Chapter Text
When the sun peeks over the blossoming spring trees, when it slowly graces a smile across the plain, is when Chan gets to hear the morning song of chirping birds. It’s his favourite time of the day, it’s better than morning, noon, or night. Daybreak is Chan’s, sunrise is his selfish indulgence.
For a month or so he's been following a group of birds, ever since they returned from the south during winter. They move frequently but at a slow pace, with many stops along the way so Chan can keep up. He’s dealt with many flocks in the past, some who have been more unkind to his stalking than others, some who have stayed content in place for too long.
It’s potluck after the winter on what group he will find to follow, this time he’s hit gold. These birds are a smaller group, but they lead him along easy paths through green, open spaces, and they do enjoy long water breaks which he’s fond of.
But best of all: they sing.
Slowly awakening, dawn is welcomed with the tune of just one note, one hum, until a friend blinks its eyes open and finds room in the melody. Before long, a harmonious choir assembles itself, or an exchange of duets runs its course.
Chan sits beneath them, eyes shut with anything other than slumber on his mind.
They’ve sung this one before, and when the bridge of the melody comes he has to force himself up onto his feet. Once the song finishes, they’ll be on the move, in search of food or water, or maybe a nice shadowy tree to play and rest in. Chan likes to join in when they do that, finding a lower branch for himself so as not to disturb his small, gentle friends.
He carries few items: leftover nuts from his last scavenge, a rusty flask, stones and a poorly assembled slingshot. Some time ago he had managed to find a carving knife, and loved adorning his temporary tree homes with small messages from its blade, but he had recently lost it in a fight with a biting snake. The slingshot was his only defence for the time being until he got lucky again.
Sometimes he thinks he should befriend crows or magpies. They’re not the best singers, but they’d maybe bring him little trinkets.
Nonetheless he follows his flock uphill, weaving through trees as he watches them through the gaps in the leaves. He hopes they’re heading for water, his flask is pitifully empty.
Soon enough there’s a break in the forestry where it opens up into another decently sized plain. The sun is given centre stage to soak the space, and in the distance Chan spots a rushing stream.
Though he loves the safety of the trees, there’s something about the expansive, uncovered grass that fills him with freedom. A giggle bubbles in his throat as he twirls across the tall grass, following his friends to the water and contently sighing at how fresh it looks.
Skin dry and crackly, his first impulse is to splash it on his face, letting it soak in. It gets in his hair and runs down the front of his torso, but it feels good nonetheless.
Carefully, so as to not disturb the fishes, he cups his hands around the stream’s flow and exhales. Water runs all up and down his arms as he tips his head back to gulp as much as possible.
Looking up, he smiles at his graceful flock drinking from the opposite side, ducking their heads down only to throw them back to swallow. It's kind of funny how similar he’s become to their species, yet he still finds their actions endearing.
He smiles right up until the point when he’s thrown backwards.
A tight grip circles around his neck, tugging him far away from the stream and into the dried mud behind him. It locks him there, putting him at a perfect angle to see a broad body suddenly loom over him, its shadow covering him entirely.
Chan only has to look into the man’s eyes for a second to see it, only has to inhale once to choke on the strong pheromones. Rut. An alpha in rut. An alpha in rut who has him pinned by the neck.
With his slingshot still at the river with his flask, Chan does the only thing he knows. He flails.
He flaps his arms like his flock does in a storm, kicks up and forward and anywhere he thinks he might connect. A couple successful hits land, but achieve no more than a flinch. He tries scratching at the arm holding him down, burying his nails into the flesh until blood trickles out from it.
His fight isn't appreciated or rewarded. It’s met with an impatient growl, a narrow of the eyes and another arm coming forward to press Chan’s wrists above his head, snarling at the fingernails caked in red.
Still kicking his legs about, he tries to worm his way out of the hold, twisting and jerking away from the alpha’s head that comes down to sniff him. He moves his hand off of Chan’s neck only so he can make space to nose against his scent gland with threatening roughness. Travelling downwards, he places that hand on top of the waistband of Chan’s dirt-coated trousers, ignoring how the omega bucks up his hips to try and get it off.
Other than his quickening breaths, he refuses to show his fright and swallows down any whine or whimper. His heart thrums like a hummingbird, and he’s sure the alpha is picking it up through his scent, through the pulse in his neck. That enough is dangerous, to have such a clear weakness in front of a rutting alpha. It’s advantageous to them, or even worse, could be seen as an invitation. An opening to hunt.
Chan’s eyes clench shut the second he feels five scalding fingers dip under his clothes. If his heart beats any faster he’s sure it will pop right out of his chest. Why are his kicks doing nothing? It would be one thing if he laid there and cowered, that’s the easy option, but he’s trying his hardest.
He feels himself grow lightheaded, but still not a sound drops from his lips.
“Hey! Get away from him!”
A yell breaks across the plain. Twisting his head, Chan sees an omega standing a few feet away, broadening himself in a threatening, wide stance.
The alpha turns simultaneously, but instead of Chan’s shock, he greets the new omega with a snarl. Chan’s heart sinks at the sound of it. Not only is he about to get hurt, but this other omega is going to go down with him.
Run! he wants to scream, but his mouth pants uselessly.
“This is our territory, get lost!”
Not helpful, the words only serve to rile the alpha up, who bares his teeth wider at the challenge, snapping back with a loud bark. If he’s already doing that, he must really be lost to his rut. Chan hopes he can make it out alive, him and this brave yet stupid omega.
But suddenly the pressing weight lifts off him, retreating with such speed that Chan stays in his position for a beat. Quickly he regains sense and scrambles up, terror slapping him as he watches the alpha square up against the omega.
The alpha takes one step forward, and that's all he can before something comes shooting out of the trees. A flash of colour is all he catches as the thing collides with the aggressor, rolling with him into the forestry behind Chan.
Before he can turn to see what’s happening, the omega rushes forward to him, crowding his sight. A shawl is slipped off from his clothes and wrapped around Chan’s bruised neck as he helps him to sit up.
“It’s okay, you’re okay. Quickly, up you get, let's get you out of here.”
His voice is warm but hurried, just like how his tangerine scent is sweet but tangy with some sort of sharpness. Chan lets himself be pulled up, his legs feeling soft and useless beneath him. Even with his feet firmly on the ground he stumbles over them and is forced to lean into the omega for stability.
From behind comes snarls and barks, ugly sounds of struggle and even uglier scents of alpha rage, but the faster Chan tries to get away from them, the harder it becomes to walk in a straight line.
A sudden gentle touch on his face makes him flinch, but the noise suddenly mutes, like the alpha has fallen into the stream. Feeling calluses and bone, he realises the omega has placed his hands over Chan’s ears. It makes it awkward for him to walk, but he doesn't make any move away from Chan despite how uncomfy it looks.
By the time the omega sits him down on a tree stump, the noises cease entirely.
Squatting in front of him, the omega’s eyes trace over him rapidly. “Are you hurt? That was some crazy alpha, he looked like he was coming to crack my neck, did he do anything to you?”
Despite being a similar height, the omega in front of him looks far more built, with muscled forearms that peek from his shirt and toned legs that stretch against his trousers. It’s almost scary how feeble Chan feels in front of him, but then there’s also the downward curve of the omega’s eyes, a twinkle of gentle sensibility in them that calms him down. That and the sudden sugary switch of his scent forces Chan's body to settle down, almost tasting orange candies in his mouth.
Adorned with light auburn hair, bordering ginger, and an array of constellation-like freckles and moles, Chan feels an urge to fall into the arms of the pretty, kind stranger who looks up at him, head tilted with concern.
He responds to the omega’s question with a head-shake. Other than his shock, and the feeling that he might explode and die any minute now, he's physically fine. As long as his heart slows down soon.
“You shouldn't be out here on your own you know, you’re lucky me and Vernon were in the area. Silly pup,” he chastises, but he affectionately pinches Chan’s cheek, “do you know the way back to your pack?”
The word makes his mouth dry up as if he hadn’t just gulped down water. Pack. This omega thinks he has a pack, somewhere to return to. How does Chan even begin to explain his situation? Thanks for helping me, but what you just saw is the most “pack” I have .
There’s no going back there, to his “real” pack, not unless he’s willing to travel for several weeks only to die upon entry on their territory. It’s walking into a slaughterhouse and bearing your neck. He, quite literally, has no answer to give, or way to give it.
But his attention rips away from the furrowed brows in front of him to the rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs. From the foliage, an alpha emerges, wiping sweat from his forehead.
Chan jolts immediately, onto his feet with bent knees. He’s posed in the opposite direction, but frozen. Waiting.
The other omega catches on and stands too, but instead goes to the alpha’s side with his hands up.
“It’s okay, he’s with me, he’s my mate, he’s not going to hurt you,” he says calmly, before turning to the alpha, “what happened?”
“Well he’s in rut, so I couldn't reason with him even if I tried, I just sent him in a direction away from our land,” he shrugs, but not dismissively, “hopefully he doesn't meet anyone else along the way.”
The omega shivers “let's hope fortune is in our favour,” he nods and turns his head back over his shoulder like he’s checking that Chan is still there.
While he hasn't gone back to sitting, he stands still in place. If he had real puppy ears they would be completely flat against his head.
The omega approaches him slowly, making sure he’s aware of each step, “me and Vernon can walk you back to your pack, you don't have to worry anymore, okay?”
Chan finally drops his gaze down, shaking his head.
“Are you lost? You dont know your way back?”
He shakes again. That's not it, how does he tell this omega that's not it? His birds are long gone, they vanished the second danger had arrived, the moment that alpha had pounced on him. He has nowhere to go, he has nowhere to be taken to.
“That’s alright, if they’re neighbouring or close by then we can probably find them anyways, what’s your pack alpha’s name?”
Chan’s chest heaves lightly in warning of the wetness that may spring to his eyes soon. There's no name to give, even if he had one. This omega is trying so hard, but he cannot give him anything, he has no ability to return his concern, his kindness.
“Seungkwan,” the alpha, Vernon, comes forward to the omega’s side. Chan bristles, but doesn’t take off like he expected himself to. Though Vernon's taller and broader than the omega, Seungkwan, he shares that same twinkle that politely asks Chan to lower his guard just a little bit. “I don't think he feels up for speaking right now.”
Seungkwan’s face falls completely.
“Oh you poor thing, I’m so sorry that happened to you baby, I promise you’re completely safe now,” he sucks in his lower lip, looking between Chan and Vernon, “how about you come with us for now, hm? We can get you something to eat and drink and a place to rest, does that sound okay? We can figure all those things out later after we’ve calmed down a little.”
Chan stones over, but doesn’t throw out the idea. He would be walking along with a strange alpha and omega who came out of nowhere, but they’re bonded mates, so not likely to jump his bones. And plus, they did save him.
And quite honestly, his only other option is to go back to the field or deeper into the trenches of the thickening woods with no birds to follow. He’d end up as bear meat within a matter of days.
So he accepts Seungkwan’s outstretched hand. His warm, rough-textured hand that squeezes him firmly, but not tight. It’s been so long since Chan’s touched someone that he almost flinches from the contact.
He trails slightly behind the couple, who talk in hushed murmurs and side glances. Soon enough, the never-ending expanse of trees breaks into a clearing, a much bigger one than the plain, and much, much busier. They’re at the top of a hill, a little way away, but looking down Chan can see the beginnings of a bustling village, with buildings and pathways covering the space all the way to the horizon. The people look like ants, all weaving between the prettiest stone and brick structures he’s ever seen. They look like they belong to the earth, like this place has existed from the day the world was born.
It is also terrifying.
Chan can feel his legs wobble as he’s gently tugged along by Seungkwan’s hold, his stomach churning like that one time he gorged on far too many sweet berries. He hasn’t seen so many people since he was only a pup, and even those memories were simply blurs of faces. Head down, he follows the back of Seungkwan’s feet, covered by some strange bulky material, until he hears the word “home” come from the omega.
Seungkwan and Vernon’s house is as beautiful as the rest of the village, a little out on the edges and covered in an array of vegetation and floral decor. It’s more wood than stone, but that settles Chan’s stomach. It’s far more familiar than the chalky, weird smelling material they had passed by on the way.
Inside is only more stunning, like a display, where each piece has been placed with care and consideration of all the pieces around it, of its perfect spot. It has a clean feel to it, a freshness. It scares him to even breathe out of place.
“Want me to turn the tea on?”
It’s one of the first things Vernon says that Chan can hear, and it makes him jump. Unlucky for him, the reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by Seungkwan, who shoots him one of many anxious looks.
