Archive of Our Own

1. First Blood

From the very first, Hongjoong knows that Park Seonghwa is too good to be true.

He comes waltzing into the shelter with his flamboyant, colourful wide-legged pants and his funny square-toed shoes and his deep, soothing voice that makes Hongjoong’s skin prickle for some reason, all the way down to his paws.

His voice makes Hongjoong want to flick his ears in its direction, to take a peek upwards at the man standing next to his cage, to see what kind of face he might have.

And that in itself is peculiar, because Hongjoong hasn’t wanted anything for a very long time, except maybe to die a quick and painless death.

“Yes, this is him,” Minho says. Hongjoong realises that he doesn’t even know what the man in the wide-legged pants said, entranced as he was by the sound of his voice. “We’ve been worried sick about him, poor little bugger. He hasn’t been eating or drinking or grooming or anything on his own since he got here and honestly I don’t know how much longer he can survive like this. He hasn’t been able to bond with any of us, so I’m hoping that a domestic environment will help him relax. But you’ll have to be careful, Seonghwa-yah. He’s bitten at least four staff members since then, including me, and I don’t know if he’ll stop easily.”

“He bit you?” The man called Seonghwa sounds amused. “He’s a brave little kit then.”

“That he is. He’s one of the hybrids we rescued from that lab the Ministry of Health shut down last month. Nasty business.”

Seonghwa draws a sharp breath. “Oh. Did they…”

“Very likely. Hence the injuries on his back. I’ll give you antibiotics and painkillers that he has to take for another five days. I’ll give you disinfectant too, if you can manage to get it onto him. I’d recommend wearing taming gloves, unless you fancy losing half your fingers.”

“Mm,” Seonghwa says. “I’ll consider it.”

Minho sighs. “Well, they’re your fingers, not mine. I’m assuming you didn’t bring a travel cage?”

“No, I came directly from work.”

“No worries, we can lend you one.” Minho’s voice is moving farther away. “I’ll make up a bag for you with the meds and some nutriboosters, too.”

Minho’s footsteps die away in the distance, leaving Hongjoong alone with the man called Seonghwa. He squats down in front of the cage, his faint woodsy scent rolling over Hongjoong with the movement.

Hongjoong turns his back with a soft hiss.

“My name is Park Seonghwa,” the man says. “I’m very pleased to meet you, although I don’t know your name yet.”

And you never will.

Hongjoong didn’t have much brain left to think with by the time they pulled him out of Jaehee’s lab, but one thought clung to him like a nettle:

He must not let them know his name.

Not even Minho, who fixed the festering wound on his chest and soothed the burnt patches on his back that never got the chance to heal properly before being opened by Jaehee’s next experiment. Or Chan, who brought him soft blankets and old t-shirts and tried to weave it into a small nest for him when Hongjoong steadfastly refused to even look at the garments. Or Jisung, who shifted into his animal form numerous times to try and talk to Hongjoong, first in common Feran and then in a halting kind of Sciurish mixed with Old Rodentian that he could only have picked up in one of the sewer colonies underneath the city centre. Jisung doesn’t look like a sewer crawler, but it might just be the fact that he’s clearly well-fed and clean. Felix, Jisung’s pretty blonde friend, had a go at talking to him, too, but when he shifted it was into a cat and Hongjoong found himself crouched on the other side of his cage, snarling and chittering and swishing his tail before he even realised that he was going to move.

They may all have kind eyes and soft hands and pretty words, but Hongjoong knows why they want his name.

For the same reason to Jaehee used it - to make him shift even when he doesn’t want to. So that they can do things to him. Horrible, awful, painful, scary things that are perfect for doing to hybrids in their human form because it gives you reliable scientific results that can help humans be more healthy. But you don’t have to feel bad about doing them, because hybrids aren’t human, after all. Not really.

And Park Seonghwa might sound like an angel, but that doesn’t mean that he is one.

“You were only going to come live with me after you…calmed down a bit,” Seonghwa goes on, which is no doubt code for ‘stopped biting anyone within reach’. “But I think Minho-yah is too worried about you to keep you here any longer. He told me that you’re not eating or drinking or grooming or shifting. And that’s very dangerous.”

