Archive of Our Own

i. and running is all you know, for they've made a prey out of you.

Jimin's feet catch on the uneven ground, his axis tilting forward faster than he can prevent. His body tilts forward, falling ruinously.

The impact pushes a cry from him, a breathy whimper Jimin can barely suppress.

His hands burn fiercely enough to be numb, knees bloody where he stands, rocks and pine-needles sticking to the skin. 

Biting down on his lips, sniffling at the sight of his reddened and scraped palms, Jimin must force himself to keep going.

His legs are shaky, unsteady, but he's running soon again without thinking about it. Every time his feet fall on the ground he's expecting another fall, his legs too weak and his muscles burning.

As it is, Jimin can barely control his body, praying for every inch he covers not to be the last.

He cannot afford it to be.

The tree branches cut through his skin as he moves past them, trying to hold him back. Sweat covers his skin, dust and mud sticking to it like a vain armor. It shields him not from the obstacles on the way, it would not hold back those who chase him.

Jimin runs through a forest he barely knows, his lungs and throat burning and yet icy cold. The night all around is wet, chilly, and the clouds above are so thick there's barely any light. Although—even if there was any—the tree's canopy is so thick none would filter through.

So Jimin runs and he runs without wasting thoughts on his surroundings and his pain. Breathless and exhausted, adrenaline pumping like a drug in his veins. He dreads the moment that won't be enough any more, but still pushes himself to the limits of his boy and then some. The time will come none of it will be enough anymore, it is just a matter of when and how far he can get by then.

Veering to the right, avoiding the river for how tempting its call is, Jimin tries to think faster than those who chase after him. He needs to find a place to hide, and find it soon.

They are close, covering more ground than Jimin can hope to cross before it's too late.

He tries his best not to slow down, but the darkness forces him to as his eyes skim through the thick maze of trees. There's nothing for as far as he can see. There hasn't been anything for miles and hours now.

And yet there must be a way, a place for him to take cover in at least for a while. Jimin hardly has big hopes, but he cannot die this soon in the hunt. Then again, he's well aware that would make no difference at all. Just another body sacrificed to their laws, a name crossed on their long list, cast away in their archives.

The thought is enough for anger to burn within Jimin, just enough to push him through the forest. He has to slow down again though, forced to by his own body. It caves in against his control, bending over when pushed too far.

Grinding his teeth, Jimin fights the urge to lean on the trees as he moves past them. He cannot afford leaving traces of his passage, not any more than he must have already.

Swallowing the bile that rises to his mouth at the thought, Jimin prays he won't be their first target. It is sickening to think so, but even as his stomach twists and his guts wrench, he cannot take back the thought.

Despite the looming inevitability of it all, Jimin will pray and fight for even one more breath.

So he moves forward, never stopping even once he's significantly slowed down. By now, he's dragging his body, one arm hugging his bruised middle, every breath coming short and ragged. Something hurts, sharp and deep within him. Like a dagger lodged in his side, it sinks deeper with every breath he takes—whenever his ribs enlarge to allow more cold air in his lungs.

It is not much after slowing down for good that he hears them. Howls and roars carrying on the thick air, omens of what's to come.

They are close, maybe only a few miles from him. They're close, and yet—despite the blood rushing and roaring in his veins—Jimin cannot bring himself to go any faster than he is.

He just can't.

His eyes prickle, frustration making his nose curl and itch.

They're close, and Jimin finds himself looking up at the thick trees. It is reckless and dangerous, possibly the worst decision he could take, but he's too tired to move on. And they're close. Jimin can almost feel them breathing down his neck, laughing and mocking, snapping their jaws at him.

His lips twist, teeth grinding. Those beasts will catch up with him soon, and there's little he can do. His eyes keep darting up, searching with urging desperation. They skim through the forest, jumping from one tall tree to the other until he seems to find one not too far away. He rushes to it, breathless, stumbling over his feet until he's nearly crashing into it. He doesn't care, biting down his lip and sniffling. The trunk is large, almost twice as big as he is. The branches are not too low, just within reach if he tries hard enough.

Jimin doesn't let himself hesitate or wonder or think.

He's been climbing trees like this all his life, back home where he would hide from patrol and his mother alike. Feeling his nose prickling and stinging in that peculiar telling way, Jimin shakes his head to clear his mind.

The thoughts of home linger at the back of his mind, staying with him as Jimin climbs the tree the highest he can reach. Once he stands steady enough on a large bough, his head throws back, and he pensively nibbles down his bottom lip. There's some higher he could reach, if only he could make it far enough to the left, stretch just that tiny bit more.

Despite the voices shouting with cautious warning, Jimin tries.

He ignores the bruises and wounds on his body, and the weakness of his limbs as he tries to secure himself. He ignores all the warning signs why this might as well be the signing of his demise. Of all, though, he cannot ignore the sounds from down below.

Noises of cracking twigs and branches, of heavy boots falling onto the ground. Crunching leaves and tossed rocks. There's more than just one, Jimin cannot tell how many at first for he can't see them yet through the night.

He presses himself to the trunk, holding his breath and looking down. His heart pounds, so loud he's sure they will hear. And they can, they could. For at least some of them have senses keen enough.

Jimin can only wishfully hope there's none like that among those approaching.

They're not too far from where he is, and he can hear them talking and barking at one another, snarling viciously even when they're joined in the hunt.

Jimin hears them, but it's only faint background noises when blood rushes in his ears still.

He goes cold all over when catching the first glimpse of them. Just confused shapes meters below, dark and melding into the darkness. But they're big, larger than anyone should be allowed. Some have tails swaying behind their legs, some other large ears on top of their heads.

Jimin can't see them quite clearly, but he's sure most must have talons and fangs, weapons to tear through skin and bones. They're bred to hunt and kill after all, and he's their prey tonight, sport for them to keep their instincts keen and sharp.

They're here for him, there's no doubt.

Jimin's hands are clammy with sweat, trembling until his grip is made unsteady. His eyes squeeze shut, forehead pressing to the bark. He cannot let them find him, not yet, not like this—in a trap of his own making.

They keep on walking, quieter than just moments before.

Jimin holds his breath, dares looking down but not moving a muscle lest they might hear him. They're walking just under the tree he's on, slow, so painfully slow. The first—what looks like their lead—moves past the tree and he's soon out of Jimin's sight. Then another and two more until all are past the tree.

Still Jimin doesn't dare breathe too deeply, still keeping as quiet as he possibly can. They're still lingering, still too close even as they walk away. His fingers press into the rough bark, numb by how hard he's holding on. They're sweaty, aching, and his grip slips. He's barely balancing himself, body swaying. His stomach drops, everything cold and numb. Not even his heart dares beating too loud. It is only for a moment, something in him reacting faster than any other sense—maybe sheer desperation taking over. And yet the faintest sort of sound was made, the scraping of his boots on the bark, the scratching of his nails on it, the hitching of his breath. Jimin could never possibly know, but they do. One of them must've heard something, for they all stop, everything going quiet.

Although it is pointless, Jimin can't stop himself from glancing down their way.

They stand only a few paces away, staring up at him already.

Their gazes are firm, unwavering.

For a moment, none moves nor speaks, they all just stare.

Then, one licks his lips, moves forward, and grins.

"There you are, little thing," he mocks, his voice rough as it carries in the night. His neck is craned all the way back, bending to its limit as he makes a point of looking at Jimin. His upper lip curls, thick and pointy teeth shining even in the darkness.

He bears no visible trait, and Jimin isn't sure he wants to know what—exactly—the hybrid is. All that matters is that it found its prey in the human. Served on a silver plate and handed to him.

"We were just thinking we might've lost you," he continues, moving until he's standing right next to the tree. Jimin can barely see him clearly, but doesn't really need to. He's close, and that's all that matters. "The sneaky little thing that came this far."

"C'mon, Cheoksil, stop playing with food."

Jimin shivers, his body trembling.

His sight blurs, but he can't even afford that much. They will try to climb, and he needs to find a way to make it out of here alive. Swiftly—almost hysterically—he glances at the nearby trees. Too thin and far away for him to jump on, way out of reach.

There's four of them he can see, and there's only so much he can do against even just one hybrid. He could kick one down, maybe stab another with the dagger he stole, but there's four and he's far too weak to stand a chance. Still, he braces himself. Slowly and carefully, he shifts. Now that back presses to the trunk and he's steadier on his feet, Jimin's right hand reaches for the knife hooked in the belt of his trousers. There's only so much it can do, but feeling its hilt against his scratched palm gives a pretense of comfort he's desperately latching onto.

Below, the hybrids are barking out rough laughs and crass jokes Jimin barely catches. Still, among it all, he starts to come to an understanding. Some time has gone by, and still none has dared climbing to him. Not the sharp-teethed one and neither the one who spoke next. They call out to him, tell him to come down, but none climbs up the thick trunk.

Foolishly and recklessly, it has a certain hope blooming in Jimin's chest. It won't keep him safe long, but—at least in the immediacy of this moment—all the hybrids do is taunt him.

Ignoring them is easy enough, and he's safe for now.

Still he doesn't dare look away from them, and is far from indulging their taunts and calls. Their comments have his skin crawling, his stomach turning, but his lips are pressed tight, hand clutching the dagger like it's his safe-line.

It goes on long enough that Jimin almost starts to believe they won't climb the tree at all. Some of them walk away and then come back, some others pace around the tree, another hits it hard enough for the trunk to shake. Still all they do is successfully intimidate Jimin, but never making a move further than that. Whether it's to savor their game or to play with him some longer, Jimin doesn't care.

He forces himself to keep on breathing, to study them in search of a weak spot, and never lets himself lose track of any.

For a while, they keep on taunting and mocking him, until the steady and continuous flow of their overlapping voices becomes somehow reassuring. One—what looks like a bear hybrid with its large build and round ears—even tries to climb on the tree at a certain point.

Jimin's heart is safely lodged at the base of his throat as he stares down at him, counting every beat in his chest as they pound through him. Of all, the bear hybrid is the one with the highest chances to succeed. Yet his fall to the ground halfway up is ruinous enough to discourage him from trying again. The others laugh at him, someone hits and shoulders the trunk hard enough for Jimin to almost slip and fall himself. Still they give up soon enough, but do comment on the possibility of cutting the tree, eradicate it maybe.

It is as the idea takes form among them, barked out through someone's laugh but taking root in their devious minds, that a sound comes from afar. It is a loud and tearing shout, clawing its way through the night. It is the cry of a dying beast, the last wail before death.

It chills the blood in Jimin's veins, cold shivers running down his spine as his head jerks to its direction.

Down below, the small pack of hybrids is just as tense and wary as he is. They hush one another into silence, their heads turning and stance shifting.

Jimin glances down at them, staring at the crowns of their matted hair, and he knows they're scared too. They nudge one another, pushing the closest by forward until they're stumbling and snarling back. Still, in the end, it is a relatively scrawny hybrid that's singled out of their fidgeting group.

Jimin has no chance to identify what sort of hybrid he is. He doesn't even try. And that is both to blame on his lack of interest on the matter, and on the new sound that comes tearing through the night. It is another shout, rageful and bold. It comes with a snarling, and they must not be too far away.

Jimin's throat clicks as he swallows dry, desperate to hear more, to understand what sort of horrors are unfolding in the darkness. To no avail he tries, for soon another wailing comes, a weak and pitiful snarl that hints on how close they must be.

At the back of his mind, a voice keeps whispering deliriously to him. It would be hard to tell what would be worse, a hybrid fighting other hybrids, or so many humans falling at the hands of one. Whichever one it is, the pack standing under him doesn't seem happy either.

They're discussing among themselves. Hushed tones and confused words. Jimin cannot hope to understand what's being said, and yet it seems clear enough to him. In the end, it is that same scrawny hybrid that's made to scout for their group. Sent straight into the open jaws of whatever is fast approaching. And yet, despite the chilling certainty it must be coming closer, the forest is eerily silent once the pack has gone quiet.

The scrawny hybrid tries to fight his fate, to build whatever sort of justification to spare himself. They laugh and mock him, calling him weak and demeaning words Jimin doesn't bother catching. He watches them from above, and can't make up his mind on what's to happen next. Any possible course of events seems to lead to doom, if not for far fetched eventualities he doesn't dare wish upon. So he stares at the hybrid's back as he enters the cloak of darkness all around them, trying to hold himself straight and steady but still betraying his fear.

In some twisted way, Jimin feels vindicated by the sight of him so tensely approaching what's ahead and what's unknown. Still, it brings him little joy when—not much later than they've lost him—another screeching sound is heard. It fades in the night, muffled and strangled, cut off abruptly.

Shuddering, Jimin looks away from the darkness.

It was too soon, too close.

"He was waiting for us," someone from below utters, voicing a thought they all must share.

Jimin glances down, his clammy hand clutching the dagger's hilt in vain. He finds no relief in his hunters becoming now prey, if not a smudge of wicked and bitter amusement at the irony of it all. The chances were low, but, alas…

The pack starts talking low under their breaths, tense and wary of one another. Whatever weak bond that kept them together is now crumbling under Jimin's eyes, pitifully so.

Wetting his lips, glancing at the path that brought him this far up, he lets a thought take form in his head. It would be dangerous, maybe too risky, but it's the only chance he's gonna have. Whatever lurks in the darkness will focus on the hybrids first, maybe enough for it not to even notice Jimin. He'll only have a short and frail window of time, but it's all he's gonna have. Feeling his guts twisting and his throat tight, anxiety making his mind numb, Jimin tries his best not to think about all that could possibly go wrong. It's so many things, too many for him to waste any second after.

There's just no time for that, none as the forest lets them know something is moving through it.

"He's playing with us."

Someone curses, more than just one.

"Hey, you!" What must be their leader yells, his voice carrying a certain edge to it. "Any thoughts about coming down?"

The bear hybrid elbows him, muttering something under his breath harshly.

Whatever it is, it must be enough to make him change his mind. His head shakes no with a curse, a grumbling barely contained.

Some noise comes again, the ruffling of branches and cracking of twigs. Whatever is taunting them seems to be growing bored, impatient. It's circling them, making sure they know there's no way for them to run.

Jimin swallows thickly, the sounds coming closer and closer and yet he cannot see anything past the trees and darkness.

Below, one of the hybrids shouts another curse, stalking forward. The others don't try to hold him back, staring at his back for the short seconds until it is gone in the darkness. Jimin's sure they must see better than he does, and yet some can't hide the flinch when flash is torn and bones break. The screams echo in Jimin's ears, so loud and so close he cannot hear anything past them for a long while.

"We're playing right into his game."

Jimin hates agreeing, but it would be hard and foolish not to. One after the other, the hybrid takes out each of its preys as they walk straight into its trap. Jimin would call them all fools, if not for the way he knows fear makes you lose all reason. He's been there before, and it was fear that brought him here too, stuck on this tree with no certainty the next hybrid won't take its chances and climb. 

From somewhere, a camera must be looking at him, and people behind a screen must be laughing at his fate.

"Then, what do you suggest?" 

It is a barely contained shout from below, sharp and strained by nerves.

Someone gives out a nervous laugh, a cackle that breaks through the night. Yet they all seem to know what their only chance is, their numbers still enough to favor their luck.

Jimin watches—his hands sweaty and shaking, mind reeling—as they all seem to come to the same conclusion as him. One glances up, their gazes meeting.

Jimin shudders, but doesn't look away.

It would be hard to hide his own intentions, no fool would miss it and neither does the hybrid below him. Still, it flashes a grin at Jimin, tongue licking its fangs like he's already savoring the taste of blood and flesh.

Jimin shudders, his guts in knots. His hand twitches around the hilt, feeling it digging in his skin. Then the hybrid is looking away, stalking into the waiting darkness.

Jimin doesn't let himself hesitate then. There's four of them against one, the odds clear enough despite everything. He's only got so much time to climb down the tree and run as fast and as far away as he possibly can.

His footing is unsteady, grip slippery and body boneless. Still—somehow—he makes it halfway down the tree before he hears the first shout. He ignores it, the call for their taunter to come out, and the cracking of bones, the broken screams and the breaking branches as chaos seems to reign where he cannot see.

Jimin urges himself, trying to estimate how much left he got but to no avail. He cannot waste time after useless calculations, scolding himself to be faster, to get down before they'll all be dead.

The moment his feet touch the ground it is like springs are popping up underneath him, pushing him into a breathless run. Far from the wailing and shouting hybrids, from the barking and snarling. He runs from death itself, ignoring the pain and the strain for he would rather die of it than falling into someone's sick game. So he runs and runs, but there's nowhere for him to go.

His legs bring him to a clearing, the moonlight falling down on him like a balm. His eyes squint, his run slowing down on its own.

Rustling and cracks come from ahead of him, his heart stuttering and body freezing on the spot. His mind reels, running miles a second. He's still holding the dagger, in the foolish hope it would be enough.

Fleetingly, he thinks it cannot be the one he's running from. But it's only a fleeting thought, crumbling away when someone runs breathlessly into the clearing. He stops, frozen as well. A deer caught in headlights. Jimin hears his blood rushing through his veins, and yet he knows it is not a hybrid that stares open eyed at him.

Swallowing, throat clicking. Jimin's head shakes no. He doesn't utter a sound, but his chin nods to the right.

The boy—not even a man, a kid, really—trembles as he moves. His eyes flick past Jimin's shoulder, then to the way he nodded.

His Adam's apple bobs, he hesitantly nods. 

He's clutching something in one hand, Jimin can't quite make out what it is. He doesn't bother with it, watching as the boy runs away, fast and light on his feet.

Staring straight ahead, Jimin turns to the left, praying it is the right decision to make. On the left, though, the river runs its course.

Enough time has gone by, and he can only hope it is now safe enough. Close to the river, he knows, there's higher chances to find a place where to hide. Just about as many as being found by a hybrid and killed like a fool. For only fools seek the river's false refuge and safety, only fools keep close to the only source of water like they'd live long enough to need it.

Jimin thought himself no fool, but, alas.

He hears the water before even seeing the water stream. He hears the water and nothing else. Somehow, it works like a wicked spell on him. Although Jimin knows he cannot trust his senses, not when they're much duller of those who hunt him, he still falls for the false pretense. And it's too late when he regrets it.

Crouching by the river, looming over a disfigured body, a large figure is what he sees first. Its head snaps around, hearing Jimin before the human can even register the other's presence.

He stands slowly, the human frozen in his place.

"Look what the night brought to me," he muses, licking the blood from his lips, a large, lupine tail swaying behind his legs. "It must be my lucky day."

Jimin shivers, but doesn't fall prey to the thought of stepping back. Cowering would be pointless, only giving more entertainment to his new hunter. So, swallowing thickly despite the dryness of his throat, Jimin holds his ground while holding the dagger tightly.

The hybrid notices soon enough, glancing down at it, tongue clicking in disdain.

"What do you have there?"

He takes a step forward, crossing the small distance between them. The river roars behind him, almost as loud as Jimin's own heart.

"The little whore got himself a toy."

The words are cold water falling on him, washing over his body and leaving behind shivers and numbness. They're just words, the taunts he's heard for a long while now.

Jimin's chin holds high, his eyes on the approaching hybrid.

"Do you even know how to use that, little whore?"

Grinding his teeth, glaring at the snickering hybrid, Jimin still fights his body not to take a step back. It is hard, every other part of himself urging him to run.

He doesn't. He knows this one, the grey wolf who loved how soft he was under his calloused palms. Never quite the smartest, but the most eager to have his way with Jimin in the dungeon.

So, when his large hand snaps to clutch around Jimin's arm and tugs him harshly, he doesn't fight it. His teeth grind, his lips twist as pain shoots through him, but he doesn't fight it. And he doesn't fight it when the hybrid comes closer, his breath fanning hotly against Jimin's skin. The stench of blood is so thick it has Jimin's stomach churning, bile rising to his mouth. But even as his lips press tight, he doesn't pull away nor flinch when the hybrid's tongue runs wetly along his cheek, streaking saliva and blood on his skin. The sticky and wet feeling nearly has Jimin caving, pushing away and bend over to empty his stomach. Bile burns through his throat, his insides queasy and nauseous, but still he doesn't pull away first.

The hybrid seems rather pleased with it, humming to himself while he laps over Jimin's lips. "You still taste as sweet." He pries his way past the seal of Jimin's mouth, forcing him into a kiss that tastes like a stranger's blood.

Rather than a kiss it is the one sided slotting and moving of lips, the licking of his large tongue and biting of pointy teeth. For all his efforts not to pull away, Jimin's jaw clenches and his teeth grind through the kiss. So much so that the hybrid soon grows tired and frustrated with it, pulling away and shoving Jimin toward the river.

He is rough enough for the human to fall, his feet catching on the uneven ground and his body too weak to avoid the fall. His scraped knees hit the soil, pain shooting through his nerves. His fingers dig into the dirt, feeling it underneath his nails as he holds onto it tightly. Behind him, the hybrid barks out a mocking laugh, spewing words Jimin doesn't bother listening to. It is all the same, every time. All he does pick, though, is that one filthy endearing term. That 'little whore' so often moaned or grunted in his ears.

His hand, wet with blood and scorching hot, falls on Jimin like it belongs there. The touch creeps from his ankle to his calf, successfully stopping him from the vain attempt to get away. Jimin's fingers dig new burrows into the grounds, the hand dragging him back roughly.

"You're just as soft as I remember."

Despite all his efforts, Jimin can't fight those words that make him flinch and tense up. The reaction is visceral, immediate. His buts twist and tighten, contorting on itself until it's a knotted mess and he's fighting the urge to empty his stomach.

The hand is soon joined by another, raking up his thighs and finding a place on his hips.

Kneeling on the ground, exposed to the hybrid, there's no way for Jimin to gain the upper hand. His hand still clutches the knife, but it's a toy in a child's hand as fear paralyzes him.

