Chapter Text
Before Jiwoong left to meet with the representative from the company, just after he’d gotten out of the shower, Hanbin told him, “Hao wants to go to the park, so we’re going to the park. He said there’s a little café there that we can get food at, so we’ll bring you back something. I’m telling you so you don’t freak out if you get back before us, and no one is here.”
Jiwoong, with his hair still a little damp from the shower, remarked, “Just let him do whatever he wants, okay?”
At first it had seemed like an odd expression from Jiwoong, but the longer Hanbin through about it, the more it made sense.
“Don’t doubt his instincts,” Jiwoong had said easily enough. “I know you think you know what’s best for the pack, and maybe you do in some situations. But Hao absolutely knows. It’s engrained into his DNA. It comes to him like breathing does to you. So if he says the best thing to do is go out and go to the park and eat at a little café there, just trust him and do what he says.”
Hanbin couldn’t help confessing, “My instincts are still going crazy. I bet my brain knows Hao is right—that Hao is always right—but right now it feels like a bad idea going out. Like there are too many variables I can’t account for, and too many things that can go wrong.”
He and Hao hadn’t talked to Jiwoong yet about the possibility that the entire pack had imprinted on each other, but it wouldn’t have surprised Hanbin if Jiwoong was already considering that possibility. Jiwoong nearly always felt ahead of the rest of them, particularly when it came to the pack.
“And you’re going to always feel like that a little,” Jiwoong had assured. “It feels really overwhelming right now because of what happened. But even if none of it had, you’d still feel a little uneasy. It’s just what comes with courting, and being the head alpha in a pack all at the same time. It’s a survival mechanism at work, even if it’s an archaic one. It’s what an alpha used to feel all the time, to keep them on their toes and to keep the pack safe. Just fight it down as best you can, and let the head omega make the call.”
On some topics, it felt as if there could be no compromise to the authority Hanbin wielded. It was a matter of dominance and control that so was ingrained in him through urges he couldn’t control, tied directly to his dynamic. Some matters were simply black and white, and Hanbin was getting better at identifying them. Others gave way to ceding power to Hao, or even just the illusion of it, and it was simply a balancing act that they were all working on.
Hanbin’s mother had promised finding the balance of power between him and Hao would come easier with time, but right now it felt more like a guessing game on some occasions.
Though ultimately the real truth was probably closer to Hanbin only having power because Hao allowed it.
“I’ll bring you back a coffee and a breakfast sandwich,” Hanbin had promised, and then he’d seen Jiwoong to the door, and closed it firmly behind him.
It took some time to get the entire pack up and dressed. They had to go through several rounds of showers, fighting over clothes, and sharing personal items like hair brushes, cologne and deodorant. It was extremely chaotic, but Hanbin was quite impressed by how Hao handled them all, weaving between small groups of pack members, fixing hair, straightening clothes, and organizing pairs of shoes.
Then they were off, like a line of ducklings, two by two, down to the park.
Feeling a little emboldened by how hard he was pushing down the guttural instinct in him to pick Hao up and run back to the hotel, he allowed himself to hold Hao’s hand and pull him along as they walked. He could feel the thrumming of Hao’s pulse under his fingers, however, faster than normal and a little panicked. Hao hid his nervousness easily on his face, keeping a smile in place for the other members of their pack, but Hanbin liked that Hao was as human as the rest of them.
The café at the park was surprisingly busy for a weekday morning, and they had to wait a little bit, but soon enough they had coffee and tea, and a large assortment of breakfast foods.
They took their food and drink deep into the large park, to a spot that afforded some privacy, and had good shade from the day’s growing sun intensity.
Then they sat and they ate and they talked. Hanbin felt himself relax with every minute that went by, soaking in the sun, drinking his coffee, relishing in the sight of his pack happy and safe. There were other people around, some walking dogs, some just moving around the perimeter, but none of them felt unsafe, and it was starting to feel more and more like leaving the hotel was the best idea ever.
Hao was right. Hao was always right. Hanbin really had to start trusting him completely and without hesitation.
“Maybe we should have told a manager before coming out here,” Hao mused from his seat next to Hanbin on the grass. He had one knee drawn up and he was resting his chin easily atop it. He looked healthy in the sun and relaxed, and Hanbin nearly kissed him.
Hanbin said, “We’ll come back. And we have our phones.” He couldn’t bring himself to feel any kind of regret. They pack needed the peace and the solitude and the privacy, and the managers had no right to them at the moment.
Hao hummed a little, then asked, “Do you think Jiwoong is okay?”
“I know he is,” Hanbin answered confidently. The food had been gone for a little bit now, and the pack members had already started to disburse. Yujin was lounging around near Hao, looking like he was napping, but the rest were up and moving around. Taerae had started chasing Gunwook who was ducking behind Ricky for help, and it was so perfect Hanbin could barely breathe. “He knows how to handle the company. And if he needs us, we’re here to help.”
