Speak of the Tiger 2.1a/?
Title: Speak of the Tiger
Genre: omegaverse!AU
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Focus: Jongkey, side Onho
Summary: As an omega, Kim Kibum, grows up sequestered from the rest of society at an academy that grooms its students to be the perfect companions for the wealthy alphas that run the country. However, he still believes in the power of choice, a belief which causes him trouble when he runs into Kim Jonghyun, heir of one of Korea's top chaebol families and an alpha who believes in power rather than choice.
Author's Note: This fic is a fill for this prompt over at the Jongkey Kink Meme.
PART 2.1
“If you could be a shark or a bear, which would you choose?“ Jonghyun asks.
His family is gathered around the dinner table enjoying dessert. The only one who isn't still eating is his mother who’s busy clearing the table. She claims that she doesn’t enjoy ice cream but Jonghyun is convinced that’s a lie. At the tender age of seven, he’s not ready or willing to accept into his worldview that people who dislike ice cream exist, much less the fact that his own mother is one of them.
Across the table from him, his sister Jihyeon rolls her eyes. He doesn’t miss the look of fond exasperation that his mother shoots his father either. They’ve all grown used to Jonghyun’s recent obsession with hypotheticals. He’s been pestering them with bizarre scenarios for over a week now.
“I don’t know,” his father says gravely. The left corner of his mouth twitches slightly the way it does whenever he’s suppressing a smile. “That’s a tough one. Though I think I’d have to go with bear because they can survive on land and swim in water. A shark isn’t very deadly out of the sea now is it?”
Jonghyun nods appreciatively, impressed and satisfied with his reasoning. His father is a smart man. There’s a reason why everyone at the company listens to him.
“What about you, Mom?” he asks.
His mother doesn’t even glance up from the sink where she’s washing dishes. “I choose none. I like being human just fine.”
“Moooooom,” he moans. “You can’t do that. ”Why does his mother always have to be tiresomely ordinary?"
“Come on, honey,” his father goads, grinning. “A shark or a bear? Which would you rather be?”
His wife gives a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t know. A shark, I guess.”
“Why?” Jonghyun presses, excited to have roped his mother into the game.
She shrugs. “Well, if I l lived in the sea I could eat all the fresh fish I wanted without having to go to a seafood restaurant.”
Jonghyun slaps his hand to his forehead and groans. “That’s so lame, Mom! You’re missing the point. This is survival of the fittest here.”
“Well, then I guess I’m not very fit to survive,” she huffs.
As she washes the dishes, Jonghyun cycles through more imaginary scenarios. Super-strength or the power to fly? Being a vampire or being a zombie? Eating bugs or eating boogers for the rest of your life? His father is game enough to entertain his curiosity, and despite his sister’s outward disdain, she’s unable to tamp down on her need to butt in and often interjects with comments of her own. She and her father are in the middle of arguing the differing virtues of pirates and ninjas when another idea strikes Jonghyun.
“Dad," he says. "If both me and Jihye were dangling off a cliff about to die, and you could only save one of us, who would you save?”
The expression of faint amusement slides off his father's face. Everyone at the table startles as Jonghyun's mother sets down a wooden spatula with sharp crack.
“Jonghyun!” He winces at her sharp tone of disapproval. “What a horrible thing to ask!”
She pins him with a look that could scald water. He shrinks in his seat, knowing he's in deep trouble.
“It’s just a game,” he grumbles. It’s not like he and his sister are in any actual danger.
“I don’t care,” she snaps. “I don’t want anyone talking about anyone in my family dying. I’ve had enough of your silly questions. Do you understand?”
Jonghyun slumps in his seat and hangs his head. "Yes, Mom," he replies, sullenly swirling his spoon in the last remnants of his ice cream.
His mother returns to the dishes, her back still rigid with displeasure. An awkward pall falls over the room, the quiet broken only by the sounds of running water and clinking utensils. His sister shoots him a dirty look and mouths, “See what you did?”
Jonghyun feels his father touch him gently on the knee. He checks to make sure his wife is thoroughly preoccupied before he leans in and whispers, “We wouldn't choose either. We'd find a way to save you both.”
They share a small, secret smile. Both of them are poker-faced, though, when his mother turns around.
Later that night, while his father is tucking him into bed, Jonghyun asks, "Dad, why did you marry mom?”
The question clearly catches his father off-guard. “What? Why do you ask?”
Jonghyun fiddles with one of the buttons on his pajamas. He's still stinging a little from his mother's reprimand and feeling a tad resentful. “She always so serious and you're so much fun. You don't seem to have anything in common."
His father sits down on the edge of the bed and smooths his hands over his pants. His dress shirt, which had been crisp and immaculate that the morning, is now thoroughly rumpled.
“Sometimes, Jonghyun, you don’t want a person who’s the same as you,” he explains. “Sometimes you want someone whose differences balance you out.”
Jonghyun stares at him in quiet incomprehension.
His father sighs and runs a hand though his hair. “Alright, let me tell you a story.”
Jonghyun perks up, brightening. He loves his father's stories, especially the ones he makes up just for him.
His father checks to make sure his son is paying close attention before he begins.
“Has anyone ever told you about the red string of fate?"
Jonghyun shakes his head.
“There’s an old superstition that people are born with a red thread tied around their little finger."
Jonghyun glances down at his hands, prompting his father to laugh. “You can't see it, Jonghyun. It's invisible."
"Oh." He frowns. "Then how do you know it’s red?"
His father scratches his head, genuinely confounded. “I honestly don't know. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what color the thread is. The point is that the person connected to you, the person at other end of the thread, your threadmate, that's the person who you're destined to be with."
"It must be a really long thread," Jonghyun says, marveling.
“Yes," his father agrees. "It can be extremely long and it might get stretched or tangled over time, but it will never ever break.”
“Oh.” Jonghyun's face scrunches up in confusion. “Wait, how is this related to you and mom? Is she your threadmate? She is, isn't she? How did you know it was her?”
His father holds up his hands. "Woah, slow down there. Let me finish the story first."
Jonghyun settles into his pillows, waiting eagerly as his father gathers his thoughts.
"When I was young--not as young as you--but still a child, I caused a lot of trouble for your grandparents."
“Really?” Jonghyun’s eyes grow round with surprise. His father? A troublemaker? His father is the sort of person who always goes to work in perfectly pressed suits and chides his children if their beds aren't made with neat hospital corners.
“Yeah, I was really wild as a kid. I wasn’t like your uncle who got straight-As all the time. At the time, I was always jealous of him because it was obvious to everyone that he was the favorite child. He was just so annoyingly good at everything. Our parents kept asking me, 'Why can't you be like your older brother?' Eventually, I got so sick of it that I decided instead of trying to be like him, I was going to be the complete opposite and become a juvenile delinquent."
"What's a juvenile delin--delinquit?" Jonghyun asks, his mouth fumbling with the unfamiliar term.
"A delinquent," his father explains, "is a young person who does bad things. For example, when I was in high school, I stole money from your grandfather and used it to bet on card games with my friends at school."
Jonghyun's mouth drops open. He has no idea how his dad had the guts to steal from his own father. Jonghyun's grandfather is one of the most terrifying people on the planet.
"When he found out, he punished me by cutting me off from my usual allowance. So I started selling cigarettes at school to make money. On the weekends, I would often go out with my friends and drink." He grins sheepishly at his son's shocked expression. "Yeah, I was pretty out of control at that age.
"The last straw came when I was seventeen. I was out with some friends, and we got into a fight with a group of boys from another school. It got really ugly really quickly, and one of my friends got put in the hospital. The police came and rounded up the ones who weren't fast enough to get away. I was one of them. Luckily for me, our family managed to convince the police not to put any of it down on my personal record. However, your grandfather was furious. The next day, he told me to pack my bags because he was sending me to live with my cousins in America. He told everyone that I was going there to study English, but it was really because he couldn’t stand to look at my face for another minute.
"When I arrived in California, I never felt so helpless in my entire life. I could barely speak a word of English, and it didn’t help that my aunt and uncle clearly didn't want to have me there. But what could they do? It wasn’t like they could refuse my father.
“They entered me into a local high school where there were almost no other Koreans. I had trouble making friends because of the language barrier. But even if I had been able to speak English fluently, I doubt anyone would have wanted to be around me. I was so arrogant back then. I slept in class and got bad marks on nearly everything because I couldn’t be bothered to even try. I thought, your grandfather already had one perfect son, so what did it matter if I was a failure?"
His father levels him with a stern look. "Jonghyun, I’m not proud of the person I was back then. I'm telling you this story because I want you to learn from my mistakes. Do you understand?”
Jonghyun nods even though he’s not completely sure what point his father is trying to make. He agrees anyway because he desperately wants him to finish the story.
His father continues, "The day I met your mother was the day everything changed. I was walking home from school-I had skipped the last two periods--and I was passing by the local community college. Your mother was sitting at a bus stop in front of one of the buildings. She was reading a book and she was wearing a pale green dress with little white flowers on it and she had her hair down. Back then, she had hair all the way to here.” He gestures to his waist. Jonghyun tries imagining his mother with hair that long but it’s difficult. He’s always known her with a short, practical bob.
"I didn't really notice her at first. There wasn’t really anything about her appearance that struck me as special. But then the wind picked up and blew her scent in my direction, and it was like getting hit by a comet.
“In the West, they call it ‘imprinting’. But in Korea, we call it ‘kkeunaegi’. I had heard people talking about it before, but I never really paid attention to what they said. It doesn't happen to many people, and I never thought it would happen to me. However, there was no denying that day that I had found my threadmate.
“There really aren’t words accurate enough to describe the feeling. All I can say is it was like I suddenly became aware of this vast emptiness inside me, a space that I knew with absolute certainty only your mother could fill."
"What did you do about it?" Jonghyun asks, completely enraptured.
His father flushes. "I wasn't exactly smooth about it. I walked over to your mother and fell to my knees. But I was such a wreck I could barely get a word out. All I could do was take her hand and say, ‘Please,’ over and over again."
He shakes his head, laughing good-naturedly. "Naturally, your mother thought I was crazy. I guess she assumed that I was some sort of beggar because she threw some change at me and fled on the next bus.”
A huge grin spreads across Jonghyun's face. The image of his mother running in terror from his smitten father delights his seven-year-old soul to no end.
"When I got home, I immediately asked my uncle and aunt about her," his father says. "They seemed to know something but wouldn't give me any details--probably afraid I meant to stir up trouble. As angry as their responses made me, I really couldn't blame them for not trusting me after the way I had behaved.
"I didn't tell them, though, why I was so interested in your mother. I didn't tell them that I had found my threadmate. I didn't trust anyone with that information--not when I could hardly believe it myself.
"Without any leads, I only had one choice. Everyday, I waited for your mother at the bus stop, hoping she would appear. My patience eventually paid off because on the fifth day she finally did.