No shit, Sherlock. Like you care.

“The shifting is okay, though. You don’t have to shift if you don’t want to.”

…what?

“When my friend Wooyoung came to live with us he stayed in his animal form for months. No-one will mind if you want to do the same, it’s up to you what form you prefer.” Seonghwa’s voice softens even more, like he’s smiling. “You’ll like Wooyoung, he’s a lot of fun. He doesn’t really live with me. Him and San and Yeosang live across the hall and then there’s Yunho and Mingi and Jongho on the floor below. They’re all great people and they can’t wait to welcome you. We often have meals together, so you should meet them soon.”

In Hongjoong’s experience, most people have two modes when talking to hybrids. Either they use a syrupy sweet baby voice, treating you like a pet or a very small child, or they ignore you completely except to bark instructions. Minho and the other shelter workers tended to fall into the first category. Jaehee and the other men in the white coats in the latter.

Seonghwa doesn’t seem to do either.

He chatters on casually, using much the same kind of voice he used when he’d been talking to Minho. Like Hongjoong is just another person. Another human.

There are footsteps outside on the concrete again, accompanied by the smell of disinfectant that seems to follow Minho wherever he goes. The cage rattles when he puts it down on the concrete.

“The instructions for the meds are on the labels. I know I don’t have to tell you to read everything carefully.

Seonghwa laughs. It is a bright, silvery sound that makes Hongjoong’s heart twist in his ribcage.

“I guess you know me too well. The nutriboosters will hydrate him as well, right?”

“Yeah, they’ll give him the basic fluids he needs in day. You have rodent blocks, right? Try to get him eating some of those. You can feed him nuts, seeds, fruits that sort of thing as well, but try to get him started on the rodent blocks first. And keep him on the nutriboosters for at least another week, even if he starts eating.

Plastic crinkles behind Hongjoong. “Oh, I see you’ve given me gloves?”

“Yeah,” Minho says dryly. “Maybe you’ll work your magic and he won’t even think of biting you, but rather safe than sorry. I’ll put him in the cage for you now. As a going away present.”

Hongjoong immediately tenses when he hears the clank of the bolt. He draws himself into a tighter ball, flicking his tail in warning.

”Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me!”

“Hi, baby,” Minho says sweetly. “I’m going to pick you up now, okay?”

“No! Let go of me!”

Hongjoong feels the movement in the air a moment before the heavy gloved hand closes around his body. He cranks his neck around with an angry screech and sinks his teeth into the leather covering Minho’s forefinger.

“Fuck off! Let go of me you big fucking oaf. Son of a bitch!”

It’s really a pity that Minho can’t understand Sciurish, otherwise Hongjoong’s squeaked obscenities might have had a bigger impact. As it is, Minho just calmly transfers him into the travel cage, ignoring Hongjoong’s furious squirming and kicking and his teeth snapping into Minho’s leather covered fingers.

As soon as Minho lets go of him, Hongjoong jumps to the other end of the cage. He crouches there with his front paws in a fighting stance and hurls a few more choice squeaks through the bars at Minho.

“I’m pretty sure he’s cussing you out,” Seonghwa says. He sounds amused.

“You understand Sciurish?” Minho asks.

Hongjoong pricks up his ears too, waiting for the answer.

“Just a little bit,” Seonghwa says. “Mingi’s a white rat, you know, and he always says that Sciurish is by far the best of the Rodentian languages to swear in. I’ve picked up a few here and there.”

Minho chuckles. “I bet you did. Good luck, Seonghwa-yah.”

“Thanks, Min.”

The cage tilts as Seonghwa picks it up, cradling it against his chest. His woodsy scent envelopes Hongjoong, making his skin prickle again. Almost like he knows it, like a half-forgotten memory from long ago.

“Come on, kit,” Seonghwa says. “Let’s get you home.”

Outside in the late afternoon sunlight, Seonghwa clips the cage onto the front rack of a green bicycle. He calls a cheery goodbye to Minho and then the bike wobbles as he swings into the saddle and peddles them out of the parking lot onto a narrow road running alongside a canal.

When Hongjoong was brought to the shelter, it had been evening and he’d been in the back of a van and not really paying much attention to anything to begin with.

He tries his best not to pay attention now either, but it is pretty much impossible.

His vantage point at the front of the bike gives him an unfettered view of the landscape zooming past, as Seonghwa cycles over a concrete bicycle bridge to the other side of the canal.

Next to the narrow cycling path that they are now on, the ground slopes steeply downward. Farmland stretches out on either side. It is high summer, the fields heavy with crops of hobak, tomatoes, aubergine, gochu, and bell peppers.

A couple of ahjummas in wide-brimmed hats and flowery pants look up from their work, waving and calling out a friendly greeting. Seonghwa calls back and the bike wobbles dangerously for a few moments as he lifts his hand from the handlebars to wave and attempts a small bow at the same time. Hongjoong resists the urge to hiss at him in panic.

But Seonghwa replaces his hand and they cycle on again.

In the distance, there are buildings arching into the empty blue sky. They must be nearing the outskirts of the city.

The wind combs slim, cool fingers through the fur on top of Hongjoong’s head. He scoots closer to the front of the cage, resting his paws on the bars and tilting his chin into the wind. The wind whips into his face, drawing water from his eyes with the force of it, sending a shiver of pure delight down his spine.

It feels like he’s flying.

Soaring into the warm, sunny day with its bright blue sky and the cicadas screaming in the tall grass and a deep, cool river rushing up to meet them, laughing far below the bike wheels for a moment before they are across the bridge and spinning down the slope on the other side at a speed that makes Hongjoong’s heart race.

He’d quite forgotten what it feels like to move this fast. To feel the wind on his face, to see the sun.

He’d forgotten, actually, that things can be beautiful.

There is another reminder when he cautiously turns his head to take a look at Park Seonghwa for the first time and sees that he is, in fact, more beautiful than the day itself.

His thick, longish black hair is swept back from his face in a high ponytail that compliments his broad, strongly-boned features. His cheeks flushed bright with exercise and the strong wind. His lips are flushed too, cherry red and pulled into a dreamy smile.

But it is his eyes that draw Hongjoong in the most strongly.

They are wide and deep and sparkling with what seems like a hundred-and-one happy thoughts. Beautiful.

They flick down to meet Hongjoong’s gaze quite suddenly, catching him with the full force of their kindness before he can look away.

Seonghwa smiles, his entire face beaming with such warmth and beauty that Hongjoong wants to crawl straight out of his skin and collapse in a puddle of adoration.

“Hi there, sweet. I thought the ride might do you good.”

Hongjoong tears himself away from those gentle eyes with a resolute snarl, turning his back to Seonghwa.

Although he doesn’t look back again, he keeps his paws around the bars and his nose in the wind all the way into the city. Flying.

Seonghwa lives in a six-story building in a quiet district almost at the edge of the city. He parks his bike next to the steps, locking it into the bike stand with a chain.

“They don’t really steal bikes in this area,” he says, as he clicks the cage loose from the rack. “But better safe than sorry, right?”

On that Hongjoong can agree.

Safe is always better than sorry.

Which is why he turns his back to Seonghwa once more, refusing to let himself stare at the man. Even though he wants to, rather badly.

“It’s a nice place,” Seonghwa says, while they wait for the elevator. “Yun’s grandma owns the building, otherwise I’d never have been able to afford the deposit. Two bedrooms and a massive living room on a librarian’s salary. Imagine that.”

He’s a librarian then. Somehow, Hongjoong hadn’t quite pegged him for the bookish type.

“I bet you’re hungry,” Seonghwa says in the elevator.

Another one of the things that Hongjoong has forgotten is what it feels like to not be hungry. As a kit in the sewers there was never much food to go around, but his parents at least made sure that he didn’t go to bed hungry every night. But in the lab that was the norm. Fasting was required for the results to be clear and Jaehee hardly every cared to remember to give him time off between tests. Except sometimes when the food was the experiment, of course.

“I think I’ll make some cream pasta tonight,” Seonghwa says. “Or steak. I don’t know, really. I kind of want ramyeon too, or maybe ribs. But I’ll have to choose one, won’t I? You’ll have to help me pick. I’m horribly indecisive when it comes to food. Everything always sounds absolutely delicious to me and then I can’t get myself to choose.”

It is quiet on the floor where they get off. Seonghwa goes to a door with the number 508 on it, where he punches a code into the lock. Then he carries Hongjoong into the apartment.

While Seonghwa takes off his shoes and neatly lines them up on a rack by the door, Hongjoong peers warily around the room. Looking for a steel table and a row of testing tubes, maybe.

But there is no such thing.

Just a large kitchen and an even larger sitting room with three doors leading off of the main room. Presumably a bathroom and the two bedrooms that Seonghwa had been jabbering on about. The living room and the kitchen are very clean. Not a speck of dust or a crumb on the stove or a single cobweb in sight. But despite the sheer size of it and the meticulous cleanliness, it doesn’t feel empty or sterile. Rather the opposite.

The couch and the armchairs gathered in front of the TV are decorated with lively paisley print throws and an abundance of fluffy cushions in various shapes and sizes. There is a Persian rug under the coffee table and damask curtains framing the tall windows. The colours all compliment each other - deep jewels tones of crimson and emerald green and blue and yellow. It is the kind of room that makes Hongjoong yearn for a rainy day and a book to curl up with under a soft blanket.

Seonghwa puts the cage down on the coffee table, plopping the bag that Minho gave him down next to it.

“This is home,” he says. “Welcome! If you’ll hold on tight for just a moment I’ll bring you your actual cage. It’s much more comfy than this little thing!”

He goes to one of the doors, closing the curtains and turning on a lamp as he goes past. The lampshade is made of stained glass and it casts a glowing, multi-coloured flower on the wall behind it.

Hongjoong is still staring at it, mesmerised by its beauty, when Seonghwa comes back again. He is now carrying a cage that is large enough to make him stagger a little. He puts it down on the rug next to the coffee table and stands back to survey it with a satisfied expression.

“Isn’t she a beauty? We had a lovely time gathering all those sticks and branches for you.”

The cage does look good, even to Hongjoong’s determinedly critical eye.

Almost a meter wide and deep and twice as tall, it is made of sturdy metal and wire. Long, dried branches, carefully shaved of any dangerous spikes, crisscross it from top to bottom. They make Hongjoong’s paws itch for a bit of climbing. It’s been such a long time since he’s been in a tree, since he’s felt sturdy wood and bark under his claws.

“Do you want to check it out?”

Yes, please.

No, fuck that, it’s a trick.

It has to be. It’s just a way to get him nice and comfortable before Seonghwa sticks a big old needle in him to watch him writhe in pain for science.

“There’s a nesting box, too,” Seonghwa says. “With some goodies inside that I know you’ll love. Come check it out, won’t you?”

He squats down, sliding back the bolt and opening the travel cage’s door.

Then he puts his hand into the cage. Flat and palm up, like he’s expecting Hongjoong to just clamber into his grasp.

Ungloved.

He won’t keep up the facade, keep on pretending to be friendly and nice and welcoming once he’s dripping blood all over his clean floors.

Hongjoong whips his tail into an intimidating plume above his head. Then he darts forward and sinks his teeth into Seonghwa’s fingers. He tastes blood.

“Ow!” Seonghwa falls on his ass, clutching his bitten hand, crimson staining his skin.

Hongjoong draws back to the far end of the cage, chittering, his tail sweeping in warning. He waits for Seonghwa to turn furious eyes on him, to start swearing, maybe kick the cage to the floor and then around the apartment a bit to teach Hongjoong what happens when he dares to hurt a human.

Seonghwa stares at his injured hand. Then he gets up and Hongjoong ducks without really meaning to.

But Seonghwa goes to the kitchen, where he sticks his hand under the tap.

