially not an alpha, but Chan can’t help but see how forlorn it is. Hyunjin has a few blankets clumped up, two of which Chan knows were on the bed when he was given the room. There are no personal touches, no clothes, no scent squares. There is hardly anything for Hyunjin to hide under or bury against, and Chan knows all omegas are different but every omega he knows—his dam, his omega siblings, Minkyung, Minho—preferred more in their nests than Hyunjin has.

Chan cannot say anything without offending Hyunjin, but the thought that he should do something about the empty nest circles through his head. Hyunjin has proven to be fiercely independent, though, and is quick to take any offers of help as an insult. Chan had asked if Hyunjin would like to be taught to read with nothing but good intentions, yet Hyunjin immediately clammed up. He had been laughing with Chan before that, and Hyunjin had been happy to talk about his own past and his thoughts about Chan’s, and comfortable enough to offer Chan he could not read. Then Chan had mentioned learning and Hyunjin’s face does not hide much of what he’s thinking, but he had gone purposefully blank after promising he would still be a competent nursemaid without being literate, despite that not being what Chan meant whatsoever.

A nest is far more private than any literacy skills. It is Chan’s alpha instincts, foolhardy protective ones, that are telling him he needs to provide for Hyunjin. Chan banishes the thought from his head. As it is, it’s Hyunjin who is providing for Chan, nursing Minseo. That is probably why his feelings of attraction to Hyunjin are so stubborn. It’s just a biological urge in Chan, because he sees Hyunjin with Minseo so often, not truly love at first sight or anything remotely as fantastical.

It’s hard to brush aside his attraction as only biology when Chan finds Hyunjin though. The omega is lying on his stomach in the drawing room, sketchbook and charcoal before him as he copies the patterns in the wrought wallpaper. Chan approaches, silently, standing in the doorway with Minseo in his arms as he watches. Hyunjin sticks his tongue out a little in concentration, focused on the wallpaper, eyes barely checking the paper he works on. There’s a faint smudge of charcoal on his forehead, like he rubbed an itch away without thought. He’s dressed as he often is in white underskirts and a brown robe. The bodice over the top is white too, the ribbons tying it trailing gracefully down the back of Hyunjin’s skirts. Despite the mundanity of his everyday clothes and unbound hair, the sight of Hyunjin still brings a pang to Chan.

He speaks before his scent can make a fool of himself. “Hello Hyunjin.”

The omega flinches, dropping his charcoal. “Chan,” he gasps, pushing himself up from the floor onto his knees. “I did not hear you at all. Fuck.” His eyes grow very wide at the swear that slips out his lips. “Sorry.”

Chan can’t help not holding his snicker. “I made you jump, your swear is only fair. Minseo is too young to understand it.”

“Minseo,” Hyunjin jumps up. “I lost track of time. Is she hungry?”

“She was getting a little tearful,” Chan says, “sticking out her lip to make me feel bad, you know her tricks. No howling though, no immeasurable anger. I thought it best we came to find you before she changed her mind.”

“I’m sorry, I did not tell you where I was,” Hyunjin bites his lip. Chan pretends to not see.

“It’s fine, you don’t need to apologise. Minseo didn’t mind looking around, and neither did I.”

Chan holds Minseo out at the same time Hyunjin reaches for her. “Hello babypup,” Hyunjin kisses her on her head. “Is it lunchtime?”

Hyunjin sits down on the settee, pulling the strap of his bodice over his shoulder, and picking up his shawl from the floor where he’d been drawing to cover himself. Chan staunchly studies the wallpaper. He’s never noticed just how many fronds and tiny leaves there are on it before.

“Did you have a nice morning with Minseo?”

Chan chances a glance at Hyunjin. The view is safe, he’s feeding Minseo but nothing is visible from underneath his shawl, including Minseo herself. There’s a sweet expression on Hyunjin’s face as he looks encouragingly at Chan.

“I did, thank you. We didn’t do much I’m afraid, just laid around.”

“She can’t do anything but lie around,” Hyunjin points out, grinning. He’s wearing his pink-red ribbon around his neck. Most of the fabric is obscured by his hair, there’s just a glimpse of the ribbon visible at the front of his neck where it covers Hyunjin’s scent gland.

Chan blushes. “You know what I mean. You do so much with her—take her in the gardens, sing songs, show her around the house.”

“And that’s my job,” Hyunjin says patiently. “You pay me to do so, and also I have nothing else to do. You however, Lord Chan, are running this estate and doing all that arithmetic and all the other lordly tasks. So I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to rest when you’re not. Cuddles are good for babies, anyways. All Minseo needs is your scent and you to talk to her and she’s happy.”

Chan sits on the armchair across the room. Not too close. “Why do I think you said lordly tasks with mockery just then?”

Hyunjin winks.

“How about your morning?” He asks, looking back at Hyunjin’s drawing. It’s another talent of Hyunjin’s that Chan can’t quite fathom. Hyunjin said himself, he doesn’t get to go to galleries—Chan knows how art centres around alphas and the upper echelons, and kicks himself for having asked that question previously. Hyunjin’s abilities are all self taught, and they speak to a self-sufficiency and stubbornness that Chan finds not only powerful but attractive. “How goes your drawing?”

“It’s nice. I’ve been trying to capture some of these wallpapers. I don’t ever have a reason to go in the drawing rooms, it felt like a waste not being able to see these patterns properly. And I thought it would be good practice, doing small details with charcoal.”

“What do you usually draw with?”

“Oh, no charcoal’s fine,” Hyunjin says. Chan raises an eyebrow. “Alright, well, I like pencils better. I brought some with me when I moved in, but I have since used them all up. There’s a lot of things in this house to draw.”

“I could buy you some new ones,” Chan offers.

Hyunjin screws up his face. “No thank you. I can buy some more when Minho next goes to town. It’s just they didn’t have any last time.”

“So they might have some this time?”

“You are as stubborn as Minseollie,” Hyunjin huffs. His scent is light, curling around the room gently. Hyunjin’s not really upset at Chan, not yet. Chan can poke a little more.

“So how about if you go to town with Minho and look for pencils, and if they don’t have any I will buy you some? Not as a gift, it’s part of your duties for looking after Minseo.”

“How is me drawing while you hold your own pup part of my duties?”

“What if I wanted you to teach Minseo how to draw?” Chan replies promptly.

“She is six months old.”

“Not forever.”

When Hyunjin laughs his whole face crumples. He has strong features; thick eyebrows, sharp cheekbones. Laughter softens everything on his face, making Hyunjin boneless. He looks soft, dumpling-like, unguarded in a way that he is not usually. “Alright. You win that one. That would be very kind of you Chan, thank you.”

Chan smiles back. Any chance to provide for Hyunjin, he will take it. Any opportunity to make Hyunjin laugh, he is acting a fool. Chan is a slave to his alpha instincts. Right now, sitting with Hyunjin’s happiness, he cannot bring himself to care.

“Do you have work for the rest of the day?” Hyunjin asks.

“Unfortunately. This afternoon at least. For the rest of the morning I was hoping to be with Minseo—if that is alright with you?”

“You really don’t need to ask me permission to spend time with your own pup.”

“It’s polite,” Chan shrugs. “What if you and Minseo had plans?”

Hyunjin snorts. “Well, we have no plans this morning. You may see your child as much as you want.”

“Hardly,” Chan looks at the lump under Hyunjin’s shawl. “She much prefers your company.”

Hyunjin makes an abortive movement to his hair. He plays with it when he’s nervous, Chan’s noticed. “Do they not offend you? Jests like those?”

Hyunjin’s face is worried, serious. Chan thinks. “If Minseo was older, then maybe. At the moment she knows little more than food, cuddles, and people playing with her. And you’re the main source of all of that Hyunjin, I think it only makes sense that she prefers spending time with you, over me.”

“But she doesn’t,” Hyunjin shakes his head. He looks pleading. “It’s just different.”

“Does it offend you?”

“It’s not my place to be offended,” Hyunjin blanches, “but I don’t see how the idea that your pup could prefer a complete stranger to you could not be hurtful.”

“I can see what you are saying,” Chan agrees. “On paper, maybe. You are not a stranger to us though Hyunjin. Minseo has known you for more of her life than she hasn’t. I can’t speak for when Minseo’s older, and doesn’t rely on a wet nurse or nanny the way she does now, but no. At the moment, and probably in the future, I am not upset that she likes your company more than mine. I am happy that she is happy. Putting my jealousy aside, her contentment means far more to me than my ego.”

Hyunjin hums. He still looks worried. Chan wants him to be comfortable, to know that Chan is not upset by the fact that Minseo prefers Hyunjin. He doesn’t know how else he could say it, to reassure the omega. “I won’t joke like that if it upsets you, Hyunjin.”

“It shouldn’t,” Hyunjin shakes his head. “It’s not—it doesn’t. I’m just being silly.”

“I won’t do it again,” Chan promises. He doesn’t need to know why Hyunjin is unsettled to know he does not want him to be.

☼

There’s a knock on the door, and it pushes open before Hyunjin can call come in. He’s sat in the rocking chair, crossed legged with his sewing as Minseo, blessedly, naps in her cot across the room. Hyunjin puts his work down on the side table, and swings his legs to the floor.

“Chan, hello!”

“Hello,” Chan smiles. “Hyunjin, how are you?” He sidles into the room, dressed in a blue-black overcoat, that Hyunjin hasn’t seen him wear before. Hyunjin could have had a part in making that broadcloth, once. Probably not, the coat is meticulously crafted, and definitely hand tailored, and a piece Chan probably has had for many years. Still, the idea is feasible. The thought of Hyunjin having part in making it appeals to the wicked part of Hyunjin’s omega that enjoys Chan’s scent, and Chan’s attention and disposition. The idea that Hyunjin could be of use to Chan making something like pride curl around Hyunjin’s gut.

“We are well,” Hyunjin nods his head towards Minseo, and can’t help smiling at how Chan’s entire disposition softens, melts as he looks at his pup. “Minseo is sleeping well, and that gives me time to do some sewing.”

“It is beautiful,” Chan compliments. “Your embroidery. My dam sews but I don’t think she’s ever made anything as delicate as you do. I think about your herons a lot.”

Hyunjin wasn’t aware that Chan had ever looked at his work, let alone enough to have an opinion on it, let alone enough to remember what kind of bird he stitches. “Thank you. You’re being too kind.” He shakes his head to try and dispel how the attention makes his scent swell. Hopefully Chan cannot smell it. “How are you Chan? What brings you here?”

“I am well, thank you Hyunjin. I was wondering,” Chan pauses. Laughs a little in the way that Hyunjin has come to learn as a little self-deprecating, a little unsure, far more genuine than the polished laughter he has for whatever rich guests he’s sweet talking. “I was wondering if you would accompany Minseo and I to town today?”

“Oh, of course. I’d love to. I can get her dressed. For a walk, or?”

Not always, but often Hyunjin will accompany Chan and Minseo for walks around the gardens. Ever since their first one, it had become something of a routine, now usually with Chan holding Minseo, and Hyunjin walking slightly behind them, until Chan tells Hyunjin that he would like it, if Hyunjin would, if they could walk together. It is just Chan being polite, just how he tells all his staff to call him Chan, he probably has no qualms about walking alongside any of them. A tiny part of Hyunjin wishes it is just him Chan breaks propriety for, but that was also the part of Hyunjin that resulted in him a single, pregnant, scorned omega, and is a part that is best ignored. Hyunjin’s interest in alphas had dwindled after he found out he was pregnant with Seyoon, to the point where he’d forgotten what it was like to desire their attention, and not just their money or means, at all. The attention Chan gives him is new, more respectful than Hyunjin had had in the city, and Hyunjin’s omega craves it in a way that a starving man craves his next meal. Hyunjin will not allow it to be anything more.

“Well, we’ll go in the carriage,” Chan says apologetically. “Not just a walk. The town has a little winter fair, a celebration for the solstice. I thought it would be sweet for Minseo to see it, and you too if you are interested. It’s not all altruistic, I’m afraid, several of my cousins will be attending too, and so I must see them.”

“That sounds lovely,” Hyunjin says. “Both for Minseo and you. Are you close with your cousins?”

Chan laughs. “Not really. Some more than others. And some of their friends will be there too, the Yeolla gentry. I’d honestly rather just go with Minseo, but appearances must.”

Hyunjin nods. He doesn’t know what a gentry is, but he’s learnt, the last few months, all about Yeolla’s upper classes. Unfortunately similar to the city it seemed, in terms of who held the power and respect and money—alphas—but they hid it behind their genteel words and fancy clothes. Alphas were far less likely to cat call at Hyunjin or start fights in the middle of the streets, but they still had the same salacious eyes when they looked at him, and from what gossip Hyunjin heard from the other servants, these alphas had just as many fights as the alphas in the city, just behind closed doors or through threatening correspondence. No matter what you make it out of, a spade is a spade. Chan is an outlier.

“What time do you wish to leave? I’ll have Minseo and I ready.”

“We can go whenever you are,” Chan smiles softly. A streak of winter sunlight falls through the window and across him like a painting, warming the brown in his eyes. Chan’s hair has grown longer since Hyunjin first met him, and is beginning to curl, the ends flicking upwards behind his ears. Minseo has his hair, Hyunjin thinks, although the pup’s is still too baby-soft to really tell. “Minseo has been napping for longer these last few weeks, you’ve been doing wonders with her.”

“A lot of it is growing up,” Hyunjin says. “Not me, although I suppose she can smell milk on me, and that must help. Obviously she is still so tiny, but she can sit up for ages now, if I put my hands behind her. Tiring work, sitting up.”

“Honestly. Babies have it right, just eating and napping all day. Get tired when you eat, have a nap, wake up and you’re hungry…eat again. I can only imagine adding sitting up to the cycle, I’d be knackered.” Chan shakes his head, laughing. His face is so warm, so soft whenever he speaks about Minseo.

Hyunjin laughs himself, finding Chan’s sense of humour and the way he laughs at his own jokes more endearing than he should. “Minseo will probably fall asleep in the carriage, she normally does, so it would be okay to wake her and dress her now, if you’re happy to leave sooner than later? And then she won’t sleep for too much all at once, and will still have a good nap when we get home later.”

“You see,” Chan says. “It is you! I would have never thought not to let her sleep too much at once.”

“Not for tiny pups,” Hyunjin waves his hands. “But once they get a bit older, and start doing other things it can help. I’d never not let her sleep though, I follow her schedule and needs.”

“I trust you Hyunjin,” Chan smiles. His eyes are the same as Minseo’s, warm and kind. Chan is both of those things, as wary as Hyunjin was of him at first. “I’m not judging you, or trying to criticise how you’re raising Minseollie. You’re doing a job I never could.”

Hyunjin’s doing a job he never could either, not for Seyoon.

Jisung drives the three of them to town in the carriage, singing to himself along the journey. The shutters are open, and so Chan and Hyunjin, sitting opposite each other with Minseo bundled on Chan’s lap, can both hear his jaunty tone. Hyunjin tries to hide his amusement, turning his face away, but Chan makes no such effort, and keeps falling into giggles.

“He’ll hear you,” Hyunjin warns, unable to stop himself giggling, more at Chan than Jisung’s song. Chan’s laughter is contagious. “If we can hear him.”

“We are going forwards, so the wind brings Sung’s song to us, and hopefully our teasing behind us and far away from him,” Chan grins. “But you’re right, I don’t want him to sulk with our teasing.”

“I’m not teasing,” Hyunjin protests, shaking his head. “You’re the one laughing.”

“I saw your smile Hyunjin,” Chan declares. He’s still grinning, eyes brimming with mirth. “This was a joint effort. If I fall I’m taking you down with me.”

Hyunjin shakes his head again, maybe too vigorously as he can feel his hair, braided behind his ears, escape. Chan looks at him, not saying anything before he learns forward, suddenly, stroking the stand back. Chan’s hand is gentle, his fingertips cold as they trace the shell of Hyunjin’s ear. He’s leaning back in his seat, as quickly as he moved in the first place, and Hyunjin can only stare at him, heart pounding.

Chan makes an abortive motion, but whatever he was going to say is lost as the carriage halts, Jisung’s voice calling out that they’re here.

Chan stands instead, smiling tightly, handing Minseo to Hyunjin. She wails, at being taken away from her sire, undoubtedly sick of spending so much time with Hyunjin. “I know, I know,” he coos to her, carefully sliding her tiny body into the sling atop his chest. “You have to walk with me, I’m sorry.” The sling allows him to walk and use his hands, and provides warmth for her as well. He rarely uses it when they’re in the estate’s gardens but it is a lot safer in the crowded town. “Your sire’s still coming too.”

Jisung helps them both dismount, first taking Chan’s hand—another example of Chan as an outlier—before helping Hyunjin down the steps.

Jisung opens the door, hand out to help Chan down—which, Hyunjin is sure, is not normally an action for an alpha to receive but everything he has seen of Chan and Jisung’s relationship seems unlike an average alpha friendship. Chan says nothing, regardless, accepting Jisung’s hand before turning back to watch Hyunjin, and by proxy Minseo, step out the carriage.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin says to Jisung, smiling. Chan is standing, evenly stanced, watching them carefully. Making sure Minseo doesn’t get hurt.

Jisung docks an invisible hat, bowing his head. “A pleasure my sweet Hyunjin.”

“Stop flirting,” Chan says, too-sharply, body turning. Jisung raises an eyebrow but moves backwards, away from Hyunjin. The reprimand felt out of place, Hyunjin lost at Chan’s sudden annoyance. Jisung and Hyunjin don’t flirt, really, only when Jisung is trying to lighten the mood and make Hyunjin laugh. He’s so over the top and effervescent Hyunjin knows it’s not serious—and Minho has told him too, saying he’d make sure Jisung stopped if it ever made Hyunjin uncomfortable. The truth is that Jisung doesn't make Hyunjin uncomfortable, and that he enjoys their jokes. Everyone knows Jisung is not interested in Hyunjin, and that makes the jokes feel safe. It also makes Chan’s reprimand a little harsh.

He’s anxious, Hyunjin thinks, looking back at Chan’s face. He’s still standing on guard, too-stiff in his body the way he used to be the first few times he encountered Hyunjin. Chan mentioned they are going to see his cousins too, who he doesn’t like, and so it makes sense he’s a little on edge, a little sharp. Hyunjin glances back at Chan again, and blinks when he finds Chan already looking at him. Chan startles slightly as they make eye contact, like he didn’t realise he was glaring at Hyunjin, and the blank expressionlessness on his face melts away.

“You won’t be more than a few hours, right?” Jisung says. His voice sounds like it always does, like Chan’s reprimand was of no note to him. Maybe Hyunjin is reading too much into things that are not there. “There’s no point in me going back to the estate, the girls and I will just wait here.”

“No,” Chan shakes his head. “I’ll let you know if our plans change, but at the minute Hyunjin and I—and Minseo, of course—are going to look around the market stalls, and then probably have to meet my cousins for a drink.” He grimaces. “A short drink.”

Jisung laughs. “I’ll have an emergency if you need one. Or maybe Hyunjinnie can have one for Minseollie, maybe she desperately needs to be changed or something and then of course you have to accompany Hyunjin back to the carriage too.”

Chan laughs too, the last vestiges of thunder clearing from his face like it was never there. “We’ll be fine.” He looks at Hyunjin. “Of course though, if Minseo needs changing or anything I will accompany you back to the carriage. And if you yourself, Hyunjin, tire or get bored of our trip or anything, we’ll come back immediately.”

“We’ll be okay,” Hyunjin smiles, prepared to hold some of Chan’s stress for him. He tucks his shawl tighter around himself and Minseo, making sure she can still see. “Won’t you Minseo? We’re going to look around the market, you’re going to have such a lovely time with your sire.”

The North side of the city does not celebrate the solstice like this. Chan leads Hyunjin and Minseo up one street, and around the corner of another, the town brimming, booming, with noise and colour. The market place is decorated extravagantly, bunting hanging between buildings over the street, ribbons looping around every pillar and plinth. Coloured scarfs and flags in every sunset shade, yellows, pinks, oranges and golds, hang from windows, waving in the breeze.

“Look Minseo,” Hyunjin gasps, “look how beautiful it is!” He’s never been anywhere so beautiful, seen people make such an effort to bring all this joy just for a day. “Oh, can you see the ribbons?”

Chan says nothing, walking alongside Hyunjin and Minseo slowly, allowing their eyes to feast. Hyunjin repositions his shawl again, determined to make sure Minseo can see as much colour and movement as possible. Even if she’s far too young to remember this when she’s older, it doesn’t mean Minseo cannot enjoy it now, and maybe it could become a tradition for Minseo and Chan, to visit the solstice fair together every year.

“What are these?” Hyunjin asks as they stop at a stall covered in embossed tin decorations, suns and moons and flowers scattered across a plain tablecloth. Hyunjin picks one up curiously, the metal far lighter than he imagined.

“To celebrate the Solstice,” Chan nods. “People buy them to decorate their fireplaces or windows, or hang on strings, like a kind of bunting. I imagine they look very pretty in the firelight, and how it reflects the light across the room.”

Hyunjin nods, already thinking of how they would move in a gentle breeze if the window was open. He could hang a few in Minseo’s window, she’d like how the sun would bounce off them and across the walls of her nursery.

“Would you like to buy one?” Chan asks, making a movement for his purse.

Hyunjin turns the sun over in his hands. It has eight points, and is filled with an undulating, spiralling pattern. The very centre has another sun carved within it, a smaller mirror of the shape. He’s never been able to afford decorations like these before, not trinkets that have no purpose but to look pretty. He could, now, afford this little sun. “Maybe we can come back? We should look at the other stalls first, if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course, there’s no rush,” Chan says instantly. Smiles at Hyunjin, and then down at Minseo. “Does that sound good to you Minseollie?”

Hyunin can’t really see her face, only the top of her head with how she’s bundled against him, face turned to the side, but thinks she’s smiling by the way Chan’s face brightens. “I thought it would be nice to hang one in her window,” he explains, moving on to the next stall. “And it would reflect the sun. But there might be something better.”

“She would love that,” Chan agrees, adoring as he looks at his pup. “But you can buy something for you, you know? Not for Minseo.”

“Trinkets,” Hyunjin shrugs. “I had a few. Not as nice as anything here. But they’re not something you really can buy yourself, right? Like, that’s a waste of money to buy something that just looks pretty.”

“I guess I’ll have you buy you something then,” Chan says smoothly.

“Don’t you dare,” Hyunjin protests.

Chan continues walking, pretending to not have heard. Hyunjin knows Chan has, can see the curve of his cheek belaying his grin.

The other stalls are equally as beautiful. Several other tables interest Hyunjin—a menagerie of tiny jade animals, painstakingly carved, a pair of amber earrings, a beautiful cherry coloured ribbon to wear at the neck. He makes sure to not to pay anything too much attention, not wanting Chan to feel inclined to buy anything for him. People do give each other gifts for the Solstice, a reward for seeing half the winter out, and a promise to get through to the other side together, Hyunjin knows that, but it feels improper for Chan to get Hyunjin something. No matter how much Hyunjin likes—longs for—Chan’s attention, he knows he is just seeing what he wants to see, and that Chan buying him a trinket out of politeness and goodwill would do nothing to help stop Hyunjin’s traitorous heart yearning.

There’s a sweet rabbit toy, smaller than Hyunjin’s palm with brown downy fur and a tiny pink nose that Hyunjin thinks Minseo would love, and he does try to buy it for her but Chan protests, reaching for his own purse. Hyunjin, reluctantly, lets Chan pay—Minseo is his child after all. She’s still a little too little to play with toys, really, she likes to put her wooden animals in her mouth, and has a set of carved bricks that she just throws. She’s growing up so fast though, and Hyunjin knows it won’t be too long until she might like to play with the rabbit. It's so small and sweet, and Hyunjin has some pink ribbon in his room that is the same colour as the rabbit’s nose that he thinks he could make a bow out of, to adorn the rabbits neck.

Seyoon likes rabbits. Several times when Hyunjin had visited him in Riverrun the two of them had sat in the gardens and watched the wild rabbits playing at the bottom of the bank. Hyunjin used to draw him rabbits with charcoal and soft pencils on scraps of paper he’d tear out of the newspaper that came around their building. Seyoon would love the toy Hyunjin had chosen for Minseo. Or maybe not. Maybe Seyoon doesn’t like rabbits anymore, maybe he has a different interest, a new animal, and Hyunjin is here, none the wiser, because he hasn’t seen his pup in over eight months, and instead is busy picking toys for Seyoon’s replacement.

The cruelty of his thoughts makes Hyunjin take a physical step backwards. He didn’t mean that. Minseo wasn’t a replacement of any kind. She was so young but already Hyunjin could see her personality emerging, the differences between the two children. Seyoon, so shy and soft while Minseo, already so active and far, far louder. Hyunjin could love them both. He did love them both. It was not Minseo’s fault that he sought comfort from her, and it wasn’t her place to give him comfort to begin with.

“Are you okay?” Chan asks, freeing Hyunjin from his head. He has a sixth sense for Hyunjin’s mood.

“I’m sorry, lost in thoughts,” Hyunjin apologises. Subtly tries to check the scent paste on his neck, making sure it hasn’t rubbed off and that it wasn’t his scent that enlightened Chan about his malady. He doesn’t wear any at home, but out in public it’s considered polite, and when with Lord Chan Bang, it’s not Hyunjin’s reputation he’d be marring.

“You can tell me, if you want?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “Just thinking about rabbits.”

“Minseo will love it,” Chan says, looking at Minseo adoringly. “Or probably chew it. But I guess it’s the same thing at that age.”

Hyunjin laughs, glad for the distraction the image provides. “Oh, definitely.”

They do another lap of the market, Hyunjin remaining careful to not look at anything too much. Everything for sale is beautiful, and Solstice-themed, but so much of it feels rather useless. Hyunjin has no use for tiny suns or decorative combs, or scent squares which you scented and gave to those you loved. The realisation makes him feel on edge, a little, suddenly all too-aware that he doesn’t fit in, around gaggles of rich crowds. Hyunjin’s dressed appropriately, a light wool coat, his hair bound, but the coat is one of Minho’s, and having his hair pinned up feels like a lie. None of these beautiful trinkets or pieces of jewellery or leatherbound books could Hyunjin have afforded before looking after Minseo, and to buy them now feels would be a farce. Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, but his realisation must show on his face, or perhaps escape through his scent, because Chan walks closer to him, the press of his shoulder a comforting weight.

There are food stalls, but Chan leads them past them, through the open doors of a green painted inn. “We’ll meet my cousins here, if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Hyunjin nods, caught in looking around. It’s well lit, due to the large windows that span the entire side of the building, nothing like the dingy pub Hyunjin used to visit. The floor is light pine, and the counter curves around in the middle of the room, the rest taken up by tables and chairs. Chan leads them to a bench near the window, gesturing for Hyunjin to sit down before he takes the seat next to him.

“Are you and Minseo okay?”

“More than,” Hyunjin says, untying the sling and turning around Minseo in his lap, finally able to look at her. “Are you okay babypup, hmm? What an exciting morning we’ve had! You sire and I got you a present too, you are so lucky. So spoilt. You’ll have to thank him.”

Minseo loves being spoken to. She coos and babbles right back, happy able to sit between Hyunjin’s hands and the edge of the table.

“Spoilt rotten,” Chan agrees, grinning. “She should thank both of us. Yes, yes you should.” Minseo blows a bubble of spit, something Minho’s been teaching her. Hyunjin has tried to dissuade the other omega, but Minseo picked it up regardless, to Minho’s glee. Chan makes a face. “Did that bad Minho teach you that? Terrible, my pup is learning to spit before she can sit.”

Hyunjin laughs, “I told him you wouldn’t like it.”

“That’s why he does it,” Chan shakes his head, mock-annoyed. He’s lost the stress he was wearing earlier, sometime between leaving the carriage and after visiting the first few market stalls. Hyunjin’s glad, he likes to see Chan happy and relaxed. “I’m going to get a drink, what can I get you?”

“Oh,” Hyunjin says, “I don’t know what they have. Just a water’s fine.”

“Hmm, I’ll have a look,” Chan says. “You like fruit right?”

“You don’t need to get me anything fancy,” Hyunjin says to Chan’s retreating back. “Oh, he’s going to,” Hyunjin says, looking back down at Minseo. “Your sire’s impossible, you know, when he treats me like a friend. It does terrible things to my heart.”

Minseo laughs. Her hair’s completely covered by a black knitted bonnet. The colour is a little harsh on her, Hyunjin thinks, too dark for a pup, but it matches how Chan likes to dress, and Hyunjin also thinks it's funny to dress pup to match sire. “I’m the odd one out,” he says, meaning his coat. “But then again, I should be. I need to stop inserting myself into your family, Minseollie. It gets hard to remember, sometimes. I never have had to try so hard to not like anybody before. And you don’t help,” he takes Minseo’s hand, wiggling it around. “You don’t help at all, you little butter won’t melt in your mouth! A dangerous combination, you and your sire.”

“What are you two gossiping about?” Chan calls out, walking towards them with a smile on his face. He’s carrying two mugs, setting one in front of Hyunjin before he sits down. “I got you a hot apple tea, is that okay? It’s made with warming spices, I thought you'd like it.”

Hyunjin breathes in the scent appreciatively, taking a sip. “I told you you didn’t need to get anything fancy.”

“It’s cold today,” Chan shrugs, unphased. “You deserve something warming. We can swap, if you don’t like it. Mine is citrus and rum. Also hot.”

Hyunjin wrinkles his nose, and pulls his mug closer to him, although careful to keep it out of reach of Minseo. “You’re not having mine.”

Chan laughs, “I thought so. I bumped into a cousin at the bar, they’re just ordering their drinks and then they’ll be joining us.”

Hyunjin looks at the group Chan gestures at, three figures all dressed for winter in various dark coats. “What is it with your family and dressing all in black?”

“Branding,” Chan nods, “or a sign we’re all awfully boring I guess.”

“Who’s boring?” One of the cousins asks, overhearing as they walk towards the table.

“Just joking about my coat,” Chan says, standing to greet them, and gesturing for Hyunjin to stay seated. “Geon, Jihyuk, Chuul, this is my pup, Minseo, she’s grown since you last met, and this is Hyunjin.”

“A pleasure,” Jihyuk says, pushing themself along the bench opposite Hyunjin. Chul follows, and then Geon at the end. Hyunjin doesn’t know how they are related to Chan, but none of them look particularly like Chan, the black hair the only similarity shared between the four. Gaon and Jihyk have the same nose as each other, and Chuul and Jihyuk are the same height, both much taller than Chan, and therefore a little taller than Hyunjin. They’re siblings Hyunjin presumes, although Chan never said.

“I can’t believe you have a new omega already,” Chuul says, making no effort to hide the way his eyes are examining Hyunjin’s neck. “Is this Minkyung’s replacement, Chan?”

The words are very loud in the way that words are loud when they make everybody go quiet. Chan recovers first, hastily correcting. “Oh, no, Hyunjin’s just the wet nurse.”

Hyunjin smiles, uncomfortable, and tries to ignore how much it hurts to be reminded that Chan only sees him as the thing he is meant to be. That is what Hyunjin has been wanting to hear. It doesn’t make it any easier.

“Bountiful, at least,” Chuul continues, again not trying to hide how he’s staring at Hyunjin’s body. “A bit of a waste, though.”

“Chul,” Chan says darkly, sternly. “Don’t.” Hyunjin ducks his head, and thinks about melting into the floor. His mug is making a wet ring on the table. Hyunjin could join it, a bodiless puddle.

“Oh both of you, shush.” Geon rolls their eyes. “Chan, you know Chuul doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Sorry,” Chul offers to Chan.

Chan takes a deep, purposeful breath. “Where is your family today, Jihyuk? Didn’t they come to the market with you?”

They descend into conversation, about names Hyunjin doesn’t know, and places that are foreign to him. They work with Chan, in some way or other, Hyunjin learns, and that’s probably why Chan makes nice with them even when he would rather not. Hyunjin sits there, letting Minseo hold his finger with her whole palm, bouncing her on his knees when she grows restless. None of Chan’s cousins show any interest in Minseo, and after Chul’s original comments, none of them speak to him. Chan remains stoic, but polite, and underneath the table, his fist clenches in anger, knuckles turned red. Silently, carefully, Hyunjin unclenches Chan’s hand and the nails he’s burying into his own palm, and intertwines his fingers with Chan’s instead.

☼

Chan gets home in a fit of anger. He says his thanks to Jisung, sees Hyunjin and Minseo inside, and storms into his study. Chan cannot close his eyes without seeing Chul’s leering eyes behind them, the way he looked at Hyunjin without an inch of shame. A bit of a waste. Propriety, and the fact that they both work for their grandsire, demands Chan play nice. Chan wishes he had punched Chul in the face. He might have had Hyunjin not held hands with him under the table.

As a general rule of thumb, Chan doesn’t like being angry. His protective instincts teeter into rage on occasion, and it feels wrong, an ill-fitting coat, like Chan is dressed up trying to prove something he is not. Chan tries so hard to be laid back, the stresses of his world may subdue him, but Chan considers himself a measured person, a rational alpha. However, when it comes to protecting the people he loves, his capability for anger grows exponentially. Anger is unproductive, when his alpha gets fired up too much for Chan to think, and he hates the aftermath, when all he can do is think about all the terrible things he is capable of. That doesn’t mean Chan has enough self control to stop getting angry, not when somebody hurts his own.

Hyunjin had said nothing about it, not after they left the inn nor in the carriage ride home. No, Hyunjin had just thanked Chan for a lovely day out and chatted to Minseo about the ribbons and music, while Chan sat in silence, like an inkblot left to stew. Chan had apologised to Hyunjin as soon as they were out of the inn, as soon as they’d been there the minimum amount of time and Chan could make an excuse to leave. Hyunjin had accepted Chan’s words, with a bow of his head, and told Chan it was not his fault. Chan is not angry that Hyunjin didn’t seem upset—he does not want Hyunjin upset! Hyunjin keeps his emotions close to him, Chan has learnt the last few months. No matter how much Hyunjin speaks or postures, there is always something he keeps to himself. Chan’s anger feels unproportional against Hyunjin’s quiet acceptance, it was Hyunjin who was insulted so what good does Chan have to feel like this?

Chan throws himself into work, angrily penning a letter as to why Chul is unsuitable to be on the Bang trading board, and when that does nothing to calm the fire inside him, paces around the room.

It was not enough. Chan writes another, angrier, letter about Chul’s lack of suitability, knowing that anything about how he treated Hyunjin would do nothing to get him fired. A few well placed remarks about Chul’s light fingers, however, and the disparity in his accounts would do it.

When that letter, and several false-starts he had to abandon because they just fell into a litany of curses, is written it is still not enough. A fire burns inside Chan, so hot he throws his housecoat off and heads into the gardens to run it away.

There, running endless laps while sweat pours down his brow, and his heart pounds away in his chest, Chan finds peace.

It’s later, hours later, when Chan tries to speak to Hyunjin again. The sun has long set, and he’s careful when he knocks on Minseo’s nursery door, quietly pushing it open in case she is asleep.

“Coming,” Hyunjin calls out. Minseo is asleep, curled up in the bassinet in the nursery, Hyunjin in his bedroom, the door connecting the two rooms open so he can hear her if she stirs. The sight of Minseo, and her milky soft pup scent calms something in Chan that he wasn’t aware was still fired up until it left. Chan comes closer, not daring to touch Minseo or disturb her, but stands as close as he can, listening to the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

“Chan,” Hyunjin says, and Chan looks up to see Hyunjin, dressed for bed. He’s wearing a long robe, a hint of collarbone visible through the thin fabric, and his feet are bare. His hair is unbound once more, frizzy from the elaborate braids it had been in. “Oh, sorry I wasn’t expecting you.”

“No, I’m sorry I came at such a late hour,” Chan bites his lip. “I can go if I am disturbing you.”

“No you’re fine,” Hyunjin reassures. “I just changed after dinner. I’m not used to dressing up, my head was aching from having all my hair on top of it.”

Chan smiles, he can’t help himself. “Well, you looked very nice. But you always do, regardless of hairstyle.”

Hyunjin smiles himself, a pretty blush covering his cheeks. “Your hair is getting long enough to braid, I reckon. I bet Minho would do it for you too, if you asked.”

“Imagine,” Chan scoffs. “Look. I came to tell you I’ve written a letter to my grandsire, and I’ll send it after reading it tomorrow and correcting all the swears. Chul is likely to be removed from the board of members for Bang Trading for some shocking account irregularities.”

“Oh?”

“I only wish I could say the real reason, for the crudeness and unsuitability of his words today, but unfortunately I don’t think that will be taken seriously. But please know Hyunjin, I took it seriously, and I am only sorry I couldn’t do anything there and then.”

Hyunjin looks at Chan, absent mindedly twisting his hair. “Did he have shocking account irregularities?”

“A few,” Chan shrugs. “Enough that my embellishments were not totally wrong. He’s not popular as it is, and my grandsire will always take my word over his.”

“You didn’t need to do that,” Hyunjin says softly. “It’s alright.”

“I did,” Chan replies, and is shocked by the vehemence in his own voice. “I did Hyunjin, I did. He should not have talked about you like that, or looked at you, and it was not only an insult to you, but against Minyung’s memory too.” Chan can’t look away from Hyunjin, his earnest eyes, at how he tilts his head when he’s listening. Hyunjin was wearing scent blockers in the market today, and perhaps that is part of the reason Chan’s alpha had been so enraged, unable to tell if his omega—unable to tell if Hyujin was alright. He’s washed them off since coming home and Hyunjin’s natural scent, a little wood-like, mellow and milky, is balm to a sore. Minseo smells like Hyunjin, Chan realises abstractly. Like herself, and then with more than a hint of Hyunjin. The way that a pup always smells like their dam. “I had a lovely time in the market with you, and I’m sorry my cousins marred that.”

“I am sorry too,” Hyunjin says. Carefully, sternly. His scent swells, sharpens. “They were cruel to you, and your mate. Chul should have not spoken to you like that, there is nothing wrong with being your omega.”

A pause.

Hyunjin blushes, pink blossoming over the tips of his ears. “I’m sorry. That sounded—I did not mean I am your omega. Only that your being your omega would hardly be a bad thing, and is not something you should apologise for. That they presumed me to be.”

Chan worries his own face is burning. Hyunjin smells honest, embarrassed, and Chan’s scent is full of primp and pride, happiness pouring out of his alpha at the idea that Hyunjin would be his. Chan’s cheeks feel hot beneath his palms, he ducks his head. “I. Thank you. I didn’t come to disturb your evening to just apologise,” Chan puts his hand in his pocket, pulls out the little package wrapped in white paper. “I saw you looking at the market today. And again, there’s no pressure to accept but well, I hope this is alright?”

Hyunjin reaches out, slim fingers brushing Chan’s palm. “You shouldn’t have,” he says, pulling the paper. The golden sun cradled in his hands, eight points and a swirly pattern in the centre. Hyunjin had marvelled over the tin decorations for minutes earlier, and Chan hadn’t been close enough to see which exact ones he examined but had revisited the stall later, when Hyunjin was distracted looking at ribbons, and decided that this little sun, both delicate and bold, was perfect for Hyunjin. “Oh.”

“I hope this isn’t an overstep,” Chan says, rocking back on his heels. “But you said you would not buy trinkets for yourself.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Hyunjin breathes. “Are you—are you sure?”

“It’s a token of our appreciation. From Minseo and me. You have done so much for Minseo, I am incredibly thankful.”

“You do pay me,” Hyunjin arches an eyebrow.

“As I would if you were half the help you are. But Hyunjin, honestly, you are a dream. We—Minseo and I—really appreciate you. I was sceptical about hiring a wet nurse, initially, worried that they might not also be a suitable nursemaid or role model too, but Hyunjin you are everything. All of it. I am so thankful you found us.”

“I am thankful too. Minseollie is so gorgeous, I am so blessed to look after her. And you Chan,” Hyunjin looks up. Makes the eye contact Chan so struggles with. “You are very kind, and noble, and to tell you the truth I was worried about this job at first. Moving out of the city, living in your house—a Lord? I am from some of the grottiest parts of the North City, and I worried that you’d think I'm too common or uncouth.”

“Never,” Chan breathes. Hyunjin is one of a kind, not just in his beauty but his humour, his free spirit, the way he views the world. Chan cannot imagine anyone ever finding Hyunjin common. “I could never.”

☼

Ever since visiting the Solstice market, Hyunjin cannot stop thinking about Chan. It had felt like a date, like something that happened to omegas who were courting alphas. Hyunjin has never been courted but he imagines prospective couples would go on outings as such. Chul’s words had been unpleasant, but truthfully Hyunjin had heard a lot worse from people whose opinions he valued a lot more. He cares about Chan’s apology though, and the fact that he lied to get his own cousin’s job lost, because of how he spoke to Hyunjin—it’s not Hyunjin’s heart’s fault he cannot stop thinking about Chan.

Hyunjin hangs the tin sun that Chan bought him from his window. It bounces gold light around his room, reflecting even the little winter sun. His new room is so far from his old, and his new life is so far from his old, and Kim Jimin had suggested Hyunjin would have a second chance to meet an alpha who didn’t think he was a slut and she probably didn’t think that would be the Lord of the estate, and father of the child he is netnursing, but that’s how it seems to be happening. Not that Hyunjin is trying to get ahead of himself. He’s aware that the idea of courting is new and exciting, and that maybe because it’s so new he’s leaning into things that are not there. At heart, buried by necessity, Hyunjin has always fancied himself a romantic.

Hyunjin was not in love with Seyoon’s sire, and he knew that the first time they slept together. Hyunjin had, however, been flattered by the attention and the compliments he’d plied Hyunjin with, and while there had never been gifts or any kind of notion of courting, a secret part of Hyunjin had kind of longed there would be. Then they fucked, and Hyunjin learnt the difference between love and lust.

Hyunjin can hardly sleep with Chan to examine whether his feelings for the alpha are truly love or not. However, the fact he likes Chan too much to think about having to leave him seems to suggest the former. Hyunjin likes Chan, and his smile, and his company, and how he flits between self-assured and confident, and then bashful and awkward. Hyunjin likes how Chan loves Minseo, and he likes how Chan’s always treated him as more than a servant, and he likes how Chan is respectful and kind to all his servants nevertheless.

If they had been born in another world, and Hyunjin had been lucky enough to meet Chan in the city, equal in terms of class, he would still like Chan. Even without Minseo, and the wage Hyunjin is paid, and his room in the estate, Hyunjin would like Chan. So surely, that is a marker of love? Or the potential for what is brimming between them to grow to be love.

The night Chan had given Hyunjin the sun, and Hyunjin had inadvertently suggested that he would be Chan’s omega, Hyunjin had smelt Chan. He’d taken his scent blockers off, and the rich, deepness of him, the scent of his arousal and longing was not something that Hyunjin had dreamt up.

Hyunjin doesn’t think he is a replacement dam for Minseo. He wants to be, kind of. From everything he has heard of Chan’s past mate, Hyunjin knows it was not a love match. Everything Hyunjin has heard of Chan’s past mate has told him it wasn’t a love match. Yerim told Hyunjin, once, in no uncertain terms that the two had been little more than strangers to each other. Minho had let slip on several occasions how Minkyung had no desire to know her alpha. Hyunjin knows Minkyung was under no obligation to love Chan, he understands that Chan did not love her, and that Chan was not interested in spending time with Minkyung either. Hyunjin is just biased because he cannot understand how anyone could be claimed by Chan; could be with Chan’s child and not be in love with him.

If Hyunjin mated Chan he would never let his bite heal. There would be a constant bloody mark on Chan’s neck, proof that he belonged to Hyunjin to everybody who looked. Sometimes when the two of them are on walks with Minseo, he thinks about how they might appear as a young family to a stranger walking past. It’s a foolish, cruel thought. Hyunjin’s neck is bare of any mating mark, his hair unbound and marking him as single, but dressed for the winter, with scarves and cloaks, or a well placed ribbon around his throat, a stranger would not know. A stranger would see Hyunjin and Chan walking together and Minseo, bundled up in one of their arms, and they would see a family.

Hyunjin turns over in bed with a sigh. He should be up, but he had placed Minseo down for a nap and was stricken with a tiredness himself. His heart thinks about Chan, and the snatches of Chan’s scent that he’s caught, and the gentleness and kindness he treats Hyunjin with. It’s easy to lie in his nest and wallow, flittering back between a giddiness and an ache at the thought of loving Chan. A physical ache too sometimes, a warmth between his legs. Minseo does not sleep through the nights, and Hyunjin dare not touch himself for worry that Minseo will wake and then he will have to come to terms with the fact that he is aroused by her sire. That he is tending to his arousal, caused by Chan, and wishing it was Chan in his bed instead.

The idea of Chan in his bed, leaning over Hyunjin, his broad palms over Hyunjin’s thighs is making Hyunjin wet. Closing his eyes, biting his lip, Hyunjin traces one finger at the warmth between his legs. His cunt throbs. Chan would be able to hold Hyunjin’s thigh with one hand, he could push it back to have a better angle to fuck Hyunjin with. His cock could slide straight into Hyunjin, he's dripping so much. Chan would be gentle at first, and Hyunjin would goad him, tell Chan to fuck him faster, faster, until the bed was shaking, slamming against the wall. Chan would kiss him, bite his lips, drag his hands over Hyunjin’s tits. What a waste, Chan’s cousin had said, looking at them. Hyunjin wouldn’t let Chan waste anything. He could put his mouth on Hyunjin’s nipples, and drink any milk he wanted. He’d bite, and then soothe the sting with a press of his tongue, covering Hyunjin with his spit, his scent. Chan would knot Hyunjin, hold him by his hips and pump him full of seed, the two of them tangled together until it took.

Fingers moving furiously over his clothed clit, Hyunjin finishes. Stunned, he drops his hand from the mess between his thighs and thinks about that gravity of what he has just done.

Next door, Minseo sleeps peacefully.

Hyunjin thinks about the fact that he just came to the thought of carrying Chan’s pups and bursts into tears.

☼

Chan cannot get Hyunjin’s words out of his head. I am your omega. If only. Chan has never felt this way before. Not about Minkyung, not about any people he spent nights with before her. Chan cannot stop thinking about the fact that he could be with Hyunjin, that he could claim Hyunjin as his omega. It is an awful hindbrained part of himself thinking, some stupid alpha instinct that now Chan has thought of, he cannot stop.

Minseo loves Hyunjin, that Chan is certain of. He doesn’t think it would be wrong to say that Hyunjin loves Minseo either, more than a wet nurse position gives reason to. Chan has seen Hyunjin with Minseo when he doesn’t realise he’s being watched. He’s constantly talking to her, laughing, making up little games for her. Hyunjin carries Minseo to see the bugs in the garden, and marvel at different plants and leaves. When it rains he takes Minseo to the foyer, and will hold her with the door open so she can listen. Chan thinks about Hyunjin’s joy at the market, the wonder in his eyes, and his determination to make sure that Minseo was experiencing that wonder too, nevermind the fact she is too little to really understand anything. Hyunjin is the perfect dam.

Not a replacement for Minkyung, of course, Hyunjin could never be Minkyung’s replacement. They were both so different from each other. The fact Minseo will never know the dam who carried her still saddens Chan, but it would be a life to say Minseo is still damless. Chan is still young. Society deems it perfectly acceptable for alphas to remate, Chan has known alphas as old as sixty, seventy, remating and aside from Chan’s personal thoughts about alphas so old claiming omegas much younger, it was perfectly acceptable by societal standards. Hyunjin is only five years younger than him. Mating Hyunjin, who has no family name or social status would be slightly less acceptable but Chan already has Minseo with Minkyung’s family name as an heir, and so nobody would be able to oppose Hyunjin on the grounds that Chan would not be heirless.

It is a foolish thought. Just because Hyunjin is kind and witty and beautiful does not mean he is interested in Chan. His scent suggests his attraction to Chan, yes, but he is more than the omega inside of him. Chan could love Hyunjin if he was a scentless beta, and Chan could love Hyunjin if Hyunjin had been born an alpha.

The problem, as most problems are, is taken to Minho and Jisung.

Jisung is unfailingly optimistic, and continues to be. “Just kiss him.”

“I am his employer,” Chan reminds his friends. “I cannot, it would not be fair for Hyunjin.”

Minho laughs, a short barking sound. He and Jisung are sitting pressed together on a settee across from Chan in Minho’s rooms. It reminds Chan a little bit of being much younger and sat opposite his dam and sire under firing squad. Now Chan’s not so much under firing squad as he is under a wave. Nothing aimed at him, but he is drowning nonetheless.

“He’s open about his attraction to you Chan,” Jisung shrugs. “He’s not scared of you. He’d been here for like, three weeks before he told me that you spent no time with Minseo and you were going to miss out on her life. Just not in those words exactly.”

The realisation that Hyunjin is the reason Chan had been told, rightfully so, to spend more time with his pup is another thing Chan can’t quite deal with right now. Groaning, he buries his head in his hands. “But what if that changes? He could become scared. What if I desire him more than he does me, and he changes his mind, but feels trapped?”

Chan thinks about Hyunjin’s gentle teasing, the way he’s been looking at Chan directly in the eyes the last few weeks, licking his chopsticks at lunchtime or standing right beside him when they speak. Hyunjin held hands with Chan under the table at the inn, and just last night had petted Chan’s hair when saying goodnight.

“This is a conversation you need to have with Hyunjin. What is not fair is for you to be speaking without him, making these decisions for him,” Jisung says, looking across at Chan with earnest eyes. “If you are in love with him, you should approach this with him as your equal.”

Love. Such a weighty word, but would Chan be feeling this way if it wasn’t love? He wouldn’t risk propriety if it wasn’t love. He wouldn’t risk Minseo. Minseo loves Hyunjin. Her first word was a misspoken ‘Jin’ and she’s constantly aware of where he is and what he’s doing. If Chan makes Hyunjin uncomfortable with his feelings, and Hyunjin leaves it is Minseo who will suffer the most.

And Hyunjin, lovely, kind Hyunjin—would he stay even if he didn’t like Chan? Because Chan was the one paying him? Or so he didn’t hurt Minseo? Hyunjin’s sharp, Chan’s aware, and over the last few months as they’ve grown closer and closer he has gotten to see the more biting, opinionated, stubborn side of Hyunjin that was initially hidden by shyness and propriety. Chan doesn’t think Hyunjin would stay in a position he doesn’t like because of money, but then Hyunjin had told Chan how he was so glad to leave the city. What if staying with Chan was still preferable to moving back to the city?

“Chan,” Jisung warns, all too accurately reading Chan’s silence. “I can hear you overthinking.”

“You’re too gentle with him, Ji” Minho sighs, reaching out a leg to kick Chan in the shin. “Oi. Chan. Lord Bang. Get out of your head and get into Hyunjin’s bed.”

“Minho,” Jisung laughs, shocked.

“Minho,” Chan complains, ignoring their exchange. “Minho, you’re an omega. Do you not think—do you not think I shouldn’t say anything? I don’t want to be an old alpha lord lusting over an omega who cannot say no.”

Minho is willingly single, and probably always would be, traumatised from negative experiences in the last few years of his youth. Chan had seen what happened to Minho, and while Chan is confident he could never be capable of inflicting the cruelty that Minho was subjected to, he doesn’t think that makes him in line for a sainthood.

Minho rolls his eyes. He’s short tempered, not often, but it grows when Chan worries about being an alpha, or invertedly brings up the ghosts in Minho’s past. Chan tries not to, tries his best to respect Minho’s unspoken wishes, but he trusts Minho’s judgement like none other. “You’re four and a half years older than Hyunjin, and he’s perfectly capable of saying no. Yes, you’re his employer, and yes, you’re right that there are alphas who would take advantage of having a young, sexy, fertile—”

“—Minho!—”

“—single omega in their house but that’s not you.” Minho sighs. “Look. We all know the kind of alphas you are talking about. Hyunjin does too, and I can promise you he doesn’t think that of you. I don’t know how else the poor sod can make his affections towards you anymore obvious.”

“Don’t call him a poor sod,” Jisung scolds, gently. “If anyone’s a poor sod it’s us, putting up with Chan and his guilt complex for all these years. Hyunjinnie doesn’t know what he’s getting into.” He pauses. “That was a jest, Chan. Hyunjin does know what he’s getting into, and if you would actually speak to him, then he will know for double sure.”

“And you don’t think it would hurt Minkyung?” Chan checks carefully. A secret worry that’s been floating through his head. Less than a year since her death, would it tarnish her memory to court somebody so soon? Minkyung’s replacement, his cousin had suggested Hyunjin to be at the Solstice market. Other people will say the same if Chan courts Hyunjin.

“No,” Minho says. “You two never loved each other. I don’t think you should go public with your relationship with Hyunjin, not yet. That’s for Hyunjin’s sake, not her family's. I don’t know what they would say but I warrant nothing positive. Minkyung wouldn’t care, let’s be honest. She can’t care, anyways, because she’s dead.”

“I love that whenever you say something emotionally intelligent you have to instantly ruin it, Min,” Jisung says, swinging his arm around Minho’s shoulders. “Never change. But he’s right, Chan, you know he’s right.”

Chan does. Has known for weeks, realising one day how faded the grief of Minkyung’s death had grown to be, how now able to spend time with Minseo for hours at a time without thinking about her dam and able to entertain the idea of having another relationship without seeing her face behind his closed eyes.

“I’ll talk to him,” Chan says. Promises. Something like excitement unfurls inside of him, a tiny ribbon of giddiness at the idea of him and Hyunjin together. “I’ll talk to him.”

Chan is leaving his study, on the way to his rooms for the night by light of a lamp when he finds Hyunjin sitting on the stairs. Hyunjin, crumpled, in his bedrobe and hair askew looks up when he fears Chan approach, his face covered in tears. The sight of him hurts something inside of Chan, something that wants Hyunjin to only smile and feel good things, and he lowers his lamp and moves closer to the omega. “Are you alright?” Chan asks, and it leaves his mouth as a clunky sort of question, because blatantly Hyunjin is not alright.

Hyunjin doesn’t look offended by Chan’s awkwardness. “I’m fine, I’m sorry. Please ignore me.”

“You can talk to me,” Chan says, sitting down on the step next to Hyunjin, careful to leave a gap between them. “If you want to?”

Hyunjin sighs, scrubbing his hand across his face with such force it makes his cheeks red. Chan wants to tell him to be so rough with himself. “Did you not ever wonder how I could be a wet nurse with no child?”

Chan hesitates. “Minho told me you had none,” he says, all too aware of what those words leave unsaid.

“That’s not even—” Hyunjin shakes his head, wringing his hands. “I didn’t lie, but it’s a lie how you’re thinking about it. I don’t have a child with me.”

“Not physically,” Chan ways, offering his hand to Hyunjin. “But they’ll always be with you.”

Hyunjin grabs Chan’s hand with a force, his palm clammy. “He’s not dead,” he spits. “My child, Seyoon. He’s not dead, he’s in a home. A kind of convent ran place, the kind of place omegas who are unable to look after their own pups have to send them, so they can grow up with enough to eat and keep warm. Slut omegas. That’s me. And I know you’re not surprised by that, I know you know I have never been mated, but you don’t know that I couldn’t look after my own pup. And now I’m looking after yours.”

“Hyunjin,” Chan breathes. He cannot imagine the ache of having to say goodbye to your pup, or living with the weight of it on you, every day, every moment. Hyunjin spends every minute with Minseo, there is no way she does not remind him of what he’s lost. “I am so sorry, Hyunjin. It must have been so hard to send him away.”

“You don’t think it was my fault? To have a pup unmated, to be unable to look after my own child?”

“The world is not kind to omegas,” Chan says carefully. “I know that, and I also know you. I see how you are with Minseo. It cannot imagine how hard it was to leave your pup but I know that you did what was best for Seyoon.”

Hyunjin swallows a choked sob. “I didn’t even know I was pregnant for months. If I had, I might’ve been able to save a bit more. Or maybe I’m just kidding myself. Seyoon was born, and that was terrible, and I had to take him to work with me, and I could barely earn enough food for us, or to keep the rent of our room.” He sniffs, smashing his head back against the stair. The sound of it echoes, making Chan wince. “When he was so tiny it was alright, I could keep him strapped to my back in the mill and I was lucky, he rarely cried but then he got older, and needed more to eat, more attention, and the mill was so loud, and it was dangerous to have a pup there, really, and the foremaster kept a blind eye when Seyoon was tiny but he got stricter, and I couldn’t take anymore hours, and Seyoon was old enough to talk except he wouldn’t. He only said a handful of words: Dama, more, loud, no.”

“Seyoon is a beautiful name. I am sorry you struggled, Hyunjin, I am so sorry for the both of you. It isn’t your fault. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Who else would be at fault?”

“Nobody. Society. It’s all circumstance, Hyunjin. Is he still in the home now? Sorry, do you mind if I ask?”

“You can ask,” Hyunjin says wetly. He’s crying again now, his tears streaming endlessly. Chan pats his pockets down, pulls out his handkerchief to wipe them. Hyunjin lets him, his head relaxing against Chan. “I don’t mind. It’s a place called Riverrun. I had a neighbour, in the room next door to me. Some pious judgemental old omega, except as rude as she was to me, she did pity me too. She helped me find the place, it’s run by priests. I hate them. I used to walk past a congregation every day and they would yell at me about kismet, and that I was getting what I deserved. I don’t want Seyoon to grow up like that.

But I visited Riverrun, when I left Seyoon there. The omegas who worked there were nice. There were children who could read! I could never have put Seyoon in school, Chan. No school in the city would’ve even taken him, an omega with only a dam, and no family name or money.”

“Are you able to see him at all?” Chan asks carefully.

Hyunjin sighs. “A few times. It was always a long journey. Seyoon is just little. He didn’t understand why I couldn’t stay, whenever I visited him he was distraught every time I had to leave, and now I think he's probably been there long enough now that he doesn’t remember me at all. He’s over two now. His birthday was just after the solstice. I forgot about it, you know? What kind of dam forgets their own pup's birthday?

“Oh Hyunjinnie.”

“I couldn’t go,” Hyunjin shakes his head. He’s biting his lip, trying to get his words out despite the tears storming down his cheeks. Chan hurts for him. Hyunjin’s scent is rotting, the overripe scent of mould and milk gone bad. “I couldn’t go before I started this job. I should have, it had already been weeks since I’d seen him. But—but I was worried, I was worried he wouldn’t know who I was. And then, it’s even further from here, to Riverrun. There would be no way I could visit. I figured it would be better, kinder for Seyoon, if I just left him.” He breaks, bending over into incomprehensible tears. Chan gets closer, scoops the omega up and into his arms. Hyunjin cries into his chest. “I didn’t—I didn’t–”

“Shhh,” Chan rocks him, his own tears falling, unbidden, at the grief and pain that spills out of Hyunjin. It’s too much for Hyunjin to hold, Chan can’t believe that he has been holding himself together for so long. “Shh. You’re alright. It was an impossible choice. You’re okay, you’re okay.”

“I left him,” Hyunjin wails, scent sharpening again.

Chan nudges his nose against Hyunjin’s hair, tries his best to offer his own scent. Warmth, and protection, and love to soothe the rot that is pouring from Hyunjin. All along the side of Hyunjin’s neck, down the curl of Hyunjin’s wrists, Chan scents. “Breathe, breathe Hyunjin.”

“I forgot him.”

“You haven't," Chan promises, stroking through Hyunjin’s hair, Hyunjin’s pain making his heart bleed. “You haven’t forgotten him. You still carry him with you, yeah? He’s still with you, I promise Hyunjinnie.”

“Why don’t you hate me?” Hyunjin wails. “How can you trust me with Minseo? Don’t you think I’ll abandon her?”

Chan rocks him, dropping desperate kisses on Hyunjin’s head. “Of course I trust you with Minseo. I could never hate you, and Seyoon will never hate you either. You did the best you could, Hyunjin. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.”

“What if I hurt Minseo?”

“You wouldn’t,” Chan says. Of that, he is certain. “You treat her with the most care and love, you could never hurt her. Stop letting your mind play tricks on you, Hyunjinnie. I’m sure you didn’t hurt Seyoon on purpose ever, either.”

“I didn’t want him at first,” Hyunjin admits. “I hated him. It was awful, awful of me.”

“You didn’t know you were pregnant," Chan reassures. “You had no time to get used to the idea, Hyunjin. You had no support, did you? You were alone, with a newborn. I think any omega in that situation would struggle bonding with their pup.”

“I hated him,” Hyunjin shakes his head. “I hated him, and I hated myself for it. I hate myself for it.”

Chan kisses Hyunjin’s forehead, rocking him again. He does not know what he can say, only can offer unheard reassurances. Hyunjin needs to expel his grief, give it name and body. Chan can only hold him through it, and shoulder as much pain as Hyunjin will share with him. He continues to sob, heartwrenching, pitiful sobs, coherent words lost to his wailing as he buries his face in Chan’s chest. Chan continues stroking his hair, scenting him, offering comfort that could never be enough.

The morning dawns with a sombre sun. Chan had barely slept, Hyunjin had not stopped sobbing before he passed out, grief claiming his consciousness. Chan had carried Hyunjin up to his room, tucked him beneath the blankets of his nest, thankful that Minseo did not wake. He then paced around his own rooms, his own unrest at Hyunjin’s despair making sleep a foreign visitor.

He drags Minho into his study as soon as the sun has arisen enough to warrant waking him up. “Do you know a place called Riverrun?”

“What place?” Minho asks, blearily rubbing sleep from his face. He is usually a morning person, but Chan supposes being torn from his bed at dawn doesn’t cover that. “Chan, what are you talking about?”

“Why did you not tell me that Hyunjin had a pup?”

“What?” Minho shakes his head. “Slow down Chan. In fact, sit down. Talk to me properly.”

Chan sits down.

“Did you not know Hyunjin had a pup?” Minho continues. “Chan, how else do you think he could be a wet nurse?”

“Did you know his pup is alive?”

Minho pauses. Pulls himself up in his chair, straightening to look Chan in his eyes. The eye contact makes Chan squirm. “Hyunjin never said anything either way. He spoke about his pup in past tense. I asked him if he had one, at the interview and he said no. I could tell that there was more to the story, but that would not change the facts of what he told me. I wasn’t going to ask anything Hyunjin did not offer, especially as we were complete strangers at the time. He’s not mentioned it to me since. Sometimes, he'll say something that makes me curious but again, Chan, it’s not my place to ask.”

The frantic energy in Chan disappears all at once, like water rushing out the hole in a bucket. There, and then gone.

“Why are you asking this?” Minho asks again. “It’s not going to change your feelings for Hyunjin, is it, that he had a child?”

“No,” Chan shakes his head, aghast at the thought. “No, no, of course not. It would never.”

“Then explain it to me,” Minho raises an eyebrow. “What is Riverrun, and why did you have to drag me out of bed before sunrise in order to have this conversation?”

Chan pointedly looks out the window, and the golden glow of dawn that floods through it. Minho folds his arms. Chan sighs. “Hyunjin and I spoke last night. I found him upset, crying—I think he left the nursery so he didn’t wake Minseo. He told me about his pup, and how he couldn’t raise him on his own, that he had to send him away. Minho, he talked like the pup was dead. I thought the pup was dead, until he corrected me.”

Minho’s face breaks. “Oh Channie.”

“Hyunjin was distraught. He hates himself for it, Minho, and obviously he had no other choice. You’ve seen him with Minseo, I refuse to believe Hyunjin didn’t do anything but his best.” Chan knows it, the way he knows very few truths in life. Hyunjin is an excellent dam. The fact he sent Seyoon away, no matter how much it hurt him, is proof enough.

“But he doesn’t believe that?” Minho asks carefully. He’s lost his defensive posture and his crossed arms, now leaning across the desk to listen to Chan.

“He was all by himself. He never mentioned the pup’s sire, his own family, or any friends. Just a religious omega next door, a neighbour. He was all by himself, trying to work and raise a pup, and afford food and warmth and shelter.” Chan sighs again, blowing his frustration out through pursed lips. “Minho, I need you to look into Riverrun. It’s run by the church, a children’s home.”

Minho stands up, turning to look out the window. The sun is rising higher, it makes shadows in the hollow of Chan’s face. He looks worn, tired but full of a life, a deeper purpose that Minho’s best friend has long been living without. “You need to talk to Hyunjin. This is his decision.”

“I will,” Chan promises. “I just need to know if it’s possible first. He cried himself to sleep last night. I’m not suggesting this will get rid of that hurt, but I can’t stand to see him in so much grief. He and Minseo…you don’t know how much they’ve helped me. How much life Hyunjin has brought back to me, life I think I had been missing for many a year, long before I even met Minkyung. I will do anything to give him just an inch of the goodness that he’s shared with me.”

Minho smiles, a warm, soft thing. “You’re a good alpha, Chan.” The sun flashes behind him, a silent agreement.

“I try. Hyunjin makes me want to try.”

“I’ll ask about,” Minho promises. “A lot of those kinds of places though, they’re not keen to let the children go. They raise them for the workforce, regardless of their sex. Sometimes they want payment to release the children, to cover the costs of their upbringing.”

“His name is Seyoon,” Chan says. “Hyunjin has no family name, but he’s from the North side of the city. An omega pup, around two years old. He must be there, or a record of him at the least. I don’t care about payments, the money doesn’t matter.”

“Seyoon,” Minho repeats. “Alright, alright Channie.”

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” Chan admits. All night he spent thinking about Seyoon, and Hyunjin, and whether they could be reunited. Whether it was Chan’s place to try. The tiredness of not sleeping is catching up with him now, like he was running out of time to share his plan, and now that he has the mania fueling him has ground to a halt. “I love you Minho, you know. Whatever the results you find.”

It speaks to how much the conversation has shaken Minho, for he makes no pretense at shuddering at Chan’s admission. Instead, he walks back around the table, hugging Chan with warm arms. “I love you too Chan.” Minho whispers, running his nose along the side of Chan’s cheek, offering a salty, comforting sort of scent. “You sap.”

“Mmh,” Chan softens into the hug. “What do you think I should do about Hyunjin now? I was going to confess, but I don’t know, it feels wrong after last night. Should I give him more time?”

“I don’t know Chan, you know Hyunjin a lot better than I do. I was going to warn you to not treat him with kid gloves, but if that’s what you’re inclined to do, maybe that’s what’s right for him. I don’t know. Follow your gut, Channie. Your instincts haven’t led you astray yet.”

“Yet,” Chan agrees. Hopefully Hyunjin is still asleep, curled up in his bed, having a restful sleep. Chan debates going to check, whether or not Hyunjin would appreciate that. He would have left a note, last night, wishing Hyunjin well but Chan is still unsure how much Hyunjin can read, and he doesn’t want to make Hyunjin to feel anymore useless, in any sort of the way. Learning about Seyoon makes Hyunjin’s defensiveness about his past, and his capabilities, make an awful sort of sense.

Chan doesn’t think it would be right to handle Hyunjin with kid gloves, if Chan knows anything about the omega it is that he buries his problems out of sight. Still, Chan cannot continue like nothing has happened. Hyunjin deserves more comfort than that.

Chan worries about bringing up the night before, but before he can decide one way or another Hyunjin does it for him. Leaving the study later in the morning, after doing an hour or so of painfully boring admin work, Chan bumps into Hyunjin in the hall.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Hyunjin takes a step back. He’s holding Minseo on his hip, and she babbles loudly when she sees Chan, reaching out grabbing hands for him. “Good morning Chan.”

“Good morning,” Chan greets, clasping Minseo’s hands with his own. “Good morning Minseollie.”

“Here,” Hyunjin passes her to him. Holding her with one arm is muscle memory for Chan now. “She had a good sleep. Don’t think she woke once through the night. I am sorry that you didn’t. I hope you slept better after, um, taking me to bed.”

“Good job babypup,” Chan says to Minseo, the endearment one he has definitely picked up from Hyunjin. “In all honesty, I didn’t get very much but that was not your fault at all, Hyunjin. Don’t pull that face.”

Hyunjin pulls another face, lips flattening, eyes unimpressed. “I’m sorry for last night though. It was not appropriate for me to be crying like that. And you had to scent me.”

“Do you want to talk in my study?” Chan asks. “We can bring Minseo, or I can find somebody else to look after her.”

“Minseollie can come,” Hyunjin smiles, but it looks sad. “I’m not going to cry again, I got all my tears out last night.”

“It would be understandable if you did cry again,” Chan says, pushing open his study door again. He offers Hyunjin the armchair closest to the window, a red wine velvet. Hyunjin sits, looking around in wonder—this is the first time he’s been in Chan’s study, Chan realises. There is not a lot to see. A desk, half buried under a mountain of papers. Shelves on the wall behind, there everything meticulously filed. Three armchairs, facing each other. Bookshelf behind the door, leather bound tomes that belonged to a number of people in Chan’s sire’s side of the family. “I won’t judge you.”

“Well, I won’t.” Hyunjin says with a forced smile. “Wow. So this is where all the magic happens?”

Chan shakes his head, sitting him and Minseo in the chair on the left of Hyunjin’s. “What you call magic others call stress.”

This makes Hyunjin laugh, genuinely.

“Hyunjinnie,” Chan says, leaning forward to look at the omega properly. “Hyunjin. I really did not mind helping you last night.”

“It wasn’t proper,” Hyunjin offers.

“We talked about becoming friends, no? In the garden once, when Minseo was even tinier. Do you remember?”

Hyunjin nods.

Chan bounces Minseo on his knee. “Well, I do too. And I would like to think that we are friends, all these months later. You don’t have to agree, but I enjoy spending time with you, and talking to you about all manner of things.”

“No, no, I do too. I agree,” Hyunjin replies.

“Well, I think those are markers of friendship, yeah?”

“Yes,” Hyunjin agrees.

“So please don’t apologise for crying, or that I scented you—if anything, it should be me who’s sorry for scenting you, for I didn’t ask your permission.”

“No, I liked it,” Hyunjin says, and then freezes, like he didn’t mean for the words to leave his mouth. Swallowing, he continues. “I would have said something, there, if I didn’t like it. But it helped. Your scent makes me, uh. It makes me much calmer.”

“Good,” Chan smiles. “I am glad.”

“How are you so good with talking about things like these?” Hyunjin sighs, pursing his lips. “Does it not make you uncomfortable?”

“A little,” Chan admits. “But I trust you, Hyunjin, both that you’d tell me if I was making you uncomfortable, and also that you see me with good intentions. If I think somebody is judging me, or looking down on me, I do struggle to talk about such topics, I admit. Not with you though.”

“You’re so eloquent too,” Hyunjin says embarrassed. The pink blush that Chan loves to see so much is slowly growing across Hyunjin’s cheeks, the tips of his ears. “I am the same, I think. Well, I have never had anybody so close to that I am comfortable talking about scents and things with. You’re the first. I can, I can talk about it, I think, with people I don’t care about, or strangers I won’t see again, a little bit. Maybe only when I’m angry. If I’m angry, I don’t get shy at all.” He pauses, before looking at Chan with a confession. “I judged you a lot, at first.”

“I kind of had an idea,” Chan laughs. He can remember Hyunjin’s prickly tone and the way he’d look at Chan out of the side of his eyes.

“Not in a bad way,” Hyunjin reassures. “Well. A little bit. I suppose I can say it properly now, that you know everything, I think I was jealous. You had Minseollie, and you lived in the same house as her but spent no time with her. I know now, about your previous mate, and how hard it was bringing Minseo up. You did tell me then, but I was still a bit angry I think.”

“Because of Seyoon?”

Hyunjin buries his face in his hands. “Because of Seyoon. Obviously, we are not the same. You had everything I didn’t though, and I was cross about it at first. I got to know you, and those feelings went away because I learned who you really were, and understood that you were not the kind of kismet reaper the priests used to talk about.” He laughs a little. “I suppose I must trust you too, to not look down on me, if I’m telling you all the bad things I thought about you now.”

“I don’t look down on you,” Chan reassures. “I’m glad you’ve told me now, Hyunjin, and that you trust me enough to tell me. I get it. I think I would be jealous too, in the same scenario. You put your feelings for me aside, anyways, when you told Jisung that I wasn’t spending enough time with Minseo, so I think you need to remember yourself in a much kinder light than you do.”

“So you know about that then?”

Chan winks. “Not many secrets with Jisung Han around.”

Hyunjin grins. “Well, at least Minseo can’t quite understand us yet. Give it a few more months.”

“Oh don’t,” Chan shakes his head, tickling the pup on his lap. “She hears everything. Minseo, you’re not going to give everybody's secrets away, are you?” She kicks as Chan tickles her, feet thudding against his thighs. “Oof, you’ve got some strength there. Has Hyunjin been doing martial art lessons with you?”

Hyunjin giggles. “We’ve not long mastered crawling. Martial arts are next month.”

Chan chuckles.

“Thank you for talking with me,” Hyunjin says, suddenly straightening his posture. His fingers tap a pattern on the armrests of the chair. “I feel a lot better now everything has been put on the table, and that we know where we stand. I think, if you hadn’t said anything, I would have gotten in my head about last night. And I do feel a lot better, after crying you know? Like a release of some sort.”

“Good Hyunjinnie, good. I’m happy you’re feeling better. It was a good conversation for me too, having everything out between us. Thank you for your honesty, and speaking so candidly with me.” Chan says, standing Minseo up on his thighs so he can kiss the top of her head.

Not everything is out between them. Chan still needs to talk to Hyunjin about his overwhelming, undeniable feelings, but that can wait. Chan would wait years for Hyunjin.

“So,” Hyunjin grins. “We’ve sorted everything out then?”

“Yes,” Chan nods. “We’re on the same page. Well, except could you please explain what on earth a kismet reaper is?”

Hyunjin giggles again, delighted in laughter. The sound makes Chan’s heart sing.

It takes one more week for everything to change. Chan knocks on the nursery door, pushing it open and making direct eye contact with Hyunjin’s naked breasts. Time freezes. The knock was a courtesy, Chan has never waited to be called in when entering the nursery.

Hyunjin is feeding Minseo, an action that should be far from sexual, and Hyunjin has fed her in front of him before but under a shawl, under clothes. Chan, to his shame, can feel his cock throb in his breeches at the sight of a topless Hyunjin. The taper of Hyunjin’s waist is dangerous, the golden swell of his breasts terrifying. There’s a smattering of moles across his collarbone, Chan wants to put his mouth on them. Kiss Hyunjin, and praise him, and cradle his waist between his hands.

“Chan?” Hyunjin asks, tilting his head. He makes no move to cover himself, unembarrassed with his nudity, or perhaps even unaware. “Are you well?”

Chan is more than well. His blood is burning hot, blistering through him, rushing to his cock. “I. Uh, sorry.” He takes a step backwards, turning sideways so Hyunjin’s perfect breasts are not staring at him. “I didn’t know you were—” he gestures, crudely without thinking, and then wants to fall through the floor.

Hyunjin laughs. Chan staunchly doesn’t look at him. “Minseo spewed up all over my shirt, and I didn’t trust her not to do it again, so I didn’t bother putting a clean one on before feeding her. I’m sorry I offended you.”

“I am not offended,” Chan swallows. He fears his face will burst on fire. “I am sorry, I should have not just burst in like that. And I didn’t mean to—I hope you are not uncomfortable. You can feed Minseo, of course, you’re employed to feed Minseo, I—.”

Hyunjin laughs again. Out of the corner of his eye Chan sees him stand, pulling a blanket hanging over the arm of the chair around himself, around Minseo still suckling at his tit. “Breathe Chan. If neither of us is offended, then all is well, no? You can look at me now.”

Chan bows his head, hurriedly. “All is well. I am sorry though. I came to ask if Minseo was busy, I would like to spend some time with her before lunch but of course if she’s feeding—”

“—She’ll be finished in a minute I reckon,” Hyunjin shifts, looking down at Chan’s pup. Hyunjin’s whole face blooms when he looks at Minseo, eyes widening, corners of his lips softening. Chan’s heard of omegas having a glow when they’re pregnant, but Hyunjin carries it now, so much love in how he looks at Minseo that it shows all over his face. The contrast of Hyunjin now, so content and besotted, and last week's Hyunjin, sobbing himself to sleep against Chan’s chest, hurts. The way Hyunjin buries his feelings, puts them aside to live in the present, that hurts too.

“Hmm Minseo-ah? Going to play with your sire before his lunch?”

"Ah, then I shall come and get her then, then.” Chan says, desperately. Damningly he is not wearing scent blockers, and there’s no way that the fullness of his longing for Hyunjin, the burning richness of his arousal, is escaping Hyunjin’s notice.

“You can stay,” Hyunjin reassures. “Honestly, I don’t mind. I’ll think there’s something terribly wrong with me if you keep looking away.”

Chan knows he is blushing. There is no way his entire face is not burning bright, bright red. “There is nothing wrong with you. I have just, I have just remembered a letter I need to seal. Lots of seals. Maybe I will just see you both after lunch instead?”

“She’s finished now,” Hyunjin shakes his head, pulling Minseo out of his blanket cocoon. “Here,” and suddenly Chan has an armful of pup. She wiggles, cooing at Chan and reaching towards his face with grabbing hands.

“Hi Minseollie,” Chan greets helplessly. Hyunjin’s still standing so close to him, the blanket loose around his shoulders and just showing a glimpse of his clavicle. It’s almost more tempting than a second earlier, when he’d been completely bare, now that Chan knows half of what lies underneath. Miinseo wriggles in his arms, and Chan adjusts his grip, and is faced with what a terrible alpha he is, thinking of his child’s wet nurse naked while holding said child in his arms.

“Ahh,” Minseo says happily. Sire is too tricky of a word for her, yet, but she has been calling him Ahh for the last few weeks. Chan would’ve said it was just coincidence, but Hyunjin stubbornly insists it’s her name for Chan.

“I hope you have a lovely time together,” Hyunjin grins. “I’ll go and get dressed for you now.”

For you. For you. He’s teasing Chan, there’s no way he’s not teasing Chan. Chan shakes his head, banishes the lightning fast thoughts of Hyunjin dressing up and subsequently undressing for him out of his mind. Improper, improper. The door joining the nursery to Hyunjin’s room shuts between the omega, and Chan is left holding his pup.

“What is he doing to me?” Chan whispers to Minseo, sitting them both down on the floor. She, of course, just blinks up at him, fortunately far too young to understand any of the scents in the room. “He has terrible power over me.” Minseo is uninterested in Chan’s turmoil, climbing down off his lap and crawling across the floor to examine a forgotten brick. It feels awkward, staying in the room, while Hyunjin dresses just next door, but it would feel worse leaving, when both will be going to have lunch together shortly. Chan could eat in his study, but that’s a habit he’s successfully broken for months now, ever since Jisung pointed out how he was missing out on so much of Minseo’s life. Or, Chan thinks about last week’s conversation with Jisung, that had been Hyunjin too.

Hyunjin opens the door from his room, looking surprised to see Chan still there. “Oh, I thought you would have taken Minseo.”

His new robe is green, and he has a white bodice over the top, ribbon ties holding it closed over his chest. The robe falls open at his hips, a glimpse of the same dark underskirts showing through. Hyunjin has his sleeves pushed up around his elbows, dainty wrists on show. Chan would quite like to scent them. The knowledge that he now knows what Hyunjin looks like without the top half of his clothes is a terrible, aching knowledge.

“You smell nice,” Hyunjin says, still teasing. He must be still teasing.

Chan cannot thaw. “Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin steps backwards, smile dropping. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate."

“Did you dress for me?” Chan asks. It’s not what he meant to ask, the words leave his mouth before he knows they’re formed.

“Is it wrong if I say yes?” Hyunjin asks. The tips of his ears are pink. Chan can smell him, sweet and woody, mellow. It’s the only scent Chan wishes he could ever smell, that he could live with his nose to Hyunjin’s neck to breathe only him in.

“No,” Chan swallows. “No. I—we need to talk about this page we’re sharing. I’m assuming we’re sharing it.”

“I can smell your arousal,” Hyunjin whispers. “All the time. I can’t ignore it anymore.”

“Minseo,” Chan warns.

“If she wasn’t here would you kiss me?”

The question is a damning one. Chan cannot offer anything but the truth. “Hyunjin. You know I would.”

“Is it so wrong to want to hear it aloud?” Hyunjin steps forward. “That you like me.”

It’s not a question. Chan is struck once again by the boldness of the omega, how unapologetic he is. How brave.

“It’s more than that,” Chan matches Hyunjin’s steps until they’re standing in front of each other. So close Hyunjin’s breath is on his cheek. “I love you Hyunjin. Whoever your future mate is, they will be very lucky to have you. I want you to know that I wish it would be me, even if I can never deserve you.”

“You’d want me to be your mate?” Hyunjin asks, eyes so very wide as he watches Chan’s face.

“If you’d have me,” Chan promises. “I don’t know if this is suitable for us to talk about with Minseo here. I don’t want you to feel inclined to agree because of Minseo, or because I am an alpha, or because I pay you. This is aside from all of that.” His voice is shaking, but Chan can be brave. Hyunjin has shown him how to be. “I love you Hyunjin, and I want to be able to love you with my bite on your neck.”

“I didn’t realise it was like this,” Hyunjin says softly.

“Hyunjn,” Chan pleads. “If you don’t want this—”

“I have never wanted anybody more,” Hyunjin promises. There are tears in his eyes. “It felt silly, a wet nurse falling in love with their charge’s sire. I told myself I wouldn’t, but from the first time we spent together, I was falling in love with you. I tried, Chan, I really tried but there was never any other option.” He swallows, sniffs. “You have given me kindness I never thought I could deserve.”

“I will be kind to you regardless of your feelings towards me.”

“And that is why I love you,” Hyunjin steps forward, reaching out shaking fingers to cradle Chan’s cheek. Without thinking, Chan’s hand finds Hyunjin’s hip, pulling him closer, and then they are kissing, kissing, kissing. Hyunjin’s tears fall down Chan’s cheek, the swell of his lips parting with eagerness, tongue tracing around Chan’s mouth. Hyunjin’s scent is usually mellow but grows bolder, stronger, as Chan bites his lip, pulling the omega impossibly closer to him, Hyunjin intertwines his hands in Chan’s hair, twisting. One, or both of them, moans.

Minseo wails, across the room.

Chan and Hyunjin spring apart from each other. Chan’s heaving, the kiss stole his breath. Hyunjin instantly turns to look at the pup. She’s sitting on her knees, visibly fine, if not irritated that neither of the adults in the room are paying her attention. Chan, chest so full of love and relief and the sudden stress that Minseo’s cry had awoken within him, bursts into laughter. Hyunjin whips back around, narrowing his eyes at Chan judgementally before he giggles too. A little, and then louder, and then both of them are caught in laughter, to the bemusement of Minseo sat watching them.

“We’ll have to pick this up again,” Hyunjin says, rubbing his mouth. He’s beaming, Chan can’t see his full face but can tell from the curve of his cheeks, the sound of his voice. This is love, how they write it in the novels. “Without Minseo. She’s probably jealous, her two favourite people not paying her any attention.”

“We will,” Chan gives Hyunjin a hopeful smile. “I think we’re on the same page now, yeah? Finally?”

Hyunjin is already smiling back. “What, how we’re going to both skip lunch without any questions?”

Chan laughs. He cannot help it, he has never laughed as much anywhere else as he does when he’s with Hyunjin.

Hyunjin goes to take Minseo to Minho for lunch. Chan can already see the smirk he’ll give Chan but Chan cannot bring himself to care. He’s simmering with arousal, has been since their confession, since their kiss. Chan does not think he’s ever been kissed like that. He wants to kiss Hyunjin again, to hold his head in his hands, to cradle his body against Chan’s. Just the thought of Hyunjin in his arms makes his cock throb.

With anyone else, Chan would find being interrupted by his pup—his pup—irreparable. He’d sink into embarrassment, awkwardness would cloud his actions, he might suggest they raincheck completely. Chan has always struggled with a lack of spontaneity in sex. He can rely on his instincts, he is fine in the moment, but any kind of planning or conversation around sex he finds uncomfortable, it puts him out of place. That is not the case with Hyunjin. Chan could never not desire Hyunjin, and Hyunjin had been so blasé about continuing once they’d found a new location and somebody to watch Minseo, Chan had no chance to slip into unease.

Waiting feels like poison. Chan has waited for Hyunjin for months but now, riding the high of their confessions, it has become impossible. Chan finds himself pacing around his bedroom, heart pounding in his chest.

The handle on the door turns. Chan jumps up, breathless, and Hyunjin is there, carefully shutting it behind him.

“Well met,” he teases.

Chan pounces on him. No self control is present as he grabs Hyunjin’s hips, his waist, bringing their mouths together in a ferocious, yearning kiss. Hyunjin moans instantly, leaning his body into Chan’s. His hands find their way back into Chan’s hair, while Chan pulls off his lips and mouths at the hollow of Hyunjin’s throat where his wood and milk scent coming off him in waves.

“Wow, what a greeting.”

Chan swallows. “I felt I might burst, if I waited for you any longer.”

Hyunjin kisses his chin. “I’d rather you burst when you’re inside of me.”

The noise Chan lets out is halfway between a laugh and a pig squeal.

“You don’t have to,” Hyunjin reassures, stroking Chan’s hair behind his ear. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We can just kiss, or do nothing else at all.”

“I might die if I do nothing,” Chan admits. “But you’re very sweet. The same goes for you, Hyunjin. At any point, at any moment if you want to stop—”

“—We’re in agreement then,” Hyunjin interrupts, first with words and then with a kiss. Chan had been allured by his lips since the first time he saw them, perfectly part and pink. It feels like a dream he gets to kiss Hyunjin now, tracing his tongue along the back of Hyunjin’s teeth. Hyunjin moans, pushing Chan forward onto the bed before climbing on top of him.

Chan opens his eyes, stares at the omega sitting on top of him. “Can I undress you now?”

Hyunjin responds by unhooking the first button of his bodice. Chan reaches up, pushing Hyunjin’s hands away to do it himself. Five buttons, and then the bodice is on the floor. Two ties on his robe, and then Chan is pulling it down, over slim shoulders. Hyunjin’s not wearing any kind of chemise, and he blushes at the look Chan gives him.

“It makes it easier for feeding Minseo.”

“It’s easier for me,” Chan retorts, running his hands over Hyunjin’s breasts. The action feels like something holy. Golden skin and dark nipples, they fit in Chan’s hands like they were made for him. Chan’s struck once more by just how gorgeous Hyunjin is. He’s breathing heavily, sitting on Chan’s lap, long hair streaming down his bare back. Lips red and bitten, nipples heart, scent alluring and thick.

“I fear I must be dreaming.”

“Please don’t wake up.”

“Never,” Chan kisses Hyunjin’s tit. Another kiss, then another. He takes a nipple into his mouth, delicately rolling the bud between his teeth. Hyunjin moans, hips shifting. Chan trails his hands down Hyunjin’s waist, down his hips, pushing Hyunjin up to his knees so that he can pull Hyunjin’s underskirts down, bunching around his thighs. His drawers are pale white and wet; Chan can see the dark curls of his cunt through them. Swallowing, Chan runs a finger down the centre.

Hyunjin keens, pushing his hips forwards. “More Channie, more.”

Chan obliges, fingers pressing against Hyunjin’s cunt. His cock throbs. The wet patch on Hyunjin’s drawers is sticky, spreading and rendering the fabric translucent. “Look at you,” Chan breathes. He slides his fingers underneath the waistband, pulling them down to meet the bunched up skirts around Hyunjin’s thighs. “Off.”

Hyunjin hurries to comply, scrambling to lift one slim leg and then the other through his skirts and drawers, and then pushing the whole knot of fabric to the floor. Naked, Hyunjin looks like the stature of an ancient god, his legs trembling. Chan wants to swallow him whole.

“Can I taste you?”

Hyunjin groans. “Please, please.”

Chan pushes Hyunjin back, so he’s lying face up on the bed. His breasts roll to the sides, Chan kisses the spaces between them and climbs between Hyunjin’s legs, admiring the curve of his hips, the dark curls between his thighs. Hyunjin is so wet, the coarse hair is matted with it, his thighs slippery with it. He smells milky and mellow and sweet, like almonds, like cherries. Chan presses a kiss to Hyunjin’s clit, the nub bright red with arousal, shining.

“You taste so sweet,” he praises, mouthing along Hyunjin’s folds. “So wet, so soft.”

Lower, lapping at Hyunjin’s hole, running his tongue around the edges. He tastes sweet, and a little bit salty, and utterly addictive. Chan sucks, spits, flicking his tongue in and out of Hyunjin. His nose rubs along Hyunjin’s clit, his whole face is wet, soaking. Hyunjin’s thighs tense and tremble around Chan’s head, his hands come back to Chan’s hair, grabbing handfuls, pulling him closer to his cunt.

“More,” Hyunjin demands, shaking.

Chan pulls away to take Hyunjin’s clit in his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue. Simultaneously he traces a finger along Hyunjin’s folds, dipping it inside of Hyunjin.

Hyunjin moans again, hips bucking. He pushes his cunt against Chan’s mouth, ruthless. Chan lets his face be used, breathing in the scent of Hyunjin, his taste, his warmth. His lips are swelling, he wouldn’t be surprised if the skin on his chin chaps. Chan doesn’t care. Hyunjin continues pulling on Chan’s hair, and Chan lets himself be lead, tongue diving back into Hyunjin’s hole alongside two of his fingers. He crooks them once, twice, and Hyunjin throws his head back, coming.

Chan continues lapping, kissing, licking until Hyunjin pushes him off, oversensitive.

“You’re absurd,” Hyunjin sighs. “Fuck.”

“In a good way, right?” Chan lifts his head. His face is sticky, it’s so wet.

Hyunjin looks up at him with dark eyes, running his fingers along Chan’s chin. He parts them, eyes widening at the webs of slick between them. “So good.”

Chan allows himself to grin.

“I believe you promised to burst in me?” Hyunjin asks, lifting his thigh against Chan’s cock. Now, away from the bewitching spell of Hyunjin’s cunt Chan is reminded by just how hard he is. Hyunjin presses his thigh against him harder, and Chan’s so aroused it hurts.

“My omega is so crude,” Chan shakes his head.

“Which one of us was just talking about the taste of my slick?” Hyunjin laughs. “Look at you Channie. You’re a mess. I cannot believe you’re still dressed.”

“I can remedy that,” Chan says, lifting his hands to the buckle at his neck. He cannot believe he’s still dressed either. Hyunjin watches with appreciative eyes, thumbing at his clit as Chan pulls his tunic over his head and pushes both his breeches and drawers to the floor.

“A lot more unceremonious than you did for me.” Hyunjin observes, crooking his fingers against his folds. He flinches at the sensation, and Chan watches, hungry.

“Next time,” Chan promises.

Hyunjin grins at this, and at the sight of Chan, sitting naked between his thighs. Chan knows what his own body looks like—wide shoulders, thick thighs, a hint of abdominal muscles visible down his front. He does not know what Hyunjin thinks of it. He’s paler than Hyunjin, and his skin tends to redden easily, it has a proclivity for getting chapped and scabbing especially in the winter. Hyunjin seems unbothered by this, fingers at his cunt moving faster, faster as he drinks the sight of Chan in.

Chan leans forward, lying on top of Hyunjin again so they can kiss, so Hyunjin can taste his own slick from Chan’s lips. Hyunjin moans appreciatively and runs his hands forwards, sliding between them to grasp at Chan’s cock.

Chan groans, bucking up into Hyunjin’s hand. “Don’t.”

“You don’t want me to?” Hyunjin looks wounded.

“I don’t want to come yet. Not till I’m inside you.”

“You’re that close?”

Chan flushes, sitting back.

“No,” Hyunjin lifts Chan’s chin, moving his head to look him in the eyes. “That wasn’t an insult. I didn’t realise you could get so close without, you know, touching.”

“Hyunjin,” Chan says patiently. “You have been naked for the last half an hour, and my mouth was on your cunt for half of that. Of course I am close.”

It’s Hyunjin’s turn to blush. Chan’s delighted to see the pretty pink that he’s gotten used to on Hyunjin’s cheeks and the tips of his ears is also present down his chest, over his stomach, following the downy hair trailing from his navel. Chan follows it with his hand, scratching his fingers over Hyunjin’s lower stomach.

“Like this?” Chan asks, gesturing to their position. “Or would you prefer to be on top?”

Hyunjin swallows. “I–I had a thought before, that you could probably hold my thigh with one hand.”

Chan tests this, curling his palm around Hyunjin’s inner thigh.

“Yes, yes exactly. You could push my leg up, and I’m so wet you can just slip in–”

Hyunjin cries out as Chan does exactly that. The slide is heavenly. Hyunjin is so warm around Chan’s cock, velvety plush. His cunt is pulsing, wine red. Chan’s cock makes an obscene sound as Chan stops, hand coming to rest on Hyunjin’s hip.

“Hyunnie?”

“Please,” Hyunjin garbles, panting. “Channie, move. Please.”

Chan doesn’t have to be told twice. He slides out and back softly at first, and then harder as Hyunjin encourages him, voice unsteady, whines wanton. Chan chases his pleasure with a single minded focus, all instincts drilled down to the warmth around his cock, Hyunjin’s cunt pulsing around him. Hyunjin’s thigh in his hand trembles, Chan lends over to bite it. His cock pushes in and out, Hyunjin silky and tight and everything Chan could ever dream of.

The leg Chan’s not holding wraps around Chan’s waist, Hyunjin’s hands dragging down his back. Too soon Chan can feel his knot forming, the swell at the base of his cock forcing itself into Hyunjin.

“My knot?” He checks, words shaky, breath failing.

“Inside, inside, inside,” Hyunjin demands, throwing his head back. His breasts wobble as Chan fucks him, his whole body moving back and forth. Chan complies, pushing himself in once, twice more before stilling, eyes scrunching shut as he releases.

Hyunjin shudders at the feeling, holding tightly around Chan’s shoulders. Chan lowers Hyunjin’s leg, panting, nosing at Hyunjin’s neck. They stay like that for a moment or two before Chan collapses, rolling them to the side. Hyunjin whines as the knot inside him pulls with the change of position.

There’s a giddy, blissed out smile on his face. Chan kisses the tip of his nose. “Did you finish?”

Hyunjin opens one eye, blearily. “Yes.”

“Would you like to come again?”

“Yes.”

It’s harder, with the two of them locked together, but Chan is nothing if not determined. He sneaks his hand between them, tracing over where his knot bulges at Hyunjin’s opening, before moving upwards to his clit. Fingers ghostly-light Chan circles Hyunjin’s clit before crooking his knuckle over it, pressure hard.

Hyunjin buries his face in Chan’s neck as he finishes. Chan can feel his smile against his skin.

☼

The evening finds Hyunjin and Chan lying together on the settee in Chan’s study. Hyunjin is exhausted, not just from the sex but the weight of his confession, his relief at Chan’s, the emotional upheaval of the last year. Hyunjin looks down. Chan is lying on top of him, head pillowed on Hyunjin’s chest. He’d protested at first when Hyunjin tried to pull him down, mumbled something about alphas and proprietary but dropped it when Hyunjin gave him an unimpressed look.

Minseo is still with Minho. Hyunjin had fed her in the early afternoon. Minho had given Hyunjin a smirk and a jar of emmenagogues. It was rare for an omega to get pregnant outside of their heat, but not impossible. As much as the thought of carrying Chan’s pups was appealing, Hyunjin knows he is not ready yet.

“Why does Minho need emmenagogues?” Chan asks, confused, after Hyunjin explains what the contents of the jar is for.

Hyunjin is just as confused, staring down at the alpha. “So he doesn’t get pregnant?”

“I–yes, I got that. I just meant, well, he’s not having sex is he?”

“He’s probably more discreet than us,” Hyunjin laughs. The hallway after Chan and his coupling had been intense, to say the least. He made sure to open all the windows so Kyuri wouldn’t have too. Even after both of them washing, separately, Hyunjin still carries some of Chan’s smokey scent. He can’t say he minds. His inner omega is preening, leaking with pride.

“But who is Minho having sex with?”

Hyunjin pauses, unsure of how to approach that. He is almost certain that Minho and Jisung’s relationship is of no secret, and Chan is best friends with them both, so surely he couldn't know. Bemused, Hyunjin decides to come back to the topic later.

“Are you upset? That I don’t want to have pups right now?”

“Oh,” Chan sits up, turning around to look at Hyunjin. “No, never. We have Minseo already, and while I’d never say no to extending our family, I think either of us are ready for that.”

Hyunjin relaxes. “We have Minseo?”

“Well, I intend to mate you and you’re already as good as a dam to her…” Chan trails off. “I’m going to have to let you go, as a wet nurse you know? I can’t be courting my pup’s wet nurse.”

Hyunjin laughs.

“Don’t laugh, I am serious. I have an idea though, that I could give you an allowance. Not because of Minseo, but so that you have some of your own money. Of course you can have mine, anything, whenever, but in case our situation changed, or you wanted to leave, or something ever happened to me...”

“Chan,” Hyunjin sighs. “It has not been a day, yet.”

“Humour me,” Chan shrugs, smiling. “Just in case. It will make me feel better.”

It would make Hyunjin feel better too. He’s sated now, peaceful, but he knows himself well enough to know that his anxiety will flare up at some point in the future, over the impossibility of his current situation, the logistics of their relationship and the social divide between them. “Alright. No, it is a good idea. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Chan says, and pecks Hyunjin on the cheek. His hair is still a little damp, curling around the nape of his neck. Hyunjin thinks it suits him, a little longer like this. Chan looks softer, less fraught. “I know I worry a lot, and I know you like to ignore all of your worries-”

“–oi!–”

“–But hopefully we can learn to meet somewhere in the middle.”

Hyunjin considers this. “That would be good, I think. We feel like a good pairing? Not just in how we approach our worries, but our senses of humour, our pastimes. I don’t know. I think we make sense in a way that is not just alpha and omega”

“I thought once that I would have fallen in love with you even if you were an alpha,” Chan admits. “Not that we would have met, but you understand what I mean, no?”

“You could have the tits,” Hyunjin jests.

Chan giggles, delighted.

The silence that falls between them is a peaceful one. Hyunjin leans back against the arm of the settee, absent mindedly braiding his hair back behind his head. Nothing fancy, no Minho levels of creation, but just a simple plait. Minseo’s hair has been growing so fast these last weeks, Hyunjin thinks in half a year he’ll have a willing head to practice on. Or maybe not a willing head, per se, but a bribable one.

“Hyunjin?”

“Mm?” Hyunjin looks up. His own hair has gotten longer, ending just below his elbows. The braid is taking him longer than he thought it would.

“Can I ask you about something? Not a bad matter, but a serious matter.”

Hyunjin drops the ends of his braid. “What?”

“Nothing bad,” Chan reassures, picking up Hyunjin’s hands. “Can I ask you something about Seyoon?”

Hyunjin hesitates. “I might cry again.”

“That’s alright,” Chan squeezes Hyunjin’s hands. “I don’t want to overstep, I just want to know your thoughts about—well. What if Seyoon came here too? To live with us?”

Hyunjin shoots up, snatching his hands out of Chan’s. “I—you don’t have to make me like you,” he begs. “I already love you Chan, you don’t have to buy me.”

“No,” Chan protests. “Hyunjinnie, this is anything but. This is for you, for our family. I don’t know Seyoon yet but I will love any child of yours. And do you not think Minseo deserves an older sibling?”

Hyunjin, true to his words, bursts into tears. Crumples on the floor right there. Chan is at his side instantly, brushing his hair back, scenting his wrists.

“We don’t have too. You can think about it. It’s only a thought.”

“Please,” Hyunjin bites his lip. “You really mean it?” Even as he says those words he knows Chan does. He can see it in Chan’s face, and smell it in Chan’s scent. The thought of Seyoon here, with Hyunjin, with Chan and Minseo does dangerous things to Hyunjin’s heart. It’s the kind of thinking he doesn’t allow himself, too much optimism for an omega from the north city.

But Hyunjin isn’t the same omega he once was. Carefully, hesitantly he looks at Chan once more. Chan, kneeling on the floor next to him, the paragon of loving. “Yes please.”

“It shall be done,” Chan promises, and Hyunjin pulls him into a kiss.

☼