Chapter Text

worst-case scenario

Jimin’s a breath away from throwing up.

It's been a busy day filming for this year's Bon Voyage. With dinner warm in their bellies, they've decided to spend the hour or two before bedtime relaxing out on the foredeck, feeling the lake lull their houseboat under the golden sky of early evening.

Jimin's in good company out here, surrounded by Hoseok’s hyena laugh and Jungkook’s tipsy giggles and all sorts of grand sweeping gestures as Seokjin lets his flight story descend into chaos. But all Jimin can do is stare blankly into his beer bottle as sweat beads on his forehead and a boulder sinks deeper in his stomach. What a mess.

"…Ya! And you should've heard him snoring," he catches Seokjin say, but it feels far away. "I swear, it was louder than the plane's engines–!"

" –Oh please, now you're just exaggerating…”

Namjoon’s denial has the rest of them bursting into laughter again. Maybe one of them will notice that Jimin’s not laughing with them, maybe they'll start asking questions, but he can’t worry about that right now. If he doesn't focus on keeping his breathing even, he might just start hyperventilating.

Yeah, this is a huge mess. What’d he do to end up here?

Maybe it was earlier that day – when the Bon Voyage crew whisked them away from the comfort of their airbnb, dropping them off on a houseboat in the middle of some enormous Californian lake without so much as a second to catch their breaths.

Or maybe just before that – when, in the wee hours of the morning, Jimin woke up to cotton in his brain, cramps in his abdomen, and so much dread.

Or three days before that – when, of all suitcases, Jimin's was the one to get lost in the inner workings of the Sacramento airport, clothes and toiletries and suppressants and all, never to be seen again.

Or, no, before that. Years before that.

Jimin takes another swig of his beer.

Yeah, this whole mess is about ten years in the making. And those years only make it about a billion times messier. He runs a hand down his sweaty, sweaty face. When he inhales, he can’t control the shaking.

"Hey," Taehyung leans over, an aside. "You okay? You've been off."

"Yeah." Jimin swallows, licks his lips. “Yeah, it's just–"

He glances around the deck at the members lounging, laughing, drinking. A few of them glance back at him. A few of their gazes linger, concerned. Namjoon. Yoongi. Hoseok’s caught on that something’s wrong, too.

“Jimin-ah," he calls out, gesturing toward him with his bottle of soju. “Everything okay?”

Jimin tries to stop his grimace, but he knows he's schooled his face too late when Hoseok’s frown deepens, so he ducks his head. He hears a few concerned mutters, but all that blood rushing in his ears drowns them out.

But then, to his side, a quiet voice.

“Minie?”

It’s Taehyung, leaning closer, trying to get Jimin to look at him. When Jimin lets their gazes meet, Taehyung’s searching, eyes flickering from the right to the left. Jimin’s never seen him look like this. Jimin's also probably never worried them like this.

Around them there's only silence, so he risks turning to the other members only to see similar looks of concern on their faces, and for a moment, he wonders what they think is wrong with him. Maybe he wants to take a hiatus. Or disband. Never see any of them ever again. Or it's some sort of scandal. Leaked nudes or something. Or maybe some doctor gave him two months left to live. Maybe his actual problem isn’t so bad.

But… no, it's still pretty bad. And he can't keep it hidden. Not anymore.

"Um." Jimin takes a deep breath. “I'm just worried about something,” he says on the exhale. “A sort of personal problem I have."

He tries to be casual about it, doesn’t want to alarm them too badly, but the damage is done. The closer he stumbles upon the inevitable, the more real it is and the more panic builds in his stomach. If his convenient store scentblock hasn't worn off enough to give his emotions away, then they know him well enough to pick up the strain in his voice.

Or, maybe they don't know him well enough. Maybe that’s the real problem.

He lowers his gaze and grips the beer bottle tight in his lap until his knuckles turn white.

Forget about all of the hassle and money and damage control it’s gonna take to fix this mess – the worst part about it is the ten years. Ten years of deception to the six people he loves and trusts most in the world. His members, his family, his–

“Hey,” Taehyung says. "You're flush already."

Well, it's definitely not from the alcohol. Jimin can hardly stand more than the occasional swig or two, he's so nauseous. But Taehyung's hands are on Jimin’s now, gently peeling his fingers away from the bottle until he's finally able to let it go.

"There you are," Taehyung says, setting the half-full bottle to the side.

It feels like an exhale. Jimin takes a moment, clenching and unclenching his empty fists a few times, working the tension out of them. When he can't use that to stall any longer, he turns to Jungkook.

"There aren't any hidden cameras out here, right?" he asks. Jungkook's involved in the production of this season of Bon Voyage. He has a better idea about this sort of thing. "Like, for real? No mics?"