Hao’s head tilted a little for better sun coverage, and with his eyes closed, he mused, “We need to talk to Jiwoong about the conversation the two of us had this morning.”
“Of course.”
Hanbin dared to scoot a little closer, bumping his knee into Hao’s.
“The kids are really happy,” Hanbin said, which caused Hao to look up. “You were right. Of course you were right.” He asked in a teasing way, “How are you always right?”
“I’m not always right,” Hao argued with a laugh. “But I’m learning to trust my gut. I’m learning to wade my way through which instincts are a knee jerk reaction, and which are legitimate. And you will, too.”
Hanbin collapsed back on the grass, holding himself up only by an elbow. In an exasperated tone, he asked, “We’re basically the same age, Hao. How come you’re so much better at this than me?”
“We’re not the same developmentally,” Hao pointed out. He leaned back so they could be close again. There’d be grass stains in their clothing, of course, but it seemed like the last thing that mattered. “You know omegas develop faster than alphas. It’s an evolutionary fact.”
“Ha-ha,” Hanbin laughed out flatly. But Hao wasn’t wrong. There was indisputable proof from decades of dedicated research that had proven omegas, betas, and alphas all matured developmentally at different rates. It was certainly up for debate as to why, and there was plenty of discussion about it in academic circles. But in nearly every instance, omegas were more developmentally and emotionally advanced than their other counterparts.
“Also,” Hao said with a grin, “these are things my uncle and I talked about frequently while I was growing up. My parents never commented on my dynamic. It was never a matter of discussion for them. They were involved in practically nothing to do with my dynamic.”
Hanbin nodded. Hao had told him that before, but Hanbin hadn’t given it much thought.
“That’s traditional where I come from,” Hao explained. “It’s always the senior most omega member of a pack who guides the younger omegas. In this case, my uncle is the head omega of our family pack. And he always believed that to be a healthy, successful omega, you need to understand who you are, and how you react the way you do, from a young age. He started teaching me what it is to be an omega from as early as I can remember. I’m going to guess that your mom didn’t start discussing things relayed to your dynamic until you were near puberty.”
“You are so smart,” Hanbin remarked in a wistful way. He leaned towards Hao with infatuation. “So pretty and so smart.”
“Sung Hanbin,” Hao laughed out. “We’re already courting. No need to flatter.”
“There’s always a need,” Hanbin replied. He reached over and tugged at the bottom hem of the shirt Hao was wearing. It curled something pleasurable in Hanbin to see it on Hao, the embroidered character of a red panda over the breast pocket. It had been the second courting gift he’d gotten Hao, unable to pass up the shirt that featured an animal that reminded him so much of Hao. “And none of it is a lie.”
He liked making Hao blush. He liked the way Hao’s ears turned red and Hao became flustered.
Hao cleared his throat before continuing, “Omega insight is usually passed down at a younger age, not just in my family, but in most families. Being an omega can be complicated. It’s best to start as early as possible.”
In that moment, Hanbin thought about Hao doing the same with their own children, if they decided to have them. Hao would be a fantastic parent, and he was already a prime example of how spectacular a head omega could be. If they had a child that was an omega, Hao would know just the right way to prepare them for the world, and care for their needs down to the smallest of details.
Hanbin desperately hoped that Hao wanted children, and it was certainly a conversation they needed to have sooner, rather than later. If Hao didn’t want children, Hanbin was certain he could be satisfied with just Hao in his life. They were soulmates, and no matter what, they just needed each other. But if they did want to have children in the future, there was a lot to discuss. Hanbin didn’t rightly care if they were raising their family in China or Korea, but they needed to start planning far enough ahead that they were ready when the time came.
“Hanbin?”
Hanbin looked to Hao. “Yeah?”
“Just wondered where you went,” Hao grinned. “You looked lost in your own head for a minute.”
Across the distance a woman had drifted near them, young, and probably attracted to the noise level. The wind carried a distinctly beta scent with her, which settled some of the immediate unease that had befallen Hanbin when he’d noticed her. And it continued to fall when he realized she had a small dog with her, which had enamored the pack, and who were now playing with said dog.
It was terribly cute and it made Hanbin want to ask if Hao wanted a pet someday.
“I’m here,” Hanbin assured, and leaned in a little to bump his forehead against Hao’s shoulder. “I’m always here with you. I’m just thinking.”
“Thinking is good,” Hao agreed.
“Yeah, but this is better.” Hanbin smiled at the sight of most of their pack members playing with the dog, and settled into the content feeling of the situation.
“This is the best.” Hao laid back fully on the grass, sighing in a satisfied way. Hanbin appreciated the sight he made.
A moment later, Hanbin laid back, too. He let the warmth of the sun wash over him, and soaked in the sound of laughter from the members of their pack. They’d have to go back eventually. But for now? Now was perfect.
They got food for Jiwoong before they went back to the hotel. They maybe bought too much food for him. But Hanbin could tell the others were missing Jiwoong, and they were quick to show that by offering to buy extra treats for him, and arguing a bit about who was going to carry the food back to the hotel.
“If they don’t drag us straight back to Korea,” Hanbin said to Hao as they rode the elevator up to their floor, squished to the side with Yujin, Gyuvin, and Gunwook, “we should go do what you wanted to do.”
“What I wanted to do?”
Hanbin wiggled his eyebrows at Hao. “Go to the Starlight Tower and have dinner, or just see the sights, or whatever. I’ve only been to Japan once before, and that was for KCON, but I want to see more of Japan, too. I want to see more of Tokyo, at least.”
Hao didn’t look optimistic as he said, “I have a feeling that even if we go ahead with some of the schedules here, that we won’t have that much free time. We might end up on lockdown at this point.”
They were almost at their floor when Hanbin whispered at him, “I could always sneak us out again. I was pretty good at it before.”
Hao was definitely smothering down some laughter when the elevator dinged at their floor, and Hanbin wanted to always be the person to make that happen.
Jiwoong was already back at the room when they arrived, and with an almost thunderous look on his face that did not bode well.
“What’s wrong,” Hanbin asked right away. “What happened?”
Teeth gritted, Jiwoong glanced between Hanbin and Hao before saying simply, “I need to speak to you two. Immediately.” It was so uncharacteristic for him, and it worried Hanbin deeply.
Ricky, who’d been standing a little too close to them, and had overheard the conversation called out, “You’re not going to commandeer the bathroom again, are you? Some of us need to use it once in a while.”
Hao tried to give Ricky a pleasant smile, but it seemed wiped out the moment Jiwoong said again, voice low and almost dangerous, “Right now.”
There weren’t a lot of places that they could go. Whatever Jiwoong had to say, it didn’t seem right to talk about in the hallway where anyone could overhear them. But thankfully going outside and spending time together as a pack had worked wonders on Hanbin being able to let the others out of his sight. So he was okay escaping to the room Jiwoong had been assisted at the hotel, for the conversation.
This time it was Hao who asked, worry dripping from his words, “What is it?” He was nearly pleading. “Jiwoong, what’s wrong?”
With his fingers clenched into a fist, shoulders visibly shaking, Jiwoong took a series of deep breaths.
He was going to say something bad. He was going to say something very bad. Hanbin just knew it.
And it terrified him.
Hanbin felt a cool touch to his arm, and he looked over to realize that Hao had reached out for him. Hao’s long, thin fingers were holding tight around Hanbin’s arm for stability, and maybe a little for strength. As strong as Hao was, even he needed support sometimes.
“Just tell us,” Hanbin bit out.
Whatever he might have been expecting, it was not what Jiwoong said.
It was not, “They knew.”
Hao glanced at Hanbin. Then he asked slowly, “They…what?”
“Who knew what?” Hanbin asked.
Anger like Hanbin had never seen before, was painted across Jiwoong’s face.
Once more, so, so carefully, Hao asked, “Jiwoong, what is it?”
“They knew,” Jiwoong said, shaking his head. If anything, he looked devastated now. “The company. The managers. They knew about that guy. The alpha at the fansign. They knew about him.”
Hao frowned deeply. “I don’t understand. What did they know about him?”
Jiwoong raked his fingers through his hair. Then he sat hard on the bed behind him.
“They knew,” he repeated now for the third time. “This guy—Song Jaemin—he’s been sending … letters, I guess, to the company for months now. Maybe six months. He’s been sending fan mail, but it’s not just fan mail. He’s been sending letters and pictures and eventually threats to and about Gunwook.”
Like the wind was taken out of him, Hao went down hard, kneeling on the carpet of the floor, bracing his hands on the ground in front of him.
“What the hell?” Hanbin demanded. He felt like the control was starting to slip away again, and that he’d only end up with one possible result.
“They goddamn knew from the start!” Jiwoong shouted. “They knew there was this guy stalking Gunwook and they never said anything. They knew he was writing all these fantasy letters about being in love with Gunwook and them being destined to be together. They knew we had a psychopath who’d been following us around to different events and … and …”
Hanbin could hear Hao breathing raggedly, shoulders shaking.
Hanbin wasn’t sure he could breathe himself at all.
With some wetness in his eyes, Jiwoong met Hanbin’s gaze and choked out, “This guy is thirty-six, Hanbin. And the stuff he was writing about Gunwook…”
Suddenly Hao was back up on his feet, exploding out, “So the company said nothing, and waited for him to follow us to Japan, to have a shot at Gunwook?”