"I caught her just as she stepped off the bus. I didn't want to scare her again, so I approached her quickly and handed her a letter I had written days before. Then I took off before she could say anything."
Jonghyun, brimming with curiosity, asks, "What did the letter say?"
"I told her my name and that I was a Korean student studying in America. I apologized for scaring her and explained that I had been overwhelmed because I had imprinted on her. I described how I had felt helplessly drawn to her during our first encounter. At the end, I wrote down my phone number and asked her to call me so we could meet. I told her I was in love with her."
"Wow." Jonghyun is impressed by his father's audacity. "She called. Didn't she?"
His father shakes his head. "No. I waited an entire week, but she never did. I hung around the phone so much that my aunt and uncle started thinking that I was dealing drugs or involved in a gang.
"Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. I went back to the bus station and waited. It took two more days before your mother reappeared again. Initially, I was angry that she hadn't replied to my letter. But the moment I saw her, all my anger disappeared. I was just relieved to see her again.
"I went up to her and asked her why she didn't respond to my letter. She looked confused for a moment. Then, she spoke, and suddenly everything became very clear.
"At that time, your mother could neither read or speak Korean. I hadn't known that she was adopted."
"Adopted?" The word is unfamiliar to Jonghyun.
"Adopted is when your biological parents, the mother who carried you inside her and the father who helped make you, aren't able to take care of you. So they give you away to another family that can."
"Mom's family gave her away?" Jonghyun tries to imagine losing his own parents. The thought fills him with such immediate, gut-wrenching terror that he reflexively squeezes his stuffed dinosaur to his chest, causing the squeaky mechanism inside to let out a muffled bleat.
"Yes, your mother was born in Korea, but she was adopted into an American family when she was five years old. While she was growing up, she only ever spoke English.
"Of course, this was a big problem for me. How could we be together if we couldn't even talk to each other? I suddenly hated myself for all that time I had wasted sleeping or daydreaming during English class."
His father sighs and buries his face in his hands. Through his fingers, he says, "There were so many things I wanted to tell your mother, so many things I wanted to ask her. But I couldn't come up with the right words. It was maddening.
"One good thing did come out of that encounter though. She agreed to meet me again. From what little I could understand, your mother wanted to learn Korean. Of course, I was more than willing to teach her. Heck, I would have learned Swahili just for a chance to see her again.
"We started meeting at the local library twice a week. I had never taught anyone anything before and I was terrified of looking stupid. Luckily for me, your mother was very forgiving of my faults as a teacher.
"It was difficult in the beginning because we could barely understand each other. We had to rely a lot on body language. I'm sure to outsiders we must have looked crazy. It paid off in the end though. Slowly, I began to learn more about your mother and she began to learn more about me.
"I learned that she was two years older than me and that she was studying at the community college to become a nurse. I learned that she was an only child and that she lived with her father, a mechanic at a car shop downtown. Her mother used to be an elementary school teacher, but she passed away when your mother was thirteen. I learned that her father was extremely protective of her which meant that she had never dated anyone."
Jonghyun drinks up this information. His mother doesn't talk about her side of the family. He knew that his grandparents on here side are no longer alive, but she never told him the circumstances of their passing. The fact that she once had a family and a life in a place as far away as America astonishes him.
"For the first time in a long time, I started taking my studies seriously. I paid attention in class, especially English. Within a few weeks, I went from barely able to string together a sentence to being able to hold a simple conversation. My teacher was so amazed with my change in attitude that he even pulled me aside one day and asked me if I had found God. Of course, I was too embarrassed to tell him or anyone for that matter that I was working so hard because I wanted to be able to speak with your mother.
"I wanted to learn everything about her: her birthday, her favorite color, the things that made her happy, the things that made her sad." He clears his throat, his cheeks tinged slightly with red. "This is going to sound a little strange, but I remembered just about everything about her. It was like my brain cleared a spot just for her. If she wore a blue dress one day, I could recall the exact details of that dress three weeks later and the shoes she had worn with it as well. I learned later that it's one of the effects of imprinting. Your mother, though, she just thought I had a good memory.
"The more time I spent with her, the more certain I became that she was person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. However, I didn't tell her because I wasn't sure how she felt about me. I knew we had become friends, but while may have been enough for your mother, I knew I would never be satisfied until we were bonded."
"So you didn't tell her you were her threadmate?" Jonghyun wonders how he could have kept it hidden. Just watching his father talk about his mother--the way his entire face becomes animated with emotion--is enough of an indication of his feelings about her.
"No, though it turns out I didn't need to because your mother's figured it out for herself. About four months after we met, we were sitting in the library practicing Korean words for describing the weather. It should have been a day like any other, but all of a sudden, your mother turned to me and--I'll never forget this--she said, 'Kim Taeseok, are you in love with me?'"
His father lets out a sharp bark of laughter. "I swear, all the blood drained out of my face. There was a part of me that wanted to lie. I didn't want to let my feelings make things awkward between us and ruin the friendship we had. But I also knew if I told your mother I wasn't in love with her, she would know I was lying.
"So instead--like a coward--I asked her why she wanted to know. She told me she had been translating the letter that I had given her. Although she still couldn't understand everything, she definitely recognized the part where I wrote that I was in love with her.
"I had no choice then but to explain everything. Your mother was familiar with the concept of threadmates--though over there they call them soulmates--however, convincing her that she was my threadmate was a different matter.
"When I finished confessing, I was hopeful because you mother didn't look scared or intimidated like I had feared. But then she said the worst thing possible. She said to me, 'What happens if I'm not in love with you?'"
"What?" Jonghyun is so wrapped up in the story he feels hurt and betrayed on his father's behalf.
"Imprinting only happens to alphas," his father explains. "And the few alphas who imprint almost always imprint on betas or omegas. Your mother's an omega which meant that she didn't feel drawn towards me like I felt towards her."
"But--but that's not fair," Jonghyun cries. His knowledge of the dynamics between the different hierarchies is spotty at best, but it strikes him as deeply wrong for anyone to fall helplessly in love with a person who didn't love them back.
"Maybe it isn't fair, but that's the way it works," his father says. "An alpha who has imprinted has to persuade their threadmate that they're the best bondmate possible. Your mother wasn't in love with me at the moment, so I had to convince her that I was worthy of her love. I asked her to give me a chance and she agreed on the condition that I meet her father first.
"The next week, I went to have dinner at your mother's house. It was without a doubt one of the most stressful evenings of my entire life. Her father was easily twice my size and looked like he wrestled bears for a living. I was sweating bullets and so nervous I could barely get a word out. Your mother had to kick me under the table several times just to get me to make conversation. Honestly, I really didn't see the point of talking since nothing I said seemed to impress her father.
"At one point, she left the dining room, and I nearly had a heart attack when her father grabbed my arm. He looked me dead in the eye and told me that he kept a shotgun in the basement, and if I turned out to be some punk alpha looking for some quick fun with his daughter, he would--and I quote---happily fill me with enough holes that people would mistake me for an oversized cheese grater."
"Wow." Jonghyun is sort of regretful that he never got the chance to meet his maternal grandfather, who sounds both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
"Fortunately, he was really soft on your mother, and she liked me enough that he found it in his heart not to kill me.
"Since we had his approval, your mother and I started dating. Now, if we had met in Korea, I would have probably done what a lot of alphas do when they want to impress a potential bondmate. I would have bought her jewelry and clothes and taken her out on expensive dinners. In a way, I guess I'm lucky that your grandfather cut me off because looking back, your mother would have hated all that.
"I didn't have much in terms of money or resources, so instead, I gave her my time and my attention. I didn't think it was nearly enough to make your mother fall in love with me, but she seemed happy with what little I could offer her.
"I also did better in school. I knew your mother wouldn't waste time with me if I continued acting like a reckless idiot with nothing to lose. I wanted to show her that I could be more than a boyfriend, that I was the sort of person who she could build a future with.
"We dated only for two months before I got a call from your grandfather. It was the first time we had spoken since I had left. He heard from my aunt and uncle that I had changed and thought it was time for me to rejoin the family back home.
"Now at that point, the last thing I wanted in the world was to leave your mother--not when everything was going so well. While your grandfather knew I was dating someone, he didn't have any idea what your mother truly meant to me. Panicked, I ended up telling him everything and begged him to let me stay.
"To my surprise, instead of becoming angry, he struck a deal with me. He now knew that I wanted to be with your mother more than anything, so he told me that if I agreed to his conditions, he would not only allow me to take your mother as my bondmate, he would also help me bring her to Korea. Since there was no way to avoid my military service, he told me the best thing to do was come back, finish high school, and get that out of the way. Afterward, I had to go to university, and upon my graduation, if he was satisfied with my performance and I had proved that I could be a good son--an obedient son--he would help me with your mother.
"I took the deal. Without his help, I knew it would be next to impossible to bring your mother to Korea. There are strict laws that prevent unbonded omegas from traveling between countries. I didn't see what other choice I had, so I agreed to your grandfather's terms.
"A few weeks later, I had to leave your mother at the airport. I held her for a long time, but it didn't feel like nearly long enough. I asked her if she would wait for me, but when she asked me for how long, I told her I didn't know. I'm glad I didn't because if I had, I don't think I would have gotten on that plane.
"I didn't see your mother for almost seven years. I graduated high school, finished my military service, and went to university just like I promised your grandfather I would. I studied hard, and for the first time, I didn't care whether or not I was being compared to your uncle. What mattered to me was that I needed to show your grandfather that I was serious about your mother, and I needed his support if I was going to marry her.
"It was a hard time for both your mother and me. We wrote to each other and I called frequently, but it wasn't nearly enough." He looks off into the distance, his eyes clouded with old memories. "I used to lie awake in bed at night, scared out of my mind that she would find someone else, someone who wasn't thousands of miles away, and then she would forget all about me.
"Meanwhile, my mother--your grandmother--wasn't happy that I was pining over someone on another continent. She kept trying to introduce me to other girls she thought might interest me, but I didn't want anything to do with them. I was either going to marry your mother or live the rest of my life unbonded. No one was going to change my mind about that.
"Over the years, I think I must have asked your mother to marry me a half dozen times. But every time, she turned me down. She didn't want to leave her father behind and she had made a life for herself as a nurse at a local children's hospital. She asked me why I couldn't just move to America, but I knew my family would never permit it. I could tell she was getting tired of waiting. We started fighting more and more often, but luckily, neither of us are good at staying angry at each other for very long. It never got so bad that we broke up.
"Then, a few days right before I graduated university, I got a call from her. I could tell immediately from her voice that something was wrong. She told me that her father had a stroke--that's when your body can't get enough blood to your brain. He was in the hospital, and the doctors didn't think he was going to make it.
"I booked a ticket that night and was on a plane the next morning. I knew I was breaking the terms of the deal I had made with your grandfather, and that he was going to be furious when he found out, but I didn't care. Not when your mother needed me.
