Chapter Text
Jeon Jeongguk is twenty-three years old and outwardly he is exactly what an alpha should be. The younger brother of one of the most successful businessmen in the city, a sought-after friend, an eligible bachelor, and for all intents and purposes, the poster child of what modern society could turn a wolf into.
Dominant, fierce, proud.
And yet it is all an act.
A well-practiced, refined act drilled into him by an overly protective sibling and a now-dwindling will to survive. He despises going out, resists whenever possible, hides in his room or disappears into the gardens for hours on end until Namjoon, his brother, inevitably finds him and forces him out into the world.
They have to keep up appearances, after all.
So he shows his face at gambling halls and soirées, fêtes and balls, stifled in his Western suits and drowning in the scents of omegas who circle him like the wolves they are—just as predatory, in their own way, as alphas.
He hates it, he hates it so much, and yet he sees no escape for himself.
And then he starts to get sick.
It begins as fatigue, he goes to bed earlier and rises later with each passing week. He then begins to fall asleep during the day, in carriages and on trains, during meetings and over lunch. Soon after the pain appears, an ache in his bones that no amount of medicine can dissipate, in fact many of them make it worse, leaving him curled up in bed and biting back his whimpers as doctors try yet another useless remedy.
Then it is a fever, low but constant, sending tremors through his body as he slips in and out of strange dreams of dark forests and golden eyes that he never recalls upon waking.
One doctor visit becomes two, and two becomes three, then four, and five, until it feels as though every viable physician in the city has made a call to their home. Not a single one is able to diagnose Jeongguk, questioning everything from his diet to his sex life but never coming up with an answer.
It is the final doctor who has a suggestion, and it isn’t a traditional one.
“Take him to Serein Village,” he says to Namjoon as he packs up his tools into a black leather satchel, “there’s a healer there by the name of Park Jimin, and he knows things that those in the city don’t. Here we have cures for many illnesses, but I think what is happening to your brother is something no amount of modern medicine can fix.”
“What do you mean?” Namjoon asks, eyes locked on Jeongguk, who stares back listlessly, already on the verge of slipping into another exhausted sleep.
“I believe it is his wolf that is making him ill, and as such, there is no medicine that can cure it.”
Jeongguk hasn’t felt his wolf in months, but he’s too tired to say anything about it now. He just wants to sleep and sleep and sleep, forever and ever and ever…
“His wolf ?” Namjoon asks, sounding incredulous.
The doctor nods, takes his coat and hat from the back of a nearby chair, “You can take the Angae river ferry to the village, like I said–his name is Park Jimin, he’s a… unique individual, but I believe he is your only hope.”
Jeongguk is asleep before he can hear more.
◦○☽〇☾○◦
The next morning Jeongguk watches his brother pace the floor through half-open eyes and tries to recall the last time he saw him smile. He comes up empty, when they were children maybe, but not any time recently, certainly not since their parents had died.
“I can’t lose you,” Namjoon says eventually, “you’re all I’ve got left… I—” he cuts himself off and shakes his head. “We’ll go to Serein, it's fine… everything here can wait for now.”
Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, too tired and in too much pain.
“Can I get you anything? Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
Jeongguk shakes his head, “Want to sleep.”
Namjoon sighs, “That’s all you do,” he whispers helplessly. “I’m going to pack for both of us, and then I’ll have to leave for a few hours to let a few people know we’ll be out of town–we’ll leave first thing tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Jeongguk sighs and lets his eyes slip shut, asleep before he can hear his brother leave the room.
That night the golden eyes in his dreams become warm and brown, there is the sound of rain, of wind, of wolves howling, the scent of dark, sweet cherry and the taste of it on his tongue.
Once again he wakes and does not remember.
◦○☽〇☾○◦
It was a three day trip from the billowing steam and coal smoke of the city to the Serein Valley, but Jeongguk was barely conscious for most of it. They take a river ferry, that much he knows, but other than a vague sort of awareness and brief moments of lucidity, Jeongguk spends the duration of the trip in bed, his wolf silent, and his brother Namjoon hovering and sleepless with concern, praying to the moon that he doesn’t lose his little brother, too.
◦○☽〇☾○◦
It is late and Park Jimin should be home, but something is keeping him near the water, and it’s been many moons since he last ignored the whispering intuition of his wolf, telling him to linger where he is, to wait and watch and listen and see.
The hawkers and merchants who ply their wares by the docks are all packing up as the night settles its arms over the village. The river whispering its evening song of flood tide and blackbird trills and loon cries as he stands and watches the river, a wind from the coast toying with his long black hair.
“Ferry’s late,” a nearby dock worker says to a friend.
“Hopefully not too late,” the other replies.
Ah, so that is why he is here.
He settles nearby, content to wait for whatever fate is bringing to the village. He gets a few bows and nods every now and then, a couple of mumbled greetings, but for the most part he is left alone, everyone here more than used to the quiet presence of their healer.
There is a brief break in the rain this evening, an auspicious sign for whatever is heading their way. Overhead the near perpetual storm clouds of the region have parted, allowing glimpses of a violet sky and a burning, blazing sunset that casts lances of flaming sunlight across the river. Jimin tilts his face as a wind blows in from the coast, carrying with it the scent of water and reeds and something sweet and dark and rich that he cannot quite define.
He waits patiently, the minutes slipping by as night settles further and further upon the village. Around him lanterns and street lamps light, shop windows begin to glow, and the market stalls empty one by one until nearly everyone has left the docks for the evening, save for Jimin and the ferry’s workers.
“There she is!” One of them cries as soon as glittering lights are spotted in the distance.
Jimin watches as the ship draws nearer, its cabin brightly lit and its railings crowded with new arrivals eager to disembark. He hangs back as the ferry is moored to the dock and watches as a handful of visitors stumble down the ramp, legs unused to solid ground.
The last to leave the deck is a tall man in a Western suit, his eyes wide and his tone frantic as he asks one of the workers, “Please, can you direct me to the healer? My brother, it’s an emergency—please!”
And now Jimin knows exactly why he is here.
“Healer Park?” The worker looks over his shoulder and points towards Jimin with a knowing smile “He’s right there, actually, you’re lucky he has a sense for these things.”
The man eyes Jimin suspiciously, but concern for his brother seems to win over caution quickly because it’s not more than a moment before he’s gesturing towards the cabins. “He’s in bed still and very weak, I need help moving him.”
Jimin nods and glances at the dock workers, “Jongho, with me, I owe your mate some more willow salve anyway.” He bows to the stranger, “My name is Park Jimin, please take us to him.”
“My name is Namjoon, my brother is Jeongguk— he’s still in our room, follow me.”
The first class rooms are luxurious but relatively cramped, which means the scent of sick wolf that hits him when he enters is intense. It’s so strong and speaks of so much pain and misery that Jongho coughs upon entering, his hand halfway to his mouth and nose before he catches himself, and even Jimin, who has treated many wolves over the years, is shocked by the strength of it. His alpha is alert inside of him, pushing pushing pushing him because that wolf is ours, that wolf is meant to be here that wolf is—Jimin tunes him out, needing to focus more than he needs to understand his wolf’s interest in a stranger.
Jeongguk must be very strong indeed to be so ill and yet cling to life.
“Brother, the healer is here, as well as someone to help us get you off the ship…” Namjoon’s tone is gentle when he speaks, his authority and fear replaced by a tenderness that feels out of place with how imposing he is. There is a great deal of love there, Jimin can tell, and he suspects that since there is no sign or mention of a parent, that they only have each other.
“Jeongguk?” Namjoon says, voice colored with worry, “Jeongguk?” He pats his cheek gently but there is no response, “ Jeongguk !”
Jimin steps forward, “Let me,” he says, then without waiting for permission he begins to examine the other wolf, pale and far too thin, his dark hair hiding much of his face as he lies unconscious, but his shirt is partially undone, his chest gleaming with sweat. His pulse is still steady, albeit weak, but the thing that frightens Jimin the most is that he can barely sense Jeongguk’s wolf.
“Jongho, fetch a gurney from the dock house.” The worker nods and takes off a moment later, leaving Jimin alone with the other alpha, “Namjoon-ssi, gather your things, my home is not far and time is short. But first—tell me when the last time your brother was scented.”
Namjoon recoils, surprise evident on his face— “Jimin-ssi, with all due respect, we do not talk about things—”
Jimin rolls his eyes, uninterested in whatever excuse he was about to hear, “Namjoon-ssi, your brother is dying, answer the question.”
Cyril Morin- Across the Mountain
The color drains from the other alpha’s face, “I… I am not sure, he has been ill enough these last few days that he has not gone out, and even before that I can’t say. It is not typical for alphas to be scented, so it could have been months ago.”
Without waiting to hear what else Namjoon has to say, Jimin sits on the edge of the narrow bed and takes Jeongguk’s hand in his. It’s elegant, large enough that Jimin can cradle it in two of his, then without a moment’s hesitation, he presses his nose to the skin of the alpha’s wrist and breathes in, trying to understand what is wrong and see if he needs to take immediate action.
“What are you doing?” Namjoon demands, but Jimin doesn’t bother replying, a little lost in Jeongguk’s scent and what it’s telling him. There is sadness and anger and loneliness, his own wolf tells him, there is pain and isolation and exhaustion and a boy who has never once got to raise his voice in song even though he was born for it.
“Your brother is dying from neglect,” Jimin says after a moment, and there is so much more there, endless stories of lonely nights and needing love and touch and pack and getting nothing, nothing, nothing, “his wolf is wasting away inside of him, you might have gotten him here in time though... but just barely.” He nods to the suitcases by the doors, “I suggest you grab those, Namjoon-ssi, and follow me.”
Jongho arrives at that moment, another dock worker with him and a gurney in hand, and between the four of them they manage to get Jeongguk’s unconscious body out of bed and off the ferry, rushing through the dark streets and narrow paths to get him to Jimin’s house.
He gives Jongho the salve and dismisses the dock workers as soon as they get Jeongguk settled in a sick room, they’ll be of no help to him now and will most likely just get in the way. Namjoon is a different problem, the alpha hovering as Jimin sets water to boil and begins gathering a collection of herbs and powders.
“What do you mean he’s dying from neglect?” Namjoon asks. “The doctors in the city—”
“The doctors in the city only know how to treat a human body's illness, they know nothing about caring for a sick wolf,” Jimin replies. “And your brother’s wolf is dying—open the window, yes that one.” He points towards the window nearest the bed and hums in approval when a breeze immediately winds its way into the room, carrying the scent of the river and the forest and coming rain.
“Your scent blockers, are they topical or did you ingest them?” Jimin asks as he begins to measure out ingredients.
“What does that have to do with—”
“Please answer my question, Namjoon-ssi.”
The alpha huffs but replies, “I ingested a tea this morning.”
Jimin sniffs, “Unfortunate, well then.” He turns on his heel and bows slightly, “I need you permission to scent your brother, since he is currently incapable of consenting to treatment. It will only be on the wrist and arm, but it needs to be extensive.”
“And how is that supposed to help him?”
“When was the last time he was scented?” Jimin asks again, “I don’t expect you to know, but I know enough about life in the city to know how you people conduct yourselves. I’m going to assume it’s been months, maybe longer, and I can tell from the look in your eyes it’s the same for you.” He shakes his head, “I’m wasting time, I can explain more later, but right now I need your permission.”
“Go ahead,” Namjoon said, “as long as it helps him… just go ahead.”
Jimin nods, “Thank you, when the water begins to boil, add every ingredient I measured out— yes, those, and then douse the flame.” He lifts Jeongguk’s arm and hand. Outside a nightingale sings, its delicate song bright againstn the dark. Jimin finds hints of sweet chocolate buried beneath the layers of pain and exhaustion. It is soft and luxurious, like dark cocoa and truffles and all things decadent. But then his own cherry scent begins to bloom— dark too, rich and heady and already drowning out the chocolate.
He watches as Jeongguk’s body relaxes, muscles untensing, brow unknitting, eyelashes fluttering before he turns his attention fully to the task at hand, dragging his nose up and down the young alpha’s arm methodically, until any and all hints of pain and illness are drowned by his summer orchard scent.
He’ll need much more than just a single scenting to heal, but at least this will give his alpha some connection to cling to, something that will coax his wolf into staying a little longer.
The poor thing must have felt so alone for so long.
His own wolf whines as he lowers Jeongguk’s arm gently back to the bed to find Namjoon hovering over the small, simmering cauldron, the herbs Jimin prepared adding more notes of summer to the room as the flame dies and the water begins to cool. Namjoon is looking at him with questions in his eyes, so Jimin explains as he measures out a small amount of the concoction they just made, “Your brother is not ill in a traditional sense, Namjoon-ssi, what he is suffering from is a condition that city wolves occasionally fall prey to.” He sets the drink on the windowsill to cool and begins to clean up his mess from earlier. “I have seen it a few times before and it can be fatal, you did well in getting your brother here before it was too late.”
Namjoon swallows heavily and nods as he stares down at Jeongguk, obviously younger than him and so much more delicate in appearance, “He never complained, not about being ill—he’d say he was tired, that he didn’t want to go out,” the alpha says with a hollow sounding laugh, “I thought he was just being stubborn at first, but then he started to lose weight and sleeping constantly, and he just looks so...”
“City life was killing him,” Jimin tells him gently, “his wolf is strong, stronger than most, and because of that it needs what a wolf needs. The life he led was too… human, too disconnected from the things that ground us. Perhaps, if he had been properly guided through his presentation it would have delayed his illness, but I know how alpha presentations are conducted in the city, and I’m willing to guess his was no different.”
A few nights of drinking and carousing at the first signs of presenting, followed by the alpha getting handed off to an omega brothel to be “taken care of” in a way Jimin can only imagine is traumatizing to any young wolf when they wake up the next day with only hazy, disjointed memories of the nights and days before that.
Then they are dumped unceremoniously into a life they are unfit for, one with little to no connection to other wolves, one with no scenting, no shifting, no moon singing or forest roving, none of the things that make wolves, wolves.
“Your brother needs the forest, he needs fresh air and growing things and to not be confined by concrete and steel and the ridiculous expectations countless fragile egos have imposed upon him, and I’m afraid it is not a temporary need. His wolf would rather die than go back there, and it will take Jeongguk down with him if it must.”
Namjoon stares at Jimin in silence, then heaves a heavy sigh, “You speak bluntly.”
Jimin inclines his head, “I speak the truth. Now, let me set you up in the room beside this one, and after that we will have dinner and I will explain his treatment.”
Once it is late and Namjoon has long since gone to bed, Jimin sits by Jeongguk’s side, his wolf adamant that they stay, and he is never one to fight his wolf. He sits at the bedside, eyes trained on the sleeping figure beside him. Though the illness that is affecting him is rare, those few who found their way here were only with Jimin temporarily before he released them as wards to live within the village proper.
Not this one, his wolf says, and though Jimin isn’t sure why, he isn’t about to argue.
Instead he stays close to the unconscious alpha, scenting him, coaxing tea and broth past his slack lips, and singing quietly, softly, hoping that the care he shows will somehow reach Jeongguk’s wolf and show it that it is no longer alone.
His own wolf was quiet and watchful, pleased when the smell of sickness was replaced by black cherry and woodsmoke. It likes Jeongguk, Jimin could tell, but why was a mystery that only time can solve. Still, Jimin spends the night beside him because his wolf demands it, and outside the spirits watch and the forest whispers and the valley welcomes its newest son with soft rolling thunder and distant, violet lightning on the horizon.
It makes Jimin smile, having never seen a welcome quite like this one.
“You must be something special, hm?” Jimin murmurs to the sleeping alpha, “To have Serein sing for you like this.”
His wolf agrees.
◦○☽〇☾○◦
The world keeps slipping through the cracks of Jeongguk’s consciousness, bleeding in between the strange dreams and darkness. A cool wind touches his cheek, hair is brushed from his forehead, a soft, sweet voice sings. He feels lost, falling, floating…
But most of all he feels exhausted.
A tiredness like he has never known has settled over him, coupled with an ache in his bones that ebbs and flows, sometimes faint and distant, other times all-consuming. It is all he can do to drink water or broth or bitter, herbal tonics that make him cough weakly and sleep deeply.
He fights them at first, remembers the pain the medicine of the city caused him, but cool hands steady him and a firm voice coaxes him into taking it and it doesn’t hurt.
It doesn’t hurt.
He wants to speak to the person tending to him, but words are distant things, and the battle to keep his eyes open is one he always loses. Where am I? He wants to ask. Who are you?
Instead he sleeps more, wakes and looks out a window at a world he does not recognize, and then he sleeps again. With sleep the dreams come, but they are hazy, shadowed things he does not recall upon waking, mind too fever-muddled to hold onto more than the most ephemeral of images.
And through it all, the soft, sweet voice sings with words he does not know.
On the fourth day he wakes completely.
He lays in a bed beneath a partially open window, the cool wind soothing his fever-heated skin. Outside the world is green, a garden and a pond and a dark forest beyond. The sky is heavy and dark with the threat of rain, the leaves are wet from where it had already fallen. He hears sounds he recalls from his youth, frogs and crickets and wind through leaves.
His body still aches, and he feels… off, as though the skin he’s in was made for someone else. He has to assume he is in Serein Village, but beyond that, he has no memory of leaving the city, everything from his last talk with Namjoon onward gone like it had never happened. It frightens him, that hole in his memory, and how he is here in a strange place, alone.
His thoughts are interrupted by the door to his room opening, and a stranger letting themselves in with a small bow. He is only a little shorter than Jeongguk, his hair long and black and pulled messily away from his face, and when he looks up the whole world shifts on its axis and resettles in a configuration Jeongguk doesn’t know, but finds himself desperate to learn.
“Good morning, Jeongguk-ssi, and welcome back to the world of the living.”
And Jeongguk should be wary of him, but he isn’t, and it’s confusing but something in him whispers that this is the same figure that has cared for him these last few days, the voice that sang and praised him for every drop of broth he drank and every dose of medicine he took.
“What happened to me?” He whispers, eyes widening at the sound of his voice, deep and hoarse from disuse. “Who are you?”
The man crosses the room, his robes flaring and his bare feet silent on the polished wooden floor. “I am Park Jimin, the village healer and your caretaker for the time being. What happened to you is a longer question to answer, but I can before we begin the morning’s treatment. Just allow me to get the water boiling…” he turns away and sets a small cauldron over the fire before gathering a collection of herbs from the rafters and cupboards, his movements quick and sure.
It’s then that Jeongguk realizes he can’t smell, not himself, not the other wolf, not the wind or the rain or the herbs being measured and weighed only a room away. He curls in on himself slightly, confused by the realization, and Jimin turns a moment later, as if sensing his distress. That means he’s not wearing blockers, which means he’s vulnerable, that he can’t hide what he’s feeling, that he can’t pretend to be—
Cool fingers encircle his wrist and press gently into his pulse point, “I need you to breathe for me, Jeongguk-ssi,” Jimin says quietly, “deep breaths, you are fine, there is no one here who will judge or harm you.”
He wants to scoff, to shake off the touch and say that of course he’s fine, except he’s not, he’s not and he hasn’t been for so long and Jimin’s presence is big and overwhelming even though his physical form is small and there is something in him clamoring to get out, knocking against his ribs and his heart, whining, growling, pawing, snarling—
He gasps, reeling as he falls back into the bedding and there is a sensation on his arm, distant and faint but grounding, the slow drag of skin, a wave of calm and the pressure on his lungs lessening enough that he can finally breathe. He pulls in a ragged gasp of air, and there’s this relief that comes with it, like he hasn’t taken a full breath in years, let alone seconds.
“There you go,” Jimin tells him softly, “you’re okay, pup.”
He does manage to scoff at that, pride forcing the words past his lips, “M’not a pup.”
“Hm,” Jimin hums in response but gives no actual answer.
“What is wrong with me? Where is my brother?” He asks, “How long do I have to stay here?”
The other wolf sits back, expression unreadable, “Your brother stayed for as long as he could, but claimed that pressing matters demanded his presence in the city. He promises to return as soon as he is able. As for what is wrong with you? That is both a simple and complicated answer.”
Their conversation is interrupted by the sound of water beginning to boil and Jeongguk watches as Jimin stands and adds a collection of different things to it before returning to his seat.
“How familiar are you with your wolf, Jeongguk?”
He blinks and shrugs, he’s so, so tired, “I don’t think I’m familiar with him at all.”
Jimin nods, expression thoughtful, “Your alpha is particularly strong, quite possibly one of the strongest I’ve ever encountered, even in your current state.”
Jeongguk opens his mouth to reply but finds words fail him. He’s always felt different from other alphas, but did his best to cover up those differences with false bravado and a brash confidence that masked every moment of uncertainty and discomfort he felt in the face of what was expected of him back home. Namjoon had encouraged it, telling him often that to succeed in the city was to show no weakness, that he needed to match everyone’s attitude, their aggression, or he’d be eaten alive.
And he had done his best, wearing a mask to hide the parts of him that he felt didn’t fit in.
“I don’t… I don't know him at all, Jimin-ssi.” The admission is quiet, hesitant, and more honest than anything he’s said in months, maybe years. “You say he is strong but… it has never felt that way. He’s always felt distant and weak, out of reach and useless and I…” He shrugs helplessly, “I don’t know him at all,” he says again.
Exhaustion clings to him like a second skin as he blinks up at the other man, whose gaze is heavy, dark like the skies outside, it weighs on him, makes him feel small but seen, neither of which he is at all used to.
“Your life in the city was killing you, Jeongguk,” Jimin says, “your wolf is you, and as such you were unable to thrive because he wasn’t able to so much as breathe after presenting, and he has been ignored ever since.”
“I…” Jeongguk frowns, because Jimin isn’t wrong, he really hasn’t given much thought to his alpha except when he was forced to. It was typically silent anyway, and he thought it for the best, considering how people who claimed to be in touch with theirs acted.
“There’s no reason to fear him,” Jimin says gently, “he is you, after all. Just don’t ignore him, and don’t think you can’t ask for what you need. I know it will take some time, but I want you to feel comfortable here, it is your home for as long as you need it to be.”
“Okay,” Jeongguk whispers, eyes downcast, “I’ll try.”
Jimin gets him breakfast, he eats it—outside it begins to rain.
He sleeps after that, too tired to do anything else.
When he wakes again it is evening and he is alone.
He blinks open tired eyes and takes in the view from the window, the green and shadows and wind and wood, and for a moment in the hazy depths between the bamboo he thinks he sees something, large and dark and gone before his eyes can resolve what it is that he is seeing.
The hanok is silent but not still, it pops and creaks and whispers all around him, obviously old and worn and lived in. He still can’t smell, and there is a restlessness in him, a hum in his bones and blood that makes him want to get up—makes him want to look, even if he’s not sure what he’s looking for.
He pushes himself upright, finds he is mostly bare under the blankets but there is a dark grey robe draped over a nearby chair that Jeongguk slips into and pulls tight around his body, shivering as the wind slips in through the always open window and spirals around him.
He walks out into the hall and begins to wander, no real destination in mind. It almost feels like he is still dreaming, not completely in control of his actions as he is accompanied only by the soft hush of his feet on the highly polished floors.
As empty as the house is, he doesn’t feel alone, and it should be unnerving, but it’s not, just strange. He’s so tired still, but that restlessness has yet to abate, driving him from room to silent room, looking for something he cannot name.
A screened door is open to a back porch, where a figure he recognizes as Jimin sits, his face tilted up as the rain falls softly on the garden, but a moment later he turns, as if sensing Jeongguk’s approach.
“Oh? Is something the matter?”
Jeongguk stares, still not sure if he’s awake.
Jimin frowns at his lack of response, pushing himself to his feet.
“Do you need something, pup?”
Need need, what does Jeongguk need? The word rattles around in him, bones in an old grave. Jimin comes closer, a hand brushes his arm, he needs… he needs…
“Are you even awake?”
Is he? Because Jimin’s hair is midnight and his eyes are gold and in the shadows at the edge of the forest he thinks he sees dark forms moving between the towering bamboo. He looks through his bangs and meets Jimin’s eyes and the hum in his bones and blood quiets, and whatever the other wolf sees there seems to explain.
“Hm, are you still sleeping or are you more awake than you’ve ever been?” He asks in a quiet murmur, stepping forward to take both of Jeongguk’s hands in his. The touch is good, cool and grounding, the slow swipe of Jimin’s thumb over his inner wrist even better. He doesn’t know how to respond, words feeling too much and not enough all at once.
“I’m awake,” he whispers finally, though he’s still not convinced that he is.
“Let’s go inside, pup,” Jimin says softly.
He guides Jeongguk in, sliding the door shut behind him and walking with him to the living room. A fire is crackling in the hearth, and Jimin is sitting with him before it, in a pile of soft cushions and pillows.
“Your wolf is waking,” Jimin explains as they settle, “it probably feels strange, like you aren’t yourself but you are, don’t fight it though, don’t be afraid of it.”
Jeongguk blinks slowly, he’s still so tired, exhausted despite having slept for days. “I’m not afraid,” he says, and finds that that is true.
Jimin smiles, “It would be okay if you were.”
Jeongguk doesn’t know how to respond to that, he shivers slightly, the first whispers of pain starting to invade him as he pulls the hanbok tighter around his shoulders.
“Should I scent you?” Jimin asks, “You can rest here while I make you a meal.”
That sounds divine, and since Jimin doesn’t expect him to speak, he simply nods and holds out an arm, his defenses so low they may as well be nonexistent.
“Good pup,” Jimin praises before he takes Jeongguk’s arm, holding it like he’s made of the finest crystal—no one has ever touched him like that.
Outside the rain falls harder, a heron cries in the pond.
Jimin’s nose brushes over the delicate skin of his forearm, and though Jeongguk cannot smell his scent, the pheromones, the sensation, is enough to have him melting into the pillows, eyes fluttering shut, a little gasp of relief escaping him as the tension and pain melts away and is replaced by a sweet, soft calm.
He floats there, world narrowed down to the slow drag of Jimin’s nose against his skin, the warm breaths that fall across it. The restlessness is gone, replaced by contentment and relief, and then shortly after, a return to slumber.
He wakes to two voices, one is Jimin’s, one he does not know.
“Is that him then?”
“Yes.”
Jimin’s voice is nice, soft and delicate yet not high, something he could listen to for hours and never get tired of.
He wishes Jimin would sing for him again.
“How bad is he?”
“Bad, worse than Yoongi was; he nearly died the first night.”
Are they talking about him? Did he truly almost die? He wants to open his eyes and look, to see if he can see the truth in Jimin’s expression, but his eyelids are heavy and he is already falling back asleep as he listens.
“Is he difficult? I know how wolves from the city can get when they come down with this.”
“No, he’s not difficult.”
Jeongguk wonders if Jimin is lying, if the healer says that about all his patients.
No , something whispers inside of him that he doesn’t yet realize is his wolf; it tells him Jimin isn’t lying, that he hasn’t once, and that he won’t.
Jeongguk comes from a world of liars and fakes, could this one really be any different? But sleep is already pulling him back into its arms as he wonders, and the aftereffects of Jimin’s scenting are still heady in his veins.
He is asleep before he can think on it any further.
◦○☽〇☾○◦
Jimin is a mysterious wolf.
Jeongguk desperately wishes that he could catch even a hint of his scent, frustrated that he can’t get a read on the other wolf based on expressions alone. Not only that, but he isn’t sure what subgender Jimin is, leaving Jeongguk clueless on how to conduct himself around him.
He is inclined to say he’s an omega, if only because he is delicate and lovely with his black hair and refined features—his lips full and inviting-looking, his hands small and soft. But he carries himself differently; he’s very strong, and when he speaks there is a weight to his words that Jeongguk had only experienced with other alphas.
Yet he is so much more than that, he is gentle and endlessly patient, he is well-spoken and well-read. He is so different from everyone in his old life, so quiet and calm. They talk about small things, getting to know each other in little ways that don’t feel invasive or demanding, and Jimin is endlessly kind with his words and actions, something Jeongguk is slowly getting used to.
Not that Namjoon wasn’t kind, but he was often brusque, too busy to be anything else as he rushed from meeting to meeting and deal to deal. Jeongguk had never questioned it, knowing how hard it must have been to shoulder the family business at nineteen, but he had also wished things were different, recalling a time when his brother had been gentler and kinder than the man he had become.
As for everyone else in his life, kindness was never really factored into their treatment of him, and he hadn’t experienced patience since his parents were still alive.
“What are you thinking about, pup?”
He feels odd, like he is in two places at once, or maybe like he is two people in one place. He blinks slowly and tries to find the words to respond to Jimin, but it’s hard and he is tired all the time, and Jimin is beautiful.
And Jimin is beautiful.
The other wolf rises gracefully, his robes are grey like storm clouds and his steps are silent as he walks over and settles onto the edge of Jeongguk’s bed. A cool hand is pressed to his forehead and it’s only then that Jeongguk realizes how warm he is. He leans into the touch as it slips down to cup his cheek for a moment, whining a little when it disappears, and then his arm is being pulled gently into Jimin’s lap as he bends down to scent him.
It’s overwhelming every time—he floats and sinks all at once, blood like velvet and molten gold as Jimin drags his nose down from his wrist all the way to the crook of his elbow, returning slowly, and again Jeongguk wishes he could smell him, wishes he knew what scent it was he drowned in every day.
But it feels rude to ask, so instead he murmurs, words all slurred with comfort and contentment, “How long before I can smell again?”
“Another week, maybe a bit more,” Jimin replies. Jeongguk feels him brush his fingertips over his forehead, realizes his eyes have fallen shut a moment later and forces them open to look at the other wolf.
“Hm…” Jeongguk says, disappointed but resigned.
“Would you like to sleep more pup, or do you want to come to the living room with me?”
“With you,” he replies.
Jimin chuckles, “Okay, I’ll get you set up with some tea to bring your fever down. Do you have any pain?”
How could he be in pain after being scented? He can barely feel his own body, “No,” he whispers.
“Good,” Jimin says as he reaches down and takes both of Jeongguk’s hands in his, “let’s get you settled.”
Jeongguk falls asleep in the living room, listening to Jimin read while nestled in a pile of blankets and pillows, an empty cup of tea tumbling harmlessly from his hands and onto the rug beneath it.
◦○☽〇☾○◦
“I think you’re well enough to move out of the sick room and into your own space,” Jimin says one afternoon. “I can get you set up in the spare bedroom across from mine… or if you’d prefer, I can find you accommodations in the village.”
His wolf growls at him for offering, but it is what Jimin has always done, and Jeongguk deserves to know his options. He watches the younger man, trying not to let it show that he hopes he’ll stay, if only because Jimin likes his company and his laugh and it’s nice sharing tea with someone in the evening instead of sitting alone and looking into the shadows of the forest.
Jeongguk picks at the hem of his sleeve, glancing up shyly through his lashes before looking back down, “I’d like to stay, I think,” he whispers. “At least for now.”
“Okay,” Jimin agrees, glad the other alpha can’t pick up on how his scent sweetens at the news. “Let me get your things and we’ll get you settled, then we can talk about finding you some clothes of your own to wear.”
“I like the robes,” Jeongguk admits, “they’re comfortable.”
“Compared to those suits you wear? I’m sure,” Jimin replies with a smile.
“Do I owe you for anything?” Jeongguk asks as they move his things, “Money I mean… there’s rent and food and medicine...”
Jimin waves a dismissive hand in the air, “None of that now, Namjoon paid me up front when he arrived and that is more than enough. And you are far too pleasant of company for me to demand money from.”
He watches the other alpha blush, “No one has ever told me that before.”
Jimin hums, “Well, you are, so please don’t worry about owing me anything, okay? I’m happy to take care of you.”
His wolf agrees completely.
◦○☽〇☾○◦
Chelsea McGough- Distant Water
Sometimes Jeongguk hears other visitors arriving in the hanok. Some come for medicine or advice, but others come simply to talk, and while he is never privy to the topic of discussion, he gets that sense that Jimin is well-liked.
Jeongguk thinks that’s appropriate, since Jimin is the kindest person he’s ever met.
Their days have a quiet routine to them now, as Jeongguk builds up his strength again. Every day is a little better, but he often still feels confused and overwhelmed, like he is two people in one place, each vying to stand where the other is. His fever is perpetual—low but constant, and his bones ache dully every day, but Jimin scents him still, with a sort of aching gentleness that Jeongguk clings to because he cannot recall a time he’s been given anything like it before. He wants to ask if they can abandon the wrists and scent at the neck; wants that intimacy, that nearness.
But more than anything he wants to know Jimin’s scent.
There is something in him that is hyper-focused on the older wolf, something in him that almost sings when he hears the tell-tale hush of Jimin’s feet on the polished wood floors. He might be lost and adrift in a place he doesn’t know, healing from an illness that has changed the course of his life, but with Jimin nearby he feels grounded, safe in the knowledge that he isn’t alone.
His body still aches some days, the pain radiating through his bones and leaving him breathless and shaking, blinking back tears he’s unable to stop. The only thing that helps is Jimin’s presence and being scented regularly, and he spends days like that adrift, waking only when the pain becomes too much or when he needs to eat or drink.
It’s on one of those bad days that Namjoon appears, unannounced and broad in the doorway, looking out of place on the hanok porch in his grey, Western-style suit and his black hair combed and slicked back.
Jeongguk is ensconced in the makeshift bed Jimin has created for him, curled up and small as his bones feel like they’re expanding past the size of his frame. A sharp knock on the door startles him, breaking apart the afternoon and shocking Jeongguk out of his almost slumber as Jimin rises with a sigh.
“Who would knock like that, honestly?” Jimin smiles down at him as he walks past, “Sorry that startled you pup, hopefully this won’t take too long.”
Jeongguk blinks in agreement, wanting nothing more than to go back to napping and being alone with Jimin, but then the sound of his brother’s voice causes him to wake fully.
“Joon?” He whispers as he pushes himself to his feet. He’s missed his brother so much these last couple of weeks, and hearing him now is like satisfying a need he didn’t know he had.
“Little brother,” Namjoon says in greeting as he rounds the corner, “gods it’s good to see you.”
And though they haven’t hugged in years, Jeongguk throws himself into his brother’s arms, relief coursing through him when he doesn’t hesitate to catch him and pull him close.
“Hello,” Jeongguk whispers, wishing he could catch even a whiff of Namjoon’s bergamot scent. He doesn’t reply right away, and for a moment Jeongguk fears he’s overstepped some boundary. They don’t touch like this anymore after all, not since they were children.
But then he’s being pulled closer and arms are tightening around him, and everything is okay again.
“Hello yourself,” Joon whispers, voice a little choked, “how are you?”
“Better,” Jeongguk says sincerely, “not all the way yet, but better.”
Relief warms his brother’s gaze, “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Come,” Jimin says gently from the doorway, “let’s sit, I’ll make us some tea.”
They settle in the kitchen and it’s strange seeing Namjoon here in his Western-style suit with his Western-style hair. It makes Jeongguk feel oddly unsettled, like there is no room in Serein for wool jackets and silk ties and oxfords. Through the window he catches a glimpse of the heron, it tilts its head to the side as if considering, then takes off into the sky on noisome wings as Jeongguk takes a seat at the table.
Jimin sets the kettle onto the stove top and coaxes the embers in the grate back to life.
“So,” Namjoon leans forward, expression eager, “if you’re already improving, that perhaps means you were not as ill as we initially thought?” He glances over at Jimin, expression hopeful, “Is it possible that he could come home again?”
Jimin’s hands still over the tea leaves as he casts a glance at Jeongguk, who has let his gaze fall to his hands, his fingers twisted together anxiously.
“Joon,” he says softly, not wishing to hurt his brother but needing him to understand at the same time, “I’m not… even if I could go back, I wouldn’t.”
The silence in the kitchen is big, deep—the deep end of a lake waiting to hold him in its embrace, the sky miles-deep with clouds. Jimin is still unmoving, his eyes wide and sympathetic as he nods encouragingly at Jeongguk to continue.
His voice shakes a little when he speaks, but he knows he needs to say this, so he pushes onward, “I was never happy back home, Joon… and you knew this but what could we do? What other choice did we have? You always said it was sink or swim and I know that… but it still felt like drowning.”
He drags his gaze up from the worn grain of the table and the veins and lines of his hands and he continues, “I never fit in, no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much we fought.” His brother gives a humorless laugh, but Jeongguk forges on, undeterred, “You knew I wasn’t happy and I don’t think you really want me to go back there and lead a life that I was never fit for…” he trails off and takes a deep breath. “I think you just don’t want to face it alone, and I don’t blame you.”
“So… that’s it then? My only family is leaving me?” Namjoon asks, and the bitterness in his tone hurts.
“I’m not leaving you, I’m leaving a life that was killing me. Hyung, I’m tired and in pain every day but it’s still better than what I faced back there.”
“Were you truly so miserable?” Namjoon asks, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Jimin slips from the kitchen to give them some privacy, and though Jeongguk appreciates the gesture, he finds himself wishing for the other wolf to come back. He knows this is a conversation better kept between him and his brother, though, so he pushes on, deciding honesty would be the best option, no matter how badly it hurt.
“Yes, hyung,” he whispers, “I was. And I didn’t say anything because what good would it have done? What would you have done if I’d told you I hated literally everything about the life you had worked so hard to ensure we had?” He scoffs and shakes his head, “Joon-hyung, I couldn’t do that to you.”
“I—” Namjoon seems to be at a loss, floundering for words that typically come so easily to him, “I don’t know what to say, Jeonggguk-ah.”
“How about this?” Jeongguk asks, leaning forward all eager—eager because he loves his brother so much and he doesn’t want to leave him any more than he wants to go back. “You come here?”
Namjoon stares at him for several long seconds, expression unreadable, and then he bursts into incredulous laughter. “Me?” He asks eventually, tone colored with disbelief, “In a place like this?”
Jeongguk frowns, because he truly doesn’t see a single thing wrong with Serein—valley or village. “Yes?” He replies, “Don’t tell me you couldn’t run things from here—most of what you do involves letters and legal documents anyway, it’s not like there aren’t lords and merchants who don’t run their affairs from estates outside of the city, what’s different about this?”
“Jeongguk, it isn’t that simple.”
“Isn’t it though?” He asks, “Why can’t you? What’s keeping you there?”
“My life?” Namjoon replies as though he can’t believe Jeongguk is even asking. “Everything I’ve fought for, everything our parents worked toward, the physical proof of every battle we fought and won, that’s what there is, Jeongguk.”
Jeongguk thinks about the cold stone house with its impartial facade and stylish, soulless rooms. He thinks about the carriage, the fountain Namjoon had been so proud to have installed.
“Look, just because you don’t care about your life doesn’t mean I don’t,” Namjoon leans forward, jaw tight and gaze intense. “I’m sure you think it’s easy because you haven’t had to be at home, weathering the fallout of you leaving, the gossip and rumors and visitors prying just trying to get a glimpse of you—”
“I don’t think nearly dying is easy,” Jeongguk says quietly, “I don’t think waking up in pain is easy, or that being weak and unable to walk further than the back porch is easy. Healing isn’t easy, hyung, especially when it’s not just illness I’m recovering from, but a lifetime of sadness and neglect. And please don’t say I didn’t care, because I did… I do…” He looks up and hopes that Namjoon can see the love in his gaze, even if he is too uncertain to say it out loud.
They stare at each other for a long time.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Namjoon says eventually, “I am not willing to uproot my entire life and abandon everything I’ve struggled for.”
Not even for me? Jeongguk wants to ask, but he bites his tongue and nods, “Okay hyung,” he says eventually, the exhaustion and pain creeping up on him yet again. He wants to retreat to his room, to have Jimin scent him and sing to him and to slip back into the waiting arms of slumber. The kettle is boiling gently now, but Jimin is nowhere in sight, and Jeongguk is done.
He didn’t really expect his brother to pick him over the city, but a small part of him had hoped for a miracle regardless. All his life he wanted Namjoon to choose him, and he never had—he knows today will be no different.
“I’m tired,” he whispers, “I’d like to sleep now.”
“What?” Namjoon asks, “Jeongguk-ah…”
“I think you should go, hyung,” Jeongguk says quietly, the weight of his words feeling like lead in his chest. He’s never dismissed his brother before, “you’re staying at the inn for the night, right?” He glances up and sees Namjoon give him a blank-faced nod. “Maybe we can have breakfast? Talk more?”
“I don’t know what else there is to talk about,” Namjoon replies.
“Right,” Jeongguk sighs and nods, “of course.” He pushes himself to his feet, “Well in that case…”
“Are you really telling me to leave? I’m your brother, your hyung—I made this trip to—”
“To tell me I am no more your number one priority now than I was before,” Jeongguk interrupts, tone bitter.
“Jeongguk that isn’t true!” Namjoon snarls, his whole posture changing, “I did everything for you, to make sure you were happy, to make sure you were safe!”
“And I still almost died!” Jeongguk snaps back, tears pricking his eyes because he is so, so tired and the last thing he wants to do is fight with his family. “I might have been a good actor but do you ever wonder if it was just because you were seeing what you wanted to see?”
“I can’t stand here and listen to this,” Namjoon rakes a hand through his hair and begins to pace, “not after everything I did. Are you really so ungrateful?”
“I didn’t want you to do those things!” The floodgates break and it comes pouring out, Jeongguk unable to stop it. “I didn’t want the house or the clothes or the carriage, I didn’t want the invites and the parties and the servants! I wanted my brother ! So no, I'm not grateful, not when the person I grew up beside has been replaced by whoever is standing in front of me now!”
They stare at each other, glaring and shaking. Jeongguk can only imagine the bitterness of their scents, the tension in the air as two angry alphas glare their rage at each other.
“Namjoon-ssi, I think it’s for the best if you return to the inn, at least for the evening.”
Jimin’s soft voice shatters the tension as he steps into the room and though he is considerably smaller than Namjoon, his presence is so much larger and commanding, seeming to fill out the confines of the kitchen until he occupies every inch of available space. “This is a conversation that should be had when both parties are well-rested, not when one is still ill and the other has been traveling for days.” He glances between the two of them, “We can stop by come morning and talk more then, if Jeongguk is feeling up to it.”
“I’ll be leaving at first light,” Namjoon replies, voice all hard stone and cold rain, “there is business to attend to in the city.”
Jeongguk bites back a resigned sigh, but he’s sure his scent betrays his disappointment. His brother’s gaze softens momentarily as he takes his defeated posture in, but then it hardens again just as quickly.
“I hope you continue to recover well, Jeongguk.” All fondness and brotherly affection now gone, “I’ll endeavor to return when I can.”
He doesn’t bother replying, doesn’t bother walking Namjoon to the door, he just listens as his only family leaves him behind yet again, and he wonders when everything will stop hurting quite so much.
His chest is heaving with his breathless words and his body aches and he’s sure his scent must be going haywire as Jimin finally, finally reappears. “Hyung,” he says miserably, one hand extending out towards the healer because right now he feels adrift and alone and he doesn’t want to be anymore.
Fingers graze his hand and instantly Jeongguk relaxes as Jimin pulls him into his arms. “You’re okay,” he says gently, “you did so well, speaking up for yourself like that. And hyung is so, so proud.”
Jeongguk tries to imagine a world where Namjoon says something like that to him and comes up empty. He’ll never make his brother proud, and at this point he needs to accept it.
“Jeongguk?” Jimin’s voice interrupts his spiral, pulls him back out of the blackness and back to the warm living room and the smell of tea. He looks up, jaw clenched against the waves of pain that are intensifying, almost like his wolf is reacting to the thought of going back by fighting.
It’s fought so much already, and Jeongguk is so, so tired.
“Please,” he whispers, unsure what he asks for, only knowing that it is Jimin who can give it to him.
The other wolf’s eyes sweep over him, and then he is lowering himself to his knees at his side, “Do you need me to scent you?” He asks, “Tell me, what do you need?”
“Yes,” Jeongguk whispers, shuddering because it hurts, it hurts like something is trying to claw its way out of him, “please I—”
“Okay, pup,” Jimin soothes as he reaches for his hand, “I’ve got you.”
But then Jeongguk is baring his neck without even thinking, something he’s been told never to do for another wolf, except he trusts Jimin, he knows Jimin would never look down on him for hurting, for needing comfort when he’s had so little all his life.
“Your throat? Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he pleads, “I’m sure.”
Jimin studies him for a few moments, then leans down slowly, as though expecting Jeongguk to change his mind or pull away, but he doesn’t, he’s wanted this for days now, every part of him crying out for comfort.
Then every part of him is melting, the world slipping away into sweet oblivion as Jimin’s nose brushes down his throat and he drowns in pheromones. His eyes flutter shut and his body uncurls, and it feels like he can breathe again for the first time in years. He inhales deeply, not even realizing he’s nuzzling back until a gentle hand comes up to hold his chin, stopping him from unconsciously scenting Jimin back.
Namjoon is gone, both from the house and from his thoughts. His pain has evaporated, and there is something in him, rumbling and content, and it takes him a long while to realize it is him, making a sound he’s never made before.
Jimin pulls back a minute later and Jeongguk blinks up at him, the sound stuttering to halt as he presses a hand to his chest, “What is this?” He asks quietly, “I’ve never…”
Jimin smiles sadly, “That’s the sound of a happy wolf, Jeongguk.”
“Oh,” he whispers, "I didn't know.”
Jimin heaves a sigh and goes to rise, but Jeongguk doesn’t want him to, and right now apparently he is giving into impulse and instinct because he wraps a gentle hand around Jimin’s wrist without saying a word. All he does is look at him and hopes he understands.
He seems to, at least enough to settle beside him, “Your brother means well, I’m sure, but I wanted to fight him, just a little.”
Jeongguk smiles tiredly, “He does mean well, he’s just… he’s always made sure he fits in, and he seems happy with it, the life we had there. He loves me a lot, and it makes it hard for him.”
“What about you?” Jimin asks, “How are you feeling?”
Jeongguk blinks, sleepy and muddled by the scenting but wanting to talk to Jimin still, so he forces the words out around a yawn, “I was serious when I said I never fit in there, not like him.” His eyes slip shut despite his best efforts and he sighs, “I’m curious what living is like, now that I might have a chance to do it.”
“You will,” Jimin replies, “I promise.”