Still, the hybrid won't take his chances, one hand grabbing his wrist and forcing Jimin to relent his grip. He fights against it, making the man pry each one of his fingers open even at the cost of having them broken. The hybrid's tongue clicks with annoyance at his vain but stubborn fight, large body pressing down on Jimin in their struggle, so heavy he can no longer hold himself up. The impact with the ground is such that it pushes all air from him, the pain enough for his clutch to relent at last.

With tears burning at the corners of his eyes, Jimin can only pray no bone has been broken. Everything hurts though, from his scalp when the hybrids pulls at his hair, to his ribcage as every breath is a fight—far from enough room to bring air to his lungs.

The hybrid breathes hotly and wetly against the shell of his ear, tongue running over it, sharp teeth sinking into the soft flesh until Jimin is sure blood must be drawn.

The grip on his hair makes sure his face cannot turn away, that he's got nowhere to hide. Utterly helpless under the hybrid's large and heavy body. He presses him onto the ground so that he's trapped, immobilized. The reek of sweat and blood is all Jimin can feel, and it's hard to keep himself sane when his mind is easily losing itself in the notion of being defenseless and at the hybrid's mercy.

In the dungeons, at least, they were chastised for killing humans. Here, though, Jimin is nothing but game, and there's no shred of rule holding the hybrid back. Just eyes watching the show from the opulent comforts of their gilded city.

Yet, as he feels a telling hardness pressing at his bottom, Jimin knows he might live longer than just a few more moments. Disgust and revulsion have his body trembling under the other, lips twisting and curling as he's forced into another kiss. His legs are made to spread, to accommodate the hybrid's build. The hand still on his hips pulls them up, forcing him to kneel again.

"C'mon little whore," the hybrid whispers to his ear, licking the words into his crawling skin. "You know how it goes from here."

The hand holding his head back moves away, curling around his nape. It tightens around his neck, pushing Jimin down until his forehead is pressing onto the ground. His eyes burn, breath coming short. Panic arises in his chest, from the depth of his guts. Still the hybrid is right. He knows how it goes from there, but that brings no comfort to him. The pain that awaits him is hardly something Jimin could get used to, far less the prospect of what comes after.

Behind him, the hybrid snickers gruffly. His hands rake down Jimin's hips and to his thighs, squeezing them with an appreciative grunt.

"We're gonna take it slow this time." It's a promise, whispered in the night with lust dripping from the hybrid's voice.

Jimin's stomach turns, he can feel the acidic taste of bile in his mouth. His lips press tight, forehead pushing into the ground until the dull ache is almost enough to silence his mind. But the corners of his eyes burn, just as ardently as shame and humiliation burn in his chest and as fiercely as fury boils in his veins. For he is so pathetic and weak, utterly at the mercy of the filth groping him. Claws catch on his pants, tearing through the worn out fabric.

Jimin's teeth sink into his bottom lip, his last breath catching and forming a lump in his throat. For how familiar every feeling and motion is, everything feels different. There's not a shred of control in him over what happens, and all he knows is that death awaits him in the end. The worst kind he could possibly pick for himself.

Behind him, the sound of shuffling fabric is deafening. Every ragged breath and every grunt like a slap to his face, scalding and chilling at once. It is—to a certain degree—that the hybrid being him isn't a chatter. At the same time, the silence only seems to amplify every other sound. The wet squelch of his strokes and the tearing of Jimin's pants until his lower body is bare. And he's paralyzed, unable to kick and fight or crawl away. Fear is cold in his veins, a pressure at the base of his skull and a lock on his limbs keeping him in place. It signs his own demise, but—even as his mind reels and panic swells in his chest—fear petrifies Jimin.

He grinds his teeth, the joints of his jaw aching. His forehead rolls into the ground, skin chafing and scratching. His nose feels stuffy, tears so heavy he can no longer hold them back. The trickle slowly down his cheeks, clearing away the dirt and dust on their way to the corners of his mouth. And—for a moment—all he can taste is iron and salt. The tang of it is strong enough to distract him, if even for a very short while. But it's enough, all it takes for then something else forces both to focus elsewhere.

It's the cracking of twigs and the brushing of branches against something. Something fast approaching and large enough to make space as it moves through the forest.

Something in Jimin knows right away what that is, and curses at himself for ever thinking he would be safe from it anywhere in the forest. It would give chase to him to the ends of it and beyond, no use in running and yet.

Behind him, the hybrid curses and tenses up.

Jimin hears him pulling back, standing.

It takes him a moment to turn as well, to break free from the clutches of his own fear and shift on the ground. He sits, crawling back but not trusting his legs to bring him far. Only a few paces back the river roars, its waters deep enough to drown a man. Jimin knows this much, and maybe that was just another reason why he ran so far away from it, for the temptation would've been as strong as it is now.

Yet he cannot bring himself to regret it, not when what awaits him is far worse.

Stalking forward, the hybrid seems clueless about what's coming their way. In some twisted way, Jimin finds himself anticipating what's to come instead.

His fingers dig in the ground, grabbing onto it to stop the shaking of his hands.

The noise doesn't stop, a cacophony in his ears like war-drums leading him on. His heart beats fast, matching the erratic pace as a thrill rushes through his veins.

"What the hell is this?"

Jimin wets his lips, watches with narrowing eyes as the hybrid takes another slow step forward. It is when the shadows almost engulf him whole that Jimin starts hoping he won't go that far. He wants to see. If this is the last he lives, he might as well feel satiated on the sight of his torturer being killed and torn to pieces.

Yet, against all of his most twisted wishes, another hesitant strides takes the hybrid out of Jimin's sight. From then on it's all about waiting.

And waiting Jimin does, sitting tensely for a few moments before forcing himself to stand on his wobbly legs. 

His knees threaten to give out every moment, with every breath he takes. Yet he stands firm, staring into the darkness where the moonlight can't reach.

The first scream is a shout dripping his rage and frustration. It is a game Jimin knows, he's seen it already. A shudder travels through his body when he realizes that—somehow—their hunter hasn't grown tired of its taunting yet. He draws his mindless prey in with such ease Jimin struggles to believe it works time after time. Yet, just as the thought forms in his mind, the shouting turns into snarling and then wailing. It is wet and angry and desperate, furious and pained beyond imagination.

Blood curdles in Jimin's veins, and he's glancing at the river. There's no point in waiting, nothing for him but a wretched death if he hesitates. Despite knowing that much, and despite all the many good reasons, Jimin is once again petrified.

He stands motionlessly until the shouts are broken, and gargling sound is all he can hear. Then, once it's quietened down, everything is silent once again.

Fleetingly, Jimin wonders if the hunter expects him to play into his game just like the others have. Gritting his teeth, Jimin's eyes fall to the knife lying at only a short distance from him.

He doesn't think—can't let himself. His body lunches forward, scrambling on the ground until his fingers close around the familiar hilt. For how foolish and unreasonable, the weight in his hand is grounding and comforting, for how vain it is.

Standing, swaying to find his balance, Jimin waits. The river calls to him, but he can no longer hear it as loudly.

"Come on," he mutters under his breath, glaring into the darkness. "I know you're there."

Swallowing thickly, lips chapped and mouth dry, he makes himself wait if even just to see the one who hunts his own kind. Whatever it is, it must be monstrous, one of the horrors even the Code kept locked away until now.

"I said come," he hisses, voice louder a few octaves, echoing in his own head when everything is painfully quiet still. Jimin's hold around the knife shifts, tightening. His stance changes, muscle memory kicking in now of all times. Jimin has to fight the urge to laugh at himself, snorting as he keeps glaring into the darkness. "Come out, you beast."

For whatever reason, it is those words that draw the chasing predator from its shadows. The sound comes first, a muted but heavy thump and then the brushing and snapping of branches as he moves through. Jimin blinks, and realizes the hybrid has been climbing trees for its hunting.

A sneaky little thing, a devious predator.

Those words, barely forming in Jimin's mind, hit the walls of his skulls dumbly when the shadows are breached at last.

A predator, yes, but nothing like Jimin was expecting.

He's not sure what surprises him more, whether the way jade eyes reflect the weak light cast over them, or recognizing them.

"So it’s you," he breathes out, his reeling mind coming to an abrupt stop.

The dagger nearly slips from his hand.

For how subtle, the twitch of Jimin's fingers catches the hybrid's attention. Its eyes snap low, upper lip curling, long black tail swaying slowly behind it. The motion of it is hypnotic, but the threat in its slow movement doesn't go unnoticed.

Jimin swallows thickly, unconsciously backing from the other.

That, though, has the hybrid's gaze snapping up again, eyes narrowing in warning.

Jimin's breath catches in his throat when he's pinned to the spot by jade eyes, hand twitching around the dagger unconsciously. A foolish thought forms in his head, but it's so delirious he hurriedly casts it away. Sniffling, shoulders flinching, he readies himself for what's to come. The hybrid takes a slow step forward, and it's all the clue Jimin needs to spin on his heels and run for the river. It had felt so close only moments ago, while now it sits far from his reach, unreachable.

Yet it is close, Jimin can make it to its cold embrace if only he runs fast enough.

Outrun a hybrid. He would have laughed at the thought in the past.

Regardless of it, he tries, and he kicks and fights when a clawed hand closes around his arm, pulling him back.

The hybrid is rough, they all always are. He shoves Jimin away from the river, sending him to the ground ruinously. His side and head hit the soil first, the impact making him dizzy. His sight is blurred, but there's not telling whether it's tears or worse.

Jimin has barely the time to regret ever trying to run away when the hybrid is on him. Its hands are rough, impatient as they lock Jimin's wrists away. It straddles him, pressing his much smaller body to the ground. Against all he's done the entire night, Jimin fights against the hybrid. He thrashes and hisses curses in its face, kicking and trying to shove it off. All it earns himself are snarls and gruff sounds, jade eyes staring at him with a sort of bloodlush he's only ever seen once before. The sight of it curdles the blood in his veins, awakening a primal sense of flight or fight that's been somewhat dormant in him so far.

This hybrid doesn't talk to him, no mocking nor taunting coming from its bloodied lips. It just snarls, teeth bared only inches from Jimin's face. He holds himself just above the human, trapped by his own weights. It takes some time for the fight in Jimin to die, to tire out.

He heaves, each breath heavy and painful. All fight fades in him when, through the haze of his mindless rage, he finds the hybrid staring down at him still.

No longer snarling, but simply staring. Its breaths are just as heavy as Jimin's, hitting his face with powerful puffs.

For a moment—tense and seemingly endless—they stare at one another. Just stare.

It is just a moment, though, just enough for Jimin's mind to go numb and empty and cold. Then, as the hybrid lowers itself, every alarm fires again in his brain, loud and deafening. Jimin starts to kick again, tired and angry, refusing to succumb yet again, to feel that sort of helpless humiliation he did before. If he must die, then it'll be on his own terms.

The hybrid noses down the line of his neck, forcing Jimin's head to turn away, eye prickling with frustration. Yet that's when he sees it, the knife just within reach he lost in the struggle. It is all too easy to shut off his brain, to heed to ingrained instincts and sheer stubbornness. His hands wriggle in the iron-tight grip, and the hybrid's distracted enough to let him do as he pleases, mouthing at the side of Jimin's neck.

Stretching and writhing under him, gritting his teeth at the growing discomfort of being so close to a stranger's body, Jimin's fingers touch to the dagger's hilt. He doesn't let victory blind him, acting fast, faster than the hybrid can notice.

The hold on him has loosened up significantly, and the other seems not to notice when one hand comes free. Or, if he does, Jimin isn't merciful enough to let him react. His arm draws a fast arch despite the pain and discomfort.

The blade sinks in the hybrid's side with a sickening sound, something that's only drowned by the other's groan of pain, the sharp intake of air and then the grunt he exhales.

Jimin hears it all like they're his own, but it is far from enough to distract him. His body is quick, taking the only chance he's going to have, kicking and crawling from underneath the hybrid. The dagger comes free with a wicked squelch as he pulls away, dragging into the flesh and tearing more of it.

The hybrid wails, he whimpers. His head lifts as he kneels on the ground, unable to hold Jimin back as the latter is scrambling away and standing on his feet. Still, he finds himself frozen yet again when jade eyes find his own. Wet and wide and harboring feelings he never thought to see. The pain is so sheer and deep, like sorrow, and Jimin has to look away.

He spins on his heels, running faster than he thought possible. The wound won’t stop it for long, soon to be healed and no longer a hindrance to the hybrid’s chase. 

Somehow, Jimin manages to still get far from it, farther than he ever expected. So far that he can't hear the hybrid anymore, wind and blood rushing in his ears so loudly Jimin is deaf to anything else. In his breathless and mindless chase after a chance to live—pushing far beyond his body’s limits—he doesn’t notice stepping into someone’s sight. 

Jimin doesn’t notice, not until it is far too late and his running comes to an abrupt stop. His feet stumble on the wet soil, slipping and nearly bringing him to a ruinous fall. 

Only a few paces ahead, a hybrid stands alert. 

He was just crouching by the river’s shore, gathering water in his cupped palms. It now drips from his fingers, drop after drop falling onto the ground. 

Behind him—and Jimin barely has the presence of mind to notice—a woman rises to her feet. She is tall behind the other hybrid, almost a good head taller and broader than Jimin himself. 

The sight of them has him taking a careless step back, legs unsteady and cold sweat trickling down his spine. It pools on the bow of his upper lip, his hands clammy and skin prickling. At his nape, a peculiar pressure makes him hyperaware of his surroundings and the two hybrids. 

Their eyes are trained on him, predatory and wary even when he’s one and their chances are far higher than what Jimin would like to admit. Still, neither moves.

The man glances at his hand, where fingers clutch tightly around the hilt of a stolen dagger. Jimin’s been holding onto it this whole time, somehow never loosening his grip—his life depending on it. 

With a shaky exhale, he fixes his hold onto it and carefully studies the subtle shift in the hybrid. Behind him, the woman stands visibly tense. 

Jimin can’t help the way his eyes linger on her form, curious and wary at once. 

“You should keep away from the river.”

Jimin blinks, his gaze snapping to the burly man. His voice is gruff, quite befitting of his appearance and the night all around them. 

Despite the awful, awful position he’s in, Jimin cannot ignore the bitter irony of the hybrid’s words. He snorts, fingers twitching around the rough hilt. His scraped palm prickles and burns, but the pain is grounding and he’s not willing to give up on that just yet. 

“Shouldn’t you be glad?” he taunts, reckless and bold in ways Jimin couldn’t afford and yet. Yet adrenaline is still pumping in his veins and his mind his head is high—airborne. “I made it easier for you to find a catch.”

From where she stands, the woman snorts. A wet laugh pushes up her throat, hanging in the air and making Jimin shudder. 

“Looks like the rat got a mouth on him.”

Gritting his teeth, feeling dirtier than he has the whole night, Jimin forces himself not to speak again. He glares at the woman though, and struggles to ignore the tang of blood that’s been biting at his senses so far. 

“You’re wounded,” he thinks out loud, flinching when his own words earn himself a snarl from the man. 

“Get lost, rat.” 

Jimin holds the man’s gaze yet again, and wets his lips while raking his mind. 

Carelessly, he glances back from the way he’s come. 

“You won’t chase me,” he claims, like he’s so sure about it, his voice steady. 

The man’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t rebuke Jimin’s statement. Behind him, the woman has been holding her side this whole time, and the scent of blood permeates the air around them for miles in every direction. 

Rolling his shoulders, glancing back once more, Jimin curses at himself. 

“There’s something giving chase.” He moves a step forward, tentative and testing, making sure his words held any truth at all beside bold confidence. “You should get away from here.”

The man scoffs, but watches as Jimin draws a wide arch around them and walks by. 

Whatever their decision will be, it has nothing to do with him. So Jimin resumes his run, for there is no hiding from the beast that’s chasing after him. 

Shaking his head, trying everything to clear it from the swelling and choking panic, Jimin runs and runs. For it is all he knows and all that could somehow save him. 

It won’t be for long. 

It is not for long. 

Soon he has to stop, hearing voices from some paces ahead. 

Hidden beyond a thick wall of trees and branches, a new hunting party seems to be waiting for him. 

Jimin’s feet stop even before his brain can process their presence, heart hammering in his chest and teeth grinding. There’s no way out. The river on his left, the beast behind and a world of predators on the right. 

Turning that way, Jimin makes a quick math of his chances. They’re low, but not any lower than they have been for months now. 

Releasing a shaky breath, he makes up his mind to try and find a hideout once again. Exploring the forest is hardly a comforting thought, but it is all he’s got at the moment.

The voices are but light whispers, and he prays for them to stay that way. And how fooling is his every last prayer, falling on deaf ears like they matter nothing. 

A twig breaks and dry leaves creak, heavy steps fall onto the ground from where the small party must be. 

Jimin grimaces, looking to his right and yet unable to start running again. His legs won’t move, his feet too heavy and mind numb with fear and panic. It freezes and curdles the blood in his veins, until he’s but a statue waiting helplessly for what’s to come. 

A hand pushes away the branches, and Jimin is finally taking a hesitant step back. 

What meets him—though—isn’t a hybrid but a faintly familiar face. Still, it hardly puts Jimin at ease. For months humans and hybrids alike have been his tormentors, taunting jailors wherever his eyes would lay. So he takes another step back, unconsciously keeping even the distance as the man approaches. 

The latter whistles, alerting the others and making Jimin flinch despite himself. “Look at what the wind brought us,” he sing-songs. “Seems like we’ll die without any regrets, uh?”

Jimin clenches his jaw, standing his ground now that the man has come entirely in sight. He knows him, and knows him well.

A jagged scar runs down the side of his face, still red and swollen, glaring at him. 

“C’mon, Jungwon,” he calls, his voice carrying a pitch that betrays his nervousness. “I think it rather suits you.”

Jungwon’s tongue runs across the line of his dull teeth, lips curling and twisting and eyes narrowing viciously. His disfigured face twists into an ugly mask, a nightmarish grin that is sure to haunt Jimin. If he survives this night, that is. 

“Suit me?” he echoes, moving a step forward, long and predatory like humans shouldn’t be. Not on nights like this and not in places like this cursed forest. 

Yet, seeing him coming closer and closer has a shiver running down Jimin’s spine. His hands tremble, and he has to tighten the grip on the dagger lest it slips from his hold. 

“Should I thank you, then?” 

Jimin feels a nervous and cackling sort of laugh crawling up his throat, clamping his lips shut and inhaling sharply. 

“No need to bother,” he jokes hoarsely. “Consider us even.”

Biting on his tongue, Jimin grimaces at himself for that last bit and for the sharpness of his tongue. It couldn’t be helped though, and he’s reluctantly ready to accept the consequences now. Fixing his hold around the dagger’s hilt—unavoidably training Jungwoon’s attention to it—Jimin shifts his stance. 

Although he never meant to do any of this, he holds his ground when greed gleams in the man’s eyes. 

“And where did you get that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

Jimin’s voice is close to a purr, a taunting call for the man to answer to. 

Jungwoon’s eyes flick up to his face, dark and angry and full of hatred. 

“I see spreading your legs for them had its perks.”

Jimin’s jaw sets tight, shoulders pushing back and feet rubbing onto the ground. Despite it being no lie and no secret, the words still hit him like a slap. Forcing him to face all that happened during those months, all he had to give up on in order to survive and all the times he had to bow his head and bend under the hybrid’s rough hands. 

“Is it jealousy that I hear?”

Jungwoon’s jaw clicks shut, eyes narrowing even more and every line of his body tightening. He lunges forward with no thought and no hesitation, and it’s the only saving grace sparing Jimin and granting him a way out of the man’s attack. He barely manages to dodge, drawing a sharp arch around Jungwoon and finding his footing fast enough to run away from the man. He runs in the very same direction the man came from, mind blank and too slow to realize the danger of it. 

Jimin’s legs nearly give out under his weight, still somehow bringing him to a small clearing where a number of people tensely greet him. 

They all jump to their feet and draw back, some taking on a defensive stance as they see him stumbling forward. 

Lifting his head, feeling all air pushing from his lungs, Jimin takes them all in. 

Some faces are familiar, some less so. 

Among them, he recognizes a pair of young siblings. Even as relief washes over him, his chest clenches and hurts to the point where he’s out of breath and gaping at them. 

“Jimin?” 

Seyeon steps from where she’s standing, hiding behind her brother a few paces from where Jimin has stopped. 

“Is that really you?”

“Seyeon,” her brother warns, reaching out but unable to hold her back. 

For how nimble and weakened, Seyeon is still fast and determined enough to slip from his grasp and take a few more steps forward. 

“We thought you were dead.”

Jimin huffs out what was meant to be a scoff, something bold and confident to ease away the strain in her voice.

“Do you have so little faith in me?” 

Seyeon’s lips twist, her eyes watery as they find his. Her mouth opens, but she’s interrupted by the creaking sounds coming from the forest. She flinches, and Jimin’s body moves on its own. 

He steps before her, standing tense and wary as he watches Jungwoon step into the small clearing. 

“So the mother hen is back, everyone rejoice.”

Behind him, Seyeon bristles and hisses a curse. It is low enough under her breath that only Jimin hears it, but still it makes him even more wary of their surroundings. No more than a handful of people are with them in the clearing, and by their hesitant glances it is clear whose side they will promptly take. 

“Seyeon,” he calls without turning, eyes fixated on Jungwoon as the man takes lazy steps forward. “Go to your brother and get away.”

“What?”

Jimin hisses, feeling too many eyes on him and yet unable to tear his gaze from Jungwoon. Even so, they’re not all he’s worried about. Whatever killed all those hybrids is still after him, coming closer and closer with every moment they waste here. 

Twisting his teeth, he pushes Seyeon back and casts her a sharp glare. “Go,” he commands, firm and unyielding. 

Her lips gape, eyes widening. Confusion reads all over her features, but Dayeon’s hands are already reaching out for her. He pulls his sister back a few steps, holding Jimin’s gaze like he understands.

“Still playing hero, Jimin?”

