By the time I finally sat back, satisfied, the sun had shifted from morning to late afternoon. My muscles ached from constant movement. My eyes burned from focus. But the nest was perfect.
It was right.
"Feel better?" Min-jun's voice came from the doorway, soft and careful, not wanting to startle me, his frame silhouetted against the light from the hallway. I looked up at him, suddenly aware of how I must look — hair disheveled, clothes rumpled, dark circles probably forming under my eyes from the intensity of my focus.
"Yes." I said, and my voice came out hoarse, rough from hours of disuse, my throat dry and scratchy. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize." Min-jun crossed the room, settling beside me with careful movements, making sure not to disturb the arrangement I'd created, his warmth radiating beside me as his weight dipped the mattress. "It's natural. Your body knows what it needs."
I laughed, but there was no humor in it, the sound coming out brittle and thin, more exhale than actual laughter. "My body is apparently very demanding."
"Your body is preparing." Min-jun said gently, his hand finding mine in the nest of blankets, his fingers threading through mine with easy familiarity, his dark eyes soft with understanding.
I looked down at our joined hands, at the way his fingers — strong and capable — held mine with such gentleness. The forest-cedar scent of him wrapped around me, familiar now, comforting.
Need him, my omega whispered.
"How are you doing?" Min-jun asked, his voice soft, his dark eyes searching my face with genuine concern, his thumb tracing patterns on the back of my hand. "Not the nest. You."
The question caught me off guard. I'd been so focused on the nesting, on the physical, on the instinct, that I hadn't stopped to check in with myself.
"I don't know." I admitted, the honesty feeling raw and vulnerable on my tongue, my gaze dropping to our intertwined fingers. "Scared, I think. Of what's coming. Of how intense everything is getting. Of how much I..."
I trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence.
"How much you what?" Min-jun prompted gently, his attention fully on me, patient and present, his body angled toward mine in the nest.
"Want this." The words came out barely above a whisper, confession and fear wrapped together, my heart hammering in my chest. "I'm scared of how much I want it. Want you. All of you. It feels too big. Too fast. Too much."
Min-jun was quiet for a moment, considering my words, his expression thoughtful. Then he shifted, turning so he could face me more fully, both his hands now holding mine, his knees brushing against mine in the tangle of blankets.
"Can I tell you something?" Min-jun asked, his voice low and intimate, his dark eyes soft in the afternoon light filtering through the curtains, something vulnerable flickering in their depths.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"You're the first thing I think about when I wake up." Min-jun said, and the rawness in his voice made my breath catch, his usual composure stripped away to reveal something tender underneath. "And the last thing before I sleep. I dream about you. Not just the bond, not just instinct. You. Your laugh. Your stubbornness. The way you fight so hard to protect yourself, even when you don't need to anymore."
My heart was pounding, loud enough that I was sure he could hear it, the sound rushing in my ears.
"I didn't expect this." Min-jun continued, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on my palms, his touch grounding and warm, his eyes never leaving mine. "When we found out about the bond, I thought... I thought it would be complicated. Difficult. Something we'd have to work at." He smiled, small and genuine, his dimples appearing briefly. "But it's not. Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done."
Loving. He'd said loving.
"Min-jun..." My voice cracked, overwhelmed by the simple sincerity of his words, moisture pricking at my eyes, my fingers tightening around his.
"You don't have to say anything back." Min-jun said quickly, his grip on my hands tightening slightly, reassurance in every word, his expression earnest and open. "I just wanted you to know. Whatever you're feeling, whatever you're scared of — you're not alone in this. We're all falling. Together."
I stared at him, at this gentle alpha who brought food and comfort and asked how I was doing instead of assuming he knew. Who held my hands in a nest I'd obsessively built and told me he loved me like it was the simplest truth in the world.
Want him, my omega breathed.Trust him. Keep him.
"I'm scared." I said finally, the admission feeling like releasing a held breath, like letting go of something I'd been clutching too tightly, my voice wavering but steady. "But I don'twant to run. Not anymore. I just... I don't know how to do this. How to want something this much and not be terrified it'll be taken away."
"You don't have to know how." Min-jun leaned forward, pressing his forehead to mine, his breath warm on my face, his scent enveloping me like a blanket. "None of us do. We figure it out together. That's what pack means."
We sat like that for a long moment, foreheads touching, breathing together, the nest I'd built surrounding us with the mingled scents of all five alphas. My omega purred quietly in my chest, content in a way that still surprised me.
"The nest looks amazing, by the way." Min-jun said eventually, pulling back just enough to look around at my handiwork, his eyes taking in the careful arrangement with something like awe, a soft smile spreading across his face. "You did good."
