Chapter Text
Moondae isn’t exactly sure how they end up like this: a mess of loosely tangled limbs hidden under a too-small blanket on top of his too-small mattress.
Which isn’t a fair description, really.
The bedding is the perfect size for him alone (and he’s not small by the average measure), but it wasn’t built to accommodate two other fully-grown men intent on sticking as close to Moondae as physically possible. They're the ones taking up most of the space, squishing him between them like a literal body pillow while they're at it.
Since the beginning of the night, Ahyeon’s hair has been tickling the underside of Moondae’s jaw, his chest having been relegated to a pillow. Underneath one of his legs, he could feel the rigid bump of Lee Sejin’s thigh, shaking in laughter every time he successfully made Moondae bristle or Ahyeon blush. There's an arm around his back, ending in a hand holding steady around his hip, grounded like a gentle vice. The fingers would tense up ever-so-slightly whenever something exciting happened in the fancams they’ve been watching—which, by nature the trending page, is basically everything. And someone had spent the better part of the night trying to goad him into a pointless game of footsie, despite the fact that they’re already so close together that he can feel every single time the overgrown bear of a man breathes.
It’d be impossible to try and figure out where any of them begin or end, or at least more trouble than it’d be worth to deal with kicking the other two out at this time of night. They’re already starting to fall asleep, and Moondae can’t find it in himself to unwind from the stifling position.
Better to just accept it at this point.
If it were just in the context of today, the answer to how they got here becomes obvious.
Moondae had planned to watch some WeTube videos before bed, and some of his group members decided to join him—just like on any other night. And, like always, they cozied up and settled in, pressed together as if the world had fallen away and the concept of personal space meant nothing at all.
So the better question would be: how had this become their “normal?”
At the beginning of their lives as TeSTAR, Moondae would have never imagined becoming a willing participant in such blatant skinship.
Fanservice and general idol camaraderie? Sure. He’d anticipated (and even arranged) countless scenarios to show that their group was on good terms. If all it took was giving someone a hug or high five every once in a while, or even acting out something like the suspicious bromance their youngest members flaunted, Moondae would do it—anything for TeSTAR’s longevity and his continued subscription to life.
He never thought he’d become attached.
It’s funny. Having lived the collective 30-or-so years of his life without forging any meaningful relationships, Moondae had never known the heart could be so capricious. He’d never been one for yearning.
From the start, they were only supposed to be coworkers.
And now here he is. Somewhere along the blurred and scattered lines of this life, he’d grown unwittingly closer to them. He still needed to pretend in front of the cameras, but the facade had shifted from feigning affection to holding it back.
Nowadays, he’s surprised by many things, like how easily he’s taken to physical touch. There’s a part of him that’s become almost reliant on the presence of someone next to him.
Sharing space like this has become as natural as breathing—so part of his everyday that he can barely remember how he used to spend time without the warmth of someone else’s skin on his own. It’s a simple yearning that somehow seems to beckon all the complications in the world.
At a time like this, while the stars begin to gleam faintly in the night sky, Ahyeon is still tucked into the crook of his neck, sometimes turning and breathing soft little yawns toward his collarbones. His hand has somehow meandered until it found a place on Moondae’s waist, rucking up his sleep shirt and mindlessly thumbing at the skin. He’s ticklish there.
On his other side, Lee Sejin is sacrificing his arm to pillow both of their heads from the wall, and in return his cheek is pressed against the top of Moondae’s head. Every rumble that travels up Sejin’s chest and through his throat—all the mirth and laughter, and now all the dream-sown murmurs—sends tremors through all three of them at once: a warning sign for the lighthearted nonsense that comes out of his mouth.
A scenario like this is definitely not something the old Moondae would’ve been familiar with.
Moondae knows that somewhere in his brain, he should be feeling more stifled in this situation—sandwiched between two big, clingy men who've grown too used to using him as a human stress ball—but comfort had already seeped into his skin long ago.
He sighs.
It feels… oddly right.
And on paper, it is.
They're a team.
More than that, they’d gone so far as to call themselves a pack. So it's normal for them to gravitate toward each other, if only for the fact that they're biologically primed to do so.
When the others fall asleep, it’s the late night thoughts that tend to stop the reverie in its tracks. No one else is awake enough to distract him from them; and even if they were, it’d be impossible for them to understand exactly what Moondae is thinking of.
An ugly laugh almost escapes Moondae’s throat, but he forces it down—deep down, along with the rest of his equally ugly greed.
“A mental fortification attribute would be great right about now,” he thinks, allowing himself at least a sigh.
As much as he'd like it to be true, the notion that this is his place to belong…
He knows it can’t be.
How could it, when this “Park Moondae” never existed in the first place?
Winning the popular vote in a survival show. Becoming TeSTAR’s main vocalist. Awakening as an omega. None of these things would have happened if he hadn’t tripped into Park Moondae’s body and realized the shitty system taking him hostage wanted him to become an idol.
Before this, most of his life had been spent as Ryu Gunwoo. He had been a regular beta with a regular educational path studying the mundane subject of civil service. He had been the same Ryu Gunwoo who was penniless, friendless, and stuck on a spiraling trajectory that never straightened itself out from start to finish.
Had Gunwoo not woken up in this body, all his ties to this industry, no matter how miniscule, would have been severed as he quietly deleted his accounts to convince himself he wasn’t still half-assing his way through school. He would never go back to his side gig as a data seller. There would be nothing to connect him to the bright and colorful world of idols.
But here he is now, wearing a skin that isn’t his own. The members of TeSTAR who surround him shine like stars in the darkest of nighttime skies. And, unlike him, they can do it without the use of a possibly (probably) malevolent system’s powers.
And there lies the issue.
Lee Sejin, whose weight rests softly over Moondae’s head, does not belong to him. Neither does Seon Ahyeon, whose grip has loosened gently throughout the throes of sleep. Nor do any of the other members of their pack.
And he, in turn, tells himself that he does not belong to them (even when the omega inside him winces at that thought, the pain dully throbbing in his chest).
These are people that trust him. The same people who he promised he would be honest with. And yet there are still truths that Moondae needs to keep to himself; if not to preserve his own safety and feelings, then to prevent himself from hurting them.
Going forward, he’ll still do whatever he can to hold them together, just as he has been. It’s not only because of the very real chance that he'll be killed by an absurd cosmic force if he doesn't, but because he owes them at least this much.
Moondae wonders if that’s part of the reason why they’ve grown so attached to him. If, for example, Ahyeon and Sejin feel the same way he does—a similar kind of guilt at having affected group dynamics, or, for them, some misplaced sense of responsibility.
Really, they don’t need to. His awakening as an omega wasn’t really their fault. It’d be more accurate to say that it was all a fluke, and that Moondae should have kept his distance the moment that he began to see the warning signs. To have become an omega just happened to be the cherry on top of all the insane happenings in Moondae’s second life.
For someone who spent half of it in a hospital bed, he remembers that week with surprising clarity.
☆
Finally, it’s TeSTAR’s first real day off, and the beginning of their vacation.
Keun Sejin and Lee Sejin are basically glaring at each other at the doorway. The former is wearing that same stiff, plastered-on grin he uses whenever they’re stuck dealing with unreasonable management decisions. The latter, a heart-on-sleeve pout that does nothing to hide his distaste for the taller man who shares the same name.
Moondae regrets his habit of waking up early even on non-work days. If he stayed in bed an hour or two longer, he could have completely avoided the awkward standoff taking place near the front door.
By coincidence, both Sejins were setting out for home at the same time, practically rubbing shoulders on their way out; and they probably would have if they didn’t treat each other as if they were plague victims.
It’s clear that they still aren’t really sure how to act around each other even after all this time, and neither of them feels the need to act chummy while the cameras are off. With their contrasting personalities, trying to force them to get along would probably make things worse, so Moondae decides it’s best to leave the issue alone. It's not like they necessarily need to be close in their private lives—only civil enough to not stir up rumors.
Lee Sejin turns to Moondae and clears his throat lightly. “Um, I’ll be off then,” he says, completely ignoring the alpha standing next to them.
