Chapter Text
‘It is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves.’
Hongjoong’s life had been planned out down to the minute ever since he became a trainee. There was no time for missteps, for sickness, for error. No time to overthink, no time for personal problems.
Work came first, not just because of the company, but because he wanted to succeed, to grow, to give himself and his members the best life they could reach for.
It was a good life. Stressful, yes. But rewarding.
Right now though, it felt like he was living a bit of a nightmare, the world having shifted just slightly to the left of normal.
Once they returned from Europe, exhausted but happy to have met so many wonderful fans, to have seen beautiful new cities and places they otherwise wouldn’t have dreamt of visiting, everyone around him suddenly started acting strange.
The members took up the habit of scenting him non-stop, stating that something had changed, and Hongjoong was getting sick of it real fast. They acted almost like they did whenever he was in preheat, when they never left him the fuck alone, but he was certain the next one was still weeks away.
The thing was though, he felt different too. He was moody, restless, weak, and only some of it was the member’s fault. He attributed it to a cold he caught, or exhaustion from their schedules, but it nagged at him nonetheless.
It simply couldn’t be his heat. He knew, because the last one hadn't been that long ago, and he’d spent it with the only member who was not all over him right now.
It was weird, since Seonghwa was usually the one doting on him the most, but lately he’d been kind of… absent. Avoidant, almost. Not enough for the others to pick up on, but enough for Hongjoong to notice.
He understood it, though. Spending his heat together had been a last second decision. More necessity than want—
They’d been abroad, on the last leg of the tour, almost ready to return home. It should've been fine, he should’ve had enough time to finish the shows and return to Korea, but something set him off early.
It started during the concert, second to last, one more stop to go. Hongjoong didn’t notice, at first. He thought it was simply the stress of touring finally catching up to him, when his head started hurting and his muscles ached more than usual.
Ignoring the symptoms, he’d gone out with them after, joining the manager and the members at a nice little restaurant, tucked into a little booth away from prying eyes as they devoured a feast of foreign foods. And when Wooyoung had started hanging off his arm, all snuggly, Hongjoong hadn’t seen anything wrong with it either. The boy had always loved skinship.
He’d let San and Wooyoung convince him to come to a bar for a drink, or five, and Seonghwa had joined, overjoyed to get their captain out of the hotel for a night– he’d been trying to convince him for weeks at that point.
It still hadn’t been weird when San had buried his face in Hongjoong’s neck while they sipped their drinks. Sometimes he just needed the comforting scent of their pack omega to handle loud places. Hongjoong had accepted that a while ago, and had even tilted his head to give him access.
“Hyung,” San had whined then, and that’s when the first alarm bell had chimed in his head. San’s eyes had been hazy, half-lidded, looking but not seeing. “Y’smell so good.”
He really hadn’t been drunk enough to drool…
It had taken another hour and a tipsy Wooyoung grinding on him inappropriately–thank god for private clubs with actual security, he did not need a video of that to circulate on the internet–for Hongjoong to figure out what was happening.
To say that he’d freaked out would be an understatement.
He'd almost fled straight out of the main entrance of the bar in his panic, only stopped by a firm hand on his waist that had dragged him into an even firmer chest and back onto the dance floor.
“Hongjoongie,” Seonghwa had breathed close to his ear, holding him tight, making him freeze. “Are you in heat?”
Hongjoong hadn’t answered, still reeling from the revelation, but he’d melted against Seonghwa when he started scenting him, nose buried in his glands, hot puffs of air tickling his skin.
“Fuck… we gotta get you back. Now.”
Voice strained and clearly struggling to separate from his neck, Seonghwa had led him back to their table to call a car. Hongjoong’s movements had been sluggish by that point, slow, following the guidance of his best friend, trusting that he’d get him home safely; take care of him.
Back at the hotel Seonghwa had taken him to their floor, right to Hongjoong’s room. But then he hadn’t left.
Seonghwa had made sure Hongjoong was okay, that he’d have enough food and water to get through the worst of it, puttering around the room like a mother hen. He’d promised to take care of any scheduling conflicts and texted the manager, but then he’d hesitated.
Hongjoong had been in his nest, cozy and not quite desperate yet, but his heat had come on strong and fast this time. He'd shed most layers, left in a pair of panties and a loose shirt, ripe for the taking.
Heats spent alone were always harder, took longer to pass, and especially ones outside of the cycle and away from the comfort of home took a toll on him each time. He hadn’t even taken any toys with him, trusting that his schedule was planned out to perfection.
Seonghwa had used that as his reason for placing a knee on the bed, hovering, with a question in his eyes. And Hongjoong had been too far gone to keep his usual distance, to tell Seonghwa to go away, to swallow his feelings and deny the alpha.
Instead, he’d nodded, let him crawl into his nest and let the comforting scent of home, of (not quite his) alpha, envelop him, and everything had spiraled from there.
They hadn’t left the room for two days, still stinking of sex as they’d rushed to the airport to not miss their flight, and had ignored every single question thrown their way.
Everyone knew. Of course they did.
It was easy to figure out why Hongjoong had needed an hour longer during makeup at the last concert, why Seonghwa had switched to the more covered version of his top for his solo.
Why they’d reeked of each other, even after multiple showers.
An open secret.
Seonghwa and Hongjoong hadn’t talked about it, but it hadn’t been awkward between them.
At first.
They’d wrapped up the tour, had another celebratory dinner with the members, the dancer hyungs, and their managers, before flying back home, and as soon as they’d touched ground in Korea it was like it had never happened.
Hongjoong would’ve been fine with that; with things going back to the way they’d been before.