Jiwoong nodded sharply.
“What kinds of things,” Hanbin demanded to know. “About Gunwook. You tell me now.”
This time Jiwoong was shaking his head. “No, Hanbin. I’m not going to repeat it.”
That was telling enough.
“They had no right!” Hao shouted. “They had no right to keep something like this from us. They had no right to let us wander into danger. They … Gunwook is our baby. He’s ours. And I will be damned if I let anyone put him in danger. I will—”
Hanbin hugged him tightly, feeling Hao’s body shaking, feeling like they were maybe holding each other together in that moment.
The truth was, they received an obnoxious amount of fan mail on a daily basis. There was absolutely no way they’d be able to sort it all themselves, or even respond to a handful of the letters. Occasionally the company handed them stacks of letters to read in their free time, but for the most part, as sad as the idea of it was, the letters went unopened and unread. The sheer volume of them just made it too difficult of a task to undertake.
So the fact that they never handled their own mail made it too easy for the company to hide something like this. They would have vetted the mail, they would have known about the growing obsession, and they would have been the ones to hide it.
Hanbin felt sick.
“Why would they think this is okay?” Hanbin demanded, cupping the back of Hao’s neck as he held him close. Frankly, he knew Hao needed comfort, but he was also terrified that if he didn’t hold onto Hao, that the omega would go on a warpath.
One of the earliest lessons Hanbin had ever learned about omegas, was to never get between them and a threat they perceived to their pack. Especially the other omegas or unpresented members. Most people feared alphas. Hanbin thought people ought to fear omegas a lot more.
Hao could single handedly destroy their company, if only through collateral damage to upper management.
Voice wry, Jiwoong said, “I guess they thought they were doing us some kind of favor. That’s what they claim at least. They thought they were preventing us from getting stressed out.”
“We got attacked instead,” Hanbin hissed. “Members of our pack were hurt.”
Hao cut in, “Gunwook was terrified. He’s still upset. He has the right to be upset for a long while. This didn’t have to happen. They did this to us.”
Hanbin couldn’t help agreeing. If they’d known that there was some deranged, delusional alpha out there, building a fantasy with Gunwook in his head, they could have been better prepared. They could have had more security, or known who to look for, or how to better protect Gunwook. They’d failed Gunwook from the start, simply due to ignorance, and that wasn’t fair. None of it felt fair at all.
Again, Jiwoong pushed up at his bangs, messing his hair completely. Then he told them, “I made it clear we hold them at fault. I promised them that we were going to tell Gunwook’s parents about this, and that we wouldn’t just forgive and forget. And then I told them that if they didn’t make this right immediately, that we’d go to the media and tell them everything. We’d destroy the company from the inside out, if we had to, for Gunwook.”
Hao certainly didn’t look like he disagreed.
But Hanbin was trying desperately hard to keep his senses. Hao had said it was possible, even with the imprinting, even with the courting, even with his instincts raging just below the surface. Hao had said that Hanbin could pull himself together and think rationally if he tried hard enough, and so he was trying with every bit of his being.
“We can’t do that,” he found himself saying. “Jiwoong, you know we can’t do this. For some of the pack, this is their dream. This is their only dream. If we destroy the company by doing that, or even damage them a little, we destroy the group. And we’ll be blacklisted. You know we’ll be blacklisted. It’s happened to other groups for less.”
Pointedly, Jiwoong said, “I know that. And you know that. But does the company know that? Maybe. But are they going to call our bluff? I think otherwise. And I don’t think they’re stupid enough to call that bluff due to the amount of money we’re making them.”
It was a risky game to play, of course. But with high risk came high reward.
With an arm hooked around Hanbin’s waist, Hao asked, “You said you demanded that they had to make this right. How?”
“A restraining order right away,” Jiwoong ticked off his fingers. “That’s not negotiable. This guy never gets near us ever again, and if he does, he ends up in prison for a long time.”
Savagely, Hao vowed, “If he gets near us again, he ends up in a body bag.”
Hanbin was mostly sure that he wasn’t supposed to find it attractive that Hao was threatening to likely disembowel someone for posing a threat to the pack. But it was insanely attractive and Hanbin had never wanted him so much as he did in that second.
“We get security,” Jiwoong added. “For all our events. It doesn’t matter if they’re big or small. It doesn’t matter if they’re public or private. We get security for everything.”
Hanbin nodded in agreement.
From there, Jiwoong said, “The company is going to provide therapy for all of us, because of what happened. I told them that’s not negotiable, either. Then they’re going to compensate us with a very nice vacation sometime later this year, no cameras allowed, and we don’t have to tell them anything about what we plan to do on that vacation. It’s our time.”
Hao wet his lips and asked, “What about the alpha?”