Civility failed. As expected of this hyung.
Forcefully pushing aside the atmosphere that he had a part in creating, Lee Sejin coughs and continues. Perhaps in a show of intuitive foresight, he tells Moondae to call him if he needs an emergency contact, and gives Moondae permission to use anything from his medicine cabinet over the break—in case he starts feeling sick since he’ll be alone in the dorm.
Lately, it feels like Lee Sejin has been fussing over him more. He wonders if it’s because they’re the only members of the group that aren’t alphas, or if his behavior just stems from his desire to be viewed as a reliable hyung. Whatever it is, it doesn’t change the fact that he always goes about his advice in such a roundabout way that it makes people question whether he’s worried or actively insulting them.
“The flu has been going around,” Lee Sejin explains, lightly scratching a non-existent itch behind his ear, “and you have a habit of overworking yourself.”
Truly a person who can't be straightforward, even with something as low-stakes as this.
“Thank you,” Moondae replies, though he’s sure that he won’t need it.
On the other side of the entryway is Keun Sejin, who, unlike their eldest, can read the mood. However, Moondae can see the glint in the man’s eyes that tells him the man is about to cause trouble on purpose anyway. While Moondae is okay with occasionally indulging Lee Sejin’s sense of pride as a caring hyung, Keun Sejin isn’t one to make concessions— at least not for people he doesn’t like.
“You know, I actually agree with that.”
The alpha makes a show of taking off his jacket and states with a shining fake-shy smile, “MoondaeMoondae, your pajamas aren’t warm enough for the night time~ Use this if it gets cold. Alpha pheromones have a calming effect, ya know?”
It’s clearly a declaration of war for a competition that Moondae doesn’t remember agreeing to judge, though the real contest seems to be “who can give him the bigger migraine?”
They might be in the middle of a strangely mild week in terms of Summer weather, but it’s not enough for Moondae to need to borrow someone else’s clothes. Even now, he’s more likely to be running the AC than cranking up the heat. Though, from experience, he knows that Keun Sejin’s jacket is incredibly warm, since the other man tends to throw it on the communal couch whenever they get back from an event. It makes a pretty decent cushion for nighttime SNS monitoring.
Lee Sejin scoffs inaudibly when Keun Sejin drapes it over Moondae’s shoulders, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, “typical alpha,” under his breath.
Keun Sejin, taking a page from his book, pretends not to notice.
Diplomatically, Moondae peels off the curtain of fabric and folds it into a nice pile to leave on the couch. This time, Keun Sejin pouts.
And then finally, finally, some backup arrives.
Confused but determined, Raebin pipes up to ramble, “I thought most studies suggested that the calming effect of alpha pheromones only works on biologically-compatible omegas and an even smaller subset of alphas, particularly those who fall under the same pack. Betas, who can only sense a miniscule amount of—”
He continues on for a while with Moondae nodding along at his words, feeling strangely grateful in his heart that they have a member like Raebin who can bulldoze over any rough atmosphere. Except instead of ignoring, it's more accurate to say he doesn’t understand what’s wrong in the first place.
By the end of his speech, Raebin still hasn’t quite sensed the mood and apologizes for taking up so much time, then obliviously wishes both hyungs a safe trip. Moondae quickly follows suit.
They take separate taxis out.
☆
The next goodbye comes in the afternoon, when Ahyeon leaves for his parent’s home.
Eugene pops his head over the man’s shoulder, scanning his paltry possessions with a curious eye. “Hyung, that’s all you’re bringing with you? Is this…?”
He pauses for a moment, looking for the right way to phrase his words in Korean. “Ah, I got it! Are you the type to go on vacation with a backpack and come back with two suitcases?”
“W-What?”
Moondae can see steam coming out of Ahyeon’s ears from his brain working overtime, trying its hardest to comprehend the force of nature that is Cha Eugene.
“I think what he means to ask is if you’re planning to shop a lot during your trip.”