“Take her away from here,” he orders, not turning away from the pair of siblings. Jungwoon comes ever closer, but Jimin holds Dayeon’s gaze until he’s sure the boy will do as he says. “Do not stop running until you’re out of this forest.”

Behind him, Jungwoon laughs. It is a loud and boisterous laugh, careless like nothing else matters. 

Jimin turns to him, his ears ringing and heart hammering. 

Loud. Too loud.

His eyes flick past Jungwoon’s shoulder, and every sound suddenly tunes out. 

They’re not alone anymore. 

His head snaps around, eyes wide and panicked. “Go,” he shouts on top of his lungs, but even so his voice is overwhelmed by another blood—curdling shout. With it comes the tear of skin and flesh and the breaking of bones. 

Jimin doesn’t let himself look back, he watches as the siblings go and doesn’t look away until they’re out of his sight, lost in the endless maze. 

Then, only then, he dares turn around and face his fate. 

What awaits him is hardly any different from the carnage he witnessed before. All it took were seconds, and Jungwoon is now torn apart. A ragged doll ripped at the seams.

His wide eyes stare at Jimin accusingly, mouth open wide in a soundless scream. 

Feeling cold and shivering and unsteady on his legs, Jimin makes himself look away from the disturbing sight. He fights the urge to look for the man’s missing parts, for his body and limbs. There’s no use to it, and the hunting beast has entered the forest once again. 

It lurks in the shadows, playing with them like a cat would. Teasing and tormenting its prey to the point of madness. 

“What is that,” someone whispers shakily. 

Jimin doesn’t look at them, at any of the few left standing. 

“I’ve never seen him in the dungeon.”

Jimin swallows thickly, wishing he could claim the same.

“He killed them all so fast.”

Jimin’s head snaps their way, glaring at them sharply. 

The one who spoke last flinches, his lips pressing in a tight line. He takes a step back, cowering even when there’s no way to run. 

A foolish and crazy thought comes back to the surface in Jimin’s mind though, as the trees sway and bend. He is quick to push it away, and yet some of it still lingers at the forefront of his mind. The crazy and ridiculous thought that the hybrid might be wanting him specifically. Not just because he’s another human in the forest and not because he stumbled in the hybrid’s path. 

Releasing a shaky breath, trying his best to ignore the thought and all that comes with it, Jimin takes a hesitant step forward. No more than one, crossing a barely meaningful distance and then stopping. 

Still, everything falls silent and motionless. 

Someone sucks in a sharp breath, and a curse lifts into the tense air. He ignores it all, moving another hesitant step and then stopping again, holding his breath while waiting. 

Like bound by a spell, called by a siren’s song, the hybrid breaches the thick wall of trees. 

Every sound tunes out, and Jimin is deaf to anything but to the beast’s heavy and slow breaths. 

He finds himself counting them, entranced by their slow and powerful cadence as the hybrid takes slow strides forward. Then, when only a few paces divide them, it stops. 

Jimin’s throat clicks, breath catching. 

The hybrid’s eyes move from his face to his chest, where a human heart beats at the top of its capacities, faster than it ever should. And there’s no doubt in Jimin that the hybrid can hear every struggling and breathless beat, each one potentially the last. 

For a moment, for a while, for an eternity, Jimin stands motionless under the predator’s gaze. For just as long, he’s close to forgetting the deadly machine it truly is. Like made blind to the blood curdling at the hybrid’s mouth and down his chin, the way it drops thickly down his claws and staging his ragged clothes. For just as long as everything is motionless, Jimin is back into that tight cell, sitting on the damp and cold floor while chatting through the night in hushed tones. No one to answer but the echo of his own voice.

And it is just a moment, a while or an eternity, it wouldn’t matter, for something flies in the air and those jade eyes aren’t locked on Jimin anymore. They snap away from him, turning vicious and guarded and famelic. 

Jimin flinches, the change so sudden it might’ve as well all been a hallucination. A game of his spiraling sanity. 

His eyes blink, his last breath breaks, and he’s watching the hybrid tearing apart a man half his size. Like a twig being bent and broken, it looks disturbingly easy to cut a life and cast it away. And then another, like it’s a fly being swatted away—thrown against a tree. The hybrid’s hand is large and strong as it grips the man’s hair and pushes his face into the rough three, again and again until Jimin can see the crimson blood despite everything being dark. 

Bile rises to his throat and his legs give out, knees hitting the ground, tearing a choked sound from him. Jimin’s not fast enough to fight it, to press a shaking hand to his lips. The cry lifts in the air and the hybrid is stopping, snapping his focus on him. 

The man he was holding crumbles to the ground, a shaky and wet sound travelling to his lips. 

Jimin’s mouth fills with bile and his stomach constricts. His throat clenches, tight as a wave of nausea forces him to heave and empty himself of the little they were fed.

Whether it’s fear or disgust that brings him to his knees, it’s still not enough for Jimin to miss the approaching hybrid. Its steps are heavy, crossing the distance between them with only a few paces. 

Ignoring the paralyzing fear turning his blood cold, Jimin draws back sharply. His head spins, hands shaking and sweat making those ragged clothes stick uncomfortably to his arms and back. Still he doesn’t stop, scrambling back on the ground as the hybrid slowly approaches. 

There’s an end to every chase though, and Jimin meets his own when a tree hits his back. The impact forces a sound out of him, a wet and breathless gasp as his eyes widen. 

Despite not having no way out, no other chance to run still, Jimin pushes himself against the tree. Every ridge and crack digs into him, but still it is not enough as the hybrid crosses all the distance between them and crouches to Jimin’s level. 

Playing with its last catch, taunting and teasing him for being so helpless, he moves slowly. Its head tilts to the side, jade eyes blinking owlishly. 

Jimin’s throat clicks, tongue heavy in his mouth—like it doesn’t belong there, an obstruction to his every breath. Or maybe it’s his heart, lodged at the base of his throat with no way to go. 

Little does it matter, for Jimin loses all control over his body when the hybrid’s hand reaches out. It is smeared with blood, trickling down his arm as it lifts. 

Jimin can feel bile flooding his throat, eyes darting to the limbs laying not too far away from him. Skin torn like rags and white bones broken like twigs. It is all there, lying on the ground like it’s all of little importance. Discarded and cast away. 

Jimin can’t tear his eyes from it, the mirror to what lays ahead. Sickening and morbid and yet he cannot look away. 

Something cold and wet touches to his cheek, heating the longer it lingers. 

Jimin’s breath pushes out of him at once, all air forced from his lungs. His eyes snap away from the twisted spectacle, wide and unblinking when they’re met with twin jades straight right at him. 

Pressing to his cheek, the hybrid’s hand is large and rough. The touch burns and yet it sends a chill down Jimin’s spine, one that has his body shuddering and quivering. His throat clicks, lips agape and hands sliding onto the moist soil. 

The hybrid stays unbothered by his attempt to get away, to press further into the tree if only to grant himself the illusion of distance. Those jade eyes stay focused and unreadable, no discernible emotion behind those irises as they stare deep into Jimin. 

The hand on him doesn’t move, inhumanely still as all it does is cup the side of Jimin’s face and stay. 

Slowly, in between the stammering beats of his heart, the hybrid leans forward to crowd the little space between them. Soon the distance is made none, and the hybrid’s face is coming closer to Jimin’s. 

His fingers dig into the ground, knees pushing to his chest as he recoils and retreats into himself. He is made aware—once again in the span of hours—of how helpless and powerless he is before the other. For how hard Jimin tries to shield himself and evade the hybrid, the latter doesn’t even seem to notice his efforts. He keeps on coming closer, eyes not averting from the human until he’s leaning down and is forced to break the link of their gazes. Even then, Jimin could swear he catches the hybrid hesitating, his hand twitching where it cups the side of his face. 

It is only a small—almost imperceptible—change, and it is easily lost in the raging sea of fears and thoughts that swarm Jimin’s mind. All of which are made none when the hybrid comes even closer, aiming for his neck. It is only then that the hand on his cheek moves, sliding down and forcing Jimin’s head to tilt back. On the verge of losing his mind, a puppet under the hybrid’s touch, Jimin follows the other’s lead while holding his breath. Blood rushes like a raging river in his ears, and it’s the only way he knows he’s still alive. 

For everything makes no sense from the moment hot and wet lips touch to the sensitive and shivering skin of his neck. 

Jimin was ready for the sharp tear of teeth, for the lancinating pain of being torn apart and the panic of drowning in his own blood. He tried his best not to think of it, but there was nothing else he was expecting. 

Yet what touches to his most vulnerable part is nothing but soft lips. They open onto his skin, leaving a wetness behind Jimin has no mind to think about. Even so, what he feels on himself is still not sharp teeth but a gentle and warm caress being run over the chosen spot. It is hot and soft and wet, and it takes Jimin a moment to realize it is the hybrid’s tongue running down the line of his neck. The motion is slow and indulging, like he’s savoring him, like he means for it to last. 

Jimin can’t make any sense of it. He doesn’t even try to. His eyes are wide open, mouth parted, as he frowns to the empty and eerie clearing. There is no other but them, his fingers digging into the soil and the hybrid’s mouth running down his neck. 

Every breath of the beast is warm on him, hitting his shivering skin with a slow and heavy cadence. The hybrid’s whole body expands with every intake of air, growing even bigger against Jimin’s. 

His mouth and his lips—though—are gentle as they ride up to the line of his jaw. Jimin has to curse at himself, to put effort into remembering what that mouth did. But the hybrid’s touch curling around his nape—holding him in place—is dizzily careful and firm. 

Still the hammering of his heart won’t stop, for he is no stranger to the predator’s cruel games. There’s no salvation to be found in the other’s apparent sweetness and mercy, no relief in the moment he pulls away. 

None, for Jimin hears a scream carried by a familiar voice, and blood is frozen in his veins once again. He tenses up, snaps out of that dangerous haze and pulls himself impossibly away, further pressing into the rough bark even when it scratches his skin bare. 

The hybrid doesn’t seem to notice any of Jimin’s distress, snapping his head away. A vibrating a low sound shakes through him, gruff and hoarse. It has Jimin shuddering and quivering to his very bones, eyes searching in the darkness for Seyeon. 

Her voice still rings in his ears, a shout, a curse, a plea for the beast to turn away from Jimin even if only for a moment. 

Biting down a curse of his own, teeth sinking into his tongue and drawing blood, Jimin watches helplessly as the hybrid focuses his attention away from him. Its body twists, every muscle a defined line withholding more power than Jimin could ever dream of. 

Everything in the hybrid is a tool for destruction and means to death. All of it is now trained to one, mindless purpose. 

A frustrated scream builds in Jimin’s throat, bringing a familiar burn to the corners of his eyes as he helplessly watches the hybrid standing. Its back is large, every muscle drawing tensely and yet moving smoothly with each step taken forward. 

The forest is silent all around, eerily so. 

Nothing can be heard but the twigs and leaves creaking under Jimin’s scrambling palms. 

His legs are unsteady when he stands, head spinning and heart beating fast in his chest. Still he doesn’t let any of it stop him. 

All the fear and panic is gone once he moves the first step to the hybrid, hands reaching out mindlessly. 

They curl around the hybrid’s arm, barely even closing when they slide down the other’s wrist and fight to hold its trading back. For as pointless as it is, Jimin tries his best to stop the hybrid. Blood and sweat make his hold slick, and he’s weak, drained from the long night behind. 

It is unavoidable, it cannot be helped, that his grip lets go eventually. One moment he’s holding onto the other’s arm and wrist, the next his hands are empty and he’s helplessly watching the hybrid getting further away. 

Somewhere in the forest, Seyeon lingers and hides. 

Jimin can’t bring himself to suck in another breath, his lungs constricting and body recoiling at the thought of what will unfold before him. For how nimble or fast, Seyeon is no match to a hybrid, far less the one who’s now hunting her. 

And she’s just a little girl, naive and over-romantic about the way the world goes. 

Grinding his teeth until his jaws ache at the joints, Jimin forces his mind to stop processing such thoughts. It shuts down, going numb the moment he takes a long stride forward and then another. Fast and reckless, and more courageous than Jimin has been in a long time. He runs, chasing after the hybrid and not stopping until he’s past the other. 

Then, only then, does Jimin stop. 

He stands before the hybrid, each breath heavy and yet shallow, coming short despite his desperate attempts to fill his lungs.

Lifting his chin, faking a boldness and a courage he doesn’t have, Jimin brazenly holds the hybrid’s gaze. He demands for their eyes to meet, blocking the way to the forest and putting himself as the sole obstacle. 

It would take no effort for the hybrid to cast him away, and yet Jimin has to believe this will mean something. That this will spare Seyeon, somehow. 

Whatever will come, he tells himself to be ready for it. He’s been eluding death long enough tonight, and there’s only so much one can trick and prank the gloomy lady. So, holding his head high and standing firm before the hybrid, he waits for what’s inevitable. 

Jade eyes do flick his way, features twisting in a way Jimin can’t possibly ready. Soon, though, the hybrid’s looking away, past his shoulder and to the forest again. 

Jimin’s throat clicks, his mind running miles a second. 

“Don’t,” he screeches, a rasping and high pitched sound. It is but a plea, pitiful and pointless as it hangs in the tense air between them. 

Yet, to Jimin’s utter surprise, it trains the hybrid’s gaze back to him. This time, it lingers and studies him for a long while. 

Releasing a shaky breath, Jimin dares to take a step forward. He inevitably brings them closer, but—at the same time—it makes it harder for the hybrid to look away. His hands tremble, clammy with cold sweat. As he moves, all Jimin can hear is the loud buzzing in his ears.

Swallowing thickly, wetting his lips, he rakes his brain about what to do next. 

Behind long and strong legs, a thick and black tail sways in silent warning. On top of its head, round ears twitch and flick at the smallest and faintest sound. Jimin’s eyes dart to each, studying the hybrid and everything that could possibly give away what must be crossing its mind. 

Nothing Jimin could dream of, nothing he could possibly expect. 

For—within a blink of his eyes—the hybrid is moving again. He walks around the human like it is nothing of his concern, circumnavigating Jimin like he’s not even there. 

Gritting his teeth, mind in a frenzy, he tries again to hold the hybrid back again. 

His hands are slimy with blood, caked with dirt and sweat. Jimin has to fight the urge to grimace and pull away, holding on tighter than before. 

“Please,” he pushes through his teeth, a strangled plea as he tugs at the unyielding other. “Let her go.”

To his surprise, the hybrid stops and slowly—excruciatingly slowly—turns his head to look at Jimin. 

Covered with blood and looking like the worst sort of nightmare, the hybrid trains his focus on Jimin like nothing else exists in the world. 

His pupil enlarges, irises thinning until Jimin almost loses sight of bright jade. A chill runs down his spine, but his hold tightens, a clutch that refuses letting go. 

“You were chasing me,” he presses, a reminder that signs his own demise. There is no regret in Jimin though, not when he catches something moving through the forest. 

The hybrid’s tail draws a wide arch in the air, his ears twitching and eyes narrowing. 

Jimin tugs at him with more emphasis, guiding his large body to turn away from the forest and solely focus on him. He’s the easiest catch after all, the one it has been chasing so long. 

Past the hybrid’s wide shoulders, Jimin catches a familiarly slim figure standing. She’s barely hiding, staring at him motionlessly. 

Swallowing, taking a step back, Jimin looks away and lets go. 

He spins on his heels, filling his lungs for what’s worth before throwing himself in a pointless run. Pointless to save himself, at least. 

Almost immediately he hears heavy steps following, covering more ground than Jimin could ever hope to do himself. It won’t be long—not at all—before the hybrid catches him. 

Jimin doesn’t expect much, either way would be a relief. 

So—when the hybrid’s large hand falls on him and they’ve barely made it out of the clearing—Jimin isn’t as scared as he thought he would be. Some part of him dares feel relief, foolish and naive as it is. But the hands halting his run mean Seyeon is safe and—for a moment—the notion of it is all that matters. 

Rough hands hold him, turn him around and shove him down. Everything is fast, happening faster than Jimin’s brain can register and process. 

He’s hitting the ground, the impact forcing all air from his lungs and a strangled cry past his lips. 

He blinks, seeing nothing but darkness. The hybrid fits itself on top of Jimin, hovering over him and leaning down until there’s close to no space between them. 

Jimin holds his breath, chest aching by how fast his heart beats. It could easily just break through him, be free at last and rid him of its burden. Scattering and feverish thoughts fill his head, nonsensical as every last bit of sanity seems to be leaving him. 

Just like earlier in the clearing, the hybrid acts beyond any worst expectations. As he lowers himself on Jimin, his breaths slow down noticeably. Each breath is a warm puff hitting Jimin’s shivering skin, coming closer and closer to his exposed neck. 

Biting down on his bottom lip, Jimin fights the first instinct to shove at the hybrid’s chest and rid himself of its suffocating presence. His fingers dig in the ground instead, clawing at it as a means to ground and steady himself. It is barely enough to ease away the fear that gnaws at his insides, swelling in his chest until there’s no space for his lungs to enlarge. So choking, trembling under the other, Jimin clings to whatever shred of sanity he has left. 

Just like earlier in the clearing—before Seyeon interrupted them—the hybrid doesn’t claw or bite at Jimin. All he does is let his lips run over the line of the human’s neck, smearing blood and saliva over it with every indulging lick and hesitant suck. 

Jimin’s fingers rake into the ground, fighting the urge to recoil and escape, to evade the uncomfortable proximity. At the back of his head a voice keeps screaming and shouting, crazy and frenetic, begging him to get away before it’s too late. 

Jimin has made up his mind though, and there’s nowhere else he should be but here, keeping the voracious beast occupied for as long as his life will be worth. However long it might be. 

One large hand runs down his side, and Jimin’s whole body tenses up. It is hard to fight the urge to recoil this time, to flinch away from the invasive and unwanted touch. 

Still, somehow, Jimin holds enough control over his body for the other not to notice. More than his own doing—maybe—it is the hybrid’s focus being elsewhere entirely that spares Jimin. From the curve of his waist and to the swell of his hips, the touch exploring his body has slid further down, stopping at his thigh and squeezing the supple meat hard. 

It tears a sound from Jimin that’s both a cry and a hiss, piercing in the night when everything else is quiet. 

It is stronger than himself—despite months of shoving down his pride and flight instincts and curbing it all into nothing. Jimin’s body moves on its own, legs bending and kneeling at the hybrid, dull nails clawing at its cheeks and neck. 

Above him, the hybrid groans and grunts. He flinches back, taken off guard by the sudden retaliation. 

Jimin doesn’t allow himself to think, twisting and writhing underneath the other. He’s crawling on the ground, kicking and lunging away from the beast above him until he’s almost free. Until he’s almost able to stand again and begin his pointless run. Just one more mile, just one more breath of air before it’s all taken from him. 

A scream claws to his mouth, broken and choked and wet. A searing pain travels up his leg, where something twisted and mean has taken a hold of him. 

Kicking at the hybrid is no longer of any use, not when the other’s sharp claws have dug inches above his ankle, piercing into him like nails. Instinctively, he tries to pull away, to escape from the grip tearing through him. It only forces the claws deeper into his flesh, and a loud cry from his lips. 

The hybrid moves fast, everything happening fast even when Jimin’s time has stopped. 

He is tugged back harshly, his hands sliding and slipping on the ground. He loses any sort of support, falling down and hitting the hard soil roughly. The impact tears a gasp from him, but it’s barely of any concern when the hybrid’s claws are pulling from his flesh and curling around his calf.

Jimin whimpers wetly, feeling hot blood trickling down his ankle and crying mutedly at the hindrance of it. Still, he is given no chance to think any further of it, not when the hybrid’s large body blankets over his own, heavy and large enough to cover all of Jimin. 

It traps him against the ground, caging Jimin effortlessly. 

The hybrid doesn’t stop moving, fitting his legs in between the humans and ignoring the latter’s frozen and tense state. Like none of it is of any importance, the beast manhandless the stiff and trembling body underneath itself.

Barely breathing around the knot in his throat, Jimin pushes his forehead into the ground, clenching his jaw. He is not naive and not as delusional as to mistake what’s happening. 

The lingering and rough touches tell him all he needs to. And—if even he were to misunderstand the meaning of those palms kneading his flesh and those lips latching to his nape—there is a telling and unmistakable hardness pushing at his bottom. 

With jerkish movements, stuttering and rough—rather clumsy and uncomfortable—the hybrid begins to rut into Jimin. 

Gritting his teeth and stifling any sound, he can only pray for it to last little. If he is lucky enough, it won’t take long and—maybe—it’ll even grant Jimin a chance to run again. Just one more aimless mile, one more gasping breath would be enough. 

The clawed hands rake down his sides, but then reach up abruptly. The hybrid’s hips stop, hands gripping Jimin’s wrists and pinning them above his head. His legs part the human’s even more, forcing him to present while one free hand pulls up his hips from the ground. 

Jimin’s forehead rolls into the soil, eyes squeezing shut and curses raging in his head. His lips are bitten tightly between his teeth though for no sound ought to escape him. Of all things, Jimin refuses to give this one satisfaction, to give up on the last shred of pride and dignity he might have. Not one sound and not one plea for mercy will leave him, not now as the hybrid violates him and not when the latter will ravage his body however it might please.

So he bites his lips until they’re bloody, but not one sound escapes him when the hybrid’s one hand tears his clothes and reveals more of his skin.

Bile rises to Jimin’s mouth, cold and wet air touching his exposed parts and sending chills down his body. 

Unable to help himself, he turns. It is not much, the angle awkward and uncomfortable, but Jimin makes himself look at the monster taking over him. Embedding every last trait and detail to his memory and etching hatred into them. Making sure he won’t ever forget.

