Anyone, But A Jock | Jikook (Mini)

Chapter One: The Roommate

"Wait. Mingyu, what? What do you mean you subleased your room?" Park Jimin said over the phone as he walked towards his apartment building, coffee in one hand and breakfast in the other.

Jimin had stayed in Gwangju for a couple of days to visit an art exhibition of a famous surreal art painter from France. Not only was his artwork loaned to South Korea's national gallery for one week, but the artist himself ran an exclusive workshop on deconstructing traditional mediums during its opening week. Jimin had practically murdered his way to secure a spot, booking an Airbnb in Gwangju the second the ticket showed up in his email.

He wasn't huge on solo travel, even less so as an omega in a world of crazy wolves and unpredictable assholes, but the high of seeing Cygne-Noir in person quickly overrode that. The artist was as clever as he was handsome. His perception of art was revolutionary, and Jimin admired how much creative expression was ingrained in his very being. Every breath was nuanced and laced with story. Jimin's star-struck buzz followed him from all the way from Gwangju back to Seoul. The emotional crash hadn't hit until he heard his roommate's voice on the other end of the phone, wrapping around him like a wire, electrocuting him with news of moving out.

"I feel like that's something you should have told me months ago instead of dropping it on me like this," Jimin said, swallowing the panic clinging to his throat. "I mean, I was gone for what? One weekend? How did you even find someone to sublease from you so fast?"

"I'm sorry, Jimin-ah. I know you get jumpy, but I got a full-time offer to work with a film company in Daegu, and I haven't said anything because I've been going back and forth about accepting it." When Jimin didn't instantly respond, Mingyu added: "I didn't want to leave you stranded paying full rent. I thought finding someone to take my room would be better."

Jimin frowned, opening his apartment building's gate by balancing his coffee and bag of pastries in one hand, adjusting his duffle bag from his trip with his other, and turning the key to get inside the main stairwell. His mind went blank as he tried to process the sudden news. It was as if the gears in his head had stopped. The phone grew hotter against his cheek as a long breath left his nose.

Jimin tried to picture himself sitting in Korea's National Art Museum in Gwangju, leg crossed with an artisan's notebook balanced against his knee, trying to recreate Cygne-Noir's largest canvas of chaotic stripes made to mimic the ocean. In his memory, he placed the handsome artist with a confident grin and bohemian clothes in front of it, focusing on how the beta favored his right when he walked. He had a hand resting over his abdomen while lecturing - as if all his passion and ideas might burst out of him. The image grounded Jimin's nerves, dripping oil onto his mental gears. He swallowed, and words no longer felt like they'd grate against his throat.

"So, who's moving in? Do I know them?" Jimin asked, biting his lips in a nervous habit. His omega stirred uneasily in his chest at the idea of a new scent in their space. Mingyu was a dream roommate – a clean, peaceful, and friendly omega Jimin had met during his undergrad. He was a film major back at Yonsei University and now works as a screenwriter.

The two wolves weren't close, but they lived together extremely well; the pairing was mainly a means to afford rent in Apujeong, Seoul. There was a specific corner of the district, right where Jimin's apartment was, carved out by artist types. It was colorful and comforting, with cafes, theaters, jazz clubs, and wine bars piled on each other. People whose souls carried rich stories wandered the streets, calling to each other and sitting in tight-knit groups. But the rent was as high as the demand to live there, so living alone wasn't an option for nearly any resident.

"Are they an omega?" Jimin asked, climbing the steps to his apartment. His heart was racing, and he felt sweat already forming on the back of his neck. Mainly because – what the actual fuck? Subleasing took time. That meant Mingyu was thinking about moving out for a while and waited until Jimin was out of town. How long had he been planning this? How could he be okay keeping Jimin in the dark until the last possible moment? They were roommates, not much more than that, but as omegas, Jimin couldn't help the seed of betrayal growing between his lungs. It wasn't a light thing to threaten the stability of an omega's home. "The guy subleasing your room, I mean."