Chapter 9 #2
"Jin-ho-hyung told us about your mother," Tae-min said softly, his voice gentling, his scent shifting to something less intense, something that felt almost like comfort. "About what happened to her…he did some digging…. We all know now."
My breath caught, but instead of the sharp spike of anger I expected, I only felt tired. So tired of carrying this weight. "I figured he would."
"He was trying to help us understand," Tae-min continued, holding up his hands in a placating gesture when he saw my expression.
"We didn't get it at first. Hwan-hyung was confused — hurt, I think, that you ran from him without even letting him speak.
And Jin-ho-hyung... he was quieter about it, but I could tell it affected him too.
So he did research. Found the articles about your mother. "
"What did you think?" I asked before I could stop myself, the question slipping out past my defenses.
"When you read about her? About what she did?
" Tae-min was quiet for a moment, his dark eyes thoughtful as he considered the question.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, and somewhere behind us I could hear the cashier shifting impatiently, but neither of us looked away from each other.
"I thought she must have been very brave," he said finally, his voice soft.
"Very scared and I thought... I thought it was really sad that she felt like that was her only choice.
" The words landed somewhere deep in my chest, in a place I'd been trying to keep locked away.
My eyes stung with tears I refused to shed, and I had to look away from the gentle understanding in his gaze.
"She didn't want to be caged," I whispered, staring at the packages of ramyeon on the shelf beside me, focusing on the bright colors so I didn't have to focus on the ache in my heart. "She said the bond felt like drowning. Like losing herself piece by piece."
"That sounds terrible," Tae-min agreed quietly. "But Keira... that was her bond. With her alpha. That doesn't mean—"
"I know," I interrupted, my voice sharper than I intended.
"I know what you're going to say. That breaking and completing are different things.
That her alpha was controlling and you're not.
That I should give you a chance." The words tumbled out, echoes of Jeni's voice mixing with my own fear. "I've heard it all before."
Tae-min blinked, something like surprise flickering across his features. "You have?"
"My friend. Jeni." I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the fever burning beneath my skin.
"She said... she said I've been treating my mother's story like it's my story.
Like what happened to her is destined to happen to me.
But my mother broke her bond, and I'm..." I trailed off, swallowing hard.
"I'm running from completing mine. Those are opposite things. "
"They are," Tae-min said gently, hope creeping back into his voice. "They really are. Your friend sounds smart."
"She is." A bitter laugh escaped me. "She told me to stop running and start preparing. To figure out what I want. What I need. So that when..." I gestured vaguely between us, "...when this happened, I wouldn't just react out of fear."
"And have you?" Tae-min asked, taking a small step closer before catching himself and freezing. "Figured out what you want?" The question hung in the air between us, heavy with implications.
Have I? I asked myself. Have I actually been preparing, or have I just been hiding and calling it something else?
The truth was uncomfortable. I'd spent the past three days in my nest, telling myself I was processing, telling myself I was preparing, but really I'd just been pushing everything down.
Pushing down the fear, pushing down the longing, pushing down my omega's voice every time she tried to remind me that Jeni was right, that I had promised to try.
I'd thought I would have more time to actually do the work.
"I thought I would have longer," I admitted, my voice small. "Before I had to face another one of you. I thought I'd have time to... to actually prepare. Instead of just telling myself I was."
Tae-min tilted his head, his dark hair falling across his forehead in a way that made him look impossibly young. "What's the difference?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. "Between actually preparing and telling yourself you are?"
The question cut straight to the heart of what I'd been avoiding.
"Actually preparing would mean... feeling things," I said slowly, working through the thought as I spoke.
"Letting myself acknowledge that the bonds feel good when they trigger.
That part of me wants this, even though the rest of me is terrified.
" I pressed my hand against my chest, where three bonds now pulsed.
"Instead, I've been shoving everything down.
Pretending I don't feel the pull. Pretending I'm not curious about who you all are. "
"Are you?" Tae-min asked softly, something like hope brightening his expression. "Curious about us?" I should have denied it. Should have maintained the walls, the distance, the careful defenses I'd hidden behind for so long.
But I was so tired of pretending.
"Yes," I whispered, the admission feeling like pulling a splinter from beneath my skin — painful but necessary.
"I am. I've watched your performances. Read your interviews.
I know Hwan is the bright one, the mood-maker, even though Jin-ho told me there's more beneath the sunshine.
I know Jin-ho is quiet and thoughtful and sees more than he says.
I know you're the youngest, the golden maknae, but I don't..." I swallowed hard.
"I don't know who you are when the cameras aren't watching. "
Tae-min's face softened, the desperate alpha energy settling into something gentler, something more real. "I could tell you," he offered quietly. "If you want."
"Tae-min—"
"Not everything," he added quickly, holding up his hands.
"Just... a little. Something real. So you know we're not just idol faces and alpha pheromones.
" I should have said no. Should have walked away, preserved what was left of my crumbling boundaries, bought myself more time to actually prepare instead of just pretending to.
But Jeni's voice echoed in my head: You need to stop running long enough to find out who they actually are.
"Okay," I heard myself say. "Something real."
Tae-min's smile was like the sun breaking through clouds — bright and warm and genuinely happy in a way that made something flutter in my chest. He leaned back against the shelving unit across the aisle, maintaining the distance I'd demanded but settling in like he had all the time in the world.
"I hate being the youngest," he said simply, and the admission clearly caught me off guard because I felt my eyebrows shoot up.
"Not being in the group — I love that. But being the maknae means everyone treats me like I'm fragile.
Like I need protection. Like I can't handle hard things.
" He shrugged, his casual posture belied by the intensity in his eyes.
"I was nineteen when we debuted. I've been an adult for years.
Jae-won-hyung still checks that I've eaten, and Min-jun-hyung still worries when I stay up too late, and even Hwan-hyung — who's only two years older than me — acts like I need to be shielded from anything difficult. "
"That sounds frustrating," I offered carefully, not sure what else to say.
"It is," Tae-min agreed, nodding emphatically.
"I know they do it because they love me.
I know they can't help their alpha instincts.
But sometimes I just want to be trusted to handle things on my own.
" He paused, something flickering in his expression.
"That's part of why I'm glad I found you instead of one of my hyungs. "
"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious despite myself.
"Because they would have tried to fix everything immediately," Tae-min said honestly.
"Jae-won-hyung would have gone into full pack alpha mode.
Min-jun-hyung would have tried to take care of you whether you wanted it or not.
Even Hwan-hyung..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
"They mean well. But they're not always good at listening.
Not when their instincts are screaming at them to act. "
"And you are?" I couldn't keep the skepticism out of my voice. "Good at listening?"
Tae-min's smile turned rueful. "I'm trying to be," he admitted. "I've had a lot of practice being talked over. Being the youngest means you learn to pay attention to what people need, because no one thinks to ask you. You learn to read between the lines."
Something about that resonated with me — the experience of being overlooked, of having to carve out space for yourself in a world that had already decided who you should be.
"I'm not ready," I said quietly, the words feeling less like a wall and more like an honest admission.
"I know I keep saying that. I know the soul sickness is getting worse and I can't keep avoiding this forever.
But I'm not ready to have a real conversation with all five of you.
Not yet. I thought I would have more time to actually prepare instead of just..
. hiding and calling it something else."
Tae-min nodded slowly, something shifting in his expression — understanding, maybe, or acceptance. "Okay," he said quietly. "That's fair."
"That's it?" I asked, surprised by the lack of argument. "You're not going to try to convince me I'm wrong? Tell me the soul sickness will kill me if I don't let you help?"
"Would it work?" Tae-min asked simply, raising an eyebrow.
"...No," I admitted.