Maybe he wants to clean the wound up first, before he deals with Hongjoong. Before he puts on the gloves so that he can grab Hongjoong and give him a good shake. He’s probably wishing that he knew Hongjoong’s name now, so that he could command him to shift and give him a proper beating.

When Seonghwa comes back, he is pressing a towel to his fingers.

Hongjoong hisses in warning when Seonghwa squats down in front of the cage.

“That one was on me,” Seonghwa says. He doesn’t sound angry, just a bit rueful. “Minho warned me, but I’m a fatheaded idiot so I didn’t listen. Don’t worry about it, okay? Not for now, at least. Later on, when you’re all settled in and no longer stuck in permanent survival mode, biting someone without good reason will definitely land you in some hot water. But for now we’ll work around it. Okay?”

It doesn’t make sense. Not what Seonghwa is saying, nor the compassionate expression on his face. He’s supposed to be angry, livid even. He should be talking about feral animals and how Hongjoong should be put down for daring to put his teeth on a human. Not telling Hongjoong not to worry, as though he wants to comfort him somehow.

Hongjoong chitters at him again, mostly because he doesn’t know what else to do. It’s hard to keep on being defensive, if no-one is attacking you.

“I hear you,” Seonghwa says. “You’re mad as hell, huh? I’d probably be biting people too if they kept on yanking me in and out of cages and not giving a hoot about what I want or need. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you make the switch yourself, when you’re ready? The doors will stay open anyway, so you can move between the two cages as you please. Sounds good?”

Hongjoong is so surprised that he quite forgets that he supposed to be swishing his tail menacingly.

He lowers his front paws, cocking his head to the side.

The cage doors will stay open? What’s even the point of a cage then, if not to keep him locked inside?

Seonghwa gives him a small grin. Then he gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he first disinfects his fingers and wraps them up in a piece of gauze and then takes out a cutting board and a knife. He takes two onions from the vegetable rack. And then, whistling a soft tune, he begins to prepare a meal.

Hongjoong drops back onto all fours, twitching his nose uncertainly from side to side.

The cage door is indeed still open.

With a quick glance to make sure that Seonghwa isn’t looking, he darts out onto the table. Then he jumps to the floor and scurries underneath the couch, where he pauses in the darkness with his heart hammering in his throat.

Seonghwa continues whistling, the knife rasping rhythmically through the onion. The cutting sounds stop for a bit and Hongjoong holds his breath, waiting for an angry shout as his escape is discovered. But there is only the clanking of a pan and some other rummaging sounds. A while later, the scent of frying onion starts wafting through the apartment.

Hongjoong crawls forward on his stomach, peeking up at the cage standing next to the coffee table.

There is a nesting box, just like Seonghwa said, attached halfway up the side of the cage. The hole looks just large enough for Hongjoong to crawl through. Inside there seems to be only darkness. Lovely, lovely darkness, just like a nest ought to be.

And didn’t Seonghwa say that there is a surprise inside?

Hongjoong takes a few steps across the floor before his courage fails him and he scurries back to his hiding place.

It’s a trick. The surprise is probably something nasty and painful. Maybe Seonghwa is hoping to lure him into the nesting box, so that he can lock the cage while Hongjoong isn’t looking.

Hongjoong crawls forward again, not quite able to keep his eyes off the cage for too long.

There are two bowls near the door, one with water in it, the other with food. Rodent blocks, by the looks of it.

Hongjoong’s eyes wander up to the nesting box again.

He hasn’t nested in such a long time. Not since he lived with his parents probably, before he was taken to the lab. And how long ago was that? He’s not sure anymore. It feels like a hundred years.

What if it isn’t a trick? Seonghwa didn’t react to the bite like Hongjoong expected him to. What if this is different too? What if there actually is something nice in the box? Maybe he could just go up very quickly to check it out and then run out again before Seonghwa can even think to trap him inside.

Hongjoong hurries across the carpet, hopping in the cage. A few leaps take him up the nearest branch to the opening of the nesting box.

Inside, it is very soft and cozy.

It takes his eyes a few moments to adjust to the dark. An old t-shirt has been stuffed into the bottom of the box, together with a soft, fluffy blanket. They smell like Seonghwa. Woodsy and fresh and…well, safe.