But then Seonghwa started being cordial. Detached. Never really looked his way, didn’t pester him to go outside, didn’t drag him home if he stayed too long at the studio. Didn’t text him sweet nothings when they were bored between schedules.
It got worse, over the weeks, and Hongjoong was left confused, and a little (a lot) hurt.
Since their return they’ve been practicing for the next comeback non-stop. Some other schedules were peppered in between here and there, some variety content, some solo shoots, some brand appearances.
Always busy, never slowing down.
Endless repetitions of their new choreos later they started getting the hang of it. There were still some rough patches, some moves that needed to be smoothed out, but all in all they were almost ready, so Hongjoong didn’t understand why he kept messing up, why his feet seemed slower than usual these days.
He kept tripping, kept missing his cues, even forgot a few steps here and there.
He’d always been one of the worst dancers in the group, maybe even the least skilled of them all, but even if he needed longer to get the steps drilled into his head, it wasn’t this bad.
Ever.
Wooyoung was on him as soon as they got a break, smothering him in a hug, nose going right to his neck, where it seemed to have been glued for the past weeks.
“It's alright, hyung. Everyone has bad days,” he soothed, speaking straight into his skin. It gave Hongjoong goosebumps, but not the good kind.
“Youngie, cut it out,” he sighed, scruffing him by the neck when he didn't move away on his own.
“I’m fine. I’ll put in some extra hours. I’ll be ready for comeback,” he promised, soothing the boy for now, although he still gave him worried looks all throughout the rest of the practice.
✩
It didn't stop there. Even music didn't seem to want to flow, with his muse pulling away from him.
Hongjoong was stuck on a song that should’ve been in remaster right now, and unable to write new lyrics that weren’t about heartbreak or lost love.
He didn’t feel up to eating a lot either, and whenever he got close to the members, they stuck to him like chewed gum.
He liked it, to an extent, but that threshold had been reached last week when he’d gone to bed and woken up with not just Wooyoung, but also Jongho of all people in his bed. The alpha usually knew not to intrude, so it had been a shock to find him there too.
He’d kicked them both out with a tirade of curses, his patience truly at its limit.
✩
He's been locked in his studio since that incident, sleeping on his ratty old couch that smelled of blood, sweat and tears (literally) and only left the sanctity of his private space for schedules and to shower every now and then. He was truly lucky to even have a place he could retreat to, and he thanked the heavens for the fact that his own success had brought him all the way here.
It was the only thing still keeping him sane these days.
“Hongjoong-ah,” he heard one night after a particularly bad practice, and he had half a mind to just keep walking. But as their leader he had responsibilities, and maybe Seonghwa had something important to say.
“Go home.”
Well, maybe not.
“Oh? Suddenly you want to take care of me again? I’m good.”
“Don't be like that. I’m not.. It’s not— everyone’s worried. Woo-ie said you haven’t been home in days.”
Hongjoong stared at him, waiting for the point. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before, and it was sure as hell gonna happen again. No reason to make a fuss.
“What do you want?” he asked, harsher than he intended, but he was almost at his limit. He missed Seonghwa, and no matter what had transpired between them he thought they’d get through it together, even if Seonghwa regretted it.
Their bond unbreakable. Bla Bla.
Guess fucking not.
“Joongie…”
“No. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to ignore me, push me aside after what happened, and then pretend like you care when it’s convenient. That's not fair and you know it. So just.. tell me what you need, or leave me alone. I’m tired.”
With Seonghwa he didn't need to sugarcoat his words, didn't need to be cordial. They understood each other, at least they used to.
Hongjoong turned to leave when Seonghwa said nothing, only to stumble and suddenly there were familiar hands on his hips, steadying him.
“Get some rest. Please…” Seonghwa said, soft. Like it pained him to have to say those words.
Hongjoong stilled when there was suddenly the tip of a nose touching his skin, carefully searching his gland. He was sure Seonghwa could smell him without being this close, what with the practice making him sticky with sweat, but he didn't pull away.
The urge to flee was smaller than the need to feel (very much not his) alpha’s touch again. He'd been deprived of it, and his body relaxed in an instant, tuned in to the man pressed almost flush to his back.
He didn't miss the little hitch in Seonghwa’s breath, but he didn't question it either. Maybe he was thinking of what happened. Maybe he regretted ever stepping this close.
Hongjoong didn't want to analyze, basking in the feeling a little longer.
He got his bearings a minute or two later, ignoring the pit that opened in his stomach when he tried stepping away.
“Let go,” he said, with not enough bite. “It's late.”
“Come to the dorm?” Seonghwa asked, and there was an edge of desperation in his voice now. “I’m making dinner.”
“And I’m sure the others will appreciate it.” Hongjoong knew he was being petty, but he didn't understand what was happening.
What Seonghwa was doing felt cruel. Pushing him away like he meant nothing, only to touch him now like he needed it.
It was impossible for him not to know how Hongjoong felt by now. Not after the way he’d begged for Seonghwa during his heat, how he’d asked to be knotted again and again, only satisfied when he was filled to the brim and lying in the alpha’s arms.
Not after he’d begged for it one more time, even when the heat had died down almost as quickly as it had come, brain clear enough to know exactly what he was doing when they exchanged slow kisses and soft words.
It was heartbreaking to think that Seonghwa hadn’t meant any of it.
Hongjoong wound out of his grasp, mind clearing up as soon as he wasn’t cocooned by the alpha’s scent anymore.
“Good night, Park Seonghwa-ssi,” he said, not looking back as he grabbed his bag and headed out of the room.