Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
KEIRA
After dinner, Jin-ho caught my eye across the table.
"Do you want to work on the SIREN tracks tonight?" Jin-ho asked it casually, but I could see the hope flickering beneath his careful composure, his fingers tapping an absent rhythm against his thigh. "We could go back to the studio. I have some demos I'd like your input on."
"She just finished working." Hwan protested, his arm slung over the back of my chair, his warmth a constant presence at my side, his voice carrying a hint of protective concern. "Give her a break, hyung."
"It's not work if she enjoys it." Jin-ho countered, his dark eyes still on mine, patient and waiting, his expression carefully neutral but his posture leaning slightly forward with anticipation. "But only if you want to. No pressure."
The thing was — I did want to. The AURORA bridge and Somi revisions had been obligation, deadlines hanging over my head. But the SIREN project was different. That was collaboration. Creation. The kind of work that filled me up instead of draining me.
"I'd like that." I said, and watched Jin-ho's expression soften with quiet satisfaction, the tension in his shoulders easing as relief flickered across his features.
"You're stealing her." Tae-min complained, slouching dramatically in his chair, his lower lip pushing out in an exaggerated pout that made him look like a sulking puppy. "We barely got any time with her today."
"You can come too." Jin-ho offered, already rising from his seat, collecting his plate with practiced efficiency, his movements smooth and unhurried. "The studio has a couch. You can game while we work."
"Really?" Tae-min perked up immediately, his pout transforming into an eager grin that made him look even younger than his twenty-three years, his whole body straightening with excitement.
He was the pack's maknae, their youngest, but still eight months older than me — a fact he brought up whenever I tried to baby him.
"You never let me hang out in the studio. "
"I never let you hang out in the studio alone." Jin-ho corrected, a hint of dry amusement coloring his voice, one eyebrow rising slightly. "Because you touch things. Important things. Things that took me hours to set up."
"That was ONE time—" Tae-min started to protest, his hands lifting defensively.
"It was four times." Jin-ho interrupted, his expression flat but his eyes betraying a glimmer of fondness beneath the exasperation. "I have a list."
"You have a list?" Tae-min sounded genuinely offended, his hand pressing dramatically to his chest, his eyes widening with theatrical hurt. "Of my crimes?"
"Of everyone's crimes." Hwan interjected cheerfully, standing to help clear the table, his movements easy and graceful as he stacked plates. "Jin-ho-hyung is very organized about holding grudges. It's actually impressive."
"I don't hold grudges." Jin-ho protested, though his lips were twitching now, fighting a smile that threatened to break through his stoic facade.
"That's the definition of holding a grudge." Min-jun pointed out mildly from across the table, gathering the remaining dishes with quiet efficiency, his movements careful and precise, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"It's the definition of having a good memory.
" Jin-ho countered, but he was definitely smiling now, small and reluctant but real, the expression softening the sharp angles of his face.
I watched the exchange with a warmth spreading through my chest, the bonds humming contentedly at the easy banter, the familial teasing.
This, my omega whispered. This is pack. This is ours.
This was what pack looked like, I realized. Not just intensity and claiming and soul-deep connection — but this. Bickering about lists and stolen studio time and who touched what four times.
"I'll come too." Hwan decided, draping himself over my shoulders from behind, his chin resting on top of my head, his weight warm and comfortable against my back.
Warm, my omega hummed contentedly. Safe. Pack.
"Someone needs to provide moral support and snacks."
"You provided moral support and snacks all day." I pointed out, tilting my head back to look up at him, finding his sunshine grin hovering above me like a personal sun.
"I'll provide them all evening too." Hwan declared, pressing an upside-down kiss to my forehead, his lips soft and warm against my skin. "That's the kind of dedicated cheerleader I am."
"I'll stay out here." Min-jun said, his voice gentle as he loaded dishes into the sink, water running over the ceramic with a soft hiss. "Give you some space. But I'll bring tea in a couple hours."