Jiwoong said, “He won’t lose the arm. But between you and Gyuvin, Hanbin, he came damn close. You got down to the bone. He won’t lose the arm, but he’ll lose most of his mobility with it.” Jiwoong looked as upset as Hanbin felt, which was practically not at all. And if anything, Hao seemed pleased at the injury.
It was a good reminder of just how ruthless an omega could be.
“The company will press assault charges,” Jiwoong said. “And they’ll handle everything, so Gunwook doesn’t have to deal with this mess that they created. They’re also going to vet our mail more carefully, and tell us about anything like this in the future.”
Hao’s eyes narrowed. “Other than this alpha obsessed with Gunwook, do you know what else we’ve had come through our mail?”
Hanbin wasn’t surprised when Jiwoong nodded and said, “Everything you can think of. Some people are horrible. According to the company there’s been plenty of other people writing fantasy driven love letters to members, and some of them sound crazy. Insane. Comparable to this guy.”
“Yeah,” Hanbin eased out. “I kinda figured as much.” There was proof enough in the way some of their fans acted at the fan signs or show tapings or even out in public. They’d had their address nearly leaked, and had fans camped out in front of their company’s building waiting to follow them home or to eat.
“So what are we going to do?” Jiwoong asked.
Hanbin was involved in the conversation, of course, but there was no doubt that Jiwoong was looking at Hao. His body was tensed in the direction of Hao, and he was waiting in almost an impatient way.
Simply, Hao said, “Protect our pack.”
The phrase made Hanbin look down to the soft brace on Hao’s wrist. It stood out against the paleness of Hao’s skin, and it was a stark reminder that Hanbin hadn’t protected the pack. He hadn’t been fast enough to get to a member of his pack who needed him.
“Of course,” Jiwoong replied. “But how do you want to do it? The company said they’ll bring us back to Korea if we want. Today even. They can get us on a late flight. But they also said we can stay in Japan for the time we were supposed to be here. And we could film some social media stuff to hold over the fans since the other stuff got cancelled. They just need to know.”
Hanbin watched the way Hao gnawed on his bottom lip in thought.
Then, Hao asked Hanbin, “You want to go home, right? You’ll feel better in Korea, yes?”
Of course Hanbin did. He wanted to leave a million times over and go back to a place that was familiar and felt safer. He wanted it so badly the crawling under his skin was so severe he could have scratched at himself.
That wasn’t what Hao wanted though. At least not completely. Hanbin stopped to consider that.
It seemed such a small sacrifice to say in reply, “But you’d like to stay here. I know you’ve been looking forward to some sightseeing. And I … I can deal with how I’m feeling. At least with you here to anchor me.”
Decidedly, Hao said, “We need to talk with the pack. We need to tell them what happened, or the circumstances surrounding what happened. And then we’ll ask them what they want to do. We’ll take a vote.”
“A democratic pack?” Jiwoong laughed out, some of the tension finally easing from him body. “That would be a first of its kind.”
Knowingly, Hanbin said, “We’re not a democratically run pack. But we work best because none of us makes a decision about anything until we discuss it, and decide what the best thing to do is as a whole. That’s fair, and that’s the way we’re doing things.”
Ultimately, if Hanbin wanted to be back in Korea by that evening, he knew he could have it. He knew he could pull at Hao, and Hao wouldn’t fight him on this. Not with how Hanbin was barely managing the alpha urges in him. Neither would the rest of the pack disagree, too aware and in-tune with the delicacy of peace currently.
But that would be selfish. And Hanbin strove to be a fair, honest, good head alpha. He strove to do what was best for his pack first, and himself second.
“Okay,” Jiwoong agreed, “let’s discuss it as a pack.”
Hao met Hanbin’s gaze one more time, before pivoting to Jiwoong and saying, “Before that, though, there’s something the three of us need to talk about. Something important.”
Jiwoong asked, curious, “Something bad?”
“Debatable,” Hanbin broke in, then he quieted down so Hao could talk.
It took some time for Hao to explain, but Hanbin felt soothed by the tone and camber of Hao’s voice as he spoke in an even way, explaining his reasoning for deducing they’d all imprinted, with logic and calmness. Gone was the panic from earlier, the peak of weakness that Hao had allowed Hanbin to see.
Instead Hao seemed more settled now, and accepting of what he believed to be the truth. Hao still didn’t seem pleased at the idea that they’d likely imprinted, creating a bond that would be devastating to break when the time came, but he also didn’t sound upset, either. It was simply acceptance.
“Well,” Jiwoong eased out when Hao had presented his theory. “That makes a lot of sense, actually.”
“I’m not a Dynamic Specialist,” Hao was quick to say. “We need to see one, and be tested. But the evidence …”
“It’s indisputable,” Jiwoong finished for him. He gave a firm nod. “And that significantly complicates things.”