Still, what he sees is far from monstrous and revolting and loathsome. It—regardless of everything—still sends a shiver down Jimins’ spine. Jade eyes stare right at him from a close distance, boring through him, shining so bright they proudly declare their own inhumanity. Almost looking unreal. Yet what wells in those irises is clear and overwhelming, primal like the rawest form of lust and hunger. A twisted desire that knows no appeasing. 

Looking into those eyes, it appears clear that the hybrid means to devour every last part of him until nothing is left. 

Yet although everything in Jimin screams at him to fight even when it means certain death—deeming it far more favorable than what's to come—Jimin is utterly lost into jade eyes. For there is something in them wickedly compelling him to stay.

Despite time feeling stuck into a moment, it is but a fleeting instant and the hybrid is roughly manhandling Jimin again. 

The beast's head dives for his neck while large hands lift Jimin's hips. They bring their bodies closer, a grunt vibrating through both their bodies as the hard bulge ruts into him. The movements are rough and clumsy, with no sort of coherent finesse to them. A mindless and hungry chase for something more. 

Gritting his teeth, clawing at the ground like it could grant him some sort of relief or escape. But his mind is hyper-aware of every smallest change and shift, of the weight pushing him down and the hot breath fanning on his neck, trickling down his shivering skin. One warm and heavy exhale after the other, ragged and coming short. At the same time, the hybrid’s mouth traces wetly down his neck and to his exposed shoulder. It sucks into it, leaving marks traces of saliva wherever it touches. 

Jimin’s forehead rubs into the soil, the pain barely enough to ground him when the movements turn faster and rougher on top of him. Both hands work to pull him back and closer into the hybrid, so that he meets every roll and every push. 

Grunts and groans fill his ears, ringing endlessly until it’s all he can hear. Then, when the hybrid’s hips begin to stutter and the fast pace breaks, the hold turning into a tight grip, he hears the first wet whimper. 

The sound itself is novel, suffocated against his skin but still clear when everything else is silent. The hybrid’s hips stutter behind him, pushing and rolling sharply into his bottom but still doing nothing more than just that. For the most part they’re still clothed, a thick layer of clothes dividing their bodies for all that matters. 

It won’t be of much use, not for long, but still Jimin takes it as a small mercy, a prolonged blessing if he would dare saying so. 

The hybrid’s mouth pulls from his nape with a wet squelch, the sound sending a shiver down his spine as the wetness has chills raising goosebumps on his skin. Not before long those lips are again on him, closing around his lobe in a toothless bite and sucking at the soft and sensitive skin. A hot tongue touches it, running then behind the shell of Jimin’s ear and down to the corner of his jaw. Another mark is sucked onto him, like there’s no end to it. 

All the while, the hands holding Jimin in place slide forward some, fingers digging into his lower belly as he’s held close and firm against the hybrid’s navel. The latter hasn’t stopped yet, still rutting sharply into him. 

Before long—though—something changes about it.

It begins with a louder grunt and a sharp inhale, then it is the way he stops and presses their bodies close. Then—more than anything else—there is the way his teeth sink at the side of Jimin’s neck. 

The pain is sharp, almost sharp enough to blind his mind and overpower everything else. And—for a moment—it’s just like that. 

Then—as the fangs pull back from his skin—Jimin’s mind clears and he’s exhaling a breath he’d been holding this far. It comes out of him shakily and brokenly, wet. 

The weight on him gradually becomes more oppressing, until he’s pressed flush to the ground. Trapped under a way larger and stronger body.

Hissing out a curse, fingers clawing at the ground, he tries to shift and twist. There’s no way out of it though, no way to escape the cage made of a hybrid's body. 

“Off,” he grumbles when every breath is a struggle and irritation threatens to turn into rage. 

Jimin twists and writhes best he can, elbowing at the hybrid despite the dangers and risks of it. For all his will to fight and live and make it through the night, Jimin finds himself recklessly short of patience—growing restless the longer he’s forced in such a humiliating and uncomfortable position. 

“I said off.” 

He shoves again at the other, kicking awkwardly however he can. 

Behind him, the hybrid grunts and shifts, one hand closing tightly around Jimin’s arm in warning. Still, despite it, he keeps on writhing and twisting and looking for a way out. Somehow, it must bother the hybrid just enough to pull away. It is not much, barely even perceptible, but Jimin still jumps at the chance and shifts swiftly underneath the other. 

Halfway through his attempt to sneak and crawl away, the hybrid’s hands find place again at his waist. They spin him around, back hitting the ground and lungs emptying with a gasp. His eyes blink wide, staring up at the monster holding him prisoner. 

All he can see are twin jades of a color so intense he’s lost in them. His lips gape, stunned for a moment. 

Although blood is smeared over most of the hybrid’s face, staring back at Jimin are features he begrudgingly recognizes. Thick brows and a strong nose, a sharp jaw he traced with his gaze countless times before. 

Troubled and annoyed by the thought of those times, Jimin’s hands lift and shove at the hybrid again. He shoves at his shoulder and face, meaning to push back and free himself. 

His every attempt is stopped at the very beginning though, one clawed hand closing around his wrist and keeping his palm where it touches the hybrid’s face. 

Wide eyed, Jimin stares at where their bodies connect, trying to pull back his hand but to no avail. 

All it earns him is another sound of discontent, reprimanding and mildly scolding. The hybrid’s lips curl, sharp teeth flashing at him. Its ear flick, nose scrunching up.

“Okay,” Jimin hears himself breathe, a feeble sound for no one to hear. “Okay.” The second time his voice is louder, a bit firmer even when all Jimin can hear is the pounding of his heart. 

The hybrid holds his gaze for a moment, lingering as if to make sure of something. Whatever it is, it has the hybrid letting go of Jimin’s hand at last. It doesn’t pull away though, lingering in the human’s space and crowding all of it. Its presence is heavy and overwhelming, every breath loud in Jimin’s ears. Strong and warm puffs of air hit his face, carrying the reek of blood and death and sending shivers through his body.

Recoiling almost unconsciously, Jimin catches himself when it’s too late already. The smallest movement brings back to life the pain at his leg, a whimper travelling past his lips as they twist in a grimace. 

Above him, the hybrid tenses up visibly. 

Its reaction is odd and curious. It has Jimin warily glancing at its tense and sharp features and narrowing eyes. 

Feeling a sense of annoyance crawling underneath his skin, Jimin lifts off the ground and forces the other to pull back—taken off guard by the sudden change. 

Jimin’s teeth grit as he sits up, legs pulling up and bending at the knees as the hybrid falls back to its hunches. 

Jimin studies it, eyes struggling not to fall to the wet patch at its groin and the obvious bulge of it. He only furtively looks down at it, training his gaze up and feeling it harden when meeting with unreadable jades. 

“So what now,” he snorts, sharp and challenging and careless. All the fear he felt up until a moment ago is now gone. Bitter resentment mixes with the humiliation of being overpowered and used in such a vulgar way, feeding his hatred for the other to the point his fear is nothing in comparison. “Are you going to kill me now?”

The words taste foul in his mouth, yet they move past him all too easily. 

To his surprise, the hybrid flinches at them. Its eyes dart away, scanning their surroundings before finding Jimin again. Its lips twitch, pressing in a thin line smeared with clotting blood. 

“Kill you?”

Differently from anything Jimin could’ve imagined or expected, the hybrid’s voice—albeit hoarse and gruff when it speaks—is smooth and pleasant enough. The words it shapes, though, have Jimin shuddering and fighting the primal instinct to recoil and run away. His wound throbs at the thought alone, a constant reminder that there’s far less chance of him surviving now than there were earlier. 

Steeling himself, fingers burrowing deep furrows into the ground, Jimin makes himself face whatever’s to come head on. His chin tilts up some, eyes holding the hybrid’s gaze fiercely. 

Surprising him yet again in the span of a few hours, the hybrid leans in slowly. It still holds Jimin’s gaze, studying him carefully like he’s wary of the way the human might react. Jimin would laugh at it if only he wasn’t frozen and paralyzed by the increasing proximity, countless voices screaming in his head. The hybrid keeps moving slowly until he’s too close to still look at Jimin, lowering his face until it is a hair breadth from Jimin’s neck and his pulse. 

Vulnerable and helpless, he can’t do anything but sit and wait for whatever the hybrid plans to do. And—to his utter surprise—all the hybrid does is press his lips to the erratic pulse of Jimin’s heart, to that throbbing vein that would so easily bring death to him. 

Shuddering, hands fisting around a handful of soil and innards quivering with dread, Jimin can’t bring himself to do anything but take it all—his mind utterly numb and blank. 

The hybrid doesn’t bite on him, it doesn’t tear at Jimin’s throat and leave him bleeding. All he does is pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the quick pulse, lips twitching onto the skin and breath fanning over him hotly. For a moment, the touch lingers. Almost long enough for Jimin to come to terms with it, with the cruel absurdity of what’s happening. 

Soon—although it easily felt like an eternity to him—the hybrid pulls away. It happens slowly, the contact breaking with a soft squelch and shivers running down Jimin’s skin when cold air hits his wet skin. 

“No,” the hybrid breathes when he’s still so close to Jimin’s exposed neck. One hand reaches to curl around its side, thumb swiping over the human’s throat and feeling it twitch at the touch. “Not killing you.”

Jimin’s lips part with a gasp at the words, the touch falling away and those clear jades meeting his gaze. 

For the first time in the entire night, Jimin sees clarity in those eyes. Like he’s never seen before. It is but for a beat of his heart, a fleeting moment lasting so little it could’ve very well been an hallucination. 

Soon every bit of clarity is gone, noises reaching their ears from the forest. 

The hybrid’s teeth grind, upper lip curling into a snarl. 

He stands fast on his feet, giving an opening and a chance for Jimin. Something so cruelly handed to him now that he can’t take it. 

The hybrid’s words linger in his ears though, and he’s foolish enough to almost believe in them. There’s an infinite number of reasons why he shouldn’t trust a hybrid, yet Jimin struggles to find any other chance at surviving. 

So, gritting his teeth and stifling every sound clawing up his throat, he stands behind the hybrid. 

Gulping, throat clicking, he studies their surroundings but can’t see much besides endless darkness. Biting on his bottom lip, he refrains from asking or even uttering the faintest sound. 

The hybrid stands a few steps ahead of him, long and thick tail swaying behind his legs and hears twitching on top of his head. 

Then, sharp and fast, he turns to face Jimin. 

His features are yet again unreadable and sharp. Those of the relentless murder Jimin has been running from for so long. Unconsciously, he attempts a step back. 

His wounded ankle gives out under his weight though, the pain shooting up his leg tearing a wet whimper from his lips. 

Anticipating the fall, Jimin’s eyes squeeze shut and he misses the hybrid moving fast on its feet. Its large hand closes around Jimin’s arm, just under his elbow. It holds him up, other hand curling around the human’s waist and twitching, fingers digging into the flesh. 

Making himself bold and brave, Jimin blinks his eyes open to meet the other’s eyes. Whatever he sees flashing in those jades is soon gone, replaced by hard determination just a moment before the hybrid’s head snaps around. 

This time, the noises are such that even Jimin catches them clearly. 

“What’s that?” he asks dumbly, grimacing at himself. 

The hands on him tighten their hold, but never let go. 

The hybrid doesn’t answer him, but manhandles Jimin with embarrassing ease. It is hard to suffocate the scream of protest that rises to his throat when the other lifts his weight and throws it across its shoulder, like Jimin’s little more than a lifeless weight to carry around. Although he bites hard down on his lips, Jimin still kicks and punches at the hybrid, ignoring the pain at his wound for all it’s worth. 

Soon enough, he’s forced to accept the matter of facts, and the helplessness of him before the hybrid. 

Gritting his teeth, glaring at the forest as they move through faster than he could have on healthy legs, Jimin can only pray for this humiliation to be short-lived. 

And short-lived it is, for the hybrid comes to a stop not long after, letting Jimin back down on his feet but still holding his elbow for support. The thoughtful act only has Jimin want to claw at the other’s face, pulling away carelessly and sharply from the burning touch. 

“Where’s this?” he asks instead, turning around and studying their surroundings. 

Somehow, they reached the nearby mountain range, stretching for miles and miles across the forest. Before him, a small hut stares at Jimin smugly. He glares at it instead, feeling rather bitter for not having found the place on his own. 

“How did you know of this place?”

This time, he can’t help turning around when asking, casting a quick glance the hybrid’s way. The other—though—is giving Jimin its back. It looks tense, ready to lounge at any danger. 

Feeling his lips twitch with annoyance, Jimin turns again back to the cave. 

“Whatever,” he grumbles, gritting his teeth when moving the first step. 

Before long, Jimin has to lean on a tree, legs threatening to give out under his weight. The hut’s entrance is painfully close though, taunting him for his weakness when safety appears to be so close and just within reach.

Gritting his teeth and curling his lips into a grimace, Jimin pushes off the tree and wills his body to move. He doesn’t get far before hearing steps behind him, heavy and confident as they bring the hybrid to him. 

Jimin stops, his body swaying. He turns, back leaning against the closest tree while facing the other. 

The hybrid stops inits track, studying him despite the near darkness casting thick shadows all around. 

Jimin has to squint to pinpoint where the other is, barely distinguishing more than a shape in the darkness.

“What?” he slurs tiredly, eyelids drooping and a lazy smirk on his lips.

Whatever will he had to fight and escape, it is momentarily overpowered by the thick exhaustion reaching deep into his bones and making his mind hazy. 

“Changed your mind?”

The hybrid lets out a gruff sound, something in it feeling a lot like annoyance. The smirk on Jimin's lips turns a bit sharper and steadier. 

“Stay.”

Jimin snorts at the curt order, watching as the hybrid hesitates but eventually turns his back to him. 

“Woof, woof,” he slurs mockingly, somehow sure the joke would be wasted on the hybrid. 

Rolling his eyes, Jimin makes himself push from the slim three and crosses the distance to the hut. He can hear the hybrid’s steps getting further and further away, leaving him alone into the night. Reaching the hut’s door at last, pushing at it with a relieved sigh as it opens, Jimin isn’t sure he can tell himself glad for being alone. 

Brushing away such thoughts, he steps into the dark space and lets the door close behind him with a muted thud. 

A shaky breath slips past his lips, a cloud of whitish air lingering before his face. 

Looking around tiredly, Jimin lets himself slide down against the door. The floorboards are damp and cold, but still they offer some sort of reprieve from the round and uncomfortable ground. Jimin gladly takes it as a blessing. 

He could—and maybe should—try to reach a bit deeper in the hut, maybe explore the unfamiliar space and look for anything to use as a weapon against the hybrid. His body is heavy though, and mind impossibly drowsy. Moving rather feels like the worst possible idea he has ever had, every part of him agreeing that this is a rather nice spot for a quick nap instead. 

So he sits down, eyelids falling and mind easily drifting away. 

There’s a number of things Jimin should tend to or worry about, but none seems of importance as exhaustion wins over him and he’s falling deep into unconsciousness.

-

When he comes to, Jimin is lying against a wall, a thick layer of something shielding him from the bone-deep chill. Under him, the floorboards aren’t as cold and hard as he remembers. Blinking blearily, noticing that everything is dim around him rather than impossibly dark, he forces away the lingering traces of sleep so as to clear his mind. From somewhere in between the walls’ boards, light filters into the hut, just enough for him to make out shapes and lines. The windows are closed and securely locked, blocking out any light from entering the space. 

With how small and cramped the hut is, it only takes Jimin a quick glance to confirm he is—indeed—alone, the cramped space hosting no others but him and those daring slivers of light. 

With a groan, Jimin sits up while still studying his surroundings. The hut’s core is but a small room, the ceilings low and walls mostly bare but for a few cabinets and a wardrobe pushed against a wall. On one side there’s an old-looking hearth calling out to Jimin. Biting down his bottom lip, he tries to remember all the good reasons why lighting a fire would be an awful idea. 

For a while—ignoring a more pressing matter rather willfully—Jimin looks around like he never saw a more entrancing sight than a rundown hut. Yet again, even just sitting up reminds him of the untended wound clawed into his flesh. So, despite his best efforts to ignore its existence in the hope it would then disappear, Jimin forces himself to glance down at it at least. 

Shifting some so that his back rests against the wall—and feeling the layers of clothes underneath him shift and twist with every movement—he stretches one leg while bending his wounded one. The gashes travel down halfway his calf, red and bloody and yet seemingly not as deep as he feared. It could almost be defined as shallow, only needing some cleaning and stitches. Looking down at it but reluctant to touch and properly inspect the wound just yet, Jimin is almost convinced he’ll be able to sweat whatever infection with a fever and be good on his way with just that. 

Snorting at himself, tugging at the heavy jacket draped over his body, Jimin huddles up best he can while his eyes close again. For a while—though—his senses stay on high alert, hyper-aware of his quiet surroundings. Although the hybrid’s absence is rather welcome, it has a twisted and knotted feeling lodging in his chest. Outside the hut’s thin walls, the forest is still the same nightmarish hell he barely survived.

So—even as he chases after sleep while his body temperature begins to rise—Jimin’s mind is filled with images of the hybrid. 

Still—somehow—sleep does overcome him, and Jimin’s roughly torn from it by the noise of something cracking. 

His body jolts, but he’s wary to open his eyes just yet. So—at first—he listens to the sounds of the hybrid moving around the small cave. 

For how hard he tries, Jimin can’t bring himself to tell what the other is busy with, and soon curiosity takes over his every other rational thought. 

Peeling one eye open, subtly shifting against the wall, Jimin searches for the hybrid in what’s suddenly an even smaller space than what he thought at first. There’s barely any room for two of them to move freely and yet—pushed to the wall far from Jimin—the hybrid sits while working at something intently. Sitting next to it, Jimin makes out a small pile of things he can’t quite recognize. 

The air is filled with the damp scent of grass and herbs, slightly pungent but a welcome change from the biting reek of blood and mold that accompanied him to sleep. 

For a while, Jimin can only stare at the other’s back in a hazy state between sleep and wake. Then, at some point, the hybrid stops and pulls back from whatever he’s been working on. It is only then that he turns back, searching for Jimin through the dimness. 

Suddenly cast under the hybrid’s attention, Jimin flinches and draws back into the wall while stifling a whimper, eyes squinting as the other stands. 

Its hands hold something undistinguished, something Jimin resolves to glaring at in order to express all of his disagreement with whatever the hybrid means to do next. Regardless of it, the helplessness from before is still etched with fire in his memory, and he’s no fool to the striking difference between them. 

So—despite the stubborn glaring and pushing himself as far into the wall as he possibly can—Jimin can only watch as the hybrid reaches closer and then crouches in front of him.

“What are you doing?”

Jimin’s voice is feeble but hoarse, struggling to take shape in the thick air. His chin nods down to the twin bowls in each of the hybrid’s hands, a number of questions swarming his head at the sight. 

Although wary of their proximity, Jimin lets his gaze dart from the other and rake over their surroundings again. What looked like a bare and undistinguished space before now clearly appears like something more. 

Frowning, training his gaze back to the hybrid, Jimin wets his lips and tries to make sense of what he sees. 

“It is not your first time here, is it?”

The hybrid’s eyes flick up, jades trapping Jimin in their depths. 

Feeling his lips twist with annoyance, he makes a point of looking away, head turning to the side with petty defiance. 

The hybrid seems rather unbothered by it, one large hand reaching out without Jimin even noticing. He does notice, though, when such a hand falls on his wounded leg and pulls at it firmly. 

Jimin hisses, head snapping to the hybrid and eyes filling with tears as they glare at the other. “What-” he hisses, but words die in his throat when the hybrid tears away his shredded pants and frees more of the wound to their eyes. 

Jimin suffocates a whimper at the sight, the smell of blood twisting his guts unpleasantly. For how his eyes see far worse than the hybrid's in the darkness, he still has to look away from the sight. And from those large hands handling him with novel attention and care. Jimin’s throat clicks, and yet he glances again at the hybrid. 

He finds its gaze trained down to the injured leg, claws only a hair breadth from its edges. Once again, Jimin has to fight that primal instinct telling him to pull away, to cower and recoil from the same hand that inflicted him such wound. 

Every fiber of him quivers and cries out at the prolonged touch, innards twisting and contorting more and more the longer it lasts. 

The grip on his ankle is firm though, unyielding when faced with the human’s quivering and weak attempts at getting away. It keeps him from moving, effortlessly trapped in a place so unfamiliar to him. 

The pungent scent of herbs stings and prickles as it travels up to his nostrils, the corners of his eyes burning in response. “What’s that?”

Like his voice is no sound at all, the hybrid makes no sign it heard, keeping focused on the task at hand. It takes Jimin a moment to recognize its glaring as such, but every other inquiry dies in his throat as he boldly begins to assume. 

Twisting Jimin’s ankle and leg subtly, the hybrid’s been inspecting the wound, a focused frown dawning on his features, a shadow falling over them. 

Jimin’s mouth dries, eyes darting to the bowls set on the ground next to the hybrid. Part of him—that reckless and curious part—wants to ask and inquire, demanding any sort of answer that isn’t furtive glances and grunts. 

Still, he buries such a dangerous part deep inside of him, resolving to glare at the crown of ebony hair instead. 

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”

The words slip past his control without Jimin even noticing, fast and bold like he was trying not to be with every last ounce of will left in him. 

Somehow, though, they manage to catch the hybrid’s attention. At least long enough for another furtive glance before such attention draws to the bowl of water sitting just next the hybrid. 

“Do you?”

This time, the hybrid doesn’t bother looking up at him. From somewhere, he pulls a seemingly clean cloth and wets it into the cold water. 

Jimin eyes it warily, nibbling down on his bottom lip while considering and weighing his options. The prospect of indulging the hybrid feels rather nightmarish but—at the same time—he struggles to find a way out of it when the other seems dead-set on seeing this through.

Grimacing at the first touch of something wet and cold on his swollen and heated skin, he wills himself to keep still. 

The hybrid’s claws still linger too close to the open wound, holding him in place and posing a veiled threat Jimin cannot possibly ignore. So he focuses on them instead, rather than on the slow motion of the hybrid’s other hand and the slow drag of a wet cloth close to his wound.

