a world on fire

burning up

All Namjoon could feel, all he could see, was a world on fire. It flickered in his vision, bright spots of white, orange and red that left him blinded and dazed and confused. The heat was unlike anything he had ever felt in his entire life, so much worse than the time he had accidentally laid his hand across a lit stove. The flames licked over his skin, lapped at his chest to tear down into his heart as it pumped blood around his body that felt closer to molten hot lava than plasma. The flames grew and grew, his panting breaths only serving to fuel the fire as he desperately tried to get air into his lungs. His body wasn't working anymore, and it was like he was choking down on thick clouds of hot black smoke, cooking his flesh from the inside out.

Somewhere in his brain he knew the shower water was meant to be icy cold, but as it hit his skin the water started steaming and boiling over his body. His normally tanned skin was flushed with bright red, as if he had magically transformed into a lobster, and he tried turning the shower down to its lowest setting only to find it couldn't go down any further. This was it, how his life would end, with him naked and slumped on the shower cubicle floor, being cooked alive as the heat took full control of his body.

He couldn't see anything, the shower water invading his eyes. He was unable to blink the rapid stream of water away, nor was he able to move away from the blast of water, but he was able to still hear. He could hear them then, his friends, shouting and screaming from the other side of the door. There was a heavy pounding, muffled by his own sobs that wrecked his body and left his throat feeling as though someone had shoved a red hot poker down there and didn't bother to pull it back out.

Somewhere in his confused mind he could recognise the voices as pack. His family, the only people in this cruel world that he cared about. They were right there. All he had to do was get out of the shower and open the door but his legs and arms didn't work anymore. The nerves had been burnt away, synapses in his brain fried, and he couldn't move. The voices of his pack still pulled at his heart, but the heat was too much for him to overcome. It was like he was caught in the centre of a ring of fire, and safety was just out of reach. To get there he would have to jump through the fire and risk his skin being blazed. To get there he would have to be able to move first, but Namjoon knew he couldn't do that anymore. It was like his long legs weren't connected to his body, even though he could still feel them, but they were just a dead weight sat underneath him.

And the smell. It was overwhelming, overbearing, the heat seeming to make his sense of smell a thousand times stronger than normal. The scent of the three of his pack members that were trying desperately to break down the bathroom door was intoxicating. Taehyung was sharp citrus, lemon and lime, refreshing and soothing and exactly what Namjoon needed on his aching skin. Jimin was freshly laundered sheets, cotton, relaxing and calming and always able to control his nerves. Jungkook was cinnamon, wild and spiced and warm, but there was something else hiding just beneath the surface. Jungkook was alpha.

The lava trailed down, flowing from his heart and down to his abdomen, pulled by gravity and desire. He was crying now, ugly tears that tracked over his cheeks and each droplet burnt, coursed over his skin as the lava overflowed to escape his body, no longer able to be contained. The thick scent of the alpha just metres away, so close he could taste him painfully in the back of his throat, sent a rush of something wet and sticky that spilled from between the backs of his thighs and had him gasping for air.

This wasn't right, this wasn't what his body was meant to do. He was meant to be cold, he was meant to be ice, not fire, not this, not wanting this. Needing this. Needing the alpha that was so close it was physically painful to keep himself locked away. His legs were begging for him to get up, to fight through the fire and throw himself in front of the alpha, but his mind was a powerful thing. This is not who Namjoon is, and he screams at himself, fighting back at the urges and just wishing for the fire to turn him to ashes already so he can be blown away by the wind.

He fell asleep a beta, but woke up an omega.

The word aches in his chest, a large chunk of igneous rock that's pushing him down further and further into the ground, until he's sure he's been buried six feet under. It's a weight that he will never be able to move, to shift, only the strength of an alpha can save him from being crushed. But he doesn't want it. He pushes at the thoughts, screams at them with all of the strength that he can muster, tries to stop his mind from thinking about things he cannot have. He doesn't want to think of the young alpha on top of him, claiming him, breeding him. It's not right, he doesn't want this, has never wanted this.

He is not an omega. He doesn't want to be. He's not soft. He's all skin and bones, long limbs, too tall for his own good. Too destructive to be an omega, who are meant to bring life wherever they go but Namjoon is not a creator, he never has been, he never will be. He's a destroyer, he's a hurricane, not a forest fire that sweeps away the old to allow new life to take root in the ashy soil. He's a snowstorm, bringing blizzards that leave whole towns locked in a standstill. He doesn't contain the warmth of the sun within his body, fuelling the plant life around him. He takes but does not give but now he isn't sure who he is anymore. He doesn't want to find out.

He clamps his hands down tightly over his sensitive ears as a loud ear piercing smash crashes and echoes throughout the bathroom. The door has splinted, lock failing, Namjoon's only line of defence collapsing. There are hands all over his burning body, on his arms, on his chest, on his slick coated thighs. He tries to push them away, screams at them to get away from him, but he's drowning from the sudden coolness of the hands touching his sweaty body.

He's swept up by strong arms, hugged closely to someone's chest, face pressed tightly into a scent gland. He chokes back a sob and breathes in heavily, engulfed by the heavy scent of cinnamon that sends shockwaves throughout his whole body. It's like he's just survived a nuclear blast, skin blistered and peeling, but the alpha's touch on his body has already began to heal the open wounds.

There's a mattress underneath him, the sudden softness dragging him briefly out of his heat filled mind. He's aware of three voices shouting loudly, battling for dominance, struggling to find answers to questions that still remain unknown. Namjoon whimpers highly, the heat flickering back over his skin. There's words being whispered into his ear but he can't understand them, he just starts crying again and he's never hated himself so much in his life before. He's weak, vulnerable, and out of his mind.

The scent of alpha fogs his brain and cuts the words that had been dancing on his tongue. His thighs are shoved apart and suddenly he's being ripped open, spread wide and torn at the seams. He's aware that he's screaming, close to begging, but it's like he's underwater. He's drowning, voice muffled, cries gurgling in the back of his throat and replaced with high pitched moans that he isn't even aware he is capable of making as the alpha stretches him wide and hits a spot deep within him that has him seeing stars, burning brighter than the flames.

He buries his face into a pillow and breathes deeply, lungs filled with his own scent of peaches. It's sickly sweet from heat, and he sobs loudly. The alpha on top of him, crowding his space, doesn't seem to notice as he gives into pure instinct, thrusting harshly in and out of the omega's tight hole, and Namjoon hates with every fibre of his being that his body is betraying him, opening his legs wider and moaning loudly. The alpha is grunting, panting, hands gripping onto Namjoon's skinny waist tight enough to leave deep bruises behind. He's pushed down into the mattress as the alpha's knot catches against his rim, finally pushing through the tight muscles, filling Namjoon up completely.

His mind is blank, unmoving, as though he is floating high above his own body and his soul isn't even attached anymore. A small part of his brain must still be functioning as the failed psychology major inside of him whispers dissociation. He's not himself anymore, the beta he knows is long gone. He died last night, in his sleep, replaced with whatever he is supposed to be now. He doesn't know what he's meant to do, he doesn't know how to be an omega. All he knows is that the pain of the heat has been replaced with the pain of the stretch. The rock sitting on his chest has been replaced by the alpha slumped over his body as he feels the alpha release deep inside of him.

When Namjoon shifts his head from the pillow and gets a lungful of cinnamon, he blacks out.