“I know,” Hanbin said with a grimace.
Jiwoong arched an eyebrow. “Particularly for me. Because of Seobin.”
“Oh no,” Hao breathed out. “I didn’t even think of that.”
Jiwoong reached out to put a comforting arm around Hao’s shoulder, and though Hanbin felt a prickle of possessiveness almost immediately at the sight of it, the feeling quelled down quickly enough, and he found peace again.
“It’s okay,” Jiwoong assured. “We’ll figure it out. Or you’ll learn to like Seobin even more.”
At that, Hanbin couldn’t help laughing a little. They’d all met Seobin a handful of times, when they had a moment of downtime and Jiwoong was feeling particularly lonely. And they all liked Seobin very much. There’d always been the potential that he could clash with the pack, if only as another force in Jiwoong’s life pulling attention from the pack. More than that, he was a person who’d eventually steal Jiwoong away from them, even if he had every right to and it was for a beautiful reason.
Thankfully, Seobin had blended quite well into the pack, the time that he’d spent with them. He’d gotten along fantastically with the betas, and formed an easy friendship with Hao, Gunwook, and Yujin. The pack had grown to like the times that he was able to come around, and especially how happy he made Jiwoong.
When the time came from Jiwoong to break away from them, mate with Seobin, and form their own pack, there’d be sadness. There’d be a feeling of loss and maybe even unavoidable abandonment. But ultimately there’d be plenty of happiness, too. And then they’d be the ones going to visit Seobin—visiting his pack.
As much as things would change, they’d stay the same.
“We’ll figure it out,” Jiwoong assured, unconcerned. He gave Hanbin a deadpan look and said, “Or else we’ll all have to merge into one big pack.”
Hanbin noted the tilt of Hao’s head as he considered it. The fact that as head omega, he hadn’t outright rejected the idea, meant something significant. There was no accounting for how Seobin would feel about something like that, but Hao … Hao didn’t seem to dismiss it.
Theoretically, it would make them a larger than average pack, for members with no blood relation. Most non-related packs were much smaller. It would give them three omegas, too, which was quite rare. It’d be right up their alley, Hanbin decided, because it seemed like they were very dedicated to the notion of doing things completely unexpected, uncharted, or downright odd.
Hao probably would have said it gave them character.
Hanbin interjected, “We’ll get tested when we get back to Korea. If we are all imprinted on each other, that might actually help with what just happened. It’ll certainly help to keep the crazier fans away from us—or at least away from Gunwook and Yujin.”
Solemnly, Hao said, “This can never happen again. Swear to me we won’t let this happen again. We can’t control the fantasies that people build up in their minds about us. But we can protect the members of our pack and stop something like this from happening again. We have to.”
“We will,” Hanbin promised, and he would do anything to prevent himself from becoming a liar.
Jiwoong was inching towards the door, ready to head back to the others as he said, “I kind of hope the pack wants to stay in Japan for a little. There’s a Disneyland park here, you know.”
“You’re really a giant kid,” Hao laughed out, following after him.
Hanbin couldn’t move, though.
Something was digging into Hanbin almost like a hot poker, and he couldn’t find peace until it was dealt with.
“Jiwoong?” he called out, easing himself down on the unused bed. The same bedding that had been on it when they’d come to the hotel, was still there, evidence that the room had sat mostly empty for the entire time.
Jiwoong gave pause.
“Can you send Gyuvin to come talk to me?”
“Oh, Hanbin,” Hao breathed out.
“I need to talk to him,” Hanbin said in a resolved tone. “About what happened. It’s not his fault and I need him to know that.”
Hao was back by his side in a flash, tilting Hao’s head up, pressing their foreheads together.
They could have been in a crowded room in that moment, or in a sea of a thousand people. But for that second, Hanbin felt like only he and Hao mattered. It was just them against the world, and he was content.
“You’re such a good leader,” Hao praised, using his free, uninjured hand to stroke down the hair at the back of Hanbin’s head. “I told all the parents what a good alpha you are, too, and I meant every word. You’re so good, Hanbin.”
From the door to the room, Jiwoong called out, “I’m usually more than happy to indulge the two of you. I’m a big proponent of young love, as you know. But if you start kissing right now—”
Hanbin reached out blindly for a pillow, and has he tugged Hao a little closer, he flung the pillow in the direction of Jiwoong, cutting his words out.
“You brat!” Jiwoong called over with laughter.
Hanbin took advantage of the distraction to lean up and kiss Hao gently.
Just for the two of them, he told Hao, “If I’m good, it’s only because of you.”
More than anything else in his entire life, Hanbin believed that.
Less than five minutes later Gyuvin was letting himself into the room with Jiwoong’s keycard, peeking through the doorway with hesitation.
“Hanbin?”
“Come on over,” Hanbin said, patting the spot on the bed next to him. “We need to talk about the fansign.”