“Yeah, that would be great.” Seungkwan tugs Chan’s hand towards an incredibly comfy looking sofa, “come sit down with me.”
Gingerly he obeys, and tries to not put his full weight on it. He’s suddenly very aware of how filthy he is compared to the house around him. He hadn’t had a chance to wash himself before he was jumped.
“You must spend a lot of time in the sun,” Seungkwan gives him a kind smile, then reaches forward, “here, give me that little thing,” he says as he starts trying to slide the shawl off.
Chan’s hands shoot up, clinging on with a sudden wide eyed stare.
As soon as it happens he’s sure he’s made a mistake, but Seungkwan chuckles at him, “alright puppy, you keep that. I was only going to give you a bigger one. Are you warm enough? It can get a little chilly here even in the spring.”
Chan nods and tucks the shawl tighter around himself. Heart still beating on humming bird level, he fears that if he takes it off he’ll explode or something. He’s sitting on a strange softness, his nose is clogged with a million different scents and he’s hearing about twenty things happening all at once. At least he can squeeze into the warm material and pretend everything is okay when in fact his brain feels like it might melt from overstimulation.
Seungkwan, as nice as he’s being, doesn’t help with all his lip biting and worried glances. It only puts Chan more on edge, and he's pretty much at the brink.
“I know you’re not exactly ready to speak right now, which is fine of course, I understand,” Seungkwan says as he gets up and rummages around a space underneath the table which stands across from where they’re sitting, “but I do want to help you, which means we do have to talk a bit.”
The omega returns to his seat with a notepad and pencil in hand, which he holds out for Chan to take “do you think you could talk to me with this?”
While he’s no stranger to writing and drawing with the chalk rocks he sometimes finds, it’s been so long since he’s written anything with such a small instrument, hell, he’s carved directions on trees for longer than he’s held a pencil. Shakily he takes the utensil with clumsy fingers, getting used to the feeling of its ridges again. How was it that he used to hold this thing? Between two or three fingers? Which ones?
It takes a moment for him to get the right angle, rolling it against his hand until he hits one that feels natural enough.
He looks back up at Seungkwan and waits for an instruction, the next thing to do, before Vernon steps in front of them. He sets two mugs down onto the table, both steaming with a smell akin to the herbs Chan used to enjoy collecting. It's the first true feeling of home, like he’s back with his birds stopping for food by some bushes. He liked to chew on the flavourful leaves and, although this one is liquid, it would do for now. Even if it’s a strange, brown coloured, hot concoction that he eyes with suspicion.
“I’m gonna go talk to Seungcheol, he might want to come over and check what’s happening.”
“I know, I guess that’s his job after all.”
Vernon leans down to give Seungkwan a short kiss before he’s shrugging on a coat and leaving. Instantly Chan’s chest relaxes, heart growing more pigeon pace now.
“Let's start easy, what’s your name?”
He bites his inner cheek as he presses pencil to paper. The letters in his head are clear, it’s just getting them down that’s the hard part. Luckily, while his writing comes out wonky and shaky, it’s still legible. Even if his head doesn't remember, his hands do.
<Chan>
He holds the pad up and turns it around.
“Chan? You're monosyllable?” Chan affirms with a nod. “That’s cute, it totally suits you. Well, what were you doing in the open wild Chan?”
Quickly, just under his own name, he scribbles another response.
<I was following my birds>
“Pet birds?”
<No, I just follow them>
“Hmm, you wandered too far didn’t you? I'm so sorry that happened to you baby, it's not something common here at all, you just got super, super unlucky,” he pets Chan’s hair without asking, but he finds that he doesn’t actually mind. In fact, he likes it, just like he liked the weight of Seungkwan’s hand clasped around him. Better yet, he can feel Seungkwan’s omega scent sprinkling all over him like spits of rain, linking up with the smell coming from the shawl. It helps his head to stop spinning all over the place.
Seungkwan leans over and hands him one of the warm mugs, “here, have some tea, it should help calm you.”
He’s never had this tea thing before, but when he sniffs it with hesitation, all he can smell is the comforting leaves of the forest. He puts it to his lips, and then jumps away in pain. The liquid hurts, it’s hot, too hot, it hurts like when he spends too long in the sun at midday, or when his hand touches fire.
“Woah slow down, you have to blow on it first puppy,” Seungkwan brings the rim of his own cup to his lips, blowing lightly into it before having a sip, “like that.”
Cautiously, Chan licks his now tingling lips, but tries to copy the omega nonetheless. He takes it extra slow, making little drops trickle down the sides of the cup when he blows with a bit too much force, but when he has another taste, the liquid fire is more bearable. It's slightly unpleasant in his throat, but the flavour blooms in his stomach.
“Have you never had tea before?” Seungkwan eyes him warily, even more so when Chan shakes his head, “well do you like it?”
Chan exchanges the cup for the notepad, <it hurts, but after it’s nice>
That pulls a laugh from Seungkwan, “If you wait a bit longer it will get cool enough for you to drink without blowing.” He puts his own cup down too, “You’re a little strange you know, I mean what kind of pack are you from where you don't have tea?”
Even the forest-smelling drink can’t calm the nausea that tidal waves every time Seungkwan mentions a pack. Without saying anything, he feels like he’s a horrible liar.
It’s only after Seungkwan explains all the different kinds of tea (with each one needing a specific type of brewing, Chan finds out, though all the varieties go over his head), that Vernon returns. With three other people.
The first thing Chan picks up are their scents. Pugnant, thick smells that invade more than waft into the room, that shoot up his nose and through to his nervous system. It’s as if he can suddenly feel the blood pumping under his skin, rushing to his muscles with urgency.
The scents smooth over each other to the point he can’t distinguish them, he just knows there are too many; three alphas, one beta. Who is who doesn’t matter.
They enter as ungraciously as their scents had, with Vernon holding the door for the three other men to spill through.
“Didn’t know we were throwing a party,” Seungkwan grumbles from somewhere behind the sofa. Having gone to try and find some food, he’s just a little over in the kitchen but to Chan he feels miles away. Miles further than the alphas are to him.
Staring at them, glassy eyed, it doesn’t take long for one of them to look back.
That moment of contact, it’s enough to raise fire in Chan’s feet, his thighs.