"I have work to finish." Jae-won added from his spot at the counter, his laptop still open in front of him casting blue light across his features, but his eyes were soft as they met mine across the kitchen. "But the studio door stays open. If you need anything..."
"I know where to find you." I finished for him, something warm uncurling in my chest at the way he was trying so hard to give me space while simultaneously making sure I knew he was available.
Jae-won nodded once, satisfied, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly before he turned back to his laptop.
Jin-ho's studio looked different at night.
The afternoon light had been golden and warm, streaming through the windows in honey-colored rays.
Now the room was lit by the soft glow of computer monitors and the warm amber of strategically placed lamps, creating pools of light in the darkness.
It felt intimate. Private. Like a world separate from everything outside.
"Here." Jin-ho guided me to the chair beside his main setup, his hand warm on the small of my back for just a moment before he moved to his own seat.
His hand, my omega noted with quiet pleasure. He touches us so carefully.
"I want to play you something." Behind us, Tae-min had already claimed the studio couch, his Switch in hand, the familiar sounds of some game filling the background with soft electronic music.
Hwan had sprawled beside him, not gaming but watching me with undisguised interest, his head propped on his hand, golden hair spilling across the cushions.
"Is this..." I started as Jin-ho pulled up a file, the waveform appearing on screen like a heartbeat made visible.
"The title track for the comeback." Jin-ho confirmed, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, his expression suddenly uncertain — vulnerable in a way I rarely saw from him, his jaw tight with nervous tension.
"It's not finished. The lyrics are rough.
But I wanted you to hear the bones of it. Before anyone else."
Before anyone else. The weight of that hit me somewhere in my chest, making my breath catch.
"Play it." I said softly, leaning forward in my chair.
He hit enter.
The song started slow — a single piano line, haunting and melancholic, notes falling like rain on glass.
Then the beat dropped, subtle at first, building gradually, layering electronic elements with organic sounds until the whole thing swelled into something massive and aching.
Then the lyrics came in. Jin-ho's voice, raw and unpolished in the demo, singing words about searching for something you can't name.
About feeling incomplete. About finally finding the piece that makes everything make sense.
I felt tears prick at my eyes and didn't try to stop them.
The song built to a crescendo, all five voices joining — I could hear Hwan's honey-smooth tenor, Tae-min's clear high notes, Min-jun's warm baritone, Jae-won's deep rumble anchoring everything.
They harmonized on a single line, over and over, voices braiding together:
"You were the answer before I knew the question."
Ours, my omega breathed, something cracking open in my chest. They're singing about us. All of them. Ours.
The song ended. Silence filled the studio.
"It's about you." Jin-ho said it quietly, not looking at me, his eyes fixed on the screen where the waveform had gone still, his hands gripping the edge of the desk. "About finding you. I started writing it the day after we triggered. I couldn't stop."
"Jin-ho..." My voice came out thick, rough with emotion, his name catching in my throat.
"The lyrics need work." Jin-ho continued, still not meeting my eyes, his fingers tapping nervously against the desk in an erratic rhythm. "They're too raw, too obvious. I need to—"
"They're perfect." I cut him off, reaching out to catch his hand, stilling his restless movements, my fingers wrapping around his.
"Don't change them. Don't make them less obvious.
Let them be exactly what they are." Jin-ho finally looked at me, and I saw the uncertainty there — the fear that he'd revealed too much, shown too much of himself.
"You think so?" Jin-ho's voice was barely above a whisper, hope and doubt warring in his expression, his dark eyes searching my face for the truth.
"I know so." I squeezed his hand, holding his gaze without wavering. "That song is going to destroy people, Jin-ho. In the best way."
Something shifted in his expression — relief, gratitude, something softer that made my heart stutter. He lifted our joined hands and pressed a kiss to my knuckles, the gesture achingly tender, his lips lingering against my skin.
Good alpha, my omega purred. Gentle. Ours.
"Thank you." Jin-ho murmured against my hand, his breath warm on my fingers. "For hearing it. For understanding."
"That's literally my job." I said it lightly, trying to ease the intensity of the moment before it overwhelmed us both.