Gyuvin was usually animated. He was a happy person, playful, kind, funny, and the kind of beta that a head alpha could rely on. He got on well with the other members of the pack, always contributed, and personally was someone that Hanbin enjoyed spending time with. Gyuvin was precious to Hanbin, as both a friend and a member of his pack. And he couldn’t stand the idea of Gyuvin feeling guilty over what had happened.
“I …” Gyuvin tried a little, face already scrunched up a little like he was upset or waiting to be chastised.
Hanbin waited until he was seated next to him, and then wasted no time pulling Gyuvin into a strong hug.
“Hanbin?” Gyuvin choked out, clearly not expecting the hug.
“Thank you,” Hanbin said, squeezing him tightly until he felt Gyuvin start to return the hug. “Thank you so much.”
“Thank you for what?” Gyuvin asked, his face pressed into Hanbin’s solid shoulder.
“What do you mean for what?” Hanbin asked. He released Gyuvin from his hold and patted him on the head pleasantly. “For protecting Wookie. For being there when I wasn’t, and doing what was necessary to keep him safe.” He sighed deeply before adding, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to do it for you, but I’m so thankful you were. So please don’t feel bad. Don’t be upset. You did nothing wrong, and Wookie is safe because of you.”
It took a couple of seconds, the kind that passed in an agonizingly slow way, but then quickly enough Gyuvin’s face was crumping completely, and he was throwing himself back into Hanbin’s arms while he cried.
“It’s okay,” Hanbin promised, stroking his back. “It’s okay, Gyuvin.”
There was an audible waver to Gyuvin’s voice as he cried out, “I wanted to kill him, Hanbin. I wanted to kill that alpha. He was holding onto Gunwook so hard—hurting him by holding so tightly, and I could see him pulling and I just … I saw red. I don’t even remember attacking him. I don’t remember biting him.”
Hanbin recalled the blood stained onto Gyuvin’s teeth and skin, and the crazed look in his eyes even so long after the attack had ended.
Biting was such an understatement.
“I lost control, too,” Hanbin conceded. “I finished what you started. I did as much as you. And hurting someone isn’t anything to be proud of. Nothing good ever comes of hurting anyone, for any reason. But we did it for the right reason. We did it for the people we love. We did it to keep them safe.”
Gyuvin pleaded, “I would do anything to keep Gunwook safe, or Hao, or anyone else.”
Hanbin patted his head once more. “And that’s what makes you a good person. Hao likes to say that life is just a constant battle between instincts and rational thought. And sometimes we make mistakes. Sometimes we lose control. That’s okay. That just makes us human. The only thing that matters is understanding what happened, and trying again to be the best we can be.”
Darkly, Gyuvin confessed, “I would have killed that alpha. I would have.”
Hanbin pursed his lips before saying, “Me, too.”
“But we’re not bad?”
Hanbin let his fingers sink through Gyuvin’s hair and scratch idly into his scalp.
Then, honestly, he said, “I don’t know what it makes me. If being willing to kill, to protect Gunwook or Yujin or Hao or you or anyone else, makes me a bad person, then I guess I am. But I’m willing to be a bad person, to keep the people I love safe.”
Gyuvin ran a hand across his face, slowly putting himself together. And he asked, “Do you think it makes me a bad person that I don’t care I wanted to kill that guy for touching Wookie?”
Hanbin offered freely, “I’d kill anyone who touched Hao.”
“But you’re courting. That’s different. I love Wookie, but I’m not in love with him. Not like you are with Hao.”
Finally, Hanbin settled on saying, “I think people are complicated and messy and never perfect. I think every day we struggle with these instincts in us, and some days they win, and somedays they don’t. I think our dynamic makes up in part what we are, and while I wish I was always in control, I know that’s not possible. I accept that. And that’s the only answer I have for you. You’re messy. I’m messy. People are messy. Complicated. Shades of gray. Nothing easy to describe or explain. That’s it.”
“That’s not a very satisfying answer,” Gyuvin huffed out, but he looked a lot less upset now.
“That’s life,” Hanbin offered up. “So let’s just do our best, okay?”
“Okay,” Gyuvin agreed, and stood slowly.
“Come on.” Hanbin got up himself, patting Gyuvin on the back and pushing him a little towards the door to the room. “Let’s get back to the others. Hao and I want to talk to you guys about something important. And then we need to decide some things as a pack.”
Gyuvin peered at him, and asked, “Then can we get lunch?”
Hanbin balked with some laughter, “We just had breakfast not that long ago.”
As they walked to the door, Gyuvin exclaimed, “Then we played with the dog, and spent all that time at the park. How can you not expect me to be hungry? I bet other people are hungry, too!”
“Keep walking,” Hanbin laughed. “We can talk about food after.”
