My stomach clenched, a cold knot forming in my gut. "It's just easier. For the project. Being close by."
"Mm-hmm." Mina didn't sound convinced. "There are rumors flying around, you know. About SIREN having found their omega. About some mystery woman at their dorm." A pause, weighted and significant, heavy with implication. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
"I have to go." I said it too quickly, my heart hammering against my ribs, panic fluttering in my throat. "I'll have the AURORA bridge and the Somi revisions to you soon. Thank you for covering for me, Mina. I owe you."
"You definitely owe me." Mina agreed, but there was warmth under the words. "Take care of yourself, Keira. And call me if you need anything. I mean it."
I ended the call with shaky hands, lowering the phone to my lap.
"That sounded stressful." Jin-ho's voice came from behind me, and I turned to find him leaning against the doorframe, a cup of tea in his hands that he hadn't been holding a moment ago, steam curling up from the ceramic. He crossed the room with his long, graceful stride and offered it to me, the cup warm against my palms. "Chamomile. Good for nerves."
"How did you—" I started, then shook my head, deciding not to question it. "Never mind. Thank you."
"You have work to do." Jin-ho settled onto the couch beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed, his presence a steady warmth against my side, grounding and calm. "You can use my studio. It's quiet, soundproofed, has a good desk setup. Everything you need to write."
"You don't have to give up your space for me." I protested, even as my omega hummed with contentment at his closeness, at his scent wrapping around me like a familiar blanket.
"I'm not giving it up." Jin-ho countered, his voice calm and matter-of-fact, like he was stating something obvious and inarguable. "I'm sharing it. I have work to do too — we have comeback tracks to finalize. We can keep each other company." His lips twitched, the ghost of a smile flickering across his usually stoic features. "Unless you prefer to work alone. Some writers do."
"No, I—" I paused, considering. I'd always worked alone before. Always preferred it, actually — no distractions, no interruptions, no one looking over my shoulder. But the thought of being separated from them right now, even just by a few rooms, made something in my chest ache. "Company sounds nice, actually."
Jin-ho nodded like he'd expected that answer, satisfaction flickering in his dark eyes, a small pleased curl at the corner of his mouth. "I'll set up a space for you. We have a spare desk."
He rose from the couch and headed back toward the nest room, presumably to get dressed, and I was left alone with my tea and my thoughts for approximately thirty seconds before Hwan appeared.
"Heard you have deadlines." Hwan dropped onto the couch beside me, somehow already showered and dressed, his damp hair pushed back from his face, water droplets still clinging to the strands and catching the light. "Need any help? I'm excellentat moral support. Very good at bringing snacks. Can provide encouraging commentary at regular intervals."
"I don't think lyrics require a cheerleader." I said it dryly, but I was smiling despite myself, warmth spreading through my chest at his eager expression.
"All lyrics require a cheerleader." Hwan declared with absolute confidence, his sunshine grin bright enough to rival the morning light streaming through the windows, his whole body radiating enthusiasm. "Studies have shown that writer productivity increases by at least forty percent when there's someone nearby telling them they're doing amazing."
"That sounds like a completely made-up statistic." I accused, raising an eyebrow at him.
"All statistics are made up." Hwan countered without missing a beat, his eyes sparkling with mischief, leaning in conspiratorially. "I'm just making mine up for a good cause." Before I could respond, Min-jun appeared from the kitchen carrying a tray with what looked like a full breakfast — rice, soup, various side dishes, everything arranged with careful precision like a work of art.
"You need to eat before you work." Min-jun set the tray on the coffee table in front of me, his voice gentle but firm, brooking no argument, his eyes soft but determined. "Your body is still recovering. You can't run on caffeine and determination alone."
"I wasn't planning to—" I started to protest, but my stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, betraying me completely.
Min-jun just smiled, soft and knowing, the corners of his eyes crinkling with warmth, and pushed the tray closer. "Eat. Then work. In that order."
So I ate, surrounded by alphas who kept finding excuses to touch me — Hwan's hand on my shoulder as he passed, squeezing gently. Min-jun refilling my water glass without being asked, his fingers brushing mine as he handed it back. Tae-min appearing out of nowhere to steal a piece of kimchi from my tray and pressing a kiss to my temple in payment, grinning unrepentantly when I swatted at him. Even Jae-won paused on his way to his office to brush his fingers through my hair, the touch brief but grounding, his cedar and storm scent washing over me.
It should have been overwhelming. It should have felt like too much, too many people in my space, too many hands and scents and presences demanding my attention. Instead, the ache that had lived in my chest since the bonds formed — the constant, low-level discomfort of incompleteness — eased with every touch. Like they were filling in cracks I hadn't known were there.
"You're doing it again." Jae-won's voice came from somewhere behind me, and I realized I'd been sitting with my eyes closed, just breathing, just feeling.
"Doing what?" I opened my eyes to find all five of them watching me with varying degrees of soft concern and barely concealed adoration.
"Purring." Tae-min supplied helpfully, his grin wide and delighted, bouncing slightly on his heels. "It's really cute. Like a cat. A very pretty cat who writes songs and makes adorable sounds when she's happy."
"I'm not—" But I could feel it now that he'd pointed it out, the low vibration in my chest, the omega sound of contentment that I couldn't seem to control around them. Heat flooded my cheeks, burning hot. "Sorry. I don't know how to stop it."
"Why would you stop it?" Min-jun's brow furrowed with genuine confusion, his head tilting slightly to the side like a curious puppy. "It means you're comfortable. Happy. That's a good thing, Keira."
"It's embarrassing." I muttered, ducking my head to hide my burning face behind my hair. "I sound like a motorboat."
"You sound like an omega who's finally letting herself feel safe." Jae-won's voice was quiet but firm, cutting through my embarrassment with gentle certainty. "There's nothing to be ashamed of." I didn't know what to say to that, so I focused on finishing my breakfast, hyperaware of every small sound my omega was making without my permission.