Jungkook shakes his head. "Not on Bangtan Deck."

ARMY Deck's what they've called the rooftop. It’s got a hot tub and a wet bar and cameras everywhere. Also, a pretty cool waterslide into the lake. None of that on this foredeck, Bangtan Deck. It's private. Secluded. Just a circle of camping chairs and an outdoor couch and a giant iced cooler full of beer that they're using as a coffee table. It's something they asked for in this season of Bon Voyage, for times when the cameras get to be a bit much. Times like right now.

Jimin nods. "Okay. Okay, good." He gulps.

He's not ready for this. He’ll probably never be ready for this, but they're all waiting, and watching, and thinking god-knows-what, and the overwhelming guilt gets to him.

"So, first," he says, looking from one to the next, "I just wanna say that I love you guys. So much. You’re my family, you know? We know each other better than anyone. But…" He looks down at his trembling hands again. Gives a little shrug. "Aren't there a few things that haven't been shared yet? That you've held onto because it never felt like the right time, or it never came up, or maybe you were just, I dunno." He shrugs again. "Scared?"

Around the deck, nods, and Yoongi answers with, "I know what you mean.”

"And it's– not a bad thing, right?" Jimin asks. "It doesn't have to be bad, it's not lying. Sometimes it's just boundaries. Privacy. Even with family."

"Of course," Namjoon agrees. "We're allowed to keep things to ourselves."

A few more nod, like Taehyung and Hoseok and Seokjin, and it gives Jimin hope. Like maybe this won't totally wreck everything they've built together.

"I have something like that," he says before he can lose the nerve. "Something I haven't shared with you all, even though I know I should've, ages ago. I just– I thought I was doing what was best for not just myself, but for us and our careers. And honestly–" he lets out an awkward huff of a laugh. "Honestly, at this point, I was kinda thinking maybe it never had to come up at all. But keeping my mouth shut has caused a– situation. A pretty big one. And I don't know how to fix it."

The more he talks, the more their collective scent sours around him and the hotter Jimin’s anxiety flares. His eyes sting. He can't face them anymore so he ducks his head.

"It's gonna be an adjustment," he says, closing his eyes and pushing through. "And maybe a few of you are going to feel really upset, or angry, or– I don't know, betrayed, but it's– Just know that I’m sorry. I’m really sorry."

He cuts off with a deep breath to try and calm himself, but the air's far more bitter than calming. He can hear some of them shift, crowding closer, but his head feels like it's stuck in a wind tunnel and he can't keep track of who's where. He swallows, thick. God, it's hot.

"Hey." The voice startles him. It's Taehyung again, scooting over until his chin's resting on Jimin's shoulder. He brings his arm around Jimin's back to give his other shoulder a comforting squeeze. "It's okay."

In no world is it okay, but Jimin nods anyway. Taehyung's spiced cider usually smells so faint, but he’s scenting so much that it fills the air between them. And Jimin knows the others are doing the same. If he turns his head, he can kinda pick them out, too. It smells forced and cloying, like a fake smile, but at least they're trying. They're no strangers to difficult conversations between the seven of them. Nothing quite like this, but while a decade of lying is probably going to be hard to reconcile, maybe that same decade of friendship will help them overcome this.

"You guys can be upset," Jimin says, pulling himself together, "ask any question you want, it's all fine, just please–" He cuts himself off to breathe. His hands are still shaking and his whole body is burning up, so he's surprised by how calm he sounds. "Please promise me that you'll help me figure this out."

"Of course," Namjoon says. No hesitation.

The rest of them follow their leader, agreeing instantly, offering words of encouragement as though it's just that easy. As though Jimin's incapable of doing anything unforgivable.

"Okay." Jimin nods. "Okay, then."

He steels himself.

"I'm not a beta," he says.

At first, there’s only silence. He doesn't dare look, but before long, all around him are sounds of shock. Sharp inhales and gasps and the stuttered beginnings of questions. He lets them roll off of him. He's not even gotten to the actual problem yet.

"And, well,” he continues, “my suppressants are in my suitcase, which got lost in transit, and– My cycle. It's starting soon."

The silence returns as they let it sink in. Then Hoseok sits up straighter, blinking.

“What– While we're on the boat?” he asks. “Filming?"

Jimin swallows. "Probably."

He risks a glance around the deck at all of them. They're either staring back at him or at each other, exchanging bewildered expressions. That offended look Hoseok  gets when he’s taken aback by something. Jungkook’s big doe eyes he'll probably never grow out of. Taehyung’s pulled away from Jimin now, just staring at him, brows low and confused, and Yoongi over in the chair hasn’t done much at all.

"Wait, wait, wait, you mean–" Seokjin starts, then cuts himself off with a dropped jaw.