"I arrived at the hospital just an hour after her father passed away. I'll never forget the look on your mother's face when she saw me. She just sat there, frozen. She couldn't believe that I had come all that way. She looked so tired and sad but at the same time more beautiful than I could ever remember. I went and hugged her and she started to cry. She cried for a long time.
"At the funeral," Jonghyun's father says quietly, "her aunts and uncles and cousins were all there, but she held on to my hand the entire time. It was hard seeing her in so much pain. I knew how close she had been with her father."
Jonghyun buries his chin into his stuffed dinosaur. His understanding of death is shallow at best, but he remembers his grandmother's funeral and the waves of grim, black-garbed figures moving in and out of the room where her body had lain. He remembers his mother with her arms wrapped around his father's shoulders, murmuring a steady stream of reassurances into his ear as he had knelt sobbing in front of his mother's portrait.
Unlike his sons, Jonghyun's grandfather hadn't cried. Nevertheless, he had looked more shaken and unsure than Jonghyun had ever seen him.
"The following day, your mother came to see me at my hotel. I was of course happy to see her, but she had come with bad news. She told me she wanted to end our relationship."
"No." For a moment, Jonghyun completely forgets that his parents' marriage is a foregone conclusion.
"She told me that she needed some time to herself, to think about where she wanted her life to go. I told her I could wait--we had already waited so long--but she said she couldn't leave me waiting for an answer that might never come.
His father looks down at his hands. "I understood why she did it, but that didn't mean I was ready to let her go. I begged and we fought, but she had already made up her mind.
"I flew back to Korea later a few days later. My parents were so unhappy with me-I had missed my own graduation after all-that they weren’t even there to greet me at the airport when I returned. At that point, though, their anger mattered little to me.
"I felt like I had lost everything. For years, I had had this dream of what my life would be like when your mother and I were finally married. After we broke up, I didn’t know what to do with myself anymore.”
Troubled by the solemn look on his father’s face, Jonghyun offers him his dinosaur. His father takes the brightly colored stegosaurus with a small, grateful smile.
“After university, at your grandfather’s urging, I went to work for the company. I didn’t really like the work I was doing, but I still worked hard. I think it’s because it kept me from thinking about your mother.
“I’m not sure if I could call what I did back then living. I mean I was alive; I was breathing. But I felt… empty. Used up. I made more money for your grandfather than he could have ever dreamed, but he and everyone else could see I wasn’t happy.
“On my days off, I would shut myself in my apartment and stay in bed. My family and friends all wanted me to go out and meet new people, but all I wanted was to be left alone and so I could sleep. I slept a lot, but I still often had trouble waking up.
“It took a while, but slowly, very slowly, life became less and less unbearable. Your Uncle Lee was one of the people who really helped me during that time. You know what’s he’s like. It’s nearly impossible to feel sorry for yourself when he's around."
Jonghyun grins. He and his sister both adore Uncle Lee, even preferring him over their real uncle. Jonghyun once heard his mother say that with his relentless optimism and infectious good cheer Uncle Lee could put a smile on a dead man’s face. His wife and his son, Jinki, are also all unbelievably good-natured.
"I felt like I was getting better,” his father says. "I eventually got to the point where I convinced myself that I was ready to move on.
“Then, one day, out of the blue, I got a call at work.”
Jonghyun leans forward, eyes bright with anticipation.
“I couldn't believe it at first, but it was your mother. It had been over two years since I had last spoken with her. We spent over an hour, chatting, catching up on each other's lives. Then, she told me the real reason why she has called. She asked me if I was still interested in marrying her. Immediately, I told her yes.”
"Why did she change her mind?" Jonghyun asks, puzzled.
"Sometimes," his father says, parsing his words carefully, "people get lost and they don’t want to be found. I think your mother called me that day because she had decided that she was ready to be found again.
"After we hung up, I immediately phoned your grandfather. I told him I was going to marry your mother, and if he didn't help me bring her over, I would remain unbonded and miserable for the rest of my life.
"I was prepared for a fight, so it completely shocked me when your grandfather readily agreed to my wishes. I think that my hard work at the company had finally made up for all the trouble I had caused when I was younger. He was also getting older, and I think he was getting worried that he wasn’t going to get any grandchildren soon.
“It took another year until your mother had the right paperwork to come to Korea. Within a week of her arrival, about ten years after our first meeting, we were married.”
His father stoops down and plants a kiss on Jonghyun’s forehead. “Not too long after that, we had your sister, and then, two years later, we had you. So you see?" he says, smiling once more. "We got our happy ending after all.”
Jonghyun is quiet, sorting through everything his father has just told him, a story that supposedly spanned continents and more years than he’s seen on earth. He's has many questions, but there’s one that bubbles up mostly quickly to the surface, one to which he burns to know the answer.
“Dad,” he asks as his father returns his dinosaur to his side. “Do I have a threadmate?”
His father considers him for a moment. “Honestly, I can't answer that. No one knows for certain until it happens to them. It's very rare though. Some people spend their entire lives waiting for it to happen. On the other hand, I never thought it would happen to me but it did.” He shoots his son a curious look. “Do you want a threadmate, Jonghyun?”
Jonghyun picks at his blanket. He’s not sure whether he would feel cheated or relieved to be denied his parents' romance.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “It sounds nice but awfully complicated.”
The corners of his father’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. “It doesn’t always have to be. Your mother and I--we were a special case.”
He draws the cover up to Jonghyun’s chin. “Alright, I think I’ve kept you up long enough. You and I both need to hit the sack.” He presses another kiss to Jonghyun’s temple and reaches over to switch off the bedside lamp. “Goodnight, son.”
He stands up and heads toward the door. Just as he’s about to close it, though, Jonghyun, unable to resist, calls out, “Dad?”
His father stills in the doorway and glances back. “Yes? What is it?”
“Dad,” he asks quietly, “what would have happened if mom didn't marry you?"
He can’t see his father’s face--he’s but a dark, tapered shadow framed against the light of the hallway. However, the sadness in his voice is easy enough to hear.
“I think it would have taken me a very long time to learn how to be happy again.”
Gently, he shuts the door.
---
“Is there something on my face?”
His mother wipes her cheek and checks her reflection in the window. When she finds nothing, she sighs, turns to her son, and says, “Jonghyun, you’ve been staring at me all morning. What’s going on?”
Jonghyun drops his gaze to his breakfast. “Nothing.”
She shoots him a suspicious look but returns to her cooking. The moment her attention shifts away, Jonghyun goes back to watching her. She's rolling kimbap for his sister to take on her field trip that day which means the counter is littered with sheets of roasted seaweed and sliced vegetables.
His mother has her own charms, Jonghyun supposes, but he's encountered far more glamorous people. For instance, the woman whom his uncle married used to be Miss Korea. In comparison, his mother is dreadfully plain, almost dowdy.
He willing to concede, though, that the things he loves best about his mother aren’t part of her appearance. They’re things like how she brushes aside his bangs when she wakes him up, the way she hums while she's baking, and the steady, surprising strength of her hands. These are the things that make her special to him in a way not everyone can understand.
Most of the families Jonghyun knows rely on cooks to prepare their meals. Once, he suggested that their family do the same, thinking it would save his mother the trouble. That hadn't gone over too well. His mother had been so offended and hurt by the idea that she had to leave the dinner table to compose herself. After that, he never brought up the notion again.
It's not like he doesn't enjoy his mother's cooking. He just doesn't understand why she so adamantly insists on making all their meals. He and his older sister are only students without life-crippling allergies who bring lunchboxes to school. Most of the other children just eat whatever gets served in the cafeteria.
His mother even packs a lunch for his father. Jonghyun has heard his father’s friends from work joking with him about his overzealous housewife, but their jibes never stop his father from good-humoredly eating whatever his wife prepares for him.
Cooking is one of those inexplicable quirks that sets his mother apart from the other adults in his family’s social circle. After hearing his father’s story, though, some of her other habits make a lot more sense. He knows now the reason for her slightly accented Korean, and how sometimes, when frustrated or annoyed, she lapses into muttering in rapid English under her breath. After learning of her losses, he gets why she’s so reluctant to talk about her parents. He also knows now why both his parents wear their wedding bands on their little fingers rather than their ring fingers like most couples.
Jonghyun thinks he understands his father better as well. He realizes now why his father hates extended business trips and looks so gloomy before leaving and why he calls every evening precisely after dinner no matter which time zone he’s in. He finally has a word to apply to the way his father’s attention always snaps to his mother whenever she enters a room, like a compass finding north, and why he always seeks out her hand with his own whenever she’s close by.
Despite feeling more enlightened, there are still a lot of things that Jonghyun can’t comprehend. As he munches on his breakfast, he tries to see his mother through his father's eyes, wanting to discern what drew him to her.
On the surface, his mother isn't all that remarkable. She's on the shorter side with an average build for a woman her age. Her round face is framed by short hair that for as long as Jonghyun can remember has always been trimmed in a precise, neat bob. As far as he knows, his mother has never colored her hair, and she rarely wears make-up unless she’s accompanying his father to a formal function. The clothes that she dresses herself in on a daily basis tend to be simple, nothing fussy or too frivolous. She tends to frown more often than she smiles, and a few wrinkles have formed between her brows and on her forehead as a result. What's charming is that when she does smile or laugh, she dimples deeply on both cheeks.
Still, there are a lot of people in the world. Why out of all them, was his father's thread tied to her?
Jonghyun hears footsteps coming from the hall. His father walks into the room, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, tie slung loosely around his neck. He strolls over to the table, greets each of his children with a kiss on the head and then goes over to his wife. Ignoring her squawk of warning about the hot stove, he wraps his arms around her.
"Good morning." He presses a quick kiss behind her ear and whispers something Jonghyun can’t quite catch, something that makes the small lines of tension drawn on her forehead smooth over. A soft, fond expression flutters across her features and her lips pull into a begrudging smile.
Jihyeon makes a disgusted noise. "Ugh, do you two have to be so gross?"
Their father winks at her, and-just to be spiteful-kisses his wife’s cheek with a loud smack. Jihyeon groans and covers her eyes, and Jonghyun laughs while their mother threatens to hit their father with a radish for being a nuisance.
His father’s question about threadmates returns to him. Watching his parents’ interaction, seeing the comfortable candor and affection that they share, Jonghyun comes to the conclusion that yes, he wants what they have. He wants to know the feeling of sharing something indecipherably special.
---
“That’s a load of crap,” Sejoon says.
Jonghyun scowls, his hands clenching into fists. “Is not!”
His cousin just smirks, further infuriating Jonghyun. Sejoon is five years older than him which apparently gives him the license to act like a snotty know-it-all. He had gotten even more smug and intolerable after his acknowledgement ceremony two months ago. Now, in addition to being the first grandson in the Kim family line and third in line to succeed their grandfather, he also has his alpha status to lord over his younger relatives.
If given the choice, Jonghyun would prefer to stay clear of Sejoon and his insufferably large ego entirely, but their grandfather demands that all his children and grandchildren gather for dinner at least twice a month. These usually prove to be awkward, tense affairs for Jonghyun, who feels that whenever his grandfather is looking at him, all his actions are being carefully scrutinized and cataloged for review.
Jonghyun doesn’t mind seeing his uncle and aunt, who, in his opinion, are perfectly decent people. Unfortunately their firstborn has a habit of inciting his sister to violence.
While Jonghyun is not overly fond of his cousin, Jihyeon and Sejoon absolutely loathe each other. When they were younger, they used to get in trouble constantly for fighting, brawls that were usually broken up by their grandfather who would grab each child by the scruff of the neck and bellow, “HAVE YOU NO SHAME?” loudly enough that that the tableware rattled.
Nowadays, Jihyeon and Sejoon fling words instead of fists. After dinner, Jonghyun's mother wisely made the decision to pull her daughter aside and help her serve coffee and tea.
Jonghyun, on the other hand, still has to put up with Sejoon. His two other cousins, Sejoon’s twin sisters, Soyoung and Soji, are only two and can’t color within the lines yet much less play with him. With the adults busy discussing family business in their grandfather’s study, Jonghyun had been left with nothing else to do and settled down next to his cousin to watch television.
While channel surfing, they stumbled upon one of the weekly dramas. It has one of those ridiculously overblown plotlines in which half the cast gets diagnosed with a terminal illness, amnesia, or both. Sejoon had scoffed at the weeping woman on the screen who had been crying at the grave of her lover, a man who had sacrificed his life in order to donate one of his organs to save her.
“That’s ridiculous. No one loves anyone that much,” Sejoon remarked.
Jonghyun had made the mistake of disagreeing. He knew better, but there’s something about his cousin’s overbearing haughtiness that always lures out his belligerent side.
“My parents do,” he declared.
He shouldn’t have been surprised at the way Sejoon mocked him afterward. Feeling cornered, he divulged the story his father had told him to back up his claim. His cousin, however, remains less than impressed.
“You’re an idiot for believing that,” he says. “Threadmates aren’t real. They're just a fairy tale that dumb alphas and stupid kids believe.”
“You’re wrong.” Jonghyun, his temper coming to a boil, feels compelled to defend his parents. “My dad wouldn’t lie to me.”
“Oh, yeah?” Sejoon says, sneering. “How do you know?”
Jonghyun gestures widely and ineloquently. Sejoon doesn’t know his parents. He doesn’t know the way they look at each other, the way they fit together. Even if he did, Jonghyun doubts that such intangible evidence would be enough to dismantle Sejoon's cynicism. Eventually, he settles for exclaiming, “I just know!”
Sejoon crosses his arms, smug. “Which means you can’t prove it.”
“Well, you can’t not prove it,” Jonghyun fires back. “You’d believe it if it happened to you.”
Sejoon sniffs haughtily. “As if. My bondmate is going to be an omega from Inje.”
Jonghyun’s anger surrenders to his curiosity. “What’s Inje?”
Sejoon rolls his eyes so hard it’s surprising he doesn’t strain anything. “You don’t know anything do you?,” he says, sounding immensely superior. “All unbonded omegas are kept at omega academies until unbonded alphas come and choose them. And Inje is the best one.” He puffs up with pride. “My mom went there. That's where my dad found her."
Jonghyun is still confused. “Why do the omegas have to go to separate schools?”
“So they don’t make all the unbonded alphas go crazy. Duh.” Sejoon says, his voice dripping with exasperation.
Jonghyun’s eyes go wide. He had never heard of omega-induced madness before. Could they really cause such havoc? If so, he’s not sure he wants any part of it.
Sejoon spies the troubled expression on his face and says, “Look, you wouldn’t understand. You’re too young. You’ve never smelled an unbonded omega before.”
“Have you?” Jonghyun is genuinely curious.
“No,” his cousin replies a bit defensively, “but I still know loads more about it that you.”
“What happens if an alpha smells an unbonded omega?” Jonghyun wants to know more in case he one day becomes an alpha and runs into a rogue omega. He doesn’t want to be unprepared for such a crisis.
Sejoon bites his lower lip. “Well, from what I’ve heard, the smell of an unbonded omega makes the alphas nearby feel… uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable? How?” Jonghyun asks, pressing for details. “Like holding in a pee or going to the dentist?”
“Not like that, you moron,” his cousin says irritably. “It’s a good smell. Like almost too good. So good that alphas have trouble thinking and become-” the tips of his ears begin turning red, “-uncomfortable.”
“Then why do you want to marry one?” The appeal of having a spouse whose mere smell can potentially rob one of their senses is lost on Jonghyun. “And why does it have to be one from Inje? What’s so special about them?”
“Because any alpha who wants to make a name for himself has to marry an omega,” Sejoon explains. “And the ones from Inje are the best. They’re the smartest and definitely the most beautiful. I mean, look at my mom and look at yours.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my mother,” Jonghyun snaps, hackles rising.
“Oh yeah? Then why did her real parents give her up? There must have been a reason why they didn’t want her anymore. I don’t even understand why your father wanted her. He could have married a much prettier omega instead of some nobody who got thrown out like trash on the-“
“SHUT UP!” Jonghyun lunges at him, tackling the older boy to the floor. He can stand his cousin calling him a liar, but he will not tolerate such defamation of his mother's character.
Sejoon lets out a cry of surprise and then outrage. His cousin is far bigger than him and much stronger, but Jonghyun has righteous fury on his side. He manages to sucker-punch Sejoon in his smug mouth before the other boy elbows him in the gut and throws him off. They wrestle for a while until eventually the older boy pins him facedown to the floor, holding both his arms twisted painfully behind his back.
He snarls, “You little piece of--” and pulls back a fist.
His blow never lands because at that moment, both their mothers arrive on the scene.
“Sejoon!” Jonghyun’s aunt cries, horrified. “What on earth do you think you're doing?”
Sejoon immediately releases Jonghyun and clambers off. “He started it!” he says, pointing his finger in his cousin's direction.
His accusation, however, falls on deaf ears. In the end, both of them are summoned to their grandfather’s study to explain their actions.
Their grandfather, predictably, is not happy to see them. He’s sitting cross-legged in his usual grey hanbok at a low table stacked with plates of half-eaten fruit and empty cups. Smoke unwinds lazily into the air from the cigarette dangling between his fingers. His expression as he watches his grandsons shuffle into the room is severe. Both Sejoon and Jonghyun's fathers sit mutely at his sides. Neither makes a move to defend his son.
Sejoon drops to his knees and Jonghyun quickly follows suit.
“Grandfather,” he says, his voice quavering slightly as he prostrates himself. Only their grandfather has the power to completely strip Sejoon of his sense of self-importance. “Please let me explain. I was defending myself and-“
“Save your breath,” their grandfather interrupts, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He says to Sejoon and Jonghyun’s fathers, “Both of you: out. I want to have a word with my grandsons. Alone.”
Jonghyun fills with dread as he hears his father and uncle rise and vacate the room. He keeps his forehead pressed to the ground, not daring to look up as the door shuts behind him with a soft click.
“Now,” their grandfather begins. “Get up. Both of you."
Hesitantly, Jonghyun and his cousin straighten, both careful to keep their eyes downcast.
Their grandfather takes a long puff on his cigarette. "Can anyone tell me why my two grandsons would disrespect my household by behaving like a bunch of hooligans?”
Sejoon starts, “Jonghyun attacked me. He punched me for no reason and I-“
“He insulted my mother!” Jonghyun protests.
“Enough!” Both boys flinch at the sound of their grandfather’s raised voice. “Jonghyun?”
He tenses. “Yes, Grandfather?”
“Did you hit your cousin?”
Swallowing, he confesses, “Yes. I did.”
“And why,” their grandfather asks coldly, “would you stoop to something so low and common?”
“He said my mother was trash,” Jonghyun answers, gritting his teeth.
“Oh, so you thought it was right to hit him?” their grandfather challenges. “Your cousin? Your family? Your own flesh and blood?”
“A little,” Jonghyun admits meekly.
Their grandfather growls, “Well, I won’t have it. It’s enough that I have the damn IMF crisis to deal with. I will not tolerate my own family going at each other like a pack of wild dogs. The next time you raise a hand against someone in this family, you will no longer be welcome in this household. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Grandfather,” Jonghyun replies glumly.
“And you,” he addresses Sejoon. “Is it true? Did you speak ill of Jonghyun’s mother?”
“...maybe," Sejoon says sulkily.
Jonghyun glares at his cousin, wishing he had punched him more thoroughly.
“And why would you such a thing?” their grandfather asks.
Sejoon mumbles something that Jonghyun can't hear.
"SPEAK UP!" their grandfather roars, causing both boys to jump.
“His mother’s not from Inje,” Sejoon repeats, this time more clearly.
“Oh, so you think because your mother came from an omega academy and Jonghyun’s mother didn’t that you’re somehow better than him," their grandfather says scornfully. "Is that right?”
“No,” Sejoon replies, his fear of their grandfather fear subduing his arrogance.
Their grandfather snuffs out his cigarette in the ash tray. “Do you think omegas from Inje come for free? Do you know, Sejoon, how much it cost me to get your mother for your father? A small fortune, that's what. And do you think my money grows on trees?”
“No, Grandfather.” Even the children all know how their grandfather feels about money.
“When it's your turn to choose a bondmate and you're asking me for my money, I hope you remember that well," their grandfather says, steely. “I will not hear another ill word spoken of Jonghyun’s mother. She is part of our clan and you will respect her accordingly. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
“Good, because I will not have our family name sullied by petty infighting." He waves his hand. "Now get out. I’ve had enough of your foolishness for tonight.”
Sejoon and Jonghyun rise simultaneously, careful to keep their eyes down as they scurry towards the exit. They find their fathers waiting for them outside, both sporting amused and sympathetic expressions.
“Did Grandfather teach you a lesson?” Jonghyun's father asks him.
He nods solemnly. His father pats him on the head comfortingly before he and Jonghyun’s uncle file back into the study.
The women of the family are gathered in the living room. Jonghyun settles down next to his mother. Judging from her pinched mouth and refusal to look him in the eye, he's in deep trouble. She continues to peel tangerines but doesn't offer him any. Withholding food is a sign that she's deeply upset with him.
Sejoon’s mother clucks and leads him to the bathroom to clean his busted lip. “Fighting? Really, Sejoon? At your age?" she scolds, taking him by the arm. "Seriously, what am I going to do with you?”
For the rest of the evening, Jonghyun is careful not to do or say anything that could further incur his mother or his grandfather’s wrath. It's nearly nine by the time they leave his grandfather's. His aunt and his mother make the decision to take the children home without the men since Jonghyun's father and his uncle are still holed up in the study discussing the family business.
As Jonghyun settles into the backseat of the car, Jihyeon pokes him in the side. She checks to make sure that their mother isn't looking, winks at him, and passes him a pilfered tangerine.
Jonghyun pockets it with a grateful smile.
Continue to Part B
Genre: omegaverse!AU
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Focus: Jongkey, side Onho
Summary: As an omega, Kim Kibum, grows up sequestered from the rest of society at an academy that grooms its students to be the perfect companions for the wealthy alphas that run the country. However, he still believes in the power of choice, a belief which causes him trouble when he runs into Kim Jonghyun, heir of one of Korea's top chaebol families and an alpha who believes in power rather than choice.
Author's Note: This fic is a fill for this prompt over at the Jongkey Kink Meme.
PART 2.1
“If you could be a shark or a bear, which would you choose?“ Jonghyun asks.
His family is gathered around the dinner table enjoying dessert. The only one who isn't still eating is his mother who’s busy clearing the table. She claims that she doesn’t enjoy ice cream but Jonghyun is convinced that’s a lie. At the tender age of seven, he’s not ready or willing to accept into his worldview that people who dislike ice cream exist, much less the fact that his own mother is one of them.
Across the table from him, his sister Jihyeon rolls her eyes. He doesn’t miss the look of fond exasperation that his mother shoots his father either. They’ve all grown used to Jonghyun’s recent obsession with hypotheticals. He’s been pestering them with bizarre scenarios for over a week now.
“I don’t know,” his father says gravely. The left corner of his mouth twitches slightly the way it does whenever he’s suppressing a smile. “That’s a tough one. Though I think I’d have to go with bear because they can survive on land and swim in water. A shark isn’t very deadly out of the sea now is it?”
Jonghyun nods appreciatively, impressed and satisfied with his reasoning. His father is a smart man. There’s a reason why everyone at the company listens to him.
“What about you, Mom?” he asks.
His mother doesn’t even glance up from the sink where she’s washing dishes. “I choose none. I like being human just fine.”
“Moooooom,” he moans. “You can’t do that. ”Why does his mother always have to be tiresomely ordinary?"
“Come on, honey,” his father goads, grinning. “A shark or a bear? Which would you rather be?”
His wife gives a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t know. A shark, I guess.”
“Why?” Jonghyun presses, excited to have roped his mother into the game.
She shrugs. “Well, if I l lived in the sea I could eat all the fresh fish I wanted without having to go to a seafood restaurant.”
Jonghyun slaps his hand to his forehead and groans. “That’s so lame, Mom! You’re missing the point. This is survival of the fittest here.”
“Well, then I guess I’m not very fit to survive,” she huffs.
As she washes the dishes, Jonghyun cycles through more imaginary scenarios. Super-strength or the power to fly? Being a vampire or being a zombie? Eating bugs or eating boogers for the rest of your life? His father is game enough to entertain his curiosity, and despite his sister’s outward disdain, she’s unable to tamp down on her need to butt in and often interjects with comments of her own. She and her father are in the middle of arguing the differing virtues of pirates and ninjas when another idea strikes Jonghyun.
“Dad," he says. "If both me and Jihye were dangling off a cliff about to die, and you could only save one of us, who would you save?”
The expression of faint amusement slides off his father's face. Everyone at the table startles as Jonghyun's mother sets down a wooden spatula with sharp crack.
“Jonghyun!” He winces at her sharp tone of disapproval. “What a horrible thing to ask!”
She pins him with a look that could scald water. He shrinks in his seat, knowing he's in deep trouble.
“It’s just a game,” he grumbles. It’s not like he and his sister are in any actual danger.
“I don’t care,” she snaps. “I don’t want anyone talking about anyone in my family dying. I’ve had enough of your silly questions. Do you understand?”
Jonghyun slumps in his seat and hangs his head. "Yes, Mom," he replies, sullenly swirling his spoon in the last remnants of his ice cream.
His mother returns to the dishes, her back still rigid with displeasure. An awkward pall falls over the room, the quiet broken only by the sounds of running water and clinking utensils. His sister shoots him a dirty look and mouths, “See what you did?”
Jonghyun feels his father touch him gently on the knee. He checks to make sure his wife is thoroughly preoccupied before he leans in and whispers, “We wouldn't choose either. We'd find a way to save you both.”
They share a small, secret smile. Both of them are poker-faced, though, when his mother turns around.
Later that night, while his father is tucking him into bed, Jonghyun asks, "Dad, why did you marry mom?”
The question clearly catches his father off-guard. “What? Why do you ask?”
Jonghyun fiddles with one of the buttons on his pajamas. He's still stinging a little from his mother's reprimand and feeling a tad resentful. “She always so serious and you're so much fun. You don't seem to have anything in common."
His father sits down on the edge of the bed and smooths his hands over his pants. His dress shirt, which had been crisp and immaculate that the morning, is now thoroughly rumpled.
“Sometimes, Jonghyun, you don’t want a person who’s the same as you,” he explains. “Sometimes you want someone whose differences balance you out.”
Jonghyun stares at him in quiet incomprehension.
His father sighs and runs a hand though his hair. “Alright, let me tell you a story.”
Jonghyun perks up, brightening. He loves his father's stories, especially the ones he makes up just for him.
His father checks to make sure his son is paying close attention before he begins.
“Has anyone ever told you about the red string of fate?"
Jonghyun shakes his head.
“There’s an old superstition that people are born with a red thread tied around their little finger."
Jonghyun glances down at his hands, prompting his father to laugh. “You can't see it, Jonghyun. It's invisible."
"Oh." He frowns. "Then how do you know it’s red?"
His father scratches his head, genuinely confounded. “I honestly don't know. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what color the thread is. The point is that the person connected to you, the person at other end of the thread, your threadmate, that's the person who you're destined to be with."
"It must be a really long thread," Jonghyun says, marveling.
“Yes," his father agrees. "It can be extremely long and it might get stretched or tangled over time, but it will never ever break.”
“Oh.” Jonghyun's face scrunches up in confusion. “Wait, how is this related to you and mom? Is she your threadmate? She is, isn't she? How did you know it was her?”
His father holds up his hands. "Woah, slow down there. Let me finish the story first."
Jonghyun settles into his pillows, waiting eagerly as his father gathers his thoughts.
"When I was young--not as young as you--but still a child, I caused a lot of trouble for your grandparents."
“Really?” Jonghyun’s eyes grow round with surprise. His father? A troublemaker? His father is the sort of person who always goes to work in perfectly pressed suits and chides his children if their beds aren't made with neat hospital corners.
“Yeah, I was really wild as a kid. I wasn’t like your uncle who got straight-As all the time. At the time, I was always jealous of him because it was obvious to everyone that he was the favorite child. He was just so annoyingly good at everything. Our parents kept asking me, 'Why can't you be like your older brother?' Eventually, I got so sick of it that I decided instead of trying to be like him, I was going to be the complete opposite and become a juvenile delinquent."
"What's a juvenile delin--delinquit?" Jonghyun asks, his mouth fumbling with the unfamiliar term.
"A delinquent," his father explains, "is a young person who does bad things. For example, when I was in high school, I stole money from your grandfather and used it to bet on card games with my friends at school."
Jonghyun's mouth drops open. He has no idea how his dad had the guts to steal from his own father. Jonghyun's grandfather is one of the most terrifying people on the planet.
"When he found out, he punished me by cutting me off from my usual allowance. So I started selling cigarettes at school to make money. On the weekends, I would often go out with my friends and drink." He grins sheepishly at his son's shocked expression. "Yeah, I was pretty out of control at that age.
"The last straw came when I was seventeen. I was out with some friends, and we got into a fight with a group of boys from another school. It got really ugly really quickly, and one of my friends got put in the hospital. The police came and rounded up the ones who weren't fast enough to get away. I was one of them. Luckily for me, our family managed to convince the police not to put any of it down on my personal record. However, your grandfather was furious. The next day, he told me to pack my bags because he was sending me to live with my cousins in America. He told everyone that I was going there to study English, but it was really because he couldn’t stand to look at my face for another minute.
"When I arrived in California, I never felt so helpless in my entire life. I could barely speak a word of English, and it didn’t help that my aunt and uncle clearly didn't want to have me there. But what could they do? It wasn’t like they could refuse my father.
“They entered me into a local high school where there were almost no other Koreans. I had trouble making friends because of the language barrier. But even if I had been able to speak English fluently, I doubt anyone would have wanted to be around me. I was so arrogant back then. I slept in class and got bad marks on nearly everything because I couldn’t be bothered to even try. I thought, your grandfather already had one perfect son, so what did it matter if I was a failure?"
His father levels him with a stern look. "Jonghyun, I’m not proud of the person I was back then. I'm telling you this story because I want you to learn from my mistakes. Do you understand?”
Jonghyun nods even though he’s not completely sure what point his father is trying to make. He agrees anyway because he desperately wants him to finish the story.
His father continues, "The day I met your mother was the day everything changed. I was walking home from school-I had skipped the last two periods--and I was passing by the local community college. Your mother was sitting at a bus stop in front of one of the buildings. She was reading a book and she was wearing a pale green dress with little white flowers on it and she had her hair down. Back then, she had hair all the way to here.” He gestures to his waist. Jonghyun tries imagining his mother with hair that long but it’s difficult. He’s always known her with a short, practical bob.
"I didn't really notice her at first. There wasn’t really anything about her appearance that struck me as special. But then the wind picked up and blew her scent in my direction, and it was like getting hit by a comet.
“In the West, they call it ‘imprinting’. But in Korea, we call it ‘kkeunaegi’. I had heard people talking about it before, but I never really paid attention to what they said. It doesn't happen to many people, and I never thought it would happen to me. However, there was no denying that day that I had found my threadmate.
“There really aren’t words accurate enough to describe the feeling. All I can say is it was like I suddenly became aware of this vast emptiness inside me, a space that I knew with absolute certainty only your mother could fill."
"What did you do about it?" Jonghyun asks, completely enraptured.
His father flushes. "I wasn't exactly smooth about it. I walked over to your mother and fell to my knees. But I was such a wreck I could barely get a word out. All I could do was take her hand and say, ‘Please,’ over and over again."
He shakes his head, laughing good-naturedly. "Naturally, your mother thought I was crazy. I guess she assumed that I was some sort of beggar because she threw some change at me and fled on the next bus.”
A huge grin spreads across Jonghyun's face. The image of his mother running in terror from his smitten father delights his seven-year-old soul to no end.
"When I got home, I immediately asked my uncle and aunt about her," his father says. "They seemed to know something but wouldn't give me any details--probably afraid I meant to stir up trouble. As angry as their responses made me, I really couldn't blame them for not trusting me after the way I had behaved.
"I didn't tell them, though, why I was so interested in your mother. I didn't tell them that I had found my threadmate. I didn't trust anyone with that information--not when I could hardly believe it myself.
"Without any leads, I only had one choice. Everyday, I waited for your mother at the bus stop, hoping she would appear. My patience eventually paid off because on the fifth day she finally did.
"I caught her just as she stepped off the bus. I didn't want to scare her again, so I approached her quickly and handed her a letter I had written days before. Then I took off before she could say anything."
Jonghyun, brimming with curiosity, asks, "What did the letter say?"
"I told her my name and that I was a Korean student studying in America. I apologized for scaring her and explained that I had been overwhelmed because I had imprinted on her. I described how I had felt helplessly drawn to her during our first encounter. At the end, I wrote down my phone number and asked her to call me so we could meet. I told her I was in love with her."
"Wow." Jonghyun is impressed by his father's audacity. "She called. Didn't she?"
His father shakes his head. "No. I waited an entire week, but she never did. I hung around the phone so much that my aunt and uncle started thinking that I was dealing drugs or involved in a gang.
"Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. I went back to the bus station and waited. It took two more days before your mother reappeared again. Initially, I was angry that she hadn't replied to my letter. But the moment I saw her, all my anger disappeared. I was just relieved to see her again.
"I went up to her and asked her why she didn't respond to my letter. She looked confused for a moment. Then, she spoke, and suddenly everything became very clear.
"At that time, your mother could neither read or speak Korean. I hadn't known that she was adopted."
"Adopted?" The word is unfamiliar to Jonghyun.
"Adopted is when your biological parents, the mother who carried you inside her and the father who helped make you, aren't able to take care of you. So they give you away to another family that can."
"Mom's family gave her away?" Jonghyun tries to imagine losing his own parents. The thought fills him with such immediate, gut-wrenching terror that he reflexively squeezes his stuffed dinosaur to his chest, causing the squeaky mechanism inside to let out a muffled bleat.
"Yes, your mother was born in Korea, but she was adopted into an American family when she was five years old. While she was growing up, she only ever spoke English.
"Of course, this was a big problem for me. How could we be together if we couldn't even talk to each other? I suddenly hated myself for all that time I had wasted sleeping or daydreaming during English class."
His father sighs and buries his face in his hands. Through his fingers, he says, "There were so many things I wanted to tell your mother, so many things I wanted to ask her. But I couldn't come up with the right words. It was maddening.
"One good thing did come out of that encounter though. She agreed to meet me again. From what little I could understand, your mother wanted to learn Korean. Of course, I was more than willing to teach her. Heck, I would have learned Swahili just for a chance to see her again.
"We started meeting at the local library twice a week. I had never taught anyone anything before and I was terrified of looking stupid. Luckily for me, your mother was very forgiving of my faults as a teacher.
"It was difficult in the beginning because we could barely understand each other. We had to rely a lot on body language. I'm sure to outsiders we must have looked crazy. It paid off in the end though. Slowly, I began to learn more about your mother and she began to learn more about me.
"I learned that she was two years older than me and that she was studying at the community college to become a nurse. I learned that she was an only child and that she lived with her father, a mechanic at a car shop downtown. Her mother used to be an elementary school teacher, but she passed away when your mother was thirteen. I learned that her father was extremely protective of her which meant that she had never dated anyone."
Jonghyun drinks up this information. His mother doesn't talk about her side of the family. He knew that his grandparents on here side are no longer alive, but she never told him the circumstances of their passing. The fact that she once had a family and a life in a place as far away as America astonishes him.
"For the first time in a long time, I started taking my studies seriously. I paid attention in class, especially English. Within a few weeks, I went from barely able to string together a sentence to being able to hold a simple conversation. My teacher was so amazed with my change in attitude that he even pulled me aside one day and asked me if I had found God. Of course, I was too embarrassed to tell him or anyone for that matter that I was working so hard because I wanted to be able to speak with your mother.
"I wanted to learn everything about her: her birthday, her favorite color, the things that made her happy, the things that made her sad." He clears his throat, his cheeks tinged slightly with red. "This is going to sound a little strange, but I remembered just about everything about her. It was like my brain cleared a spot just for her. If she wore a blue dress one day, I could recall the exact details of that dress three weeks later and the shoes she had worn with it as well. I learned later that it's one of the effects of imprinting. Your mother, though, she just thought I had a good memory.
"The more time I spent with her, the more certain I became that she was person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. However, I didn't tell her because I wasn't sure how she felt about me. I knew we had become friends, but while may have been enough for your mother, I knew I would never be satisfied until we were bonded."
"So you didn't tell her you were her threadmate?" Jonghyun wonders how he could have kept it hidden. Just watching his father talk about his mother--the way his entire face becomes animated with emotion--is enough of an indication of his feelings about her.
"No, though it turns out I didn't need to because your mother's figured it out for herself. About four months after we met, we were sitting in the library practicing Korean words for describing the weather. It should have been a day like any other, but all of a sudden, your mother turned to me and--I'll never forget this--she said, 'Kim Taeseok, are you in love with me?'"
His father lets out a sharp bark of laughter. "I swear, all the blood drained out of my face. There was a part of me that wanted to lie. I didn't want to let my feelings make things awkward between us and ruin the friendship we had. But I also knew if I told your mother I wasn't in love with her, she would know I was lying.
"So instead--like a coward--I asked her why she wanted to know. She told me she had been translating the letter that I had given her. Although she still couldn't understand everything, she definitely recognized the part where I wrote that I was in love with her.
"I had no choice then but to explain everything. Your mother was familiar with the concept of threadmates--though over there they call them soulmates--however, convincing her that she was my threadmate was a different matter.
"When I finished confessing, I was hopeful because you mother didn't look scared or intimidated like I had feared. But then she said the worst thing possible. She said to me, 'What happens if I'm not in love with you?'"
"What?" Jonghyun is so wrapped up in the story he feels hurt and betrayed on his father's behalf.
"Imprinting only happens to alphas," his father explains. "And the few alphas who imprint almost always imprint on betas or omegas. Your mother's an omega which meant that she didn't feel drawn towards me like I felt towards her."
"But--but that's not fair," Jonghyun cries. His knowledge of the dynamics between the different hierarchies is spotty at best, but it strikes him as deeply wrong for anyone to fall helplessly in love with a person who didn't love them back.
"Maybe it isn't fair, but that's the way it works," his father says. "An alpha who has imprinted has to persuade their threadmate that they're the best bondmate possible. Your mother wasn't in love with me at the moment, so I had to convince her that I was worthy of her love. I asked her to give me a chance and she agreed on the condition that I meet her father first.
"The next week, I went to have dinner at your mother's house. It was without a doubt one of the most stressful evenings of my entire life. Her father was easily twice my size and looked like he wrestled bears for a living. I was sweating bullets and so nervous I could barely get a word out. Your mother had to kick me under the table several times just to get me to make conversation. Honestly, I really didn't see the point of talking since nothing I said seemed to impress her father.
"At one point, she left the dining room, and I nearly had a heart attack when her father grabbed my arm. He looked me dead in the eye and told me that he kept a shotgun in the basement, and if I turned out to be some punk alpha looking for some quick fun with his daughter, he would--and I quote---happily fill me with enough holes that people would mistake me for an oversized cheese grater."
"Wow." Jonghyun is sort of regretful that he never got the chance to meet his maternal grandfather, who sounds both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
"Fortunately, he was really soft on your mother, and she liked me enough that he found it in his heart not to kill me.
"Since we had his approval, your mother and I started dating. Now, if we had met in Korea, I would have probably done what a lot of alphas do when they want to impress a potential bondmate. I would have bought her jewelry and clothes and taken her out on expensive dinners. In a way, I guess I'm lucky that your grandfather cut me off because looking back, your mother would have hated all that.
"I didn't have much in terms of money or resources, so instead, I gave her my time and my attention. I didn't think it was nearly enough to make your mother fall in love with me, but she seemed happy with what little I could offer her.
"I also did better in school. I knew your mother wouldn't waste time with me if I continued acting like a reckless idiot with nothing to lose. I wanted to show her that I could be more than a boyfriend, that I was the sort of person who she could build a future with.
"We dated only for two months before I got a call from your grandfather. It was the first time we had spoken since I had left. He heard from my aunt and uncle that I had changed and thought it was time for me to rejoin the family back home.
"Now at that point, the last thing I wanted in the world was to leave your mother--not when everything was going so well. While your grandfather knew I was dating someone, he didn't have any idea what your mother truly meant to me. Panicked, I ended up telling him everything and begged him to let me stay.
"To my surprise, instead of becoming angry, he struck a deal with me. He now knew that I wanted to be with your mother more than anything, so he told me that if I agreed to his conditions, he would not only allow me to take your mother as my bondmate, he would also help me bring her to Korea. Since there was no way to avoid my military service, he told me the best thing to do was come back, finish high school, and get that out of the way. Afterward, I had to go to university, and upon my graduation, if he was satisfied with my performance and I had proved that I could be a good son--an obedient son--he would help me with your mother.
"I took the deal. Without his help, I knew it would be next to impossible to bring your mother to Korea. There are strict laws that prevent unbonded omegas from traveling between countries. I didn't see what other choice I had, so I agreed to your grandfather's terms.
"A few weeks later, I had to leave your mother at the airport. I held her for a long time, but it didn't feel like nearly long enough. I asked her if she would wait for me, but when she asked me for how long, I told her I didn't know. I'm glad I didn't because if I had, I don't think I would have gotten on that plane.
"I didn't see your mother for almost seven years. I graduated high school, finished my military service, and went to university just like I promised your grandfather I would. I studied hard, and for the first time, I didn't care whether or not I was being compared to your uncle. What mattered to me was that I needed to show your grandfather that I was serious about your mother, and I needed his support if I was going to marry her.
"It was a hard time for both your mother and me. We wrote to each other and I called frequently, but it wasn't nearly enough." He looks off into the distance, his eyes clouded with old memories. "I used to lie awake in bed at night, scared out of my mind that she would find someone else, someone who wasn't thousands of miles away, and then she would forget all about me.
"Meanwhile, my mother--your grandmother--wasn't happy that I was pining over someone on another continent. She kept trying to introduce me to other girls she thought might interest me, but I didn't want anything to do with them. I was either going to marry your mother or live the rest of my life unbonded. No one was going to change my mind about that.
"Over the years, I think I must have asked your mother to marry me a half dozen times. But every time, she turned me down. She didn't want to leave her father behind and she had made a life for herself as a nurse at a local children's hospital. She asked me why I couldn't just move to America, but I knew my family would never permit it. I could tell she was getting tired of waiting. We started fighting more and more often, but luckily, neither of us are good at staying angry at each other for very long. It never got so bad that we broke up.
"Then, a few days right before I graduated university, I got a call from her. I could tell immediately from her voice that something was wrong. She told me that her father had a stroke--that's when your body can't get enough blood to your brain. He was in the hospital, and the doctors didn't think he was going to make it.
"I booked a ticket that night and was on a plane the next morning. I knew I was breaking the terms of the deal I had made with your grandfather, and that he was going to be furious when he found out, but I didn't care. Not when your mother needed me.
"I arrived at the hospital just an hour after her father passed away. I'll never forget the look on your mother's face when she saw me. She just sat there, frozen. She couldn't believe that I had come all that way. She looked so tired and sad but at the same time more beautiful than I could ever remember. I went and hugged her and she started to cry. She cried for a long time.
"At the funeral," Jonghyun's father says quietly, "her aunts and uncles and cousins were all there, but she held on to my hand the entire time. It was hard seeing her in so much pain. I knew how close she had been with her father."
Jonghyun buries his chin into his stuffed dinosaur. His understanding of death is shallow at best, but he remembers his grandmother's funeral and the waves of grim, black-garbed figures moving in and out of the room where her body had lain. He remembers his mother with her arms wrapped around his father's shoulders, murmuring a steady stream of reassurances into his ear as he had knelt sobbing in front of his mother's portrait.
Unlike his sons, Jonghyun's grandfather hadn't cried. Nevertheless, he had looked more shaken and unsure than Jonghyun had ever seen him.
"The following day, your mother came to see me at my hotel. I was of course happy to see her, but she had come with bad news. She told me she wanted to end our relationship."
"No." For a moment, Jonghyun completely forgets that his parents' marriage is a foregone conclusion.
"She told me that she needed some time to herself, to think about where she wanted her life to go. I told her I could wait--we had already waited so long--but she said she couldn't leave me waiting for an answer that might never come.
His father looks down at his hands. "I understood why she did it, but that didn't mean I was ready to let her go. I begged and we fought, but she had already made up her mind.
"I flew back to Korea later a few days later. My parents were so unhappy with me-I had missed my own graduation after all-that they weren’t even there to greet me at the airport when I returned. At that point, though, their anger mattered little to me.
"I felt like I had lost everything. For years, I had had this dream of what my life would be like when your mother and I were finally married. After we broke up, I didn’t know what to do with myself anymore.”
Troubled by the solemn look on his father’s face, Jonghyun offers him his dinosaur. His father takes the brightly colored stegosaurus with a small, grateful smile.
“After university, at your grandfather’s urging, I went to work for the company. I didn’t really like the work I was doing, but I still worked hard. I think it’s because it kept me from thinking about your mother.
“I’m not sure if I could call what I did back then living. I mean I was alive; I was breathing. But I felt… empty. Used up. I made more money for your grandfather than he could have ever dreamed, but he and everyone else could see I wasn’t happy.
“On my days off, I would shut myself in my apartment and stay in bed. My family and friends all wanted me to go out and meet new people, but all I wanted was to be left alone and so I could sleep. I slept a lot, but I still often had trouble waking up.
“It took a while, but slowly, very slowly, life became less and less unbearable. Your Uncle Lee was one of the people who really helped me during that time. You know what’s he’s like. It’s nearly impossible to feel sorry for yourself when he's around."
Jonghyun grins. He and his sister both adore Uncle Lee, even preferring him over their real uncle. Jonghyun once heard his mother say that with his relentless optimism and infectious good cheer Uncle Lee could put a smile on a dead man’s face. His wife and his son, Jinki, are also all unbelievably good-natured.
"I felt like I was getting better,” his father says. "I eventually got to the point where I convinced myself that I was ready to move on.
“Then, one day, out of the blue, I got a call at work.”
Jonghyun leans forward, eyes bright with anticipation.
“I couldn't believe it at first, but it was your mother. It had been over two years since I had last spoken with her. We spent over an hour, chatting, catching up on each other's lives. Then, she told me the real reason why she has called. She asked me if I was still interested in marrying her. Immediately, I told her yes.”
"Why did she change her mind?" Jonghyun asks, puzzled.
"Sometimes," his father says, parsing his words carefully, "people get lost and they don’t want to be found. I think your mother called me that day because she had decided that she was ready to be found again.
"After we hung up, I immediately phoned your grandfather. I told him I was going to marry your mother, and if he didn't help me bring her over, I would remain unbonded and miserable for the rest of my life.
"I was prepared for a fight, so it completely shocked me when your grandfather readily agreed to my wishes. I think that my hard work at the company had finally made up for all the trouble I had caused when I was younger. He was also getting older, and I think he was getting worried that he wasn’t going to get any grandchildren soon.
“It took another year until your mother had the right paperwork to come to Korea. Within a week of her arrival, about ten years after our first meeting, we were married.”
His father stoops down and plants a kiss on Jonghyun’s forehead. “Not too long after that, we had your sister, and then, two years later, we had you. So you see?" he says, smiling once more. "We got our happy ending after all.”
Jonghyun is quiet, sorting through everything his father has just told him, a story that supposedly spanned continents and more years than he’s seen on earth. He's has many questions, but there’s one that bubbles up mostly quickly to the surface, one to which he burns to know the answer.
“Dad,” he asks as his father returns his dinosaur to his side. “Do I have a threadmate?”
His father considers him for a moment. “Honestly, I can't answer that. No one knows for certain until it happens to them. It's very rare though. Some people spend their entire lives waiting for it to happen. On the other hand, I never thought it would happen to me but it did.” He shoots his son a curious look. “Do you want a threadmate, Jonghyun?”
Jonghyun picks at his blanket. He’s not sure whether he would feel cheated or relieved to be denied his parents' romance.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “It sounds nice but awfully complicated.”
The corners of his father’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. “It doesn’t always have to be. Your mother and I--we were a special case.”
He draws the cover up to Jonghyun’s chin. “Alright, I think I’ve kept you up long enough. You and I both need to hit the sack.” He presses another kiss to Jonghyun’s temple and reaches over to switch off the bedside lamp. “Goodnight, son.”
He stands up and heads toward the door. Just as he’s about to close it, though, Jonghyun, unable to resist, calls out, “Dad?”
His father stills in the doorway and glances back. “Yes? What is it?”
“Dad,” he asks quietly, “what would have happened if mom didn't marry you?"
He can’t see his father’s face--he’s but a dark, tapered shadow framed against the light of the hallway. However, the sadness in his voice is easy enough to hear.
“I think it would have taken me a very long time to learn how to be happy again.”
Gently, he shuts the door.
---
“Is there something on my face?”
His mother wipes her cheek and checks her reflection in the window. When she finds nothing, she sighs, turns to her son, and says, “Jonghyun, you’ve been staring at me all morning. What’s going on?”
Jonghyun drops his gaze to his breakfast. “Nothing.”
She shoots him a suspicious look but returns to her cooking. The moment her attention shifts away, Jonghyun goes back to watching her. She's rolling kimbap for his sister to take on her field trip that day which means the counter is littered with sheets of roasted seaweed and sliced vegetables.
His mother has her own charms, Jonghyun supposes, but he's encountered far more glamorous people. For instance, the woman whom his uncle married used to be Miss Korea. In comparison, his mother is dreadfully plain, almost dowdy.
He willing to concede, though, that the things he loves best about his mother aren’t part of her appearance. They’re things like how she brushes aside his bangs when she wakes him up, the way she hums while she's baking, and the steady, surprising strength of her hands. These are the things that make her special to him in a way not everyone can understand.
Most of the families Jonghyun knows rely on cooks to prepare their meals. Once, he suggested that their family do the same, thinking it would save his mother the trouble. That hadn't gone over too well. His mother had been so offended and hurt by the idea that she had to leave the dinner table to compose herself. After that, he never brought up the notion again.
It's not like he doesn't enjoy his mother's cooking. He just doesn't understand why she so adamantly insists on making all their meals. He and his older sister are only students without life-crippling allergies who bring lunchboxes to school. Most of the other children just eat whatever gets served in the cafeteria.
His mother even packs a lunch for his father. Jonghyun has heard his father’s friends from work joking with him about his overzealous housewife, but their jibes never stop his father from good-humoredly eating whatever his wife prepares for him.
Cooking is one of those inexplicable quirks that sets his mother apart from the other adults in his family’s social circle. After hearing his father’s story, though, some of her other habits make a lot more sense. He knows now the reason for her slightly accented Korean, and how sometimes, when frustrated or annoyed, she lapses into muttering in rapid English under her breath. After learning of her losses, he gets why she’s so reluctant to talk about her parents. He also knows now why both his parents wear their wedding bands on their little fingers rather than their ring fingers like most couples.
Jonghyun thinks he understands his father better as well. He realizes now why his father hates extended business trips and looks so gloomy before leaving and why he calls every evening precisely after dinner no matter which time zone he’s in. He finally has a word to apply to the way his father’s attention always snaps to his mother whenever she enters a room, like a compass finding north, and why he always seeks out her hand with his own whenever she’s close by.
Despite feeling more enlightened, there are still a lot of things that Jonghyun can’t comprehend. As he munches on his breakfast, he tries to see his mother through his father's eyes, wanting to discern what drew him to her.
On the surface, his mother isn't all that remarkable. She's on the shorter side with an average build for a woman her age. Her round face is framed by short hair that for as long as Jonghyun can remember has always been trimmed in a precise, neat bob. As far as he knows, his mother has never colored her hair, and she rarely wears make-up unless she’s accompanying his father to a formal function. The clothes that she dresses herself in on a daily basis tend to be simple, nothing fussy or too frivolous. She tends to frown more often than she smiles, and a few wrinkles have formed between her brows and on her forehead as a result. What's charming is that when she does smile or laugh, she dimples deeply on both cheeks.
Still, there are a lot of people in the world. Why out of all them, was his father's thread tied to her?
Jonghyun hears footsteps coming from the hall. His father walks into the room, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, tie slung loosely around his neck. He strolls over to the table, greets each of his children with a kiss on the head and then goes over to his wife. Ignoring her squawk of warning about the hot stove, he wraps his arms around her.
"Good morning." He presses a quick kiss behind her ear and whispers something Jonghyun can’t quite catch, something that makes the small lines of tension drawn on her forehead smooth over. A soft, fond expression flutters across her features and her lips pull into a begrudging smile.
Jihyeon makes a disgusted noise. "Ugh, do you two have to be so gross?"
Their father winks at her, and-just to be spiteful-kisses his wife’s cheek with a loud smack. Jihyeon groans and covers her eyes, and Jonghyun laughs while their mother threatens to hit their father with a radish for being a nuisance.
His father’s question about threadmates returns to him. Watching his parents’ interaction, seeing the comfortable candor and affection that they share, Jonghyun comes to the conclusion that yes, he wants what they have. He wants to know the feeling of sharing something indecipherably special.
---
“That’s a load of crap,” Sejoon says.
Jonghyun scowls, his hands clenching into fists. “Is not!”
His cousin just smirks, further infuriating Jonghyun. Sejoon is five years older than him which apparently gives him the license to act like a snotty know-it-all. He had gotten even more smug and intolerable after his acknowledgement ceremony two months ago. Now, in addition to being the first grandson in the Kim family line and third in line to succeed their grandfather, he also has his alpha status to lord over his younger relatives.
If given the choice, Jonghyun would prefer to stay clear of Sejoon and his insufferably large ego entirely, but their grandfather demands that all his children and grandchildren gather for dinner at least twice a month. These usually prove to be awkward, tense affairs for Jonghyun, who feels that whenever his grandfather is looking at him, all his actions are being carefully scrutinized and cataloged for review.
Jonghyun doesn’t mind seeing his uncle and aunt, who, in his opinion, are perfectly decent people. Unfortunately their firstborn has a habit of inciting his sister to violence.
While Jonghyun is not overly fond of his cousin, Jihyeon and Sejoon absolutely loathe each other. When they were younger, they used to get in trouble constantly for fighting, brawls that were usually broken up by their grandfather who would grab each child by the scruff of the neck and bellow, “HAVE YOU NO SHAME?” loudly enough that that the tableware rattled.
Nowadays, Jihyeon and Sejoon fling words instead of fists. After dinner, Jonghyun's mother wisely made the decision to pull her daughter aside and help her serve coffee and tea.
Jonghyun, on the other hand, still has to put up with Sejoon. His two other cousins, Sejoon’s twin sisters, Soyoung and Soji, are only two and can’t color within the lines yet much less play with him. With the adults busy discussing family business in their grandfather’s study, Jonghyun had been left with nothing else to do and settled down next to his cousin to watch television.
While channel surfing, they stumbled upon one of the weekly dramas. It has one of those ridiculously overblown plotlines in which half the cast gets diagnosed with a terminal illness, amnesia, or both. Sejoon had scoffed at the weeping woman on the screen who had been crying at the grave of her lover, a man who had sacrificed his life in order to donate one of his organs to save her.
“That’s ridiculous. No one loves anyone that much,” Sejoon remarked.
Jonghyun had made the mistake of disagreeing. He knew better, but there’s something about his cousin’s overbearing haughtiness that always lures out his belligerent side.
“My parents do,” he declared.
He shouldn’t have been surprised at the way Sejoon mocked him afterward. Feeling cornered, he divulged the story his father had told him to back up his claim. His cousin, however, remains less than impressed.
“You’re an idiot for believing that,” he says. “Threadmates aren’t real. They're just a fairy tale that dumb alphas and stupid kids believe.”
“You’re wrong.” Jonghyun, his temper coming to a boil, feels compelled to defend his parents. “My dad wouldn’t lie to me.”
“Oh, yeah?” Sejoon says, sneering. “How do you know?”
Jonghyun gestures widely and ineloquently. Sejoon doesn’t know his parents. He doesn’t know the way they look at each other, the way they fit together. Even if he did, Jonghyun doubts that such intangible evidence would be enough to dismantle Sejoon's cynicism. Eventually, he settles for exclaiming, “I just know!”
Sejoon crosses his arms, smug. “Which means you can’t prove it.”
“Well, you can’t not prove it,” Jonghyun fires back. “You’d believe it if it happened to you.”
Sejoon sniffs haughtily. “As if. My bondmate is going to be an omega from Inje.”
Jonghyun’s anger surrenders to his curiosity. “What’s Inje?”
Sejoon rolls his eyes so hard it’s surprising he doesn’t strain anything. “You don’t know anything do you?,” he says, sounding immensely superior. “All unbonded omegas are kept at omega academies until unbonded alphas come and choose them. And Inje is the best one.” He puffs up with pride. “My mom went there. That's where my dad found her."
Jonghyun is still confused. “Why do the omegas have to go to separate schools?”
“So they don’t make all the unbonded alphas go crazy. Duh.” Sejoon says, his voice dripping with exasperation.
Jonghyun’s eyes go wide. He had never heard of omega-induced madness before. Could they really cause such havoc? If so, he’s not sure he wants any part of it.
Sejoon spies the troubled expression on his face and says, “Look, you wouldn’t understand. You’re too young. You’ve never smelled an unbonded omega before.”
“Have you?” Jonghyun is genuinely curious.
“No,” his cousin replies a bit defensively, “but I still know loads more about it that you.”
“What happens if an alpha smells an unbonded omega?” Jonghyun wants to know more in case he one day becomes an alpha and runs into a rogue omega. He doesn’t want to be unprepared for such a crisis.
Sejoon bites his lower lip. “Well, from what I’ve heard, the smell of an unbonded omega makes the alphas nearby feel… uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable? How?” Jonghyun asks, pressing for details. “Like holding in a pee or going to the dentist?”
“Not like that, you moron,” his cousin says irritably. “It’s a good smell. Like almost too good. So good that alphas have trouble thinking and become-” the tips of his ears begin turning red, “-uncomfortable.”
“Then why do you want to marry one?” The appeal of having a spouse whose mere smell can potentially rob one of their senses is lost on Jonghyun. “And why does it have to be one from Inje? What’s so special about them?”
“Because any alpha who wants to make a name for himself has to marry an omega,” Sejoon explains. “And the ones from Inje are the best. They’re the smartest and definitely the most beautiful. I mean, look at my mom and look at yours.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my mother,” Jonghyun snaps, hackles rising.
“Oh yeah? Then why did her real parents give her up? There must have been a reason why they didn’t want her anymore. I don’t even understand why your father wanted her. He could have married a much prettier omega instead of some nobody who got thrown out like trash on the-“
“SHUT UP!” Jonghyun lunges at him, tackling the older boy to the floor. He can stand his cousin calling him a liar, but he will not tolerate such defamation of his mother's character.
Sejoon lets out a cry of surprise and then outrage. His cousin is far bigger than him and much stronger, but Jonghyun has righteous fury on his side. He manages to sucker-punch Sejoon in his smug mouth before the other boy elbows him in the gut and throws him off. They wrestle for a while until eventually the older boy pins him facedown to the floor, holding both his arms twisted painfully behind his back.
He snarls, “You little piece of--” and pulls back a fist.
His blow never lands because at that moment, both their mothers arrive on the scene.
“Sejoon!” Jonghyun’s aunt cries, horrified. “What on earth do you think you're doing?”
Sejoon immediately releases Jonghyun and clambers off. “He started it!” he says, pointing his finger in his cousin's direction.
His accusation, however, falls on deaf ears. In the end, both of them are summoned to their grandfather’s study to explain their actions.
Their grandfather, predictably, is not happy to see them. He’s sitting cross-legged in his usual grey hanbok at a low table stacked with plates of half-eaten fruit and empty cups. Smoke unwinds lazily into the air from the cigarette dangling between his fingers. His expression as he watches his grandsons shuffle into the room is severe. Both Sejoon and Jonghyun's fathers sit mutely at his sides. Neither makes a move to defend his son.
Sejoon drops to his knees and Jonghyun quickly follows suit.
“Grandfather,” he says, his voice quavering slightly as he prostrates himself. Only their grandfather has the power to completely strip Sejoon of his sense of self-importance. “Please let me explain. I was defending myself and-“
“Save your breath,” their grandfather interrupts, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He says to Sejoon and Jonghyun’s fathers, “Both of you: out. I want to have a word with my grandsons. Alone.”
Jonghyun fills with dread as he hears his father and uncle rise and vacate the room. He keeps his forehead pressed to the ground, not daring to look up as the door shuts behind him with a soft click.
“Now,” their grandfather begins. “Get up. Both of you."
Hesitantly, Jonghyun and his cousin straighten, both careful to keep their eyes downcast.
Their grandfather takes a long puff on his cigarette. "Can anyone tell me why my two grandsons would disrespect my household by behaving like a bunch of hooligans?”
Sejoon starts, “Jonghyun attacked me. He punched me for no reason and I-“
“He insulted my mother!” Jonghyun protests.
“Enough!” Both boys flinch at the sound of their grandfather’s raised voice. “Jonghyun?”
He tenses. “Yes, Grandfather?”
“Did you hit your cousin?”
Swallowing, he confesses, “Yes. I did.”
“And why,” their grandfather asks coldly, “would you stoop to something so low and common?”
“He said my mother was trash,” Jonghyun answers, gritting his teeth.
“Oh, so you thought it was right to hit him?” their grandfather challenges. “Your cousin? Your family? Your own flesh and blood?”
“A little,” Jonghyun admits meekly.
Their grandfather growls, “Well, I won’t have it. It’s enough that I have the damn IMF crisis to deal with. I will not tolerate my own family going at each other like a pack of wild dogs. The next time you raise a hand against someone in this family, you will no longer be welcome in this household. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Grandfather,” Jonghyun replies glumly.
“And you,” he addresses Sejoon. “Is it true? Did you speak ill of Jonghyun’s mother?”
“...maybe," Sejoon says sulkily.
Jonghyun glares at his cousin, wishing he had punched him more thoroughly.
“And why would you such a thing?” their grandfather asks.
Sejoon mumbles something that Jonghyun can't hear.
"SPEAK UP!" their grandfather roars, causing both boys to jump.
“His mother’s not from Inje,” Sejoon repeats, this time more clearly.
“Oh, so you think because your mother came from an omega academy and Jonghyun’s mother didn’t that you’re somehow better than him," their grandfather says scornfully. "Is that right?”
“No,” Sejoon replies, his fear of their grandfather fear subduing his arrogance.
Their grandfather snuffs out his cigarette in the ash tray. “Do you think omegas from Inje come for free? Do you know, Sejoon, how much it cost me to get your mother for your father? A small fortune, that's what. And do you think my money grows on trees?”
“No, Grandfather.” Even the children all know how their grandfather feels about money.
“When it's your turn to choose a bondmate and you're asking me for my money, I hope you remember that well," their grandfather says, steely. “I will not hear another ill word spoken of Jonghyun’s mother. She is part of our clan and you will respect her accordingly. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
“Good, because I will not have our family name sullied by petty infighting." He waves his hand. "Now get out. I’ve had enough of your foolishness for tonight.”
Sejoon and Jonghyun rise simultaneously, careful to keep their eyes down as they scurry towards the exit. They find their fathers waiting for them outside, both sporting amused and sympathetic expressions.
“Did Grandfather teach you a lesson?” Jonghyun's father asks him.
He nods solemnly. His father pats him on the head comfortingly before he and Jonghyun’s uncle file back into the study.
The women of the family are gathered in the living room. Jonghyun settles down next to his mother. Judging from her pinched mouth and refusal to look him in the eye, he's in deep trouble. She continues to peel tangerines but doesn't offer him any. Withholding food is a sign that she's deeply upset with him.
Sejoon’s mother clucks and leads him to the bathroom to clean his busted lip. “Fighting? Really, Sejoon? At your age?" she scolds, taking him by the arm. "Seriously, what am I going to do with you?”
For the rest of the evening, Jonghyun is careful not to do or say anything that could further incur his mother or his grandfather’s wrath. It's nearly nine by the time they leave his grandfather's. His aunt and his mother make the decision to take the children home without the men since Jonghyun's father and his uncle are still holed up in the study discussing the family business.
As Jonghyun settles into the backseat of the car, Jihyeon pokes him in the side. She checks to make sure that their mother isn't looking, winks at him, and passes him a pilfered tangerine.
Jonghyun pockets it with a grateful smile.
Continue to Part B