"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:
