"Min-jun." I said his name firmly, waiting until he met my eyes. I could see the earnestness there, the desperate desire to get this right. His whole body seemed to lean toward me like a flower seeking sunlight, and I felt his bond pulse with anxious hope. "It's okay. I think... I think it's a good idea, actually. Getting to know each of you individually before trying to navigate all five at once."
"Really?" He breathed the word like he was afraid to believe it, the tension in his shoulders easing visibly as my words sank in.
"Really." I nodded and reached for the juk, my stomach growling at the sight of it. "But how does that even work with your schedules? You're in the middle of comeback preparations. You can't all just... stop working."
"We talked about that." Min-jun's expression shifted into something more practical as he settled onto the edge of the bed, some of his nervousness fading now that we were discussing logistics. "We have practice sessions, recording blocks, a few variety show tapings over the next week. But we can rotate — whoever isn't with you can cover the group schedules. The company knows about..." He gestured vaguely between us, his cheeks flushing again. "About the situation. They're being flexible."
"The company knows?" I asked, my stomach dropping. Narvi Entertainment. The executives who had assigned me to write SIREN's comeback track. The thought of them knowing about my bonds, my designation, my impending heat — it made my skin crawl.
"Just the basics." Min-jun must have read the panic on my face because he reached out, his hand hovering near mine without quite touching. "Jae-won-hyung handled it. He told them you're... that there's a medical situation. That you'll need time away from work. They're not asking questions."
"My work." The words came out flat as the realization hit me. I hadn't thought about it — hadn't thought about anything beyond surviving the fever and the bonds. But I had deadlines. The title track wasn't finished. I was supposed to be in the studio, not lying in an idol group's nest room wearing borrowed clothes. "The comeback track. I was supposed to?—"
"It's handled." Min-jun cut me off gently, his voice soothing. "Jin-ho talked to your contact at the company. Mina? He explained that you're dealing with a health issue and need to step back temporarily. She didn't push for details." He paused,a small smile tugging at his lips. "Apparently she's been worried about you."
"Mina?" I asked, thinking about her sharp eyes, the way she'd studied me during our last meeting. She'd probably suspected something was wrong long before I'd admitted it to myself.
"She asked Jin-ho to tell you not to worry about the deadlines." Min-jun nodded as he spoke, his dimples showing. "Said the track can wait until you're healthy. That she expects you back in the studio eventually — her words were something like 'that girl is too talented to lose to some medical nonsense.'"
I huffed out something that was almost a laugh, warmth spreading through my chest at Mina's characteristic bluntness. "That sounds like her."
"So the company is just... okay with their lyricist disappearing in the middle of a comeback?" I asked after a moment, spooning some of the rice porridge into my mouth. It tasted even better than it smelled — warm and comforting, exactly what my body needed.
"The company is okay with whatever keeps SIREN functional." Min-jun's voice carried a hint of wry amusement as he answered. "Right now, that means making sure our omega is healthy. They'll wait for the lyrics. They don't have a choice."
Our omega.The words sent a complicated flutter through my chest.
"Besides," Min-jun continued, his expression brightening, "the one-on-one arrangement works for scheduling too. While Hwan is with you tomorrow, the rest of us have a dance practice block. When Jin-ho has his day, we've got vocal recording. It keeps things moving while still giving each of us time with you."
"That's... actually really practical." I admitted, surprised by how much thought they'd put into this. It wasn't just about romance or bonding — they'd figured out how to balance theircareers with this new reality. How to make space for me without everything falling apart.
"We're idols." Min-jun shrugged as he said it, but there was pride underneath the casual words. "We've spent years learning how to juggle impossible schedules. This is just... a new variable."
"A new variable." I repeated, huffing out something that was almost a laugh. "That's one way to put it."
"Eat." Min-jun nodded toward the juk with a gentle command in his voice, his caretaker instincts showing through. "You need your strength. The doctor will be here soon."
"Right." I took another bite, chewing slowly. "Min-jun... thank you. For all of this. The food, the explanations, the... everything."
"Of course." He smiled as he said it, warm and genuine, his rose pink bond pulsing with quiet contentment. "That's what pack is for."
We sat in comfortable silence while I finished eating, Min-jun perched on the edge of the bed with an ease that felt almost domestic. When I'd finished most of the juk and all of the fruit, he collected the tray with careful hands.
"The doctor will be here in about an hour." He paused at the doorway as he spoke, turning back to face me. "There are fresh clothes in the bathroom if you want to shower. The others are making themselves scarce until after the appointment — Hwan and Tae-min have a quick meeting with our choreographer, and Jin-ho is working on some arrangement changes in his studio. We thought you might want privacy for the medical stuff."
"That's thoughtful." I nodded, grateful for the consideration. "Thank you, Min-jun."
"I'll let you get ready." He ducked his head as he slipped out the door, the tips of his ears going pink, leaving me alonewith the remnants of breakfast and a chest full of complicated emotions.
The shower was a revelation. Hot water sluicing over aching muscles, washing away days of fever sweat and fear. I stood under the spray until my skin turned pink, letting the steam fill my lungs and clear the fog from my brain.
The bathroom was enormous — all marble and glass and soft lighting — but someone had laid out towels within easy reach and set a fresh change of clothes on the counter. Soft leggings, an oversized sweater in a deep burgundy that smelled faintly of vanilla and fresh bread. Min-jun's sweater, I realized, pulling it over my head and letting the soft fabric settle around me. He'd given me his own clothes.
The gesture made something warm bloom in my chest, right where the rose pink bond lived.
I dried my hair as best I could, running my fingers through the black and teal strands until they fell in damp waves past my shoulders, and made my way to the living room. The penthouse was even more impressive in daylight — floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the Seoul skyline, modern furniture arranged in comfortable groupings, art on the walls that probably cost more than my annual salary.
There were touches of warmth too. A pile of worn blankets on one couch. A keyboard tucked into a corner with sheet music scattered around it. A collection of houseplants near the windows, clearly well-loved and carefully tended.