“O-oh! No, I’m going to pack more once I get home,” Ahyeon explains, doing his best to keep his speech stable despite being flustered. The counseling sessions he booked are all scheduled for after the break, since their promotional activities won’t be ramping up until a lot later. Even so, Moondae has seen Ahyeon downloading and practicing breathing meditations on his phone.
Eugene makes a noise of comprehension, though as usual, Moondae can’t tell what exactly he understands. The younger man’s beat-up red suitcase, covered with scratches and colorful decals, is practically bulging with souvenirs for his family back home. The zipper is crying for help. Even Moondae’s own mental fortitude doesn’t work that hard to keep things together.
“I see! Have fun hyung! Bring back lots of snacks!”
Ahyeon nods furiously, mentally noting to set aside some funds for souvenir foods.
Cheongwoo starts slipping his shoes on. “Haha, we can all have a snack tasting party when we get back from our trips,” he says with a gentle smile.
As the only one in TeSTAR with a viable license, he had offered to drive Ahyeon home so his parents wouldn’t have to come all the way. In fact, he’d extended the offer to all the members, but both Sejins declined and Moondae established that he didn’t have anywhere in particular that he wanted to go to (or really, that he could go to) during the break.
Unfortunately, the timing of Ahyeon’s departure means that Moondae is going to be the one stuck with their confusing, constantly-squabbling maknaes until Cheongwoo comes back to ferry them to the airport.
Before the older members can set foot out the door, Eugene says something that makes Raebin bristle.
“I’m not a dummy, you’re a dummy!” Raebin shoots back, returning whatever childish insult the redhead had inflicted upon him.
When the two of them bicker like that, Moondae can almost pretend that he hallucinated them making out in the kitchen pantry all those months ago. Then again, it might just be their way of flirting. He only hoped they wouldn’t “surprise” him like that again, considering how awkward the moment was for all of them. His mental state had already taken a lot of hits lately.
He sighs, turning his eyes to Keun Sejin’s jacket that he’d thrown onto the couch and then back to Ahyeon, who looks at him with his hands fumbling together in silence, as if there’s something he wants to say.
The man hadn’t even left yet and Moondae was already wistfully missing his presence. Surely there was no calmer haven in this dorm than next to Ahyeon.
“I…” the man starts, eyes flickering to the ground. Long lashes cast a shadow onto pale, unblemished cheeks. He pauses. His hesitation speaks of consideration, or maybe fear, Moondae isn’t sure—before he finally settles on a hopeful, “You’ll be alone in the d-dorm. Are you s-sure you don’t want to come home with m-me?”
Like every other time that a TeSTAR member had asked him that (seriously, why were they inviting him to their family outings? ), Moondae declines with the shake of his head. Ahyeon had actually asked several times already and this seemed to be his last shot in the dark, but Moondae doesn’t think he would ever feel comfortable enough to intrude on someone else’s family vacation, let alone on such a short notice. It’d be especially inconsiderate to Ahyeon’s parents, who had already been gracious to him in the past.
“Have fun,” Moondae says instead, punctuating his answer with a small wave. He watches Ahyeon’s expression deflate from the rejection, but that extraordinary face lights back up when he adds, “send me some pictures when you get there.”
Of course, Ahyeon does with utmost sincerity—both when he gets to his parent’s house and later, in the airport touching down in some tropical city that Moondae can’t even begin to pronounce the name of.
While he and Cheongwoo are gone, Moondae decides it’s a good time to make lunch. During the process, Raebin scolds Eugene for trying to steal ingredients, which starts another mini-fight that serves as Moondae’s white noise compilation. He sighs, questioning why they’re like this.
Eventually though, the two of them seem to realize that they have more privacy in the dorm now than they’ve ever had before, and sneak off to one of their rooms to do… well, he doesn’t actually know, but there are some things Moondae doesn’t really want to think about in detail.
☆
Cheongwoo comes back about an hour later and goes to take a relaxing walk around the complex, knowing that he’s going to have another long drive ahead of him. Seeing him decline to eat at the moment, Moondae packs him some sandwiches and a thermos of soup for the road.
The rest of them head out soon after, having timed their schedules to match Eugene’s flight to California.
The aforementioned member announces with a childish tone, “We’re heading out! Moondae-hyung, don’t miss me too much~!”