There is a lump under one end of the t-shirt. Hongjoong approaches it warily, ready for something awful to jump out at him. But the thing doesn’t move and when Hongjoong carefully nuzzles the blanket out of the way, he sees that it is a stuffed toy. A giraffe, complete with a long neck and spots and round, fat, entirely biologically inaccurate legs.

It looks rather lonely, lying there facedown under the t-shirt.

Hongjoong picks it up and hugs it tightly to his chest.

Then, because it occurs to him that Mr. Giraffe, being an animal from the warm African savannah, might very well get cold at night, he puts the stuffed toy neatly down in one corner of the box and starts building a nest for him.

A lovely, soft nest that smells of Park Seonghwa.

And somehow of home.

Hongjoong is so sleepy, cuddled up with Mr. Giraffe in his nest, that he doesn’t even snarl when Seonghwa opens the back hatch of the nesting box and gently feeds him the contents of a nutribooster syringe. He doesn’t snap his teeth or swish his tail either, when Seonghwa runs warm, bare fingers over his head and scratches under his chin.

2. Sciurish and Strawberries

The smell of frying onions wakes Hongjoong up the following morning.

It confuses him at first, seeing Seonghwa in the exact same spot he’d been in the previous evening, doing the exact same thing. But there is pale morning sunlight falling in through the windows, so time must have passed, even though it doesn’t feel like it.

Hongjoong balances precariously on the branch outside his nest, clutching Mr. Giraffe tightly against his chest.

“Morning!” Seonghwa calls, not turning his head. “I’d like to offer you an omelette, but that’ll have to wait until you’re a bit bigger! You can have some of those rodent blocks. And there are nuts and seeds in your bowl as well, if that’s maybe more to your taste. But don’t worry if you don’t feel up to eating yet. I still have nutriboosters to give you.”

The cage door is still open. Hongjoong can’t remember hearing it close the previous evening, not even when Seonghwa had turned out the lights and gone to his bedroom.

Not that it means much. It might still all be part of an elaborate ploy to get him to lower his guard. At some point Seonghwa will have to stop pretending to be nice.

Hongjoong leaps down to the floor of the cage, ignoring the bowl full of blocks and nuts and seeds in favour of slipping out the cage door and hiding underneath the couch again.

Jaehee used to absolutely hate it when he’d try to hide. Maybe it will get Seonghwa to show his true colours, too.

But Seonghwa doesn’t seem to mind, or even notice. He is now busy beating a bunch of eggs in a large bowl, stirring the onions and mushrooms frying on the stove in between.

Keeping a firm eye on him, Hongjoong darts across the open space behind the couch to the armchair against the wall. There is a bookcase next to it, from which it would be possible to jump into the rafters. Hongjoong crouches under the chair first, waiting to see if Seonghwa is going to react.

He is still watching the back of Seonghwa’s neck, when the doorbell suddenly rings.

The sound has Hongjoong scampering up the bookcase and cowering into a dark corner on top of the nearest rafter before he quite knows that he is moving.

“Come in!” Seonghwa calls.

The door opens, admitting what sounds like at least a dozen young elephants.

“Morning, hyungie!”

“Seonghwa-hyung!”

“Ooh, omelette. Can I have a bite, hyungie?”

“Move over, you dolt, I said I was going to hug Seonghwa-hyung first today!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

Unable to keep his curiosity at bay, Hongjoong pokes his head just far enough over the edge of the rafter to see what on earth is going on below.

Six men have crowded their way into the flat. Two seem to be wrestling, possibly to the death, for the honour of hugging Seonghwa first. One is sneaking a drink of milk from the fridge while another is well on his way to stealing half the caramelised onions from the pan. Another, the tallest of them, is making a valiant but seemingly useless attempt to stop the two wrestlers from accidentally pushing Seonghwa into a pan of hot oil. And yet another is still standing by the door, still wearing his shoes, with a tear-streaked face and the air of a martyred saint.

“Oy!”

One sharp exclamation from Seonghwa brings the entire chaotic scene to an abrupt halt. Even Hongjoong finds himself suddenly wanting to sit up and quirk his tail to show that he’s listening. It’s not that Seonghwa shouted exactly, but something in his voice makes it impossible not to focus all your attention on him.

Seonghwa gives the two wrestlers a quick hug and a peck on the cheek each, before sending them skipping away with a rather sharp smack to each of their bottoms.

“Brats! I’m more than happy to hug both of you, you know? No need to turn my kitchen into a battleground. San-ah! Pour that milk into a glass or I’ll stick you in the fridge, see if I don’t.” The milk guy gives Seonghwa a guileless and very dimply grin, obligingly reaching for a glass.

“And you!” Seonghwa turns to the lanky fellow with his fingers still hovering over the caramelised onions. “Song Mingi! Get your grubby little fingers out of my pan. Go sit down at the table and wait for the food to be served. Go on! Immediately!”

“Sorry, hyung,” Mingi says, not sounding particularly apologetic. His eyes, behind the thick glasses that he’s wearing, are blood red. He must be the rat hybrid, the one that has taught Seonghwa curse words in Sciurish.

Seonghwa pulls the other tall man, the one who had been trying to stop the wrestlers, into a hug.

“Morning, Yunho!”

“Morning, hyungie! Did you sleep well?”

He has the air of a rather large puppy, and Hongjoong wonders for a moment if he might be a dog hybrid. But Seonghwa had said that someone called Yun’s grandmother owns the building, so the man must be fully human.

While Yunho goes to sit down, Seonghwa turns his attention to the tragic figure hovering at the door.

“Yeosangie, my baby! What happened to you, sweetheart?”

The man gives an elegant little sob behind one hand, stepping out of his fancy leather shoes. Then he collapses into Seonghwa’s arms, burrowing his head of bright green hair into Seonghwa’s chest.

“Sanie was mean to me!”

Hongjoong glances at the dimpled man, who is still placidly drinking his glass of milk. He doesn’t look like he has a mean bone in his body, to be honest.

But Seonghwa is giving him a hard stare, hugging Yeosang tight. “Oh no! What did he do to my poor baby?”

Yeosang only wails, boring his face deeper into the crook of Seonghwa’s neck. He has a mark on his face, right next to his eye. It takes Hongjoong a moment to realise that it is a snake scale, gleaming in soft green and black against his skin.

“Go on,” San says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Tell him what I did to you, Sang-ah.”

“He…he smacked my bottom!”

It seems a bit ludicrous, to be carrying on this much about a spanking. Even if San has rather muscular arms, protruding out of his t-shirt sleeves. They look like they could pack a mean wallop.

“How perfectly terrible.” Seonghwa seems to be fighting against a smile, as he presses a tender kiss to Yeosang’s hair. “And why did he do that, I wonder?”

Yeosang sniffles tragically. “He…he knows why!”

“But Seonghwa-hyung doesn’t,” San says, seemingly not feeling even a little bit sorry. “Why don’t you tell him, sweetness?”

Yeosang squirms deeper into Seonghwa’s hold. He doesn’t answer.

“Well?” Seonghwa pats his back. “Why, Sang-ah?”

“I don’t…I don’t wanna say anymore.”

“No, you started this,” San says firmly. “You finish it, young man. Tell Seonghwa-hyung what you did.”

Yeosang whines, but he obeys. “I…I didn’t take my medication last night. And then…then I lied to Sanie when he asked me if I did!”

The word medication makes Hongjoong’s ears flicker and a bolt of ice shoot up his spine.

Seonghwa has seemed mildly amused and sympathetic until now. At Yeosang’s confession, however, his face sobers and he pushes the snake hybrid away from him, giving him an eerie little smile.

“In that case, Yeosang-ah, don’t you think you should be counting your blessings instead of whining? If I’d gotten my hands on you before Sanie did…you know how important it is to take your meds.”

Of course it’s important, otherwise the results of the experiments won’t be shown properly.

Some part of Hongjoong feels relieved, that he’s finally caught Seonghwa out. But another part of him is growing desperately heavy with sadness, weighing him into the top of the