He’s been baited, tricked, fooled. Seungkwan and Vernon have lured him into a trap, and they’ve brought other alphas to help them. How silly of him to believe people in the woods would have good intentions. It’s obvious what it is now, any moment one of them is going to lunge at him or even Seungkwan, the only other omega there, outnumbered. Within seconds the homely cottage morphs into a cage and he darts from its deceptively comforting seat. The alphas are in the way of the door, so he turns to the side instead.
“Wait, wait! Not through there! Chan!”
Arms wrap around his middle right as he’s about to launch himself straight into the glass of a large window.
As he’s yanked away a horrid amount of alpha surrounds him, stinging his nose and hurting his head. Still, he hasn’t lived in the wild for this long without knowing that going limp is like bearing your neck.
Just as he had done with the other alpha, he forces his body to surge with energy. Arms, legs, torso, he fails it all, twists in every way that makes his body difficult. It rubs his lovely shawl against the nasty smell, but it’s a sacrifice he’ll make. If anything it’s a reminder that kind, gentle Seungkwan has betrayed him. The thought of it makes him squeeze his eyes shut as he squirms harder. He just has to try a little more.
“Hey, hey listen, they’re friends! They’re safe, they’re not going to hurt you,” Seungkwan’s hand is suddenly in his hair again, he can smell the spike of sugary tangerines, “it’s okay darling I promise, it’s okay, no one is going to hurt you, look at me puppy please.”
Chan pauses his struggle to blink his eyes open wetly.
“There we go, look, I'm right here, I'm fine, you’re fine,” he assures, his voice a carbon copy of when they had first met. Chan wants to believe him, but the arms around him tell him a different story.
Until they suddenly let go, drawing back completely. Without question, he almost tackles Seungkwan with how quickly he rushes into him. Anything that gets him further away from the intruders and their scents.
He buries his face into Seungkwan's shoulder and lets the omega put a comforting hand on his back, feels him speak but not to him.
“Sorry, he had a scare in the woods, I think he's still quite shaken up.”
“Vernon mentioned it, but I didn’t think it would be this bad. Probably should’ve brought Jihoon for this,” a low voice replies. Its cadence sends shivers across Chan.
“No offence but I think he’d make it worse.”
“He’s more patient than you think.”
“He wasn't available anyways, you know what he's like.”
The sounds hurt Chan's ears just as much as their smells do his nose. Their words don't join like melodies, or racket back and forth like a songbird’s duet. They interrupt, they merge in discordance, they bash and hit against each other. It's ugly and it hurts and he hates it and-
“Come sit with me baby, you must be exhausted,” Seungkwan’s mellifluous voice is the closest thing to the normal he knows. Maybe that's why he follows his guidance like the flutter of wings, even if he’s suddenly more wary of him.
His guard is up, but he ends up curled on the omega’s lap anyways, facing away from the newcomers as Seungkwan strokes his back and chats with them.
“Any idea where he could come from?”
“Well… his scent isn't familiar, and there's nothing alpha or beta on him at all. If he has a pack he hasn't been close to them in a while, maybe weeks. I didn't get a good look at his face but by smell alone… I wouldn't say he's from around here.”
“I noticed that too, the only alpha I could smell was the one who attacked him,” Vernon supplies.
“Have you tried asking?”
“Duh. He can’t speak right now for some reason.”
“He can write though,” Seungkwan interjects, shifting to point to the notepad they had left on the table. There’s some shuffling, and a flicking of paper.
“Chan? That’s not common, surely someone must know of a pack missing a ‘Chan’.”
“We haven't had any calls for missing people recently. Then again, if his pack is far enough they might not have bothered to ask us to look.”
No one is looking for Chan. He doesn't want them to, he’s spent years making sure they weren’t. Seungkwan must notice his stiffness, since he moves to more firmly stroke up and down one of his arms. Soon the notepad is being pressed into his chest.
“Sweetheart we want to help you, can you write down the name of your pack, or your leader’s name?”
Chan shakingly accepts the object. In jolted, slanted, shaky letters he writes <I don't have one>.
𓅪
Chan wakes up in the morning.
His stomach swells in an awful guilt. He’s missed the sun’s welcome, her gracious smile upon the green, growing earth. He wasn't there to say hello, to pay attention to the song of the birds.
Instead he wakes up inside, on man-made material, to a room already flooded with brightness. Seungkwan had tried to get him to sleep on the bed in their second room, but it was too weird, it made him twitch and shudder from the press of material into his skin, he wanted to scratch it off.
He dealt with it until Seungkwan left, trying to not be a nuisance. But once that door closed, he moved to the floor, curling up on the wood. It smelled nothing like the oak bark he would sometimes nap against, but it would do.
At least the rays of warmth reach past the blockade of the glass, though it’s not nearly as good as what he’s used to. He settles into a spot where he can lean and bask in it, shutting his eyes and breathing out one of the most tense sighs he's ever made. He needs this comfort, he needs nature’s gentle hand after the roughness of the night before.
Chaos had ensued the moment he’d written those four words. Reading it aloud, Seungkwan had stumbled over his words, the sounds met with an immediate dip in the room’s temperature. The spike of alpha pheromone was acrid in his nose, ripping an unwanted whine from his throat into Seungkwan’s stiff shoulder.
“So he's feral?”
“Or a lone wolf.”
“A lone wolf? This guy?”
“You never know Han sometimes you gotta look out for the quiet ones.”
“Yeah but seriously, look at him, he's probably just feral.”
“We can't be sure, what if he's just holding off? It’s not just us who’ll be in trouble either.”
“Mingyu’s right, it's not only us we have to think about but other packs in the village,” the speaking alpha sighs deeply, “I’m sorry Kwan, but he has to get off territory. I’ll give you till noon, tomorrow.”
“You can't make that decision,” Vernon jumps in, “that's a pack decision, not a leader's call.”
“We don't have time for a pack meeting.”
“And lone wolf or not, if he hasn't got a pack he's got no history, he's gotta go back to where he came from, for our safety.”
“Seungcheol come on, you're being unreasonable, he looks barely older than a pup.”
“He doesn't look much younger than those two to me.”
“I think it’s better to not take a chance here, for all we know he’s working with that alpha who you found him with.”
“Shut up,” it's Seungkwan, but his voice has dropped several octaves, vibrating where Chan stays pressed against him. Listening to the alphas argue has him wanting to melt right into Seungkwan’s body, to crawl inside and hide. “you didn't see him out there, he was terrified.”