The words are uttered with a wild and sincere confidence that only the young and reckless could have, and it suits him surprisingly well. At least, it doesn’t make Moondae cringe the way that Keun Sejin does with his exaggerated aegyo.
With an equally sincere air, Kim Raebin admonishes the redhead and pushes him out the door.
“I hope you have a good rest,” Raebin starts saying, turning to Moondae. He only hesitates a moment before continuing, “by the way, are you sure you don’t want to come visit my grandparents with me? There’s plenty of space in the van and my family home has a lot of guest rooms... And they would be happy to meet you! My grandmother has been asking me if I will bring over any handsome sunbaenim—especially you, because she’s become a fan of your trot singing. But she does want to greet everyone eventually.” A small blush appears on his face before he begins stammering, “Oh, and she’s the one who described you as handsome. Not that I don’t think you’re handsome but—”
“—Come oooon Raebin!” Eugene whines, his head popping back into the doorway. It’s impressive how well a 6-foot-tall alpha could do an impression of a pouting child.
“Thank you for the offer, but I’ll be fine here. Please give my family your regards.”
“Ah.”
From the side, Eugene snickers and wraps an arm around Raebin’s shoulder. “See ya later, hyung!” he says, ushering Raebin out the door.
Moondae replies with a simple hum.
“Mn.”
“Uh, yea, I’m coming,” Raebin mutters, suddenly reminded that Eugene has a flight to catch. He throws another glance at Moondae. “Then… I hope you have a relaxing break as well.”
Moondae nods at the polite little bow he gives and passes him some chocolates as a snack. Since some would surely be pilfered by a certain thieving cat, who’s already eyeing them with undisguised jealousy (or just gluttony), he places a few in the redhead’s hands as well. Placated, Eugene accepts the tribute with a wide smile and pops one in his mouth.
Cheongwoo is the last out the door, and he leaves Moondae with a steady hand on his shoulder and the words, “take care of yourself.”
As the door shuts behind them, the automatic lock clicks in place, and the distinct admonitions and teasing laughter resonating from the group begin to fade out with just the distance of a few steps. Once all he can hear is the hum of the fridge and his own breathing, Moondae knows he is finally alone.
Inexplicably, his chest feels a bit tight.
☆
When Moondae wakes up the next morning, he spends his time lazily scrolling through SNS.
It takes a while before he realizes that the grogginess he feels isn’t normal sleep-haze, but a fever that’s already started to set in.
His first thought is, “Shit, not this again.”
Recognizing the emerging pattern that he knows about the “Bacchus 500” attribute, Moondae assumes he’s about to feel the backlash from all the sleepless nights he poured into their debut activities. It was only theory before, but the onset of fatigue is telling him that his body has been severely overworked, and the rebound has only been held off until now.
So the accumulated stress gets released if I go on a break period…
Oddly enough, he’s tired, but there’s also a small part of him that’s still thrumming with energy. He wonders if he’s become more resistant to the backlash, or if this is the system’s consolation to make sure he doesn’t die before he finishes its missions.
Well, it's just a fever.
With his last bit of stamina, he puts some hot soup in a thermos for later, takes some preemptive fever medication, and fills a basin with hot water so he can wipe himself down later. Heck, he even throws Sejin’s jacket onto the bedpost in case he ends up feeling cold, since it honestly is much nicer than the threadbare sweaters he owns.
By the end of all that, he feels lightheaded, limbs noticeably harder to lift. He settles into bed and waits for the inevitable waves of fever to set in. Hopefully, a nice, long rest would take care of this.
Since there isn’t much else to do (correction: nothing else he can do), Moondae ends up looking at his fan pages and forums to do some more monitoring, willfully ignoring the way that his temperature keeps rising higher.
By the time he finally considers, “maybe I should call someone…?" his eyes are already so blurred by dizziness that he can’t help but close them, and his phone falls to the floor with a soft thump.
He may have miscalculated.
Unfortunately, the day would not pass easily. He is, after all, Park Moondae.
No matter what, trouble would deliver itself to his doorstep.