It is a rather challenging task in and of itself, but somehow Jimin manages to keep his instincts at bay up until the moment the cloth rests permanently in the bowl of water. Its content is now muddy, dirtied by both blood and dirt and things Jimin doesn’t bother naming. Then, after inspecting its handiwork and looking seemingly satisfied with it, the hybrid takes the other bowl in his hands. 

That’s when Jimin’s instincts come back to life with a jolt. 

His legs both pull back sharply, bending until his knees touch to his chest. 

“No,” he hisses, one hand hovering over the injured bit of his leg, as if that would be enough to shield him from the hybrid. 

The latter’s eyes lift, holding Jimin’s with a scowl morphing its sharp features. Its lips curl, twisting into a displeased and almost soundless snarl. 

“I don’t care,” Jimin protests, pulling his legs even closer and pushing his back even harder into the wall. Old wounds and new ones cry at the strain put on them, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not enough to relent his stubborn resolve not to let the hybrid any closer.

“That’s not getting anywhere close to me.”

This time, the hybrid’s snarl is a rather vicious one. It is loud enough for Jimin to flinch. Yet his gaze is fierce and steady as it holds a jade-like one. 

The hybrid clenches its jaw, a muscle twitching at its corner as his eyes narrow in a scowl. 

Jimin steels himself, for once listening to the wary voices ringing in his ears. 

With a gruff sound, a sharp puff of air, the hybrid stands on his feet and stands back. The bowl sits still at Jimin’s feet, waiting for the human’s resolve to break. 

Jimin glares at it, shifting some on the makeshift bed and wincing at the pain it brings him. Although clean and mostly no longer bleeding, the wound is still open and exposed. The gashes are thin and not too long, but still he cannot afford to ignore them for long. So, casting a furtive glance at the hybrid, he reaches out for the seemingly clean cloth that was brought along the bowls. He’s rather wary of it, and ready to regret using them to tend to his wounds, yet there’s nothing left for him to use and he’s been delaying it long enough already.

Gritting his teeth, Jimin tries to make a quick job of it. 

“It’s a salve.”

Jimin’s head snaps up at the gruff voice, eyes squinting at the hybrid. 

It sits just in front of him, back pushing to the door and one leg bent at the knee. One arm rests on it, its head leaning into the wooden door and jade eyes looking at Jimin through hooded lids. 

“Not poison.”

Jimin snorts, ignoring the uneasiness crawling underneath his skin at the hybrid’s voice. 

“So you do talk.”

The hybrid’s lips twist, and Jimin’s petty enough to take much satisfaction in it. 

Pointedly enough, he ignores the salve and wraps the bandages around his leg. 

The hybrid sighs, but doesn’t try to convince Jimin any further. It grumbles something though, low under its breath. So much so it almost goes unheard.  

Jimin’s hands hesitate, his eyes darting again to the other. He bites on his tongue to keep in any retort, focusing back on the task at hand.

—

Jimin sits huddled up in a corner of the damp and cold cell when he hears them coming. He didn’t expect anyone to enter the cramped space, not so soon and not while he was still in it. 

The door opens without him being able to find any hideout or way out. There’s none, and the frantic way with which his eyes dart around the cell is rather pointless—he knows. 

The door opens, and guards twice as large as him step in. One casts Jimin a quick and disdainful glance, but his lips are twisted in a thin line. 

Jimin’s throat clicks, heart lodged in his throat snugly. 

The guard’s gaze leaves him quick enough, as if he was just another spot of mold on the walls. 

Although part of Jimin bristles at the thought, he holds his breath when the first two guards step in and two more follow. These—though—carry someone inside the cell. 

Jimin’s eyes widen, no one else seems to notice his presence. Their attention is trained to the large hybrid being dragged in, its body limp and heavier than it probably is. 

By the way they carry him in, Jimin would guess his bones are made of lead. 

The thought sends a shiver down his spine, a shudder he can’t fight. 

Mind blank and body paralyzed, Jimin watches as they heavily let go of the hybrid. Its body hits the cot, but no sound comes from it. 

The guard seems unbothered by it, stepping back and rolling back their shoulders. 

“Lord, I hate this one,” one of them comments, adding a curse under his breath Jimin can’t quite catch. “It gives me the ick.”

Standing next to him, a slightly shorter guard chuckles nervously, turning to the door.

“Let’s go,” another instructs. 

Just as he speaks, he turns to Jimin. 

Despite everything being dark, there’s no mistaking the smirk drawing on the guard’s face. 

“Don’t worry,” he mocks. “It doesn’t bite.”

His words train every other guard’s attention to Jimin. 

The shorter one shifts on his feet nervously, he says nothing though. No one of them does, turning their back to Jimin and locking the door behind. 

The dungeons are a rather lawless world, one of its own and like no other place Jimin’s ever stepped into. Yet, somehow, one rule still holds. It is the reason why Jimin found his way into the cell—why he found his way in many cells before. No killing is allowed in the dungeons, and it’s the sole certainty that’s allowed Jimin to survive this long—to find a way around the dangers lurking in the darkness. With some degree of irony, no killing makes everything else fair ground. 

Gritting his teeth and glaring at the wall, Jimin braces himself for the night to come. There’s no cameras in the cells, and it’s the only small mercy the dungeon offers. 

No one dares coming close to this one cell, and that’s the only other perk there was to coming here specifically. Too bad Jimin was too slow and late to leave on time, falling prey to the guards’ pranks and games. No killing, sure, but as he glances at the lying hybrid, Jimin wonders if it stands true for this one too. 

So far he’s never met it, not while it was conscious and not from this up close.

Jimin has ears to listen with, though, and he’s heard of the many rumors about it. 

They say he came from another lab, from some place far away now shut down. The thought alone has Jimin’s skin crawling and he has to force himself not to think about why the lab has been shut down. The other hybrids aren’t quite the chatty type though, and he’s never bothered asking. Maybe he should have. 

Keeping his eyes on it, Jimin hugs his knees and pushes himself harder into the wall. If his luck is still there—somewhere within him—then a guard will come by and unlock the door. The thought is ridiculous enough for Jimin to snort and laugh. It is a gruff and strangled sound, hoarse as he fights it. 

On the bed, the hybrid stirs, and Jimin’s body freezes. 

Holding his breath, he listens for any sound telling him the drugs they fed it have already worn off. All he can hear though, is the loud beating of his own heart. 

For a while—long enough for his body to relax some—the cell is unbearably quiet. 

Then it comes again, the shuffling of fabrics and the moving of the hybrid’s large body. 

Jimin is frozen, stuck on the spot when his brain is at a crossroad—his fight or flight instinct malfunctioning, or something. 

All the while, the cell is drowned in thick darkness. It is all Jimin can see, until it is not and his heart skips a beat. 

Twin jades reflect the weak light filtering through the door, staring at him owlishly.

Jimin’s throat clicks, he presses himself even closer to the wall. 

The hybrid still lies down on his stomach, just like they left it. His eyes are open, unblinking as they look at Jimin through the shadows. 

“Didn’t they see you there?”

Its voice is gruff, hoarse. It grates on Jimin’s skin and he flinches upon hearing it.

“You should tell them.”

Jimin’s brows draw close in a confused frown. He hears the words, but they take some time to register and process in his brain, nothing but sounds he can’t make sense of. 

“What,” he blurts in a breath, a feeble and broken sound. 

The hybrid emits a grunt, a strangled sound as he tries to lift his body but visibly fails at it. Sinking back into the coat, he heaves out a shaky breath. Somehow, it sounds a lot like a breathy chuckle to Jimin’s ears. 

“I can’t move, you see?” it adds, and—somehow—Jimin is sure he hears amusement in those words. 

It has his skin crawling, guts twisting.

Swallowing, throat clicking, Jimin tries to make sense of what the hybrid means by that but fails pitifully. 

“But it’s the drugs,” it trails off, eyes closing in the end, giving Jimin a break from their unbearable staring. “It never lasts long.”

Jimin’s frown deepens, and he tries but fails to ignore the deep sadness laced with those words. 

“What do you mean?” he dares ask, wary and almost expecting no answer. 

The hybrid hums, a dragged-on sound that lingers in the air for a while. 

“This won’t last long,” the hybrid warns gravely, eyes blinking open again and pinning Jimin to the wall. “You should get away before then.”

“Why?” Jimin’s voice is strangled, barely audible when all he can hear is the hammering of his own heart. 

The hybrid doesn’t answer, keeping quiet for a while. 

“What’s your name?”

Jimin blinks, lips parting with a soft gasp. 

“Name?” 

He wonders what use his name might have to the hybrid, raking his brain but unable to understand. 

“You have one of those, don’t you?” the hybrid asks, and Jimin hates how genuinely curious he sounds. “Names that belong to you only, to identify with.”

Wetting his lips, Jimin thinks back to the other hybrids in the dungeon. He could swear they have names too, or some sort of appellative at least. They must have one. 

“Don’t you?”

Jimin can’t see the hybrid, but could swear it awkwardly shrugs despite the way he’s laying down. Still wary of it, ignoring the countless bells going off in his brain, Jimin wages a war against his own curiosity. 

Hybrids are mindless monsters, that’s all he’s ever known. Not to be trusted, not to be indulged. But he’s leaning forward unconsciously, entertaining odd thoughts now that one helplessly lies before him. 

“You don’t name a gun, do you?”

Jimin snorts, eyes rolling. “No,” he agrees, though. “I don’t.”

For a while they stay quiet, and oddly comfortable. 

The hybrid’s breaths are steady, his body motionless despite his warnings. 

For a while, everything is quiet until it is not. 

A clank comes from behind the door, then a voice. 

“Oppa?” A shuddering breath, a pause. “Jimin oppa?” 

Jimin’s lips part with a relieved sigh, body sagging without him even noticing. 

“The guards were talking,” she mutters, the door creaking open slowly. “They were saying,” she trails, taking an hesitant step inside.

“Don’t,” Jimin warns sharply, glancing at the hybrid while standing and crossing the distance between them with quick strides. “Let’s go,” he urges, one hand falling to her shoulder and guiding her toward the corridor again. 

Seyeon asks no questions, walking back into the feeble lights obediently. 

“See you again, Jimin.”

Both freeze at the words, stopping even as the door was slowly closing behind them. 

The hybrid’s voice is steady, no more as hoarse. It carries an oddly cheerful tone, and Jimin can’t fight the way his body shudders, a chill travelling down his spine. 

The door closes with a loud thud, and he ignores Seyeon’s inquiries, stalking down the corridor while praying no one will notice them. 

His vain prayers are hardly ever heard, and it was rather foolish of him to nurture a certain hope this time around. At least—Jimin thinks to himself while rough hands travel down his body in the darkness of a cramped cell—he notices the hybrid in time to urge Seyeon away into hiding. And that’s good enough, he tells himself. 

ii. look at me, do you see it? the wounded beast longing for a tender touch

Jimin wakes up to sheer quiet shrouding the hut. In his sleep he tilted to the side, finding himself now lying on his side—the hut appearing curiously foreign. 

Sitting up with some struggle, head spinning momentarily, Jimin studies the hut. At first it appears to be empty, only a feeble light filtering through the cracks in the walls. It hints at an early morning, cold and hued with blues still. Chewing on his cheek, he begins to entertain a certain thought while still studying the hut’s small interiors. 

It is with a jolt that he finds the hybrid sitting in a corner, no longer guarding the door but still vigilant. 

Swallowing thickly, Jimin attempts at standing. His leg is hesitant on bearing any weight, threatening him to fail and give out. He is forced to lean back on the wall, head hitting on its surface as he keeps his eyes on the hybrid. The latter hasn’t moved, but jade eyes follow his every movement warily. It barely moves, but its gaze is heavy on Jimin. 

For a moment—as he wages a war of will within himself—Jimin holds the hybrid’s gaze unwaveringly. As a fortunate result of his leaning against the wall, his eyelids droop and chin tilts back in what closely resembles a brave and bold stance. Taking advantage of it all and of the hybrid’s unresponsive state, Jimin pushes himself off the wall. 

The heavy jacket from before is still snugly draped over his shoulders, and he pulls it a bit tighter around his body while taking a first and hesitant step. 

The hybrid’s eyes are still firm on him, but something in it changes visibly. Its shoulders draw back, head lifting some and eyes narrowing as they follow Jimin warily. 

As if he is blind to the change, the human moves another step and then another. The door draws closer to him, and a chorus begins to chant in his head. For how reckless and stupid it might be, leaving the hut is all he can think about. 

The tears at his legs still hurt, but it’s a pain that—although sharp and searing—has become bearable enough. Convincing himself that the limp to his trading won’t be of any hindrance, he begins to think about which way to run once past the creaky door. 

This far away from the arena the cameras won’t be running, he’s almost sure of it. They’re too close to the mountain range, far too distant from their city and its technologies. 

Moving another step, gouging the best way to walk without putting too much weight on his injured leg, Jimin looks around for anything he could use as a walking stick—a tool to lean on. 

It is only when a handful of steps divide him from the door that Jimin’s path is blocked by the hybrid’s large body. It sets before him like a wall, an obstacle far too big for him to remove. 

Jimin’s feet stumble back, eyes widening when he didn’t even notice the other moving. 

It takes him a moment to steady himself, to acknowledge the dark wall as the hybrid’s body. Drawing his shoulders back, his head lifting some, Jimin makes sure to be holding the other’s unwavering gaze. 

“Move.”

The hybrid’s lips twist, curling just enough to show a hint of white fangs. 

Jimin’s hands ball up in tight fists, jaw clenching until every muscle of his face is tense and aching. Like a mask that makes him look nothing like a human and much more like a disfigured puppet. 

“I said, move.”

The hybrid’s shoulders draw back, body shifting imperceptibly into a firm posturing. “No.”

His voice holds a peculiar vibration to it, grating on Jimin’s skin and yet—yet oddly beautiful as it shapes into words.

Jimin’s teeth grind, nails digging in his palms. 

He takes a step back, jaw jutting to the side in annoyance. 

“Why?” he hisses, fighting the restless emotions twisting and thrashing within him. 

The hybrid is little bothered by the sharpness of his throat, as if it means nothing to him. Jimin feels himself rather pitiful, a pathetic little thing putting on a pointless fight—the tantrum of a child. 

“You must stay here.”

In every possible way, the words sit wrong with it. They grate and claw at his skin, baring his nerves and poking at them. In any possible way, the words seem meant to unleash his fiercest reaction. 

“You won’t kill me but you’ll keep me here?” he cries, voice rising in pitch when anger and frustration become one with him. “What am I?” His hands shove at the hybrid’s chest without any concern for consequences. He hits the other again and again, not stopping even though the hybrid is an unmovable obstacle and the unresponsive victim of his anger. “Am I just a toy for you to play with?” he spits, shoving at the other one last time, his hands falling in the end. 

His shoulders lift and fall heavily, every breath he takes short and shaky as a lump makes home at the base of his throat. 

Then, looking up at the other once again, even when the sight makes Jimin sick to the core, he fakes himself strong once again. “I’d rather die, Jeongguk.”

The name is all but novel on his tongue, tasting bitter and like regrets. 

Jimin holds that jade-like gaze and tells himself it doesn’t hurt, that the betrayal means nothing to him. Whatever he thought they had, whatever stupid thought he once entertained, they mean nothing now. He looks at Jeongguk, and it would be impossible to see the way those sharp features morph under his gaze. For a moment, they become a distorted and vicious mask, one that has Jimin shuddering and fighting not to step back. 

“Is that what you believe?” Jeongguk snarls back coldly, his voice reverberating through Jimin, shaking him to the core for how vicious it sounds. 

Jimin’s teeth grind, his eyes narrowing as he feels his guts twisting and churning. Yet his voice is steady, no hesitation when the answer is curt and challenging. 

“Yes.”

“Then I should have let them have you, shouldn’t I?”

Jimin bristles, sucking in a sharp breath. 

“Fuck you.”

His hands shove again at the hybrid’s chest, slapping at it so hard they hurt at the impact. 

Jeongguk snarls, no longer unresponsive to Jimin’s anger. 

He grabs the human’s wrist and tugs him closer sharply. 

“I just might,” he breathes, bringing their faces closer until they’re a hair breadth apart, his lips brushing against the shell of Jimin’s ear when he speaks. “If you're gonna spread your legs for anyone anyway, why not me?”

The words, spoken like velvet to his ears, have bile rising to his mouth. His teeth grind, arms fighting the tight lock keeping him pressed to the hybrid’s chest. 

Seething, blood burning and innards churning, Jimin writhes in the hybrid’s hold until he’s let go of in the end. 

Stumbling a step back, rubbing at his wrists and grimacing at the pain traveling up his leg, Jimin refuses to look at the other.

“So I was right,” he mutters under his breath, taking a step back and retreating to the farthest corner from Jeongguk. 

“About what?” the other mocks, his voice ever so gruff like every word he utters is a roar or a snarl. 

Looking up, making himself meet those jade eyes once more despite the rage boiling in his veins, Jimin sees nothing but another monster unleashed to hunt his kind; his heart unbearably cold. “You’re just like them all.”

He doesn’t wait to see Jeongguk’s reply, he cannot bring himself to. Whatever emotion his words bring to Jeongguk’s face, Jimin has no care for them.

-

Jimin wakes up next to an empty hut. He feels hot and sweaty and cold at once, a fever trapping him in a state of hazy consciousness. Yet—through it—he feels large hands manhandling him. Although weak and although feverish, Jimin still kicks at the hybrid. He grumbles something, a protest that dies halfway through his throat. 

“Stay away.”

His every protest falls to deaf ears though, firm hands holding him down and working however they please despite his weak fight. 

A cold cloth is pressed to his forehead, while something refreshingly cool wipes away the sweat covering his skin and damping his clothes uncomfortably. Then, when his consciousness is just about to drift away, Jimin feels those hands working at the bandage around his wound. His lips part, but his tongue is heavy—far too heavy in his mouth to coherently protest against Jeongguk’s doing.

-

When he comes to again—with no way to tell how long it’s been—Jimin is first conscious of the foul taste in his mouth and the headache pounding at his temples. Next comes the drowsiness and the soreness of his body, the chills running down his spine and spreading to every nerve-endings. His clothes are damp with sweat, sticking uncomfortably to his skin whenever he tries to move. 

Still, with a stifled groan and squinting at the room, Jimin sits up. He shifts so that his back rests against the wall. It takes him a while to confirm he’s alone, the hybrid nowhere to be seen in the hut’s cramped space. 

Snorting, shaking his head while a twisted bemusement fills him, Jimin glances at the door. The temptation is too strong, laced with a petty eagerness to prove Jeongguk wrong and defy him.

Using the wall as a support, he stands on sore legs. 

Jimin moves the first step ever so hesitant, expecting the searing pain to tear through his flesh. To his surprise, it hurts far less than it did before, supporting his weight when he tries to take a few more steps. 

Jutting his jaw to the side, ignoring the questions swarming in his head, Jimin walks to the wardrobe pushed against one wall. He is a bit hesitant while opening it, a grimace on his face when a moldy scent hits him. Still, he takes out a few items and quickly changes himself. His torn pants lie on the ground rather pitifully by the time he’s done, and yet all that Jimin feels is relief as he moves to the door. On his shoulder, a bag weighs with all he’s taken away, a constant reminder of the chance he’s giving up on. The hunt seems to be calling to him as he walks, inviting the human to rethink and stay back. 

It is hardly enough for Jimin to stay, not when every fiber of him itches with the need to get away from this cursed forest. So, once at the door—his hand on the knob and heart beating fast in his chest—Jimin doesn’t allow himself to look back any more. Not when he crosses the entrance and not when he’s walked the first few steps away. 

Jiming doesn’t look back, not even after hours. The pale sun has once again set above his head, twilight painting the world with cold hues before nightfall. 

Jimin’s hands clench around the jacket’s hems, pulling them tighter around his body, his movements made stiff and slow by the several layers he’s thrown on. They’re barely enough to scare away the sharp cold reaching down to his bones, his teeth chattering and bones trembling with every step he takes. At some point, Jimin lost track of where he meant to go, single-mindedly guided by the urge to get away. Nothing else matters but that.

It is when night falls like a thick cloak over him that Jimin stops, glancing up at the tall trees and considering. While a part of him still advocates for the safety he could find in a high branch, everything else has been made reluctant and wary. So, casting one last glance at the sheltered vault of branches and leaves, Jimin opts to sit at the tree’s roots. Here, at least, he will be able to run away or hide if any danger approaches. 

Sitting down, huddling up in the too large jacket and against the hard bough, he struggles to find a somewhat comfortable position. Regardless of his sore body and aching neck, exhaustion is quick to overpower Jimin’s senses, leaving him recklessly vulnerable to those who still hunt in the forest.

-

It is still night when he wakes up to the sound of something approaching. His thoughts go to Jeongguk, picturing the hybrid and almost wishing it was him coming closer and closer with every passing second. 

Still Jimin isn’t much surprised when he hears voices approaching. It is none he can recognize, but that hardly brings any comfort to him. 

Standing on his feet, pulling from the tree and discarding the thought of climbing to the highest branch, he looks around. 

Desperately, he searches for the safest route to take when every direction looks just the same, the chance of surviving ever so slim. 

Swallowing thickly, he starts to move in the opposite direction from the approaching voices. He can’t hear them anymore, but does hear their slow trading through the forest undergrowth. 

Although running will inevitably make his presence noticed, keeping a slow pace will just as well bring them to him. Cursing at himself and at his rotten luck, Jimin begins running again.

As if it is all he’s ever known, it comes easy to him despite the numerous bruises and his wounded leg. Every heavy fall of his feet brings a shot of pain travelling through his body, but he has no other choice if not ignoring it all. Biting on his tongue, Jimin makes up his resolve to run until his body gives out. 