Jimin needs to not be seeing any of this right now, but before he can close his eyes again, Namjoon grabs his attention. He's leaning forward, forearms on his knees, focused on Jimin. Like he's skipped right past shock and is already running the numbers.

"Which cycle?" he asks.

Jimin draws into himself.

"Heat," he whispers.

Jimin catches a quiet "shit" under Yoongi’s breath and it makes him wince. Namjoon just gives a slow nod, thinking. His lips are pressed thin.

They don't have an omega. Haven't had an omega. Just a bunch of betas, and two alphas, and those ruts are difficult enough to work around as it is. Jimin's got an idea of how those usually go. They all saw the heavy exhaustion roll off of Namjoon and Jungkook when they were cleared to return to the dorm.

But heats are supposed to be more… complicated, somehow. More than even ruts. They're out of their depth. Jimin, included. He opens his mouth to apologize again, but Namjoon's quicker.

"Could you refill your prescription?" he asks. If he's angry, it’s impossible to tell. He’s too busy prioritizing to be angry. "Maybe we could send a staff member to pick it up. Or radio one of the runners at the marina to bring it to us?"

"It might be too late for meds," Jimin admits. "I'm supposed to start taking them at the beginning of my preheat and sort-of wait it out. You know, skip the cycle altogether.” It's strange, talking about it so openly. It's never been more than a little secret he would've forgotten about if it weren't for those stupid pills he has to add to his morning routine every few months. Jimin looks down at his hands fidgeting in his lap. "But preheats only last a few days. And, uh." He swallows. "It's been a few days."

Namjoon takes a deep breath, lets it all out in one go. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

"Why wait until now to tell us?" Seokjin asks as Namjoon goes back to thinking some more.

There’s no accusation in his tone, or anger, but it still makes Jimin wince. Why had he waited for Seokjin to drive their houseboat a good two-hour joyride from civilization? It’s a fair question. None of Jimin's excuses feel good enough, though, and the knot in his stomach only tightens.

"Well at first, I was counting on my suitcase turning up before it was too late," he answers, feeling dumb. "They've been trying to track it down, so I hoped– A-and you know how difficult it can be, facing a problem when it's so much easier to just ignore it.”

Yoongi raises his bottle. "Been there."

“But when I woke up this morning, I just–" Jimin shakes his head. "I can feel it. And between getting ready this morning, and getting packed, and the grocery shopping, and driving to the marina, and getting settled in, and all of the cameras–"

He stops to catch his breath.

Around him, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook are all staring blank and wide-eyed at nothing. Namjoon's leaned forward with forearms on his thighs. Yoongi's sitting back with his arms crossed and his chin tucked to his chest. Seokjin’s rubbing his brow.

Jimin hangs his head and takes a deep, steadying breath.

"I'm sorry," he says. "Truly."

Taehyung's the first to snap out of it. He doesn't say anything, just takes one of Jimin’s hands into his own and rubs circles into the palm with his thumbs. He’s scenting the air with more of his lightly spiced cider, too. It’s weak, always has been, but Jimin appreciates it. It helps.

"So, how long until…" Jungkook starts, then stops, then starts again. "Until you…" He can't even say it.

"I don't know," Jimin admits, "a day? Maybe– less?”

Yoongi's eyebrows raise. "That's soon."

Jimin makes himself even smaller. "I'm sorry,” he whispers.

They stay quiet for a moment. Finally, Namjoon blows some air.

"This is messy,” he says.

Jimin huffs. “Tell me about it.”

“And it could easily spiral into very messy. Full-blown media frenzy if something leaks before we're ready." Namjoon purses his lips. "We have to be careful here. Take that sort of thing into account."

Jimin gulps. He hasn't been letting himself think about what sort of things could happen if this reaches the media. If he dwells on it, he'd definitely have a panic attack. Or throw up. Or both. But Namjoon makes it easier. Already, he’s using his leader voice to steer the conversation toward something productive. He's keeping his promise. Jimin looks down at his lap.

"I have some thoughts on how to do this,” he offers. He's spent all day obsessing over this, of course he has thoughts. "Just take me back to the marina tonight. I'll get a room somewhere until it's over. You guys'll just have to film the rest of the series without me."

Namjoon nods. "Okay. Easy enough.”

"Tell ARMY I had a personal emergency,” Jimin continues. “That shouldn't be a problem, right? We've had members leave Bon Voyage before."

"But we've never lied about why," Yoongi says. "Anything vague might encourage some nosey asshole to investigate."

Jimin hasn’t let himself consider that yet, either. But now his imagination is swimming with bloodthirsty tabloid reporters and stalkers and antis. He shivers. Surely they won't find any pieces to put together. He can work on covering his tracks. But sometimes, their own fame surprises even them. And sometimes, all that media speculation ends up worse than the truth.