It was much, much later that night when Hanbin and Hao stole away to the rooftop of the hotel. Most of the pack were already asleep, piled together once more in Hao’s room. Jiwoong had been on a video call with Seobin when they’d left, ear buds in to keep the conversation private, but with a promise to keep an eye on the pack while they slept.
“Are we supposed to be up here?” Hao asked quietly as they emerged up on the rooftop. The hotel had repurposed the rooftop into half of an open bar that was currently closed off and dark, and an observation area with seating and a great view of the city sparkling in the distance.
“Probably not,” Hanbin said effortlessly. “But who’s going to come up here and stop us?” He dared to joke, “I might bite their arm off if they try.”
“That is not funny,” Hao said, but did look a little amused.
What Hanbin did not say was that he’d slipped the hotel manager a substantial amount of money to make sure the door was unlocked for the next hour, and they’d remain undisturbed. And a little something else.
“Come over here,” Hanbin urged, and when they rounded a small corner, he could see that the manager had directed someone to set up on a small table a couple of candles, with lotus petals decorated around, and two glasses of a bubbly, amber liquid that looked like champagne.
In a very pleased tone, Hao questioned, “When did you have time to do this? Hanbin?”
“Money buys time,” Hanbin replied.
The table was nearest the railing, so when they reached it to pick up their glasses that certainly smelled like champagne, they got the full effect of the lights of Tokyo.
“I know this isn’t as good as the Starlight Tower,” Hanbin said, “but it’s the best I could do on short notice, and I hope you like it all the same.”
He’d barely finished speaking before Hao assured, “I love it. I love you.” He gave Hanbin a thankful and kind smile. “Thank you.”
“I love you, too,” Hanbin replied easily. “I want to give you the best always. I will give you the best in the future.”
Hao only shook his head and took a sip of his champagne, remarking, “Just give me you. That’s all I want or need.”
The conversation earlier, if Hanbin was being honest with himself, had gone well. It had taken quite a while to explain imprinting to some of the lesser aware members, and the implication of them all imprinting on each other. And then they’d had to explain that the company had known about the man stalking Gunwook, and the kinds of letters that some of them had been getting but had never known about.
The members had been quite upset, but they’d rallied to show solidarity and strength, and Hanbin was sure they’d be okay.
They’d ultimately decided to head back to Korea in a couple of days. Gunwook wanted to go see his parents, it looked like Jiwoong could get his schedule to line up with Seobin’s, and several of the other members admitted to not feeling wholly safe in Japan. So after a couple of more days in Japan to see some of the nearby sights (and Disneyland Tokyo), they’d be heading back.
In the end, Hanbin wasn’t sure if promising the pack that they’d be safe from now on was the absolute truth. The future seemed too hard to predict, especially with the imprinting that surely had happened. But as with Hao, he was determined not to become a liar, and his word meant a lot to him.
“We’ll come back to Japan soon enough,” Hao promised. “We can see the Starlight Tower then.” He gave Hanbin a pointed look, and said, “Maybe just the two of us could come to Japan. That would be nice.”
Hanbin swallowed down some of his own champagne, then said, “I want to come back with you. But really, I just want to be with you. Here or Korea or anywhere else doesn’t matter to me. As long as I’m with you, that’s all that matters.”
Hao leaned across the table, expertly avoiding the candles, and remarked, “You’re something special, Sung Hanbin.” Then Hao was kissing him, sliding their mouths together, guiding Hanbin into something far deeper than they usually indulged in.
The gentler kisses that Hanbin often pressed to Hao’s mouth weren’t his preference, to be blunt, especially as his feelings for Hao developed. He seemed ever closer each day to wanting more from Hao than they’d previously discussed, at least in terms of intimacy.
Frankly, Hao turned him on, and Hanbin wanted to have sex with him. Or at the very least, he wanted a little more than kisses and some petting. If that was what Hao also wanted, Hanbin figured that was something they needed to discuss. And if Hao didn’t, then Hanbin needed to know where the line was so he did not cross it. It was an upcoming conversation that was unavoidable, would likely be awkward, but was ultimately necessary.
Sometimes it felt like there was a laundry list of conversations the two of them needed to have, and so maybe a little bit of what had happened was a blessing in disguise. They had the time now, if only a little, to talk about some things. And when they got to take their vacation, they’d talk even more.
“I really do love you,” Hanbin breathed out, parting their kissing for air. He cupped Hao’s jaw and held him close. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Hao grinned. “Even if that life includes six messy kids, Jiwoong and his mate, and anyone else we manage to pull into this crazy pack?”
“Especially then,” Hanbin laughed. “As long as you’re with me, I want everything.”
“That’s the right answer,” Hao said. “As expected.” Then he leaned back into Hanbin, and kissed him under the stars until his mouth hurt.