“I don’t like asking you to do this, but you know just as much that it’s the right thing to do.”
“No it’s not right at all, you're all being too hasty. Leave him with me, I'll take the responsibility, just don't kick him out so soon.”
“It’s not up for debate Seungkwan. Either he goes on his own accord or we take him out ourselves, and that won’t be pretty.”
Seungkwan’s arms tighten around Chan’s body.
“Get out of my house,” he says with a sudden coldness, “all of you, get out. Now.”
“Seungkwan don't-”
The sound of Vernon stepping forward echoes over the other man before he can finish. He says nothing, but the challenge is thick in the air. So they leave.
“By noon Seungkwan,” the speaking alpha says in the doorway, his scent much more pungent now that the others have left. It’s like the smoke that comes from a roaring fire. “not a moment later.”
“Get out!”
The memory rubs raw against his skull. A tap-tap knock comes to his door to interrupt his thoughts, and Chan hums an agreeable sound, signalling them to come in. Not that he would have cared if they knocked or not. First of all he can already smell it’s Seungkwan, could smell him from down the hall, and second he was merely a guest.
Peeking his head round the door, Seungkwan asks if he’s hungry and tells him to come eat once he nods, asking what kinds of food he likes. Chan co*cks his head with a shrug, not having his notepad on hand. He left it in the front room during last night’s commotion.
In the middle of the kitchen a table is set with a cloth and various glass or metal pieces that Chan isn’t sure what to call, so he ignores them. At the counter, Vernon sizzles something in a circular iron pan, then mixes something else on the side, positively busy. The blend of exciting smells gets Chan's mouth watering like the half-wolf he genetically is, and he has to remind himself continuously to swallow hard. He's not in the woods anymore, he has to behave. Neither of the couple are salivating over the food, so he won't either. Hopefully they’ll like him if he copies whatever they do. They seem to like each other at least.
Seungkwan settles him into a seat with a mug of tea and his notepad, as well as more metal objects in front of him which he closely stares at. He pokes them a little, lifting them to feel their weight. Two long prongs roll, while the other objects stay relatively still. He’s thrilled to find the big round object in front of him spins. Gleefully he twists it and watches it swivel turn turn turn and clatter.
Until Seungkwan and Vernon sit, and neither of them spin their items. He stops his own immediately.
Out of the sizzling iron and various bowls Vernon pulls sour and salty smelling pieces of food like a magician. Chan’s round thing is loaded with it, all sorts of shapes and colours and viscosities, all sitting in ravishing harmony.
Next to him Seungkwan asks how old he is, saying he looks like he has a bit more to grow and to fill out. Chan shrugs, because he’s not exactly sure. He had tried to keep up with years through the seasons, but at some point it was redundant anyways. He has heats, his body has stopped extending, he knows he's an adult omega and that’s all that matters.
He waits until the pair take their first bites, unfortunately neither one using their hands as Chan would, before he picks up the metals again, watching them move in the hands of Seungkwan and Vernon. It seems easy enough, just slide them between your fingers and-
Clink, they drop. No problem, just pick them back up and-
Clink, again and-
Clink once more.
He can’t suppress the tiniest growl at the uncooperative metals, like he can scare them into sitting still in his hand. It’s not funny but Seungkwan laughs for some reason and tries to instruct him. One stick sits on the last finger, another on the third, now pinch the top and -
Clink, down they go.
No matter how many times he tries to catch a morsel of food in between the two thin pieces of metal, nothing sticks.
“Use the spoon instead baby,” Seungkwan encourages, but since neither of them use this item he realises he can’t copy them and isn't sure exactly what to do. He spots what must be a beginner’s knife, since it's a lot smaller and more rounded than his carving knife was, and so the ‘spoon’ must be the circular thing next to it.
He picks it up as he would his knife and punches it into the first food item, a pile of yellow crumbles which glisten wetly, then twists it up to meet his mouth, the movement awkward with his inner wrist turned towards his face. What a rubbish utensil, so much harder than if he just used his fingers. Wantonly his stomach rumbles, so close to its meal yet blocked at every chance.
A chair scrapes next to him, and a ripe orange comes beside him, gently plucking the spoon from him with one hand and taking Chan’s with the other. With nimble fingers he aligns the omega in a way that he can keep food on the metal and get it to his mouth. It turns out to be comfy enough, but still second best to his good old hand.
Across the table Vernon watches quietly, smiling politely when Chan looks back at him but letting it drop when he thinks Chan isn't looking from the corner of his eye. He doesn't know what to make of it.
“Channie- is it alright if I call you Channie?” Seungkwan starts after a stretch of silence. He nods, no particular attachment to his name, he had made it up one day when he needed to trade berries with a traveller. He didn’t like being called a feral though, whatever that meant, it felt insulting when those alphas said it before. “I just wanted to say sorry, about last night. Our pack doesn't mean harm, we’ve just never had anything like… this , happen before. They’re a bit antsy about it,”
Vernon snorts. “A bit” he mimics.
“Okay they’re really antsy about it. But I’m sorry, we made your sh*t day even worse huh.”
<Do I have to leave?> Chan writes.
“You get straight to the point don't you,” Vernon says with his head resting on his fist, one elbow on the table, though Chan doesn't get what he means.
Seungkwan shakes his head, hands gathered in front of him, “no darling of course not. I told you, this is a safe place for you for as long as you need.” Vernon’s face sours, and it doesn't go unnoticed, “what, what is it?” the omega snaps back.
“I don't know Seungkwan,” Vernon pokes at his food, “look Chan, you might not be in a pack, but you somewhat understand how they work right?” he shrugs, “well, you need to understand that this is difficult, it's an order from our pack leader.” Upon a wide eyed look from Seungkwan he quickly adds, “it's not that I agree with him, I don’t think you’re a threat or anything, I just think we need to consider what Seungcheol said, cause he’s, you know, kinda the boss?”
“If Jihoon was there he wouldn't have allowed that order,” Seungkwan grumbles, biting into the crunchy bread with vigour that matches what Chan would see from wild boars.
<I can leave, I’ve lived alone for a long time now, I will be okay>
“No, that's wrong, that's totally wrong, you shouldnt be alone, you’re a pack animal, we all are, you need a home .” Seungkwan rattles off, but Chan is already writing again
<Thank you for your kindness. Please don't put yourself in trouble for me>
“f*ck that and f*ck Seungcheol” Seungkwan spits as Vernon shakes his head to himself, “you cant go, I’ll worry sick about you all night-”
“Kwan he’s not a pet, he can decide for himself.”
The older omegas slumps in his chair, picking at his plate without lifting his sticks.
“Can you stay for just one more night at least? Please?”
It’s a question Seungkwan begins to ask every evening for the next several weeks. Each time, Chan doesn’t have the heart to tell the pouting, small-voiced omega anything other than what he wants to hear, and it seems Vernon is in the same boat. He reminds Seungkwan about the pack alpha’s order and to let Chan have free choice, but in the end he never tells Seungkwan no.
Getting used to being indoors is… well, strange.
Getting used to domestic living is even stranger.
There’s just so many rules and things and smells and activities and they all spin around Chan’s head like tweeting canaries.
The first, and most important, if Seungkwan’s stern narrowed brows is anything to go by, is that Chan cannot go outside anymore, at least not for now. Not that he particularly wants to anyways, the house itself is overwhelming enough and he shivers thinking about when they walked on the outskirts of the town to get there. Vernon sometimes comes into the house smelling all sorts of things and Chan has to lean on a wall to stop his dizziness.
That doesn’t mean he jumping for joy about it either though. No amount of polished wood made up for the branches he would rest on, or the soft grass or crumbling mud. Seungkwan’s singing in the mornings is pretty, he has a good tone and range, but it’s not the melody of a songbird.
In his wallow of homesickness, his solace is that his window opens out almost completely, meaning he can feel the sun’s heat and the rain’s cool patter on him, he can smell the season and the pollen that bees deliver to the greenery around the house. Home away from home Vernon says, whatever that means. Vernon seems to say a lot of things that Chan can’t fully wrap his head around, and he’s too nervous to ask the alpha to explain for fear of annoying him. He knows the taller isn't thrilled about Chan’s presence, though thankfully he isn’t openly nasty about it.
The next call of duty is cleaning. Chan flusters when Seungkwan brings it up to him, face turning splotchy. He hadn't been able to clean himself in the stream, he knows he’s dirty, knows how he’s plaguing the pristine quality Seungkwan keeps himself and his house in.
And so he allows Seungkwan to take him to a room that shifts from wood into a more concrete, stony material, with soft mats on tiled flooring. He pulls out a rather large bucket from inside an even bigger bucket-looking thing, one which Chan himself could probably fit inside of.
When Seungkwan takes his finger and dips it into the bucket, Chan gasps the moment he feels warmth instead of the expected icy coolness.
“It’s nice right? Me and Vernon like it this way, but it’s up to you. Would you like me to show you how to heat it? I’m assuming you can wash up by yourself so you can come down here any time you like okay?”
He shows him a slippery square of flowery smelling, smooth texture, and explains that it helps the water clean him better, to use it around his body. After he’s washed it all off, he can change into the set of clothes Seungkwan will leave outside the door for him.
<I can wash my clothes with me>
“No honey they can be washed separately, just focus on yourself okay? And leave this notepad outside the door, you don't want it getting wet.”
He’s grateful that Seungkwan is so straightforward with what to do, not like Vernon who says all these jumbles of words that don't make any sense.
The clothes are fine, but there’s so much of it, including a shirt similar to the fabrics that Seungkwan and Vernon wear on their upper bodies. He’d honestly rather be completely naked.
It’s almost invasive, to have something constantly pressed against him, but the clothes are loose and airy enough that he reasons he can bite his tongue and tolerate it. If these packs have learnt how, he could too. He just hopes his shawl can be washed very soon, he does like wearing that.
Apparently looseness wasn't the aim though, because Seungkwan frowns when he tugs on the sleeves of the shirt, wondering aloud if Chan needs two breakfasts (though he's perfectly content with one!). His stomach even hurts sometimes getting used to produce that isn't directly from the earth or a bush.
And that is especially with “dinner”.
Dinners are held in the town hall with all the other packs, but Seungkwan manages to bring him back portions most days. He constantly apologises for the small size, though it was double what Chan would eat out on his own. There would be days where there was no food at all along his path, then others when he would gorge out on fruits and vegetables, and his stomach is now just trying to get used to the new regularity of it all.
And to the absolute insane variety of edible items being offered to him.
Meat is the hardest one, new and strange. Chan never hunted, so he never ate meat. It turns out to be tougher than it looks with an unexpected savoury, bitter flavour. On his first try, his nose wrinkles as he looks at Vernon who leans back on the counter and nibbles on a small piece that’s even pinker than his own. Chan has to make note of this: sometimes eating with hands = okay? But when? Is it with certain food? Can he only do it if he eats the gross meat? Domestication is so hard.
“Not for you?” Seungkwan muses with a smile as he flitters in and out of the kitchen, stocking up their cooler and cupboards. “I wonder if it's the taste or if you just don't like Joshua’s cooking”
Chan scoots the meat to the side of the container, keeping it from the rice and vegetables that sit far better in his stomach.
“You gonna eat that?”
He looks up to see Vernon pointing to his untouched meat chunks. Chan shakes his head and pushes the box in offering.
“Thanks Chan-ah,” he gleams happily, giving his cheek a poke with a single knuckle as he swipes the food. Quickly he shovels it down before Seungkwan can start lashing his back with a small towel.
“Stop stealing his food you greedy bastard! What are you, a raccoon? Pinching from omegas, next you’re gonna start taking candy from kids.”
The biggest disagreement comes from the weirdest yet earliest dispute: the bed. Chan was still struggling to come to terms with it, he hates the fabric, it’s worse than the new clothes he’s been given.
But time and time again Seungkwan tugs on his ear, sometimes literally, complaining: “You’re going to break your back if you keep sleeping like that”
Vernon found a compromise, setting up a scratchy old futon they had kept before renovating their second room. It’s not soft enough that Chan feels he’s going to topple off of it like he does on the bed, but it’s not the hard ground that Seungkwan so desperately wants him off of.
The room is just as interesting as the rest of the house, mainly because of the window. More than just basking in the open air, Chan likes to poke his head through and look out. It’s a good view of the village, he gets to see how it works, all the people bustling around, little kids running home from school. Seungkwan nags him to close the curtains, since he’s technically meant to be a secret, but his words have no bite and he never says anything when Chan sticks his head out to catch the breeze in the air.
Many packs live in this village, he finds out. They work in harmony to provide everyone with food, water, shelter, education, really anything that is needed from a society, it all runs smoothly. Rather than just one big pack community, it’s more so a colony of packs, each with head alphas and omegas who collaborate to run the village. They each have their own claimed territories within the village which the individual pack may use as they please, but the village centre is communal and shared between packs.
Seungcheol’s pack apparently has strong roots, with most members growing up locally or being childhood friends. Some people choose to stay in their original family packs, some make new ones with the understanding that they will be eternally allied to those from their lineage, as is the case with Seungcheol’s. Brothers and sisters also seem to integrate across packs through mating, so the borders within the village are more flexible, but Seungcheol’s pack has remained mostly intact and closed off. They are satisfied with their group as it is.
Seungkwan tells him all of this and more about their history across many days where Chan would sit with one of his many teas as Seungkwan worked. He watched curiously as Seungkwan would stitch and sow absentmindedly as he nattered away, the end-product coming out perfect even when little mind was paid to it, his fingers nimble and accurate. One day it would be blouses for the twin girls down the road, another it would be a jacket for a lumberman. Seungkwan was making sure no one went cold or without.
He makes Chan a few pieces too, getting him to give input on what colours and fabrics he likes. Clothes get a lot easier to handle after that. He ends up preferring wool and fleece, especially in big quantities like sweaters or jumpers that drape over him like a curtain. Less touching his skin, more free movement. Shorts are also a particular favourite, leaving his legs free and naked. Seungkwan suggests he might enjoy skirts, though he finds them a little inconvenient after a few uses. Perhaps if he’s simply lounging all day they would be a good option.
But lounging is certainly not his intention, and he tries to make it very clear by keeping himself busy. Chan would fetch things for the older omega; handing him the scissors or thread needles if he needed a new colour. It’s little things, but it gives him something to do as Seungkwan reminisces on his pack’s history or his own stories, like the cute ones between him and Vernon that the alpha would whine about later, asking why he still remembered those things. Vernon himself works outside of the house for most of the day.
“He’s a scout mainly, but he helps with hunts if they need him,” Seungkwan explains and gestures a circle when Chan co*cks his head in curiosity, “he checks the perimeters of our territory.”
They both found Seungkwan’s massive and exaggerated gestures helped Chan understand his unfamiliar words a lot more.
“He makes sure nothing strange or concerning is happening, and that there’s peace here back at home. Sometimes people get into silly arguments and stuff like that. ‘Ooh you stomped on my crops’, ‘Ooh you took my horse when I told you I needed him today’, he deals with all those kinds of things. Sometimes he goes into unclaimed land to see if we can do something with it. Actually that’s what he was doing when we found you.”
Well that explains why Vernon comes home smelling of fifty different cities, and why Seungkwan scents him for a solid ten minutes after he washes up. “As for hunter, well pretty obvious right? Pack’s gotta get meat somehow”
<I want to be useful too> Chan tells him. It’s what he keeps telling him until Seungkwan cracks.
After a long lecture on how Chan doesn't need to do anything and he's perfectly fine to stay and sit pretty while the couple look after him, Seungkwan agrees to teach him how to cook and clean, those being the only real viable options in their circ*mstance.
Cooking is… an experience.
Chan only really understands the label of feral after an instance with a fire in which he stepped back to growl viciously at it before Seungkwan threw a towel over it. Once he had snapped out of the haze, he couldn't help the whimper that escaped his throat as tears pricked his eyes.
Cleaning is considerably easier, and he finds himself quite enjoying it. The movement makes him feel busy, and the results please his sense of accomplishment and affirms his usefulness. He feels like he’s provided, and it gets even better when Seungkwan wraps him up in a tight hug and thanks him for it, complaining that his work has made him too tired and oh what would he do without Chan.
He used to flinch from Seungkwan’s hugs, especially sudden ones which he would straight up avoid or push away. With some time he’s been able to accept Seungkwan’s affections when they are clearly coming, like when Seungkwan opens his arms and lets Chan press into his chest. He doesn't know how he’s lasted so long without someone to hug, without being hugged back. It’s one of the best feelings in the world to press his nose into the crook of a shoulder and feel Seungkwan’s hand rub his back soothingly, pressing the occasional short kiss into his hair.
Vernon is more reserved in that sense, with Seungkwan also initiating a lot of the contact between them, but he’s also more calm and accepting of it happening. He lets Seungkwan pull and tug him in every way without so much as blinking. Even when Seungkwan unexpectedly jumps onto his back, he simply moves his arms to support the omega’s thighs.
There’s not a lot of hugs between the alpha and youngest omega, but Vernon has fallen into routine of ruffling up Chan’s hair after he gives Seungkwan his goodbye kiss when he leaves for his duties. It works for them, it’s comfortable.
It’s not all sweet and fun though.
Chan has a looming knowledge of the fact he’s a burden on the couple, that he’s a secret. As much as he wants to stretch his legs, to go for a walk in the breezes he enjoys from his window, he can't without causing them trouble.
He hears them sometimes, in the dead of the night when he curls in on himself unable to sleep. He knows it's wrong, but when he steps into the hallway to get water, he hears them whispering about him, their voices equal volume. He imagines them curled up together, Seungkwan’s head lazily leaning on the alpha’s shoulders or chest as they talk.
“Something’s really wrong with it,” Seungkwan would murmur breathily, “he has a voice, he makes noises all the time, but he’s still not speaking,”
“He does talk, he just does it through a notepad,” Vernon’s sleepy timber would follow.
“You know what I mean,” the ruffles of sheets makes Chan think of the omega pressing himself more comfily, or maybe stretching, “It’s not normal, he’s not normal. I’m sure something’s happened, and I don’t even wanna think what that is.”
“Then don’t. Some people are just that way, especially ferals. It’s not like it’s a problem”
Seungkwan pauses for sometime, enough that Chan takes a step forward, thinking the conversation is over, before Vernon is speaking again.
“Oh Kwan I’m sure he’s alright, he’d tell you if he wasn’t”
A weak sniffle barely makes itself audible, “yeah, I know. I just can’t stop thinking about the day we found him. I can’t help but wonder if- if that’s what…”
Vernon shushes him gently, and it’s Chan’s cue to leave. He turns back to his room, stomach too queasy to handle water now.
In the morning he greets them with bright smiles, ready to start the day all over again as if their conversation had been simply a bad dream.
𓅪
Another problem is apparently Seungkwan’s big mouth.
Because it isn’t even 2 months (Chan can now keep track of time through a little tally in the kitchen rather than guessing based on what the tree leaves look like) before another person comes to know about their secret.
“You’re keeping a feral omega?” Minghao, another omega from Seungkwan’s pack, hisses, hands on his hips. He’s sweaty, in a tank-top and reeking of oil, so much so that Chan can’t tell if that’s his scent or not. He’s half a head taller than Seungkwan and his muscles pop and curve in a way that makes him seem more like a beta than anything else.
He had come over to speak to Seungkwan about something which was completely forgotten as soon as he barged straight through the door into Seungkwan and Chan’s regular tea and crafts session. “I heard whispers but I didn’t think it was actually true . Seungkwan do you have any idea how many pack rules this violates?”
“Don’t call him feral,” Seungkwan combats weakly, setting down his work to stand with Minghao. Chan stays in his cross legged position on the floor, eyes flicking between the two.
“He can be as domestic as a dog as far as I care, why the f*ck are you housing him? Are you out of your mind?”
“Me and Vernon found him in the woods, he was attacked, I was just giving him somewhere safe to stay.”
“What about our safety Kwan? You don't know this guy.”
“He's not going to hurt anyone, he’s a vegetarian for f*cks sake.”
“Oh yeah, cause no one ever lies .” Minghao keeps running a hand through his hair, making it increasingly greasy. He doesn't spare Chan a glance, “does Seungcheol know about this?”
Seungkwan’s silence is enough of an answer.
“Oh great, f*cking fantastic, you are so f*cked you know that right?”
“He wasn’t being fair.”
“So?” Minghao throws his hands in the air, letting them fall down with a slap to his sides, “Pack alphas get it wrong sometimes, no one’s perfect, that doesn’t mean you can just bend the rules as you please.”
“Look at him Minghao, he’s drinking tea and sewing, you want me to throw him back out in the wild? Is that the right answer? I dump him back where he was attacked and let him get mauled by some crazy alpha?”
It’s the first time Minghao’s gaze connects with Chan’s. The unimpressed scowl doesn’t falter, and his eyes press into Chan like sharp icicles, making his entire body shiver. He may be an omega, but he’s hardened, nothing like the soothing gentle cadence of Seungkwan.
“What about his heat, have you even asked?” Seungkwan huffs, turning his head in silence. Minghao shakes his own as he turns back to Chan and walks up to him, leaning down so he can get a better look, though it only serves to daunt Chan even more “hey tiny, when’s your next breeding cycle?”
Seungkwan growls at him, and it makes Chan jump. It’s so naturally threatening for someone who doesn’t do it often. “Don't speak to him like that.”
Minghao bares his teeth, but takes the scolding. “Sorry.”
Pencil slightly shaking, Chan writes it out for him.
<I’m not sure, but I don’t feel anything coming>
One of Minghao’s eyebrows comes up, “cat got your tongue or something?”
Again Seungkwan’s growl is as strong as a bite.
“Okay okay geez, no need to be snappy. I’ll bring Jun tomorrow, he can see when his heat might hit.”
As it turns out their beta healer, Junhui, is far too enthusiastic about being involved in their little secret.
Within seconds of setting his eyes on Chan the beta is all over him, cooing over his pretty scent and politeness as he sits straight-backed on the couch with his hands in his lap. It’s a comical contrast to the scowling Minghao, still oil-stained and still resting with both hands on his hips. While Junhui runs his fingertips over Chan’s face with praise, Minghao’s eyes run over him with unmasked judgement.
The ordeal is a lot more underwhelming that Chan had worked himself up to expect. The night prior he had padded into Seungkwan and Vernon’s room with a billion knots in his stomach and not a clue what to do about it. Without a word Seungkwan had lifted the blanket, letting Chan squeeze himself in. Once morning arrived he had someone’s arm around his waist and one curled across his shoulder. He was covered head to toe in sheets of sweet jasmine and orange, and his legs had stopped doing that funny jolty movement.
Now he sits still as a rock but also obediently shifts around upon request while Junhui spends most of the time looking at, touching or rubbing things into his scent glands, paying particular attention to his neck. Thankfully Junhui wasn’t an alpha, or Chan’s instincts may have been to kick him straight in the balls the moment he felt a touch there.
“Good news, it’s not due any time soon.” Junhui concludes after removing something white from Chan’s mouth, “I must say though, I’ve never seen an omega so linked to the moon, it’s a perfect cycle, your heat should hit when it's full, does this happen often?”
<Yes. I have 4 heats a year, one per season on a full moon>
“Incredible. If you’re ever interested in being a healer I would recommend it, you seem very linked to nature.”
“Yes yes can we talk about his spirituality after we’ve figured out this heat sh*t,” Minghao prompts impatiently.
“Well it’s always difficult to guess if it’s not soon, but it shouldn’t be an issue in the coming month. I’ll bring you some remedies to delay it anyways.”
Packing away his things, Junhui seems to catch on the way Chan scoots a little closer to scan the objects, even trying to sniff subtly. In as easy language as possible he explains to Chan each instrument carefully, asking him yes or no questions along the way. Chan’s got a whole new vocabulary list by the time Junhui’s ready to leave with Minghao, though another omega pulls at the stained tank-top just before he leaves.
“Hao,” Seungkwan’s voice is noticeably muffled by the chewing on his lip, “are you gonna tell Mingyu?”
Minghao sighs, his hands coming to his hips yet again. It seems to be his natural stance. “I don't know. This is a big thing Kwan.”
“I know,” when he glances over to Chan, the younger omega can see the cogs turning behind his eyes, thoughts synapsing through like live wire. If only he could listen in, press his head to Seungkwan’s and hear the things that he only lets slip to Vernon in the dead of night behind a closed door. “If it comes out, you can pretend you didn't know. I'll take the fall, I signed up for that when I took him in.”
With a half-smile of condolence, Minghao reaches out to gently pet Seungkwan’s neck, rubbing his wrist against the scent gland. It’s a silent comfort, a whisper that everything will be okay.