"Also, no Jiminie in the show." Taehyung frowns. He hugs Jimin’s arm. "Unless we all wait it out. Push back the rest of filming until he's done. Our schedule doesn't pick up for a week or two, right? So we have some wiggle room."

"Yeah," Hoseok replies, eyebrows high. He thinks it's a good idea, but it just makes Jimin feel guilty. At the absolute very least, this is going to be a major hassle. "And like that, who would even know Jiminie was gone? Or that filming was delayed? There’d be nothing to look into."

Taehyung nods. "We might be able to keep this out of the public eye altogether." 

"We'd have to stay in America longer, though," Yoongi says. “And if we stay longer, the staff has to, too."

He nods toward the staff's houseboat, moored just across this little secluded branch of the lake Seokjin'd scoped out during his and Jungkook's boating lessons just days before. The other boat's a little bigger for all of the crew on standby for drone shots, tech issues, injuries, emergencies. A speedboat's tethered to it, ready for Jungkook to whisk them off to various surprise excursions around the lake.

Taehyung looks across the way, too, and lets out a low whistle.

"That's a lot of plane tickets," he says.

Namjoon nods, grim.

"And visas," Seokjin says. "Right? How long do those last?"

No one responds. No one knows. The company usually handles their visas. Maybe this'll cause problems. With Jimin's luck, it probably will.

"Do you think we'll need PD-nim for this?" Jungkook asks, and Jimin finds himself shrinking even more.

Namjoon replies, "Well he needs to know anyway," like it's obvious, and all the rushing in Jimin's ears drowns everything else out.

Honestly, he kinda expected it. Hoped otherwise. Now, that hope feels stupid. But telling his members is one thing. Telling literally anyone else is another thing altogether. He screws his eyes shut.

"Is that really necessary?" he croaks.

Jimin realizes the conversation's been carrying on without him when it screeches to a halt. He can feel them watching him now, maybe even pitying him, and he hates it. He draws his legs up and wraps his arms tight around them.

"It would be easier with his support," Namjoon finally explains. He's kind about it. His voice is gentle. "PD-nim is discrete, you know that. And he can greenlight almost anything without having to answer to anyone else. But if you really don't want to do that…" He reaches across the way and places a hand on Jimin's knee. "I can't make any promises other than I'll try my best."

“Okay,” Jimin says. He looks at that comforting hand on his knee and his throat closes up.

This is so incredibly far from the nightmare reaction he was dreading. Anger, hurt, embarrassment, frustration, he'd imagined it all. But nothing like this. There's worry and disbelief and shock, sure, but Jimin didn’t expect to be comforted. He didn't expect to feel this safe. He wipes at his nose.

He knows Namjoon’s right, too. Bang PD is the best chance they have of pulling this off quietly within the company. Doesn't make it any less scary, though.

"Okay," he says. "We'll tell him. But, only him? If possible?"

Namjoon nods, rubs Jimin's knee for reassurance. "Let's make a plan first."

Jimin nods. Right. They have to figure this out. He glances around at the rest of them, hoping they might have something to add by now. They've been quiet but hanging onto every word. Their drinks sit abandoned on the cooler and floor. What a way to sober up.

"So, what are the chances of finding at least one companion that speaks Korean?" Hoseok asks.

Already, Jimin's thrown for a loop.

"I wouldn't count on it," Namjoon replies. "The closest major city's hours away–"

“–No, no, no,” Jimin cuts in, shaking his head. “I don't need help, I’ll just…" He flubs a bit. "I was just gonna take care of it myself. Like Namjoon and Jungkook do."

"But–" Hoseok's brows furrow. "Those are ruts."

"…And?”

"And, what? Heats and ruts are different," Hoseok says. "Very different, I've seen both. And heats are not supposed to be suffered through alone. I– God,” he shakes his head, “I don’t even know what that'd look like. It can’t be safe. Three of us, and it was still a big handful at times."

Hoseok rarely talks about his ex-pack, even in vague terms. It was before Jimin knew him, so he forgets about it. And heat companions – that's another thing Jimin doesn't know much about. They're alphas, he guesses. Or maybe they don't have to be. Really, he doesn't know a thing.

"It'll be easier,” Jimin reasons, “not involving anyone outside of us other than PD-nim.”

"Well, how do you usually manage your heats?” Hoseok asks. “Outside of suppressants. Surely you don't go through those alone.”

Jimin opens his mouth, but he doesn't have a response ready so he ends up shutting it. He knows he's taken too long when Hoseok and Namjoon share a look. A realization. Pretty soon, it starts clicking for the others, too. Jimin winces.