It is—after all—all he’s ever known.

The moments he begins to run, though, the ones approaching pinpoint his position and the chase once again begins. This time, though, it takes them a while to catch up. Long enough for Jimin to rule out the possibility of them being hybrids. 

The realisation almost has him stopping, if not for another dreadful thought taking shape in his mind. 

Jeongguk took him far from the arena, far from the city’s grounds and their watchful eyes. So far from the core of their show, and it’s all so clear now that he wants laughs at it all. Breathlessly, he forces himself to still run. 

Jimin runs and doesn’t stop, not even when his ears fill with the barking of dogs and—for a moment—they’re all he can hear. 

More have joined the hunt, humans. 

The night is thick all around, like a cloak casting the darkest shadows all around. Jimin’s eyes search through it but to no avail. Then come lights from behind, and he knows they’ve come closer. 

He hears—even above the barking dogs—the clanking of their weapons and the heavy fall of their boots. Something in him wants to scream, to stop and shout at them for chasing after him so cowardly. He doesn’t, and not quite thanks to his preservation instincts but because something else adds to the chase. 

Behind him, the guards running after him stop and he unconsciously slows down. The dogs go quiet for a moment, resume their barking once again, and yet the party giving chase to Jimin is no longer running after him. The men are yelling orders at each other and at the dogs, but chaos is fast to fall on them when—soon enough—they realize some men have gone missing without them noticing. 

Jimin stops, cursing at himself for being so reckless but unable to control himself. He takes a pointless step back, turning to the party’s direction and catching glimpses of them. Some torches have fallen to the ground, casting distorted shadows into the night. The guards keep shouting, trying to make sense of what’s happening. 

Jimin watches them, and can’t help but wonder if Jeongguk finds satisfaction in hunting them the way he did with his own kind. If not satisfaction then vengeance at least, Jimin catches himself hoping so while he himself feels rather vindicated as yet another man is taken from their chaotic party. 

Unconsciously, he finds himself walking towards them. He doesn’t notice moving, body mindlessly approaching until he’s lingering in the periphery, hiding in the shadows and watching. 

One of the dogs notices him first, unleashed and scared, it barks and snarls at him. 

Jimin frowns, holding his breath while taking a step back. The dog doesn’t come close though, looking nervous as it snarls at him still. His feet move another careful step back regardless, and his back is met with something firm and hot. 

Jimin’s breath catches in his throat, body freezing and heart jumping to his throat. 

One large and wet hand curls around his neck, angling back his head before Jimin can do so himself. 

Jeongguk’s breath comes in heavy and hot puffs from above, heart beating so strong in his chest Jimin can feel it. His body is tense even as he recognizes the hybrid, wary of him when the hand at his throat reeks of blood and the jade-like gaze meeting his own is feral and unfocused. 

Swallowing thickly, Adam’s apple moving against Jeongguk’s hand, Jimin catches himself thinking if this will be the last of him. If this is the moment the bloodlust in those eyes will be his end—the last he’ll see.

The hold on his neck tightens, clawed fingers pushing at the thin skin over his pulse. Just a few meters ahead, armed guards are still searching for the one who so easily took down many of them already. Jimin can still hear them, but they’re white noise as Jeongguk’s hand forces his neck to crane and head to tilt all the way back. It pushes at the hybrid’s chest, every breath he takes ragged and short, made difficult by the uncomfortable curve of his neck. 

Jimin is aware of it all and yet none of it matters, not as he watches the hybrid lean down and come closer, their lips touching with the next sharp breath he takes. 

Like everything else about the hybrid, the meeting of their lips lacks finesse. It is rough and sloppy and uncomfortable as Jeongguk’s tongue licks in his tongue, claiming all of him rather than chasing some sort of pleasure. 

Their kiss—if so one would dare to call it—tastes sickeningly like blood, Jimin’s guts turning and bile rising to his mouth. His hands claw at the other, trying to pull away and to push at him but in vain. For it was never meant to be a kiss and never meant for Jimin to enjoy it. 

Jeongguk stakes ownership over Jimin through it, something punitive and humiliating about it that has the human’s skin crawling with disgust. Still he is powerless, at the hybrid’s mercy when everything else is hunting him down. 

Of all things—Jimin deliriously thinks—dying at Jeongguk’s hand might be the less atrocious way. If the hybrid were to show him some more mercy—that is.

Is it when Jimin’s lungs begin to constrict and clench around nothing, crying for air desperately and his hands begin to claw again at the hybrid—with more intent and desperation than even before—that their mouths part. 

Jeongguk doesn’t let go of him, grabbing his jaw and angling it down. This way, Jimin is forced to look at the morbid scenery painted before them. He hadn’t noticed it before, but there’s blood on the ground and far fewer men than he’d thought at first. Just a handful of them, if he were to be generous. 

“Do you see them?”

Jeongguk’s voice is a hot breath fanning against the shell of his ear, sending a shiver down Jimin’s spine. Even so—even when he shudders and blood curdles in his veins—a part of him dares to feel relief, for Jeongguk is still conscious enough to recognize Jimin, to retain a fraction of his humanity. If so it can be called. 

“They’re looking for you.”

Jimin’s teeth grit, his jaw clenching as the hold on his tightens. 

Jeongguk’s other hand curls around his waist, keeping him in place against himself.

“So what are you doing here?” he fires back, fighting around the steel grip on him despite it being pointless. 

Jeongguk’s chest vibrates against his back, his body tense and hands twitching around Jimin. 

The human scoffs, but then he sucks in a sharp breath when one of the guards walks up to them. He freezes against Jeongguk, unconsciously pushing back into the hybrid’s chest. 

The guard’s torch casts a revealing light through the forest, tearing its shadows and unveiling all that hides within. Another step, a slight turn, and they will no longer be hidden. 

Jimin holds his breath, brain going blank when all he can think is that they will soon find them. He cannot seem to think past that point, as if a wall was holding him back, caging him into an endless loop. 

Behind him, Jeongguk reacts much faster than Jimin could ever have. 

He shoves the human back and away, striding forward like there’s nothing to fear about what lies ahead. And—Jimin deliriously thinks while the impact takes his breath away—there might as well be nothing to fear for something like the hybrid. 

Whatever threat the armed guards posed to Jimin, they’re a rather insignificant obstacle in Jeongguk’s path. They cannot fire to kill, and they’re hardly standing a chance while retreating and stumbling on the uneven ground. 

Jimin refuses to watch what happens after he falls, sliding back until his back is hitting the large trunk of a tree. Even then, Jimin presses himself against it, legs bending at the knees and head falling to rest on top of them. As screams fill his ears until he’s made deaf by them, the whole world reduced to the sickening choir of dying men and tearing flesh. 

Then, when everything is quiet again, Jimin still can’t find it in himself to lift his head and face the approaching hybrid. 

He fears what might appear before him, the mindless beast he saw at first in the hunt or something else. He’s not sure which would be worse, if facing the man he once thought he could trust or the bloodthirsty beast he later learned about. 

Whatever it is that waits to meet Jimin’s gaze, it lacks any sort of patience. For it grabs the human’s arm and forces him to stand, dragging him away forcefully. 

Jimin grits his teeth, but isn’t foolish enough to challenge Jeongguk’s straining control now of all time. He stumbles to keep up with the hybrid’s forced march, not to fall or look like he’s purposefully dragging behind. Still—more than once—Jimin loses footing and nearly falls, earning himself an impatient grunt and a rougher tug. 

The entire time, he keeps his lips pressed in a thin line, refusing to let out any sort of sound—a vain attempt to somehow protect his foolish pride. 

It takes them less than Jimin expected to reach the hut again, the door loudly banging behind him once they’re both inside. 

Jeongguk shoves at him, letting go so brusquely Jimin has to fight his own body not to fall ruinously to the ground. He spins on his heels instead, facing the hybrid like he knows no fear. 

Whatever fight and whatever arguing Jimin might’ve had dies down with the other’s snarls, a sound so primal it shakes right through him. It forces Jimin to flinch, his body tensing up in an instinctual response. 

“I told you to stay.”

Jimin’s teeth grit, hands balling up in tight fists, fighting the pointless urge to hit something and lash out all of his anger and frustration. 

“Why?” he hisses, moving a bold step forward like their proximity doesn’t have something in him cower and recoil. “Why should I do as you say?”

Another step forward, his voice rising louder and higher in pitch. 

“Why should I trust any of what you say?” he spits, all of his old resentment and hurt spilling like poison from his lips.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

Surprising even himself, Jimin laughs. 

It is bitter and angry, grating up his throat and sounding every possible way wrong. Even to his own ears.

“Then make me,” he pushes, his breath coming sharp and fast. 

Jeongguk snarls at his words, crossing the little distance between them. He doesn’t stop, not even when their bodies are impossibly close and not when the human finds himself stepping back. Before long, Jimin’s retreat is stopped by a wall, and he’s caged by the hybrid’s large body crowding his space.  

His breath catches as he meets the hybrid’s gaze, hitching on the lump forming in his throat.

“Make you?” Jeongguk’s voice is thickly laced with mockery, derisive of Jimin like he’s such a fun, foolish thing to play with. The human’s blood boils, nails digging in his palms. 

“I could.” Jeongguk licks around those words, lazy and sultry as he leans down. 

Jimin shudders as all space left between them is soon gone, leaving only a hair breadth and then nothing more when the hybrid noses down his neck. The touch is light at first, sending shivers down his spine and rising goosebumps on his skin. Soon enough, though, it turns more lavish and indulgent, traveling all the way to the corner of Jimin’s jaw. 

“Or I could show you.” As he speaks, Jeongguk’s hot lips brush against his skin, the ghost of a kiss burning like fire on him long after he’s moved away.

Jimin is pushing at the hybrid’s chest without realizing, panic rising to his chest and clouding his mind. 

Jeongguk lets himself be pushed back, snorting at the human. 

“But you wouldn’t be able to handle it, would you.”

Jimin’s teeth grit, he seethes but he doesn’t push his luck. Feeling the smokes of his anger begin to cloud his judgement, he stops before it’s too late. 

Once before he was careless. 

He won’t let it happen again. 

So he walks away, reaching that makeshift bed he lied on before and yet finding little comfort in it. 

For a while, everything is quiet. Almost quiet enough for Jimin to doze off despite everything. 

When he wakes up, sore all over, it is to Jeongguk setting a bowl at his feet. The hybrid says nothing, stepping back without lingering. 

Jimin eyes the bowl of what looks like porridge and then warily glances at the hybrid’s back. A number of questions crowd his mind, but he voices none and reluctantly takes the bowl in his hands. 

The taste is bland, but still it awakens in Jimin a ravenous hunger he was too shaken to even notice or acknowledge before. Now, the more he eats the hungrier he gets. 

Swallowing the last spoonful of it, Jimin tries to think back about the last time he ate, recalling blurred memories of when he was feverish. Glancing again at Jeongguk, he finds the hybrid sitting quietly against the opposite wall, one leg bent at the knee and arm propped on top of it. His head rests against his fist, eyelids downcast but not quite closed. Not even for a moment Jimin doubts the hybrid has been watching him the whole time. 

A taunting comment takes form in his mind, itching on the tip of his tongue. He swallows it down though, standing and starting to search the hut. 

The hybrid’s gaze still follows him, but he offers no help as Jimin searches for water to quench his thirst. At last, he finds it on his own and fills a seemingly clean bowl with it. Then, stepping back, he glances mourningly at the hearth and lies down again where he was. The early morning is hardly any warmer than the night, and he fears he won’t ever rid himself of the cold seeping deep into his bones. 

Huddling up, tugging at the jacket like it’s a second skin, Jimin tries his best to find some sort of rest. His body keeps on trembling though, shaking and tense and aching. His teeth chatter, and every fiber of his is too exhausted with the effort of keeping him alive to find any rest in lying down. 

Still, Jimin stubbornly tries. 

It is after some time that he hears the hybrid moving from his spot. He doesn’t bother turning to look, too scared of the cold as it is. That’s why it takes him off guard when something moves right behind him. 

His body flinches, but there’s no way for Jimin to run as Jeongguk lies behind him. 

“What are you doing?” he hisses through gritting teeth, trying to elbow at the hybrid while also keeping away from him. 

Jeongguk is hardly deterred by his weak attempts, one strong arm wrapping around Jimin’s waist and pulling him to his chest. 

Against his own will, the human’s body melts at the contact. For Jeongguk is firm and warm, and it’s all Jimin’s been seeking this whole time. 

A shaky breath travels past his lips, body sinking in itself and unconsciously pressing closer to the other. 

“I recall you liked this.”

The words—coming like soft whispers to his ears—have Jimin’s eyes squeezing and his teeth grinding. 

“You’re mistaken.”

Jeongguk hums, and pulls him back some more, curling around Jimin’s body until they fit snugly together and there’s no telling where one begins and the other ends. 

“Maybe I was,” he indulges, soft like Jimin never heard him. As he speaks, the hybrid moves some more. He doesn't stop until his head is safely tucked against the human's nape, breathing him in deeply, each exhale hot against Jimin’s sensitive skin. “But I could’ve sworn you were content in my arms.”

It is—of all things—a small mercy that Jimin is facing away. And it is—of all things—a curse that he needs the warmth Jeongguk provides more than he cherishes his pride.

-

You don’t name a gun but—sometimes—you name a friend. 

So, somehow, they found a name for the hybrid several weeks into knowing each other—several weeks into that odd arrangement of theirs. Jimin claimed it as a payback for the hybrid’s concession. He worded it like something of no importance, and let Jeongguk believe as much. It’s just a name, one no one else will use. For you don’t name a gun, but you do a friend. 

Jimin looks down at the calluses on his hands, still lingering on his skin like a constant reminder of what he used to be. 

He never named any of his guns, and yet he now smiles stupidly at the thought. 

Huddling up in a corner of the cell, he shifts some in search for a more comfortable position. It takes him some time but, eventually, he feels himself drifting off to sleep. There’s still enough time before Jeongguk will be back, and then some until the drugs will wear out. 

Jimin has yet to understand what that means, but the hybrid’s warning is always the same, and he’s found no good reason to defy his instruction and betray what he could almost—recklessly and foolishly—call trust. 

Snorting, huffing out a laugh at himself, Jimin lets go of that ridiculous thought and seeks some rest for himself before he’ll be forced to leave. 

When he wakes up, a sense of foreboding sends chills down his spine. The first thing Jimin is conscious of are the jade-like eyes staring at him from up close, boring through him. 

He jolts, flinching back and pressing to the wall. 

Jeongguk reaches out in response, one hand curling around the back of Jimin’s head and fisting in his hair. It pulls, forcing the human’s head to tilt back with a weak cry. 

Jimin’s hands fly up, one closing around the hybrid’s wrist while the other shoving at his chest. 

“Jeongguk,” he calls through a whimper, every breath coming short and ragged. “Let go, Jeongguk.”

His words enhance no real answer from the other, not one Jimin would consider as such. Rather, the grip on his hair tightens and the hybrid’s face comes a hair breadth from his own. Every breath a puff of hot air fanning on his skin. 

Jimin swallows thickly, something in his reptile brain setting off several alarms until he’s tense and wary and panic begins to swell in his chest. 

He searches for the hybrid’s gaze, but finds it unfocused and clouded, nothing like the one he remembers. 

Swallowing thickly, glancing at the locked door, Jimin lets his mind run for a split second. Then, not allowing himself to think about it any further, he puts every effort and strength he’s got left into escaping the hybrid’s hold. His body moves with muscle memory, something deeply ingrained in him that is fearless and mindless. Within the next heartbeat of his racing heart, Jimin headbutts the hybrid despite the iron grip on his hair. The impact has his sight going white, mind buzzing and head spinning. Gritting his teeth, ignoring the searing burn at his scalp, he frees himself from the loosening grip. 

His body throws to the side, crawling and slipping far away from the hybrid’s reach while his ears ring with Jeongguk’s wet groan. It has his skin crawling, inhuman and foretelling of a mounting anger. 

Swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat, Jimin forces himself to stand. He puts as much distance as he allows between them, watching with paralyzing horror as the hybrid stands and turns to face him.

His breath catches, mind going numb at the sight. 

Jeongguk stands tall and large only a few feet away, his distorted features shrouded in thick shadows. 

“Jeongguk,” he hears himself calling, voice pitifully weak and shaky as it hangs in the air. “Listen to me.” 

The hybrid snarls, a rumbling sound that shakes through Jimin and has even his bones trembling. Swallowing again, throat clicking, he takes an instinctive step back. 

“Okay,” he exhales, more to himself than for the other to hear. “Okay.”

In his head, a frantic and delirious voice cackles and laughs, for nothing about this situation is remotely okay. 

Jeongguk’s head tilts sharply, his body moving one slow step forward. Coming closer takes him out of the thick shadows, the dim light filtering through the door draping over him and drawing his figure for Jimin to see. But seeing him more clearly is hardly of any comfort to him, not when  the hybrid’s face is distorted and unrecognizable. Jade eyes vicious and wild. 

Moving another reckless step back, Jimin seems to only draw the hybrid closer. They move in a tandem, and yet he cannot stop moving—not even when it means driving himself into the wall. It is stronger than Jimin, reptile brain screaming at him to get away, to put as much distance between them as bodily possible. 

Soon—though—his back hits the wall. The impact takes his breath away, still somehow catching Jimin off guard. 

The hybrid snarls again at him, an answer to Jimin’s soft gasp and to the fear welling in his eyes. White and sharp teeth flash at him when Jeongguk’s lips curl, teeth that would so easily tear through his skin and flesh and break his bones. 

Jimin feels a whimper rise to his mouth, a strangled cry he cannot let free. 

Little does it matter though, for the hybrid is fast approaching now, closing the distance between them faster than Jimin can think of a way out of this. His every running and erratic thoughts come to an abrupt halt when hands reach for him. 

The sharp tips of Jeongguk’s claws poke at his skin as he grabs Jimin’s wrists, lifting them above the human’s head and pinning him to the wall with one large hand. 

Jimin’s eyes are unblinking as it happens, his body frozen and stunned, motionless despite his instincts screaming at him. He cannot move, his limbs made of lead and yet soft under the hybrid’s rough touch.

A shiver runs down his body when Jeongguk presses close, chests touching with every breath they take. Hot and heavy puffs of air hit Jimin’s face, the hybrid’s other hand closing around his throat. It is a vise tight enough to take away his breath, to fire up panic in Jimin’s head and force the first real reaction out of him. 

Mindlessly, like a beast made of sheer instincts and nothing else, he thrashes and fights against the constricting hold at his wrist, teeth gritting and eyes glaring at the hybrid even when desperation wells in them. 

The hybrid snarls in his face, a growl that rumbles through their touching chests. It is a warning, and yet Jimin can’t seem to stop his vain fight, growing desperate the clearer it becomes there is no way out. Within him a primal being comes alive, thrashing and screaming and yowling.

The grip around his wrists only tightens, cutting the blood flow to the point his hands go numb. 

That is when Jimin lets go of a whimper, a pained moan that echoes in his ears. His eyes widen, lips clamping shut. A hair breadth from his face, the hybrid’s eyes fall to his mouth. 

Jimin’s throat clicks when he tries to swallow down the lump at its base, heart beating fast in his chest and body frozen once again. He cannot bring himself to breathe, not when Jeongguk’s slowly leaning down. He brings them even closer, nosing at the line of Jimin’s neck. The hand that once pressed to his pulse now slides to cup his nape and pull him even closer. 

His hot mouth opens for sharp teeth to graze at the thin skin, pressing to it until Jimin’s body tenses up with pinpricks flaring even louder alarms in his brain. And again that primal part of him comes alive, screaming until he’s deaf and driven into madness. The teeth at his throat drive farther apart, jaw opening to accommodate Jimin’s throat in between. 

The human’s eyes widen, burning at the corners while his brain buzzes and reels with panic.

As the jaws close around his throat, the grip pinning his wrists to the walls loosens imperceptibly. Jimin almost doesn’t notice, and yet his body is trembling, his arms jerking and pulling free before he can realize. He shoves at the other, clawing at him and hitting his shoulders. A voice at the back of his head reminds Jimin to be careful, but he’s mindless when all he knows is the primal need to get away. 

The hybrid’s teeth scratch at his skin, dragging over it as he pulls away. Jimin doesn’t stop pushing at him, kicking the other until he’s stumbling a step back, granting the human barely enough space to breathe. 

Jimin swallows lungfuls of air, greedy and insatiable as his hands fly to his neck, wrapping around it. His eyes are wide, frantic as they stare at the other. 

Jeongguk stands tense, and yet something in him is visibly restless. A wilderness in those jade-like eyes Jimin can’t ignore. 

It has the human pressing to the wall, the helplessness of his condition weighing onto him until he’s crushed and broken. 

Tears well in his eyes when—as he studies the other—they fall and linger to the hybrid’s lower body. And there was no need for him to check in order to make sure, not when—despite everything—he could’ve sworn feeling a telling hardness pushing at his hips. 

The thin fabric of Jeongguk’s pants does nothing to hide the obvious bulge where his legs join, adding a new meaning to the hybrid’s straining tension. 

Gulping, swallowing thickly, Jimin bites hard down his lip. 

At the back of his mind, a nearly forgotten memory comes to the surface. As it does, Jimin’s body moves on its own. It pulls from the wall, trying to reach somewhere in the cramped space out of the hybrid’s reach. He moves fast, but it’s hardly enough to evade Jeongguk. 

Jimin can only cry when a tight grip closes around his arm, pulling him back and forcing him to stumble on his feet. Jeongguk snarls and growls to his face, pushing Jimin hard back into the wall and crowding his space once again. 

This time, though, there’s no hesitation when he moves. 

Jeongguk’s hands manhandle him fast and effortlessly, turning Jimin until he’s facing the wall. One hand pins his wrists again above the human’s head, another gripping his hips and forcing his back to arch some. Jimin grunts and whimpers. It is—as it echoes in his ears—a rather strangled and pitiful sound.

