Chapter Text
In hindsight, maybe it had been too good to be true. The truck had been unlocked and parked on an empty street, it didn’t even have any tags on it. Brand new, probably not even registered yet.
Jungkook had looked at it for a few seconds, weighed the pros and cons like Yoongi-hyung always said, and then hopped in. The keys were in the cupholder, for fucks sakes - if anything, the owner would learn a valuable lesson about taking better care of his possessions. Jungkook didn’t even notice the duffel bag in the backseat until he was fifteen minutes away from his apartment, sitting at a red light with a shit-eating grin, astounded at his good luck.
The bag had been filled with treasure, worth more than he could’ve imagined. Way more valuable than the truck.
“Hyung, Yoongi-hyung!” Jungkook shouted as he kicked the apartment door shut behind him. “Come check this out!”
He placed the duffel bag on the kitchen table reverently, pulling out the contents with delicate hands. The pills were in small plastic bags, separated out in groups of ten with tight rubber bands. There had to be at least three years worth of suppressants and scent blockers, at least fifty million won worth.
He heard Yoongi’s sharp inhale of breath over his shoulder, and turned to see his hyung white-faced with shock. “Kid, where’d you get this?”
“Found a truck,” Jungkook said proudly. “Unlocked near Jamsil Station, by that one club you used to work at. Stigma, wasn’t it? Anyways, thought the truck would be useful, since our Kia is falling apart, and -“
“Jungkook, please tell me you didn’t steal a car,” Yoongi said flatly, fingers skimming over the small pill packets.
“I stole a car,” Jungkook shrugged with a grin. “A truck, actually, a new truck. No license, no registration in the glove compartment. It’s beautiful, hyung, it’s downstairs next to -“
“Jungkook, why the fuck would you steal a new car filled with suppressants?” Yoongi’s voice had taken on an anxious tone, and the younger boy took a step back with confusion.
“I thought you’d be impressed!” He pouted, arms crossed over his chest in defiance. “Someone’s mistake is our gain, right? I’m not the idiot who left an unlocked car filled with millions worth of omega suppressants on the street for anyone to run off with.”
“Someone is going to come looking for this,” Yoongi sighed heavily. “No one just lets this many suppressants fall out of their hands, kid. No one has this many suppressants unless… unless they’re selling to the gangs.”
Jungkook shook his head firmly, still determined to revel in his prize. “Well, they fucked up and now we get to keep them. Look at it, hyung, it’s the good shit! The ones they sell in Gangnam, the ones Omega Services provides in emergencies, the ones only the wealthy can afford! I’m almost out of blockers, we couldn’t have gone much longer.” He grabbed Yoongi’s hand tightly. “This is a gift. You can quit working for that asshole at the gas station, and I can pick up an actual job now -“
“Kook, this is a bad idea,” Yoongi said, but Jungkook saw a flash of consideration in his expression. That was all he needed.
“It’s a good idea,” he said adamantly. “Someone just granted me three years of safety, Yoongi-hyung. Those suppressants we’ve been buying make me feel like shit, and the blockers only last about four hours. This is freedom, hyung, this is -“
“Can anyone track the car?” Yoongi said, pressing his palms against his eyes in defeat. “Tell me no one saw you.”
“No one saw me,” Jungkook said firmly. Yoongi stayed silent for a moment, looking down at the endless packets of pills in contemplation. Finally, he glanced up with a weary smile.
“We lay low for a few days, figure out how to get rid of the car,” he said as Jungkook grinned widely. “Nice jackpot, kid. We can celebrate tonight, I’ll pick up some barbecue on the way home from work.”
—-
The suppressants had really been a jackpot, Jungkook thought as he sat at the kitchen table admiring his winnings. These were legitimate, much better than the large horse pills that were stashed away deep in their closet. Suppressants were illegal, after all, unless administered by the government-approved Omega doctors under controlled settings. Omegas weren’t supposed to be suppressing their biology, hiding their scent or skipping their heats. At least, registered omegas weren’t supposed to.
Jungkook wasn’t registered.
Omegas usually presented sometime between their thirteenth and eighteenth birthdays. Jungkook still had his beta registration card, stamped by the government on his nineteenth birthday after failing to present as an alpha or omega. His life was perfectly normal for three good years, or as normal as one could have it these days without a set career or pack. Life was perfectly normal until the fever hit three weeks after he turned twenty-two.
He had hidden in the alley behind Stigma, that’s where Yoongi had found him. Aching and terrified, Jungkook had latched onto the first friendly face he’d seen in hours, and Min Yoongi had found himself saddled with a homeless, unregistered, heat-addled omega.
Yoongi describes the week as torturous. Jungkook doesn’t remember much of it, a dizzying haze of pain and fever that only subsided when Yoongi laid next to him, straight-backed and tight-lipped as the omega curled against him, begging for things Yoongi wasn’t prepared to offer yet.
When the heat had subsided, Jungkook had tried to run off with some of Yoongi’s shirts and ramen supply. The older boy had caught him writing a goodbye note.
( “That’s my work shirt,” Yoongi had said wryly into the darkness, and Jungkook had jumped two feet in the air. “Gonna need that, kid.”
“Sorry,” Jungkook had mumbled, and he really did try to drop the shirt. But his fingers refused to unclench, and tears had fallen down his cheeks before he had the sense to turn away. Yoongi had sighed and wrapped an arm around Jungkook’s bicep, leading him back to the bedroom.
“Stay, for now at least. We’ll figure something out.” )
They had figured things out, in more ways than Jungkook could’ve imagined. Yoongi knew plenty of people, and one of those people knew how to find illegal suppressants. Jungkook had been taking them since that fateful first heat, and months - years - passed with nothing more than mild discomfort and the occasional headache. The blockers from the streets were less effective, muting his vanilla-sweet scent instead of completely erasing it (Yoongi claimed he could barely smell it most days, but he was a beta, and betas were the furthest removed from their biological ancestral urges). It meant Jungkook didn’t go out much, couldn’t risk walking past an alpha with heightened senses, but it was good enough for most days.
Today hadn’t been like most days. Jungkook had been cooped up for a week after Omega Services raided the apartment complex a block away. It had been too close of a call, and Yoongi didn’t want to risk him being found out. But they hadn’t returned, hadn’t scouted out the neighboring blocks. That meant it was an isolated case, and the government had found what they were looking for.
No one was looking for Jungkook.
So he went out that morning in search of fresh air and the semblance of freedom, and maybe an extra-large iced Americano. He’d found all that and more when he stumbled across the truck. It had been a great day, he thought happily as his thumb brushed over the organized pill packets. He’d be able to find a job now, help contribute to rent and groceries more. Yoongi wouldn’t need to work so hard, and they could go on dates now.
“Off to work, kid,” Yoongi said from behind the chair, over the familiar sound of his large windbreaker sliding over his work polo. “No going out the rest of the day, I mean it. Lay low until we’re certain no one is looking here. And I’ll ask around to figure out how we can offload the truck.”
“We can’t keep it?” Jungkook pouted, even though he knew the answer. Yoongi rolled his eyes and brushed a kiss over the boy’s furrowed brow. “It drove so nicely though, we could take it to Busan for a romantic weekend.”
“We’ll buy another car,” Yoongi promised. “And take all the weekend trips we want.” They were empty promises, but Jungkook smiled anyways. Life would probably never be that easy, but it was nice to pretend for a moment. He heard Yoongi shuffling around the kitchen for his energy drink, and then the sound of padded socks being exchanged for heavy boots, and then the sound of keys rustling and the door unlocking open.
“Have a good shift, hyung!” Jungkook called out, turning around to wave goodbye. His hand froze at the image across the living room, where Yoongi stood rigid against the door frame, doused in the shadows of two imposing figures standing idly at the entrance of their apartment. It took only a moment for Jungkook’s biology to catch up and recognize why he suddenly felt like running, his heart racing in fear and trepidation - they were alphas.