He's not a virgin or anything, but this is– different.

"Aish, Jimin-ah..." Seokjin shakes his head.

The disappointment, or the pity, or whatever it is– it’s too much to face. Jimin has to look away. He can still feel them watching, though, and it makes him feel pathetic.

"My audition was in three days," he says, quiet, desperate. "Three days. I knew I was in preheat, I could feel it, but I couldn't just– not audition. So my mom signed off on the suppressants, and I skipped my first, and– then I somehow became a trainee, and I skipped a few more, and– and besides, skipping's the norm before coming of age, you know? B-but then, we got caught up in everything, and there was never a good time, and it's not– It’s not like it matters, so I guess I just…"

"…Kept skipping it?" Seokjin guesses.

Jimin looks down at his lap and nods.

None of them expected BTS to still be in the spotlight a decade later. A big, big spotlight.

"So, you haven't really presented yet," Taehyung says.

It catches Jimin off guard. He blinks. "I guess not," he finally says. "I haven't really thought about it much."

Which seems stupid, not thinking about it. That first preheat was enough to know he was an omega, no questions there, but he's never actually fallen into heat. His body hasn't gone through all those changes. Maybe he really has been nothing more than a beta this whole time. Maybe, if he closes his eyes, he can imagine that he's just a really, really late bloomer caught off guard and none of this is actually his fault. Wouldn't that be nice.

Hoseok lets out a harsh breath. "That… changes things,” he says.

Jimin frowns. "Does it?"

Hoseok watches him, brows furrowing. "What do you know about heats?"

"Enough," Jimin says with a shrug. He instantly feels like a liar, though, because it's been over a decade since he had that talk with his doctor. "Like, I know how long one normally lasts, and, what happens during it, and…" he trails off. Shrugs again. “Basic sex-ed stuff.”

Not that they talk about secondary sexes in sex-ed much, anyway. Especially not XY omegas and XX alphas. They’re too uncommon to get more than a few footnotes each.

"So, no details?" Hoseok asks. "Not the stages you’ll go through? Or how you'll need to be cared for?"

Jimin's eyes widen. With how Hoseok talks about it, he definitely knows the most between the two of them, and it makes him feel very dumb about it. He swallows his pride and shakes his head. But something about Hoseok's words makes his face burn hotter. How he’ll need to be cared for? What's– what's that supposed to mean?

"And–" Jungkook jumps in. Then pauses, like he’s surprised even himself by speaking. He's been awfully quiet so far. He continues more carefully. "Well, aren't first heats supposed to be… worse?" He says the h-word without looking like he wants to die and Jimin's kinda proud of him for it. "Like how, uh, first ruts can be a bit wild?"

"Yeah," Hoseok nods, "that's what I'm worried about. Heats are already crazy enough as it is, much less a first one."

Jimin's frown deepens.

But– it's just heat. He'll be out-of-his-mind horny and clingy and– And that's all there is to it, right? It's all people ever talk about, when they bother acknowledging secondary sexes at all. The urges. And as if that's not terrifying enough, the way Hoseok talks about heat, like it's something more, something serious, is– beyond intimidating. Jimin can see Hoseok watching him. He bristles under the gaze but can’t look away. What does Hoseok know that he doesn't? Just what has he gotten himself into?

“What are heats like?” he whispers.

Hoseok doesn't respond for a moment, finding the words. Then he blows air between his lips.

"Intense," he says. "Very intense. Emotional. Vulnerable." He tears his eyes away with a swallow. "Beautiful," he mutters, "really," and it stops Jimin's heart. They don't talk about this sort of stuff. Not like this. “There's so much more to it than sex, it's– the hormones, and pheromones. You can get sort of lost in it all. You won't feel like yourself. There might be times you can't move much, can't even drink water without help. And sometimes you might not be able to speak or understand words very well, you're so lost in instincts. And the fever won't stop climbing unless–" He cuts himself off with a gesture, a 'you know'. 

Jimin does know, and his face feels balmy from his hot blush. Unless he finds… release. He didn't know the rest of what Hoseok said, though, and it feels like all the air got sucked out of his lungs just thinking about it. He had no idea. No one ever fucking talks about it.

Hoseok meets his eyes again. “Jimin-ah,” he says, quiet. “I really don’t think you want to be alone for this.”

Jimin looks down at his lap. He sees his chest rising and falling so fast, but it doesn't feel like he's getting any more oxygen. Every muscle in his body is so tense. His cheeks feel like they're on fire now, too, and it's spreading. His neck. His shoulders. His chest. He closes his eyes, detaching himself from it all, but then all he sees is some faceless alpha looming over him, caging their arms around his head, pressing him into some grimy, stiff mattress–

His eyes snap open, mind scrubbing the image away before he gets sick. It's bad.

Not that companions are bad, they're just– They're strangers. He's supposed to be like that with a stranger. And it's the only choice he has.

He feels queazy.

"So I'll–” Jimin swallows. He nods, steeling himself. “Okay. I'll hire a companion."

Hoseok lets out a sigh of relief. Taehyung rests his head on Jimin's shoulder and hugs his arm and whispers soft encouragement, but instead of nodding along with the rest of them, Namjoon purses his lips.

"They'll need to sign an NDA," he says. "Company lawyers will probably have to be in the loop for that."

“Right,” Jimin says, deflating. Maybe there really is no way to keep it from the company.

"And I know this is hard to talk about," Namjoon continues, "but Jungkook and I, we’ve never used companions for our ruts because– Well, NDAs can be broken. The media is not above paying for private information, and some people are not above attempting extortion. And this– This is big, Jimin-ah. Really big. You’re not known to be an omega. An XY omega.”

“Yeah,” Jimin whispers. He knows. He knows.

“And– Minie?” Namjoon calls.

It’s to get his attention, make him engage. Despite the nerves twisting in his gut, Jimin obeys.

"You can live life how you want to," Namjoon tells him. "You can keep this close, or tell the world when you're ready. Whatever you choose, we have your back."

The others nod. Yoongi says, “Of course."

"But a media leak would take that choice out of your hands," Namjoon tells him, sharper. "All it would take is one conversation with one reporter, or– Hell, it could be a heat tape."

Jimin's heart stops beating altogether. That– wouldn't actually happen, right? There's no way. But they've never been in a situation quite like this before, and Namjoon sure is worried. Which makes it all the more real.

That's when he first feels his chin wobble. Jimin sets his jaw to make it stop, but in just these past few minutes, his head's been swimming and swimming and swimming, and he can feel sweat beading on his brow. Just how close is he? How much time does he have left?

"Now, they are paid professionals," he hears Namjoon continue. "And we have money and Legal. And with any luck, whoever you hire won't even know who we are. But making them sign an NDA will just tip them off that something's up, and if they speak Korean… Realistically, that increases the likelihood of you being recognized. By like, a lot."

"Then maybe an English speaker is best," Seokjin jumps back in. "An American. Someone less likely to know us."

"No way," Hoseok says. "We need to at least try and give Jimin-ah a shot at communicating. That's gonna be hard enough as it is without a language barrier."

“And risk him being recognized?”

“Look, hyung, I am all for better ideas if you've got any–”

"–Unless…" Jimin starts. Then promptly stops, because– No. No, it's crazy.

It's so crazy, and so stupid that he shouldn't've even opened his mouth, but the damage is done. He flushes under their stares. They probably won’t let him drop it now. Plus, at this point, he's desperate. He's really, really desperate. They need every idea they can get. Even ones as stupid as this.

“Hyung,” he starts. “What if you were, I-I dunno, a room away, or on speed dial, or– somehow available to translate if needed…?”

Namjoon’s eyes widen as it dawns. He sits back and stares at nothing, eyes drifting, thinking for a long, quiet moment.

“I could,” he finally nods. “I could.”

The rest of them look from Jimin to Namjoon and back. Then–

“Wait." Namjoon shakes his head. “It's risky.”

“But–” Jimin’s words choke in his throat.

He wants to scream in frustration. Have it echo clear across the lake. He just can't catch a fucking break.

His whisper is hoarse. “But what if it's the best option I have?"

“Then we need to talk it through,” Namjoon says. “Predict the risks, stay ahead. What’s our rule of thumb? Just one of us can fly under the radar, easy. But the more of us there are…”

“The more likely it is we’re gonna get recognized,” Seokjin finishes for him.

Namjoon nods. “Alone, you’re just a guy from East Asia who maybe looks a lot like Park Jimin of BTS. The second I'm there, too… There’s far less to hide behind.”

Taehyung speaks up. “But it would probably be over the phone, right? They wouldn’t have to see you. And so, more than likely, if they’re gonna recognize him, they’re gonna recognize him regardless of if you're involved or not."

"The tattoos certainly don't help," Yoongi adds.

“I don't disagree, but–” Namjoon glances at Jimin and cuts himself off. He doesn't like whatever it is he's about to say. After some hesitation, he gives in and keeps going. “Well. I'm also a familiar alpha. A familiar alpha with seniority." He looks to Hoseok. “If he hears my voice over the phone, or if he knows I'm involved, or even if he just thinks about me for too long… Could he ask for me?”

Hoseok's eyes grow wider, like he hasn't even thought of that. He considers it for a minute, gaze distant. Then he purses his lips and takes a deep breath through his nose.

“He might,” he concedes.

Namjoon turns back to Jimin. “And if you do ask for me, how am I supposed to respond? Do I ignore you? Reject you? Accept you?”

Jimin eyes flicker in panic. No– He wouldn’t ask that of him. Of any of them. He shakes his head.

“And what if you start crying for me?” Namjoon asks. “Begging? Screaming? What if you start refusing the other alpha? What if your fever keeps rising? What if it gets dangerous? What if I have to intervene for your safety? Can I make that decision without feeling like I'm taking advantage of you?" He cuts himself off to take a steadying breath. Then, his eyes lock with Jimin's. He looks… scared. His voice breaks. "Is that a conversation you're willing to have right now?"

Jimin shakes his head back and forth, frantic, and once he starts, he can barely stop. He doesn't– He doesn’t know. He doesn't know anything. He hides his face with his hands. Earlier, the plan seemed almost easy. Get a hotel room, wait it out. That was it, he just needed their help with the finer details. But, this– This keeps growing into something even worse than his worst nightmare, and everything’s a mess, and everything’s his fault, he can't stop trembling all over, about to be sick again, this isn't happening, this can't be happening–

Someone clears their throat. Yoongi.

“You know," he says, "there is always us."

All around, ear-piercing silence. Frozen expressions. Jimin balks. He– No, he can't have heard right.

Yoongi sighs. "Come on. We've all thought it."

"But–" Jungkook, of all of them, is the first to try. Then his eyes grow impossibly wide and he snaps his slack jaw shut.

Jimin can't speak, either. Maybe because he has already thought it. Namely, as he watched the marina finally disappear around a bend in the lake and found himself wondering what the hell he was gonna do now. But it wasn't supposed to be real, and hearing it acknowledged out loud punches him square in the stomach.

Of the others, though, Namjoon looks the most lost for words. A harsh exhale has his nostrils flaring, and even Jimin's weak nose can tell his scent is going haywire.

“Look, I’m not saying we have to do that,” Yoongi defends, hands up. "Just throwing it out there. If nothing else works out, at least he has us.”

But– No way, they're not– They can't, it's not like they're a pack. Yet for a long moment, as the seven of them sit in silence, not saying anything, not denying anything, Jimin can't help but wonder how many of the others have thought it, too. Maybe Yoongi is right. Maybe they all have.

It takes Namjoon a moment to recover. Then he clears his throat. "Okay," he says. "How about– Let's consider our other options before–"

"–Alrighty." Yoongi shrugs. "Cancel Bon Voyage."

“And just what good will that do?” Namjoon snaps, sudden, his strong alpha scent souring and taking over everything else on that deck. “For Jimin-ah, right now? Who cares about Bon Voyage – we’re still here, in the middle of a lake, in the middle of fucking nowhere, with no companion we can trust and who knows how long Jimin-ah has until he–”

"Joon," Seokjin hisses, "watch the tone–"

And that's when the rest of them start jumping in, talking over each other, scenting over each other, telling Namjoon to calm down, or– or whatever, Jimin doesn't know, it's too much, so much chaos that he can’t keep up, and it reeks. So he just cowers with his face in his hands. All of this, because of his screwup. His selfishness, his stupidity, his ignorance, and maybe his hormones are already going nuts, but those thoughts are what finally get his tears brimming, and flowing, sobs punching out of him as he tries to breathe and breathe and breathe–

"Jiminie?" Taehyung asks.

Through his tears, Jimin can see the moment they notice him, eyes widening in concern, his name on their lips, and it just makes him cry harder.

"I'm just… so sorry– And so frustrated, and–" He hiccups behind his hands. "I mean, Kookie's put months of work into the production, and– He and Jinnie-hyung had to learn how to drive a boat! Namjoonie-hyung took lifeguard training! We've never put so much of ourselves into a series like this, not to mention our staff, and–" His hands gesture hysterically. "–And we've made it this far! We’re already on the damn boat, for god's sake! This is when it falls apart? Really? Because of something like this? Because of me?"

Around him, backtracking, sounds of pity, but Jimin can’t bear to hear them right now.

"And I'm scared," he says. "I'm scared because at this point, I honestly thought I'd never have to go into heat, and I was happy like that. I didn't feel like I was lying about– who I am. But now it's happening. No matter what. Oh, god–"

He curls over himself and lets out a few harsh gasps. One of them breaks in a sob. He covers his face with his hands again.

"And I don't even know if I'm going to be okay," he says, wet. "I don't even know if I'm going to be safe. And that's– fucking terrifying."

There he cowers, crying, hyperventilating, jaw so tense that his teeth start chattering. The others stay quiet, giving him this moment. Not daring to move. After a long while, Taehyung starts trailing his hand along Jimin's back. Up and down. Across his shoulders. And after a while longer, it starts to feel nice. Jimin catches his breath, manages to release some tension in a long exhale.

He feels lightheaded. He feels exhausted. He feels numb. For the first time in what feels like hours, he lifts his head. It's to wipe at his eyes and nose, but he sees them anyway, sitting there, lost in their own heads. Namjoon and Seokjin, still as marble. Yoongi, leaning way back in his chair, bouncing a leg and blowing raspberries at the ceiling. And Jungkook's spacing out again. He's barely said more than five words this whole time and it worries Jimin sick. This is a really difficult conversation. Really difficult. A few beads of sweat trickle down his temple. He's still panting. God, it's so hot. 

"I feel like we need to rewind," Taehyung finally says. "To what hyung said."

He's looking at Yoongi. Jimin's sure of it, he's following his gaze, but– There's no way he's talking about– 

Something in Jimin's chest shudders. His head snaps back to Taehyung, still cuddled up against him.

“Yeah, but that's–” he swallows. “That's not actually an option.”

"Why not?” Taehyung asks. “Because we're not together? We're not a pack?"

He scoffs the word out, and Jimin realizes with shock that he's a hundred percent serious.

"Come on, guys,” Taehyung says, outward. “Jiminie needs help. He needs however many of us to get him through this heat safely. Just a few days, and then it'll be over and we can all hug it out or– get drunk and talk about how it's forever changed our relationship, or– whatever." Under their stares, he withdraws a bit, gives a nervous shrug. "So what if that's not how we are?” he mutters. “There's always an extenuating circumstance, right?”

"Helluvan extenuating circumstance," Yoongi agrees flatly.

‘But–” Jimin tries, but the rest of his words get caught and won't come out.

Taehyung sees his hesitation. He bites his lip. "Let’s put it this way,” he offers. “Hyung was just considering the logistics of translating your heat talk over the phone to another alpha. And before that, he was considering the possibility of you having your very first heat recorded and either leaked or held for ransom."

"That's fucking ridiculous," Yoongi says.

"It's ridiculous!" Taehyung agrees, emphatic. "So if we're seriously treating crap like that as a good solution, then at that point, why can't we also consider a solution as simple as helping out ourselves? It’s– not ideal, sure. But is it really that crazy?" –Yes, it's crazy. Taehyung’s gone crazy. His wide, crazed eyes look around the deck for support. "Where's the risk?"

"Our relationship?" Jimin croaks. “Our–" Something in him wants to say ‘pack’, but he cuts himself off in time. They aren't a pack, no matter how much it sometimes almost feels like they are. They aren't. Not actually.

Taehyung's eyes soften.

"But you know we’re stronger than that," he says. He rubs Jimin’s hands with his thumbs. "Right? We'll work through it, like always. It's what we do."

Jimin swallows again. He's caught breathless in a limbo, Taehyung's words bouncing around his head like an echo chamber. It's what they do. Like always. It's what they do.

He can't actually let himself consider this. Not when it should be impossible. But time and time again, they've proved it. It's what they do. No matter the tight spot, no matter what crazy shit their insane lives throw their way, they always work through it. Together. It’s what they do.

He closes his eyes and, just this once, allows himself imagine it. Not– not explicitly, but– being cared for. Sharing something as intimate as what Hoseok described, with the people he loves and trusts most in the world, right there by his side, like a– Like a pack. A proper pack. The sort he used to daydream about.

And once the thought is there, it burns.

He lets in a gasp. His heart races and his veins start buzzing with– something. Excitement, or maybe it's just all the fucking hormones already, but he wants it. He wants it so much. He glances around at the rest of them, looking for any sign that he might not be alone with these thoughts. He can't hope. He can't even breathe. But he finds them looking around like he is, gauging the reactions like he is, almost as though wondering the same things he is, like maybe… Just maybe…

“Ya, Jimin-ah," Seokjin calls. “You really went all out, didn't you? When I say I would do anything for you guys, this was not the sort of thing I had in mind!"

He says it with a smile. He looks nervous and uncertain and maybe even a bit like he's lost his mind like Jimin has, but he sounds genuine and he's smiling. And his words make Yoongi smile, too, all wide and surprised, and Hoseok snorts. Even Jungkook– sweet Jungkook, he's nodding right along with the others even as he looks scared to death.

Jimin looks down at his lap.

"Just say the word," Namjoon tells him. "Just say the word and we'll talk this through right now."

His voice is quiet. Kind. It gives Jimin the courage to face them again. They're all watching him, waiting for him. He could call it off. Not entertain this for a second longer.

He swallows, closes his eyes. Lets his breath out.

"Please," he whispers. For now, it's all he can say. He wipes a hand under his running nose. "Please, please, please."