Yet it is soon overpowered by the hybrid’s low rumbling against him, large body pressing to Jimin until he’s biting on his lips not to cry out in pain. 

Jeongguk’s other hand—all the while—has found home at the swell of Jimin’s ass, kneading the supple flesh just to grab his hips and pull him back some. With a grunt, a wet press of his mouth at the human’s nape, Jeongguk begins to rut his hardness against him. 

Jimin’s stomach churns, a hollow space in his aching chest. Blood curdles in his veins, hands closing into tight fists and forehead pressing into the cold stone. 

His movements are rough, a mindless chase for something Jimin never meant to grant. Yet the hybrid cares not for it, nor for the unresponsive body against his own. His free hand—the one roaming Jimin’s body—sneaks under the human’s shirt and travels up to his chest. Claws rake over the skin, sending shivers down his spine. Then it moves down, not stopping until at the edge of Jimin’s pants. There, with close to no hesitation, Jeongguk’s rough touch reaches even further down under the human’s clothing. It bares all of him, impatiently tearing the fabric as it stands in the way and exposing Jimin to the cell’s cold air and his violent touch. 

As he does so, Jeongguk’s teeth keep on sinking into the human’s skin, leaving marks wherever they can reach. Jimin jolts and flinches whenever the bites are too deep, but then freezes when Jeongguk’s hand closes around his member.

“Wait,” he chokes out, breath pushing out of his lungs. “Don’t-” but his voice breaks, the hold around him tightening painfully until tears are threatening to fall down his face. 

Jimin fights them strenuously, just as hard as the bile and revulsion travelling up his throat, the hatred and humiliation at being so helpless, and the hurt broken trust carves into his flesh.

The hybrid moves still behind him, rutting his hips against Jimin like a mindless beast. 

Jimin’s head pushes to the wall, skin chafing against the hard stone and shoulders shaking with every sob he fights. 

Then the other stops, the hand on his member moving away. A distinctive sound fills Jimin’s ears, and he’s swallowing thickly, choking on a sharp gasp when a hot and throbbing girth is pressed to him. It slots between the cheeks of his bottom, sliding against his lower back.

A string of curses slips from Jimin’s lips, muffled and confused when his teeth grit and his voice is a strangled sound. His mind buzzes, threatening to go blind with rage and that swelling panic that still won’t relent its clutch on him. 

Behind him, Jeongguk grunts wetly, his body pressing closer to Jimin’s back even as the movements of his hips are wider. His cock slides all the way from the base to the tip against Jimin, and—when he pulls back enough—its hot and moist tip nearly catches into the crease between Jimin’s cheeks. One hand has moved to grip one firmly, pulling at it and exposing the human’s most private parts. 

Weakly, as humiliation burns into his veins, Jimin resumes his pointless fighting. He pulls at the steel restraining at his wrists, body writhing even when there’s no point of it. 

Jeongguk keeps moving against him, the pace of his rutting quickening and becoming even rougher. His head falls, hitting the base of Jimin’s skull, lips pressing to the human’s nape. The touch, heated and moist, has Jimin tensing up and freezing. Sharp teeth graze over his skin, sinking into it the rougher Jeongguk becomes, the faster and more mindless his chase after relief seems to become.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Jimin squeezes his eyes and steels himself. Nothing about this is new, and spilling even just one tear is a waste he’s not willing to make. 

So, exhaling shakily his next breath, pressing his forehead harder against the wall, he makes up his mind not to let himself break over this. 

The lips have moved down his shoulder, one more bite claiming Jimin’s body. This one, unlike any other, manages to tear a whimper from the human. Skin tears, pain shooting through his body. 

Jimin’s head throws back, lips parting with a strangled scream. Yet, behind him, the hybrid’s movements are stuttering, his hips pressing to Jimin’s bottom for a moment. 

Jimin’s wide eyes well with new tears, the pain at his neck not quite subsiding even after the hybrid’s pulled away. Relief washes over him when—as grunts and groans fill his ears—a hot wetness falls on his exposed skin.

Bile rises again to Jimin’s mouth, but he’s not allowed any time to process that. Not when the hybrid’s hands are moving on him, turning his body roughly and pushing him to the wall again. The impact tears a gasp from the human, his skull throbbing and lips parting. 

As if it was some sort of invitation, the hybrid takes Jimin’s lips with his own. It is—much like every other thing—mindless and rough and painful. 

Jeongguk’s hand grabs Jimin’s jaw, forcing it down and ensuring himself free access. His tongue slides right into the human’s mouth, lacking any sort of finesse of skill but rather taking and claiming and devouring him whole. 

Jimin’s eyes are wide open, his lungs constricting and alarms flaring up in his brain. The invasion is such that every most primal instincts fights within him, thrashing and screaming. His hands shove at the hybrid, clawing at his wrist and arm but to no avail. Jeongguk barely even budges, angling his head to the side so to grant himself an even easier access. As that happens, his leg slots between Jimin’s. Like this—close as they are—it would be impossible not to notice the hardening member pressing to his hips. While he himself has been made bare by the hybrid, the proximity makes Jimin painfully aware of their bodies and the condition of them. Still his mind is far too preoccupied with the hybrid’s mouth and the devouring of it. Even when—after what feels like an eternity—the hybrid parts from him, his lips still linger on Jimin. They mouth at his jaw and down his neck, sucking and licking every inch of exposed skin as his hips begin to slowly roll again. 

Biting on his tongue, head pressing back against the wall, Jimin forces his body to relax. 

A fleeting—well ingrained—thought makes way at the forefront of his brain, reminding Jimin of the only reason why he survived this long. So, with a heavy and shuddering exhale—he wills back those stubborn tears at the corners of his eyes and moves of his own accord. 

His hands reach up, weaving into Jeongguk’s hair and cupping his head. He pulls the hybrid’s head from the crook of his own neck with surprising ease, the other pliant as he moves under Jimin’s guidance. His eyes—jade-like and burning with hunger—stare deep into Jimin’s. So intense the human gulps, his resolve momentarily falters.

Swallowing the curse lingering behind the seal of his lips, he lets his hands slide down some, holding the hybrid’s face instead. Then, shutting off his brain and ignoring every voice in his head, Jimin pulls from the wall and closes the distance between them. This time, as their lips touch, Jimin holds control over the kiss. He makes it slow and indulging, dragging every subtle change of pace, intoxicating both their minds until he can make himself lost into it. 

And although part of him recoils at the act of making a tool out of his own body, everything else in Jimin eagerly comes alive. Jimin was born a creature of lust and anger, after all, and it’s ever so easy to slip into his most primal nature and let everything else melt away. So he deepens the kiss, tongue slipping into the hybrid’s mouth, while his lower body begins to move as well. It is slow and tentative at first, testing his limits and finding the hybrid rather well-disposed to welcome his initiative. 

Strong and clawed hands grip his hips, so hard bruises must be blooming under the touch. 

Jimin has no mind to care for it, not as—when he parts to take a breath—the hybrid’s mouth latches to the sharp line of his jaw. It bites down on it, sucking and licking and gnawing at the skin like he is to be devoured. 

Jimin doesn’t let that distract him, nor the way something in him still fights at the notion of being nothing but a game for the other. One hand slides down, searching for the hybrid’s hardness blindly. The space between them is tight, cramped and every movement is made uncomfortable. Still Jimin’s fingers find a way to curl around the hybrid’s cock, weighing it in his palm—hot and throbbing and large. Something in his squirms, his lower belly tightening and twisting.

Jeongguk grunts in his mouth, a rumble that shakes through them both and seems to feed into a slowly rising heat within Jimin. Despite himself and the resentment for what’s happening, Jimin’s body responds to the stimulation on its own accord, heating up and shivering when the hybrid thrusts in his hold impatiently. 

With a gasp, when teeth sink into his skin again, Jimin pushes at the hybrid’s shoulder. 

“You should really stop with that,” he hisses, both hands shoving at the other.

As if he were fighting off a wall, the other barely budges, pupils enlarging and eyes darkening. 

Jimin’s teeth grit, a groan pushing out of him when those large hands shift on his body again. One falls to his waist, another to his hair in a painful grip. 

Jimin cries out in pain, but is given no time to truly fight it. 

Jeongguk moves fast, seemingly losing all of his patience. He drags Jimin to the pitiful bed shoved in a corner of the cell, letting him fall heavily onto it. 

With a gasp, Jimin scrambles back, kicking at the hybrid even when he knows it is a pointless fight. All it does is anger the other, make him even more unpredictable. So, as the hybrid climbs on the bed and his hand closes around Jimin’s ankle, the human freezes. His eyes widen, and there’s no stopping the way Jeongguk’s entire body covers his own, hovering over him. It doesn’t last long, hands raking up his body and flipping him around, pressing Jimin to the bed with one hand pushing down his back. 

Like this, he is made vulnerable and helpless, entirely exposed to the other. 

Jeongguk moves fast, his hands pushing down Jimin’s pants and then lifting his hips off the bed. His hard cock fits again between his cheeks, rutting into him and then sliding down. 

Jimin’s breath catches, body over sensitive as he feels that hard member moving between his thighs, pressing against his scrotum and own cock. Something about it feels impossibly obscene, and yet there is worse Jimin’s body has endured. Jeongguk’s touch—though—as it rakes over his body and molds him to his own liking, is like nothing Jimin has ever felt. 

Part of him knows that it’s ridiculous, that his mind is clouded and body influenced by those foolish times they spent together. Yet, as he shuns away the anger and resentment, it is easy for Jimin to melt and comply with the guiding touch. It is harder, though, to let himself shun the fear away as well, when his body is tense and tight and Jeongguk’s member moves in such ways that his intentions are far too obvious. 

With a jolt, the hot and moist head catching on Jimin’s exposed hole—the human begins to twist and writhe again. “Wait,” he chokes out, elbowing blindly at the other. “Jeongguk, wait.”

But the other is—pretty much like before and like ever since Jimin woke up—unresponsive to his calls. All he gets as a response are growls and rubles, stubborn attempts to push at the tight and dry hole. 

Blood curdles in Jimin’s veins, ears buzzing. His efforts get more frantic, but all it earns him is a rough manhandling, one hand curling around his nape and pushing him down onto the hard bed. The other leaves Jimin’s body, if only for a moment. Then the touch of it is back, gripping Jimin’s cheeks and spreading him wide, exposing that puckered and tight hole for him to have. 

Jimin struggles to breathe as he still weakly tries to fight him. 

Jeongguk’s cock pushes at his hole, but every attempt at breaching past the tight ring of muscles is vain. It slides and slips away, unable to make it through and into the heat of Jimin’s body. Each attempt ends with a frustrated grumble, a grunt that echoes in the human’s ears. Eventually, the hand around his neck—the pressure making each breath nearly impossible—disappears. 

Jimin doesn’t let himself hesitate then, turning around and kicking at the hybrid’s stomach. The impact is somehow strong enough to push him back, to grant Jimin a moment to recover and crawl back on the bed. At the same time, he breathes in shakily, his body trembling and lungs feeling too small for the amount of air he aches for. 

Ignoring it, steeling himself, Jimin’s fingers find their way to his mouth. 

Before him, the hybrid recovers from the impact and freezes, his eyes zeroing in on Jimin’s stretched lips and to the saliva trickling down his chin. The cell is dark all around them, but those jade-like eyes seem to see it all. 

They force a shudder onto Jimin, one that has his bones quivering and guts twisting. A certain tightness in his lower belly grows hot, the hearth to a fire that doesn’t answer to his will. 

Jimin’s cheeks hollow around his fingers, more saliva pooling in his mouth. All the while, his other hand works in a tandem with his legs, sliding down and kicking away the rags of his pants. 

Holding gaze with the hybrid, studying the other warily, Jimin then lets his fingers slide out of his lips. A squelching sound hangs in the air and—for a moment—it’s all that can be heard. That is—though—only up until his hand reaches down, legs bending at the knees and spreading. Like this, all of him is bare and exposed to the other, his limp cock and his tight hole. 

Jeongguk’s eyes train down to his lower body, a rumble reverberating within his chest. The sound of it coils in Jimin’s guts, calling out to something primal and instinctual that—despite everything—preens at the hybrid’s raw reaction. 

It is that same part of him that makes Jimin bold as his hand keeps moving down, one fisting in the thin sheets and grounding him. 

Jeongguk’s eyes are fixated on him, unblinking as Jimin’s fingers press at his hole and rub on the tight ring of muscles. As for Jimin’s body, it flinches at the cold touch. Still he doesn’t stop, acknowledging the mercy in Jeongguk’s intent, looking and taking advantage of it the best he can. His fingers smear the saliva over the tight hole, teeth sinking in his bottom lip as he presses to it. The intrusion of one digit is uncomfortable at first, but his body is familiar enough to it and sucks him in readily enough. 

Swallowing thickly even when his mouth is dry, Jimin thrusts the first finger to the very last knuckle, curling it tentatively before pulling out. At first, ignoring the voice at the back of his mind telling him to hurry up, Jimin lets just one finger move inside of him. He doesn’t stop until his body has somewhat gotten used to it, his muscles relaxed some. 

Tentatively, he glances up at the hybrid, not even sure of when he looked away from the other. To his surprise, Jimin finds Jeongguk leaning in some, still attentively staring down at the stretched hole and at the finger moving past the rim. Without even noticing, Jimin’s hand stops, freezing for whatever stupid reason. 

Jeongguk’s lips curl, a low snarl moving through him. 

Jimin’s jaw clenches, hand hesitantly resuming its movement while his eyes make a point not to leave the hybrid’s face. 

For a while, up until the second finger is moving inside of him, Jeongguk seems oddly content with just staring. Then, when the glide becomes easier even if a bit too dry to be pleasant, a tight grip stops Jimin at the wrist. 

Jeongguk moves faster than he could notice, grabbing him and roughly pulling his hand away. 

“Wait,” Jimin yelps, words stuck in his throat when rough hands fall on his thighs and pull them apart even more. 

Under his unblinking and wide eyes, Jeongguk draws closer until his face is just hovering over Jimin’s swollen and moist hole. 

Throat clicking and body quivering, Jimin’s too stunned to move or fight. Helpless and numb as he watches the hybrid leaning down even more, mouth touching to his puckered hole. 

Jimin’s body jolts at the first contact, legs closing around the hybrid’s head and hands flying to his head. 

Jeongguk growls against him, eyes blinking open and fixating on him. Twin jades trap Jimin and steal all of his will to fight, making him putty and pliant against his own will. 

With a shaky breath, he loosens the grip on those silky hair but his hands stay there. 

Jeongguk doesn’t seem to mind, holding gazes with him as he shifts between Jimin’s legs, one hand at the human’s hips and positioning him for a better access. 

Jimin’s mouth goes dry, hot lips and a wet tongue searching his most sensitive area like it is fair ground. 

Jeongguk’s brows draw close in a focused frown, tongue pushing and prodding at the swollen hole, moistening it even more, breaching past the rim with ease. 

Jimin’s hips buck up at the sudden intrusion, cock hardening and thighs quivering when Jeongguk begins to suck on him. Although his attentions don’t last long, indulgent and yet clumsy, far too eager and earnest, Jimin still feels himself growing harder and harder at the sudden novelty of it. No one ever gave him this sort of attention before, his body far too sensitive and vulnerable under the hybrid’s ministrations. 

Far too soon Jeongguk pulls away, teeth sinking in the soft skin of Jimin’s inner thigh. He leaves a mark behind, and then many more until the human’s thighs are littered with bruises and indents of sharp teeth, the skin torn to draw blood in some spots. Jimin could barely feel the pain of it though, mind lost in a fog of lust and confusion, drifting away the longer Jeongguk’s mouth was on him. Even that, though, is short-lived, for the hybrid soon pulls back. 

Jimin is left bare and exposed under his gaze once again, eyes wide and reddened at the corners, lips agape as he stares at the hybrid. His chest feels tight and heavy, a lump lodging at the base of his throat. 

Despite it, Jimin heaves out a sharp breath when the hybrid’s hands are on him again, manhandling him with far too much ease. He turns Jimin around, and he hits the bed again with a sharp gasp and squeezing eyes. His hands clutch on the sheets, forehead pressing to the bed as his hips are lifted once again. 

Jeongguk’s body drapes over him, heavy and hot and large enough to cover all of Jimin. His hot mouth is at the human’s nape again, sucking at the skin and tracing the lines of Jimin’s body hungrily. His lower body doesn’t stay idle, pulling back just enough for him to angle is cock and let its head push at Jimin’s wet and swollen hole. 

Holding his breath, pushing his forehead to the rough sheets, Jimin waits for the pain that will surely come. His expectations are hardly betrayed, and yet it is not quite like what he expected. 

The glide of Jeongguk’s sharp thrust isn’t dry and painful, but still his girth takes Jimin’s breath away. His insides churn and twist, struggling to accommodate the sudden intrusion. For a moment—for quite a while after Jeongguk has sheathed himself in the human—Jimin can’t bring himself to breathe. It takes him time, tears at his eyes and ears buzzing, for the first breath to fill his lungs. It happens as Jeongguk draws back, slowly and all the way to the hilt. 

Jimin sucks in a sharp breath, his body falling flush to the bed with the next hard thrusts. His cock, still half hard, is trapped between the rough bedsheets and his body, painfully so and yet. 

Jeongguk’s first thrusts are rough and clumsy, lacking any sort of finesse or technique in the blind chase for pleasure. Soon, all Jimin can feel is uncomfortable pain he can’t escape. 

And yet soon enough the hybrid is picking a pace, fast and steady, hips rolling and rutting into him every time he sinks back into Jimin. 

Jeongguk’s is a mindless chase for relief, one that sees Jimin as nothing but a tool. One to be owned and used until it is drained of all its worth. Then, only then will the human be let go. This much, Jimin is well aware of. 

So he bites down on his bottom lip, fighting the tears and the primal urge to scream and yell and shout at the hybrid. 

Soon enough, Jeongguk seems to grow tired of his mindless chase, grunting into Jimin’s neck and biting at his shoulder. 

Jimin stifles a cry as pain spreads from the offended spot, gritting his teeth when he feels the hybrid pulling all the way back. Once he is out of Jimin, his hands flip the human again, forcing them both to face each other once again. This time, Jeongguk is much slower in entering Jimin. He lets his cock slide over the human, dragging his movements as he mouths at Jimin’s throat, each hand taking one of the human’s and lifting the above his head. 

Jeongguk’s hands hold Jimin’s wrists, pinning each to the bed in a way that brings their bodies impossibly close and their faces a hair breadth apart. This close up—as he stares into twin jades—Jimin could swear he sees some of the fog clouding them now clearing. It is just for a moment though, the blinking of Jeongguk’s eyes. His pupils enlarge, dark and bottomless. His face moves away, finding home in the crook of Jimin’s neck as his hips keep on rutting and rolling into the human. 

On the other hand, Jimin’s head pushes back into the thin mattress, neck baring as his eyes stare blankly at the ceiling. 

Jeongguk leaves mark after mark into his skin, leaving no spot untouched or unattended to. Even when no more must be left, he still sucks and nibbles on the skin. His lower half stops though, if only for a short moment. One hand lets go of Jimin’s wrists, traveling down to the human’s thigh and grabbing it bruisingly hard. It guides it up, forcing the human to expose himself again, hips lifting some off the bed. 

A whimper slips from Jimin’s lips, eyes squeezing shut and breath catching in his throat. His now free hand fists the sheets tight, knuckles whitening and fingertips going numb. 

As the hot tip of Jeongguk’s cock breaches past his hole again, equally hot lips find his own. This time, the kiss Jeongguk forces on him is slow and cautious. 

The hybrid licks at his lips, tongue prodding and pushing past the seam of his teeth, patiently opening for Jimin to grant way. And although the gasp traveling to his mouth works against Jimin’s will, Jeongguk is hardly as rough as he was before. He licks into his mouth, hesitantly and with abandon, still somehow leaving room for Jimin to take the lead as well. 

To his own surprise, Jimin finds himself responding to the kiss. It helps take his mind off of everything. And the pain and discomfort is easily forgotten as his fingers weave in silky hair and he pulls Jeongguk even closer to himself. Absently, he plays with the soft and round ears, earning himself soft growls and grunts and jerkish movements of the hybrid’s body against his own.

He almost doesn’t notice how—through their kiss—all of the hybrid’s cock thrusted in him again. This time again, Jeongguk is slow while pulling back. He only stops when the head of his cock catches on Jimin’s rim, sheathing himself back into the warm heat and moving his hips so that every most sensitive spot is touched and pressed against. 

This—more than anything else—has Jimin whimpering and gasping against the hybrid’s mouth, struggling to fill his lungs. His nails scrape and scratch at the hybrid’s scalp, but Jeongguk’s hips jerk against him, pushing him even deeper in Jimin and leaving him breathless even more. 

His head throws back, mouth agape and eyes wide open as they gaze into the darkness. 

Jeongguk’s lips linger at his throat, teeth grazing at it while his hips pick a pace. And—to Jimin’s horror—every thrust seems to be hitting that very specific spot in him. Soon, a twisted and unwanted sort of pleasure builds in him, one feeded by the friction at his cock—trapped between their bodies but otherwise neglected. 

Against his throat—mouthing and licking at it still—Jeongguk moans and whimpers, grunting when his movements become faster and ruthless into Jimin, every thrust almost unbearable. 

When he—not long after—comes, hot spurts of cum fill the human and mark him from within. 

Jimin is only vaguely aware of it, feeling pleasure in him build and reaching a peak just as Jeongguk keeps thrusting in him. His body trembles and quivers with the unexpected intensity of his climax, tense and weak at once. 

Even after Jimin comes down from the high of his orgasm, he is painfully aware of Jeongguk still moving. 

His brows draw close in a frown, shivers running down his spine when pleasure turns into pain. Still Jeongguk doesn’t stop, thrusting into Jimin like there is no end to it. 

Soon tears are welling in the human’s eyes, but his every plea and curse is unheard.

Jeongguk has no mind to stop, if not for the brief moment in which he changes their positions again, seeking a way to reach even deeper in Jimin.

At some point, pain and discomfort grow to the point Jimin’s almost numb to it, his body shaking under Jeongguk but mind drifting away, reaching an odd numb state.

Everything that happens afterward is but a blur to Jimin. All he knows is that, when his mind is clear and conscious again, his body is comfortably warm. 

Jimin’s eyelids are too heavy to blink open, and he’s only distantly aware of the body pressed against his back, firm and warm and moving with steady breaths. Jimin wouldn’t need to try hard to tell what that is, yet he can’t bring himself to. It is all too easy to cast away the dreadful thoughts and let his mind slip into unconsciousness once again. 

-

When Jimin wakes next, he can no longer ignore the arm hooked around his waist and the hard body pressed to his back. Least of all, he can’t ignore the uncomfortable feeling of Jeongguk’s large girth still stretching him open, the wetness of their body fluids sticking uncomfortably to his thighs and back and lower belly. 

With a groan, a strangled sound that is not a mournful and pained sob, Jimin wills himself to move and get away from the hybrid without the other waking. It takes no little struggle and effort, yet he—somehow—manages to untangle from Jeongguk’s tight grip. A grimace stubbornly lingers on his face as he stands, one he can’t wipe away not even when the door’s heavy lock turns and its hinges screech. 

Jimin’s head snaps to Jeongguk, still heavily sleeping, turning then to the opening door. His body moves on its own despite the hindering weakness of it. He rushes to the opening, stopping dead on his track at the familiar face he finds on the other side. He doesn’t stop to think though, slipping through the thin gap and then pushing the door closed heavily himself. The thundering sound it causes has Jimin’s ears ringing, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s stalking away into the dim corridor, one hand clutching Sejin’s as he stalks away. 

The boy—although some years younger—stands several inches taller than Jimin, and—at the moment—is far stronger than the other could hope to be. So Jimin is forced to stop when the other’s feet plant to the floor. 

Swallowing thickly, slowly turning his head to face him, Jimin lets his eyes meet Sejin’s. 

Sejin says nothing though, and his gaze holds no judgement. He simply stares back at Jimin, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to him. “Don’t let her see you like this,” he says just when Jimin takes the item, his words sharp enough for Jimin’s hand to freeze mid-air. 

He nods though, wearing the jacket and feeling some sort of relief washing over him as it reaches past his thighs. 

A loud thud comes from the cell he just left, followed by a rumbling and vicious growl. 

Jimin’s whole body jumps and flinches back, eyes snapping to the locked door. He could swear it shakes under the hybrid’s anger. 

“Let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait for Sejin to answer him, turning and stalking down the corridor with long strides, aching to get as far away as possible from the hybrid he just left behind. Swearing to never come anywhere close to it ever again. 

iii. and when i leave, don’t lie saying you’ll be waiting for me.

“Listen to me this time.”

Jimin looks at Jeongguk from where he sits, absently playing with the empty bowl sitting next to him.

Their gazes meet, locking. Jeongguk’s long tail sways in the air, curling and drawing a wide arch Jimin’s eyes can’t help but follow. 

“How long will you be away?”

It’s been days since Jeongguk first brought him in, a time so long he can’t quite quantify it. And there’s a thought sitting at the back of his mind, one he can’t bring himself to ignore. After all these days of odd quiet, Jimin can’t stop thinking there’s not much left. No one but the two of them. 

There can’t be many left alive, and he can’t stop thinking about what will happen now. 

Jeongguk doesn’t answer his question, but he stops at the door. 

His shoulders lift with the next breath he takes, heavy and deep. His head hangs low, hands twitching at his sides. 

Jimin watches him carefully, frowning at the hybrid’s back while raking his brain but unable to understand the other’s hesitation. It is odd, and it is an alarm bell going off in Jimin’s head that he can’t simply ignore.

Just as his lips part for him to say more, to inquire and demand some sort of explanation, the hybrid’s head lifts sharply. 

He turns on his heels just as sharply and fast, stalking up to Jimin with quick and long strides. The human has risen to his feet without even noticing, standing at the makeshift bed’s edge and frozen as he watches the other fast approaching. 

Soon they are standing face to face, barely any inches dividing their bodies. Jimin has no way to back down, nothing but the wall to meet his retreat. Still he tries, unconsciously trying to restore some of the distance between them. It fails rather miserably, the hybrid following him like pulled by invisible hands. And—when Jimin’s back hits the wall, his lips parting with a soft gasp—a large hand grabs his jaw and tilts it up. 

Jimin’s head rolls against the wall, eyes wide as they stare into Jeongguk’s.

The hybrid's other hand falls to the human’s waist, pulling him in. Their bodies press close now, chests flushed and breaths mixing with every intake of air. Jimin’s next soft gasp—as he drowns into bottomless green and all he can feel is Jeongguk’s body against his own—is readily and hungrily swallowed by the hybrid.

Their lips crash and slot in place roughly, the kiss lacking any sort of finesse, messy and desperate and impossibly hungry. Jeongguk licks in his mouth, nibbles at his lips and lingers until both are out of breath. Still he is the first to pull away, trapping Jimin’s bottom lip between his teeth before fully letting go.

Even as he moves away, he doesn’t allow for any real distance to set between their bodies. His forehead touches Jimin’s, and he exhales shakily. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this since,” he confesses, trailing off, voice fading on his last words.

Jimin’s heart skips a beat at the words, confused and foolishly hopeful, eager to forget the betrayal and hurt and fear he felt that night. 

“Since?” he dares ask, his breath hitching when Jeongguk’s body presses against his own even more; every line and every curve touching Jimin’s body. And it’s as if, if only he were to move a bit closer, the hybrid could slip right underneath Jimin’s skin. 

Jeongguk’s forehead rolls against his, nose nudging at Jimin’s temple and cheek, lips brushing against his soft and flushed skin. 

“Ever since.” 

Jimin swallows thickly, eyes closing. 

“I thought you hated humans.”

It is a truth Jimin could relate to, one he understood. Something he latched onto, at some point.

Jeongguk snorts though, lips brushing at the corner of Jimin’s mouth. 

“Maybe I do,” he confesses in a breath. 

Jimin’s throat clicks, and he wouldn’t be able to blame the other. Too many nights they’ve spent talking about it, circumnavigating the horrors of Jeongguk’s past and yet reaching close enough for Jimin to believe he could understand.

A large hand closes around his throat, long fingers curling around it tight enough for Jimin’s breath to catch in his throat, thumb pressing on his pulse. 

“Do you?” Jimin breathes, his head leaning back into the wall, neck bare and exposed and eyes looking at the hybrid through hooded lids. 

Jeongguk’s lips curl, baring his teeth in a pointless snarl. It lacks most of its usual viciousness, more of a rumbling growl than anything else. It coils deep within Jimin, pooling hotly in him in ways it shouldn’t. 

“Stay inside.”

Jeongguk pulls away, gaze hardening and hands falling, leaving Jimin cold. 

“Do as I say, Jimin.” 

Looking away, face turning, he gives no answer. 

“Jimin.” 

Gritting his teeth, fighting the tightness of his throat, he looks at the hybrid again. Soon, his own features harden, eyes narrowing into a glare.

“Don’t make me wait long, then.”

His hands move to the hybrid’s chest, flush against it and yet unable to shove him away. Truth be told, Jimin doesn’t even try.

Jeongguk’s lips twist in a smirk, something smug and predatory at once. 

Jimin hates the sight of it. 

He says nothing though, and watches as the hybrid takes another step back. Then one more until he’s far out of Jimin’s reach, the human’s hands falling helplessly to his sides. 

Jeongguk turns his back to him, and still Jimin can’t bring himself to pull away from the wall or look at anything but the hybrid’s retreating back. 

When he leaves, the door closes with a loud thud but not before letting cold air in. 

Jimin feels himself shivering. Hugging himself, he grows convinced the cold creeping to his bones has nothing to do with the hybrid’s leaving. 

For hours afterwards, the cold refuses to leave Jimin’s marrow. For days even, it haunts him. Until the human is tired and hunger bites at him with its sharp teeth. For just as long, he waits despite the foreboding feeling that no one will come. 

-

“Tell me something.”

“What?”

Jimin’s head turns, eyes squinting at the other. Cold lights filter through the small window high in the wall, cutting through the darkness like a sharp blade. Still, it is barely enough for Jimin’s eyes to be at ease. For a long while now, he has stopped being bothered by it. Everything is dark in the dungeons, and Jeongguk’s cell is the closest to a safe heaven he will ever find in it. 

“The drugs are losing effect, and I,” he stops, shrugging awkwardly. “I don’t want you to leave yet.”

 Jimin snorts, temple pressing to the wall as he studies the hybrid. 

They did a number on him this time, the cold light just enough for him to see the bruises and the red gashes running down Jeongguk’s body. 

He doesn’t ask, never does. 

Worse than the little he can see, it is the smell of blood biting at Jimin’s senses. It is so strong and thick that bile rises to his mouth whenever he thinks too long about it. So he doesn’t, keeping himself busy with drifting thoughts instead.

“You were the one telling me not to stay too long.”

“I did.”

Jimin shifts some against the wall, adjusting in the unconscious search of a more comfortable position. 

“Then why the change of heart?”

Another shrug, a wet cough.

Jimin flinches, he can’t help himself. His shoulders pinch up tightly.

Unlike usual, Jeongguk isn’t lying down but sitting heavily against the wall, his body limpless as if under the false pretense of being inoffensive. Round ears sit on top of his damp hair, tail sometimes tapping on the bed. Jimin looks at him, and convinces himself this is a ruthless beast to be feared and loathed. 

Jeongguk gives him a weak smile, yet another dismissive shrug. 

Jimin looks away, lips pressing in a thin line. 

“Just a little bit more,” the hybrid compromises. “It should be fine, shouldn’t it?”

Jimin sighs, head pushing back into the wall until the dull ache at his skull is all he can feel. 

“What do you want to hear?”

For a moment, everything is silent in the small cell, long enough it forces Jimin to turn and look at the other. 

“Jeongguk?”

The name is still novel on his lips, still weird when neither is quite accustomed to it. 

Yet—as he watches the other—he can see how easily the hybrid is adjusting to it. For although Jeongguk’s eyes are closed, his ears twitch and a smile draws on his lips. His head is tilted back, resting heavily against the stone wall, exposing his neck carelessly. He looks—against any possible odd—defenseless.

“Anything.”

Jimin sighs, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Anything might just be the toughest topic of all.”

Jeongguk chuckles, wet and raspy, broken by a new fit of coughs. He groans, one hand holding his side like it could do anything to soothe the pain.

Jimin stifles a curse, his hands balling up in tight fists. He doesn’t move though, doesn’t even look at the other. 

“Tell me of the world outside, then.”

The request comes easily, light in the air like it’s nothing much. Indulging him even when it was Jeongguk’s request to begin with.

Despite himself, Jimin tenses up, guts twisting in knots and throat tight.

He heaves out a shaky breath, hitting the wall once with his head. His eyes close, nails digging in his palms. All he sees is darkness and—if he were to try hard enough—he could almost convince himself to be anywhere but in the dungeons.

“The scents,” he begins, the picture of a faraway scenery painting so clearly in his mind. “It is unlike anything around here or in the city.”

Jeongguk snorts, mildly derisive but not annoyingly so. Something in it is disbelieving, and Jimin can almost understand why. So he doesn’t resent the hybrid, but feels sympathy and pity for him, deep to the marrow in his bones.

“I’ve been to the forest before."

Jimin’s eyes roll, glancing at the other. It is but a fleeting look, one the hybrid misses with any good chance.

“That place is so drenched with blood and death, it doesn’t count.”

For a moment, Jeongguk goes quiet. 

“Alright then,” he sighs eventually. “What do other forests smell like?”

Jeongguk is—for a lack of better words—indulging him still, but Jimin doesn’t care. He can’t bring himself to.

“It smells like life, fresh and green and lush and everlasting.”

The words hang true but unbefitting of such a place, and yet the memory of home lingers in Jimin’s mind vividly. Those are the forests that raised him and his people, carved in his bones.

“What else?”

Jimin’s eyes blink open, staring straight ahead as the vision of lush green fades and all that’s left is the cell’s walls.

“And the sounds,” he breathes softly. “The birds chirping, fawns bleating and the wind playing through the tree branches. You wouldn’t hear those sort of sounds on a hunt.”

Jeongguk doesn’t deny it, while Jimin still can’t bring himself to look at the other. 

“What else?”

“The food,” tells him, holding back a whimper when memories come to the surface. The taste of everything he’s loved lingering on his tongue and watering his mouth. “From sweet to sour to bitter and savory, the scent of meat on a grill and bone broth in a pot,” he lists, wetting his lips and fighting the lump at the base of his throat. He should’ve eaten more of it, and drunk more cold beer than he did in the past. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for a can of cold beer now that the dungeons are hot and humid and unbearably suffocating. “It is better than any drug.” 

“Is it?”

Jimin nods, catching himself smiling.

Twin jades are looking at him attentively. He does have to turn to know.

“What is your favorite?”

“Duck,” he blurts, grinning dumbly to himself. “Beautifully marinated, crispy and tender and juicy.”

“What does it taste like?”

Jimin nibbles on his lips, pulling and tugging at them as he loses himself in thoughts. And he thinks hard for a way to describe it, raking his brain for words he never thought useful before. “Good,” he claims in the end. At a loss for anything better, he settles for the simplest words of all. “Like life is good and you are happy.”

For a while, Jeongguk is quiet. And so is the cell. Then the sound of soft shifting comes, a wet rumble and a groan. It is the latter that has Jimin’s head turning, eyes finding the hybrid as he leaves the bed.

“Jeongguk.”

Jimin’s voice is low, barely a whisper as his throat tightens and heart beats fast in his chest.

The other says nothing though, moving slowly and still approaching. Undisturbed by the human’s visible uneasiness.

The closer he comes, the more Jimin’s body tenses up, wary and nervous as he instinctively glances at the unlocked door. 

“Maybe I should…” he trails, voice a rasp he doesn’t recognize as his own.

“Not yet.”  

Jeongguk’s voice is firm as he stops, sitting next to the human with little hesitation. As if they’ve already done this before, as if the newfound proximity is familiar rather than dreadfully novel.

“We shouldn’t.”

Jeongguk shushes him before he can say more, a low rumble reverberating through his chest. 

“Not yet," he presses stubbornly.

His shoulder presses to Jimin’s while his body slides a bit lower down the wall. Then, under the human’s wide and unblinking gaze, he lets his head rest on Jimin’s shoulder. His eyes close and a content sound hangs in the air. 

Jimin’s heart beats fast and erratic in his chest, mind reeling and yelling at him to leave. But Jeongguk’s chest rises and falls with every slow breath he takes, and it is hard for Jimin to believe that this is dangerous, and that he should not stay any longer. 

“I think I'd like it too.”

“What?” Jimin croaks, mind numb and blank and ears buzzing. 

Yet, somehow, Jeongguk’s voice is ever so clear when he speaks. There’s a wet rumble underneath it though, one that wasn’t there last time they were together. One Jimin pointedly ignores.

Against him, Jeongguk shrugs again, awkward as it is. He doesn’t move much, sagging heavily into the human’s side if anything. His ears twitch and tickle at Jimin’s neck, tail curling around his middle and tip brushing over the human’s lap. 

“Duck.”

iv. but you came back, and i think things could be alright again, now.

Jimin walks down the familiar stairs despite having sworn never to set foot into the dungeons ever again.

Narrow corridors unfold ahead of him like an endless maze, reeking of mold and blood and sweat—a scent that still haunts him even after so long. It has his guts twisting and turning, but his feet move fast. 

Behind him, Jimin can clearly hear Taehyung following, the voices of everyone in his in-ear grounding his mind as they move further down the arena’s dungeons. Just as grounding is the weight of a gun in his hand, its cold touch against his palm. 

Jimin ignores the several locked cells on his way, moving straight to the one he used to find solace in. Up until that night—that is. Unlike any other place, it was quiet at the end of the corridor—still is. 

The hybrids roar and snarl at his passage, some call his name, licking at it like it’s a delicacy for them to savor. They’ve tasted it once already, and took his body like it was theirs to own. 

Jimin’s teeth grit as he stalks down the corridor, focusing his mind on the one cell sitting at a shortening distance from him. He tunes out the roars and calls, not allowing himself to think about everyone else hearing them just the same way.

He doesn’t let that stop him, his strides fast and confident until he reaches the very last cell. 

Jimin’s aim is true when pointed at the lock, firing without waiting for Namjoon to work on it. 

Underneath his skin, Jimin is trembling and shaking, restless and uneasy since the moment they stepped on the arena’s ground. Still his body is tense, unwavering through every step and shot that took him here standing before Jeongguk’s cell. 

He kicks the door open, eyes squinting as they adjust to the darkness. 

Silence is what first hits Jimin. Although he was used to the cell being quieter than any other, it still sets wrong with him when it's silence that welcomes him. 

Taking the first step inside, he ignores the fast beating of his heart. Thoughts of the worst possible outcomes swarm his head and plague his mind. It runs miles a moment, frantic and desperate. 

Jimin moves another step, signaling the others to stay back. The gun in his hand feels heavier than ever, like it no longer belongs to him. The ever-present darkness works against him, making Jimin powerless to any danger lurking in the darkness. 

His teeth grind and jaw clench in frustration, but he still moves another step forward. 

“You never listen to me, do you?”

Jimin’s hands drop, his body visibly melting and sagging as the familiar voice washes over him as a soothing balm. 

Those words—that hoarse yet smooth voice—feel much like a blessing and a curse at once, but one Jimin’s been seeking for months now. 

“I thought you knew I wouldn’t.”

Jimin doesn’t mention how he did listen. How he waited and waited until he lost sleep and went hungry. Jimin doesn’t tell him he stayed days in that hut until he heard someone moving outside. And he waited until they dragged him away, for Jeongguk told him to wait, and Jimin was desperately trying to gain back that lost trust. To build again that frail and flickering something.

Jeongguk snorts, and Jimin can almost picture the smirk curving those lips. 

“Yet you came back.”

Jimin steps closer, putting away the gun despite the way his hands shake.

He moves closer and sees it, standing against the wall, just straight in front of him, waiting.

Jeongguk is—for a lack of better words and rather infuriatingly—leisurely waiting for Jimin to come to him, long tail swaying behind his legs in a silent invitation. 

Jimin’s eyes roll, but he hurries his steps while his hands reach up. All of him aches to touch and grab and hold. So it is unavoidable for a relieved sigh to leave him when his hands cup the hybrid’s face, pulling him in for a kiss. 

Just as their lips touch, strong hands fall to his waist, pulling him in closer until their bodies are pressing against one another.

The kiss they share is desperate, it tastes foul like blood and sweat. Jeongguk licks in his mouth, claiming all of him hungrily.  Neither part until out of breath, hesitant even then. 

“I forgot something of mine when I left.” 

Against his lips, Jeongguk smirks. 

“Did you?”

Jimin hums, chasing those lips for another kiss. 

“I’m here to take it back.” 

Jeongguk laughs, and it sounds like ambrosia pouring over him.

“So promise me,” Jimin adds in between kisses. “No more losing control.”

Jeongguk chuckles, hoarse and beautiful and sweet. The hand on Jimin’s waist slides down by some, thumb rubbing absent caresses. “Keep me here, then.”

Jimin pulls away, hands twitching where they still hold the hybrid’s face. He stares into those twin jades, frowning when the words struggle to make sense. 

“Make sure I don't get lost again.”

Jimin’s eyes close, he sighs shakily. Their foreheads touch, and he exhales another shuddering breath. 

“Jeongguk, I-” he stops, words catching in his throat. 

“It won’t be hard.” A warm touch presses to his cheek, thumb rubbing into the soft skin. “You did it again and again before.”

Jimin’s head shakes, he snorts. “That’s not true, the drugs kept it at bay.”

Jeongguk hums, kissing at the corner of Jimin’s lips. “So what? Are you changing your mind?” 

Jimin’s chuckle is bitter and hoarse, his head shaking as he bites down on his bottom lip.

“Don’t be stupid, I came all this way, didn’t I?”

“Hey, you two.”

From behind, a familiar voice calls them. 

Jimin’s jaw clenches, but he reluctantly turns his head away from the hybrid. 

The firm hold on him doesn’t let go, it doesn’t fall and doesn’t allow Jimin to get away either. As for himself, Jimin doesn’t fight it but looks back at Taehyung still standing at the door. 

“We should leave this place.”

Feeling a small smile drawing on his lips, Jimin nods, his hands curling around Jeongguk’s wrists. He turns to look at the hybrid, that small smile lingering. “C’mon,” he prompts, pulling them away gently. “It’s time we leave this hellhole.”

Jimin pulls away, his hands falling from Jeongguk's wrists. He moves a step back, holding the hybrid's gaze and gauging his reaction. Then, a bit hesitantly despite everything, he turns his back to the other. 

Before him, Taehyung looks impatient enough that he could jump right out of his skin, eyes darting from Jimin to the hybrid. He says nothing though, a muscle at the corner of his jaw twitching but lips pressed in a thin line. 

Sure that Jeongguk will follow, Jimin moves to the entrance, already savoring the fresh air from home.

“I want duck.”

Jimin stops dead in his tracks, body freezing. 

His eyes widen, looking at Taehyung but seeing right through him. A shaky breath moves past his lips, heart thumping in his chest. 

Slowly, he turns to see the hybrid still close to the wall. He looks firm and steady, unwavering on the ridiculous condition he just set. 

Jade eyes stare into his, determined as they bore into the human's soul.

“Alright,” he promises, grinning and reaching out with one hand. “But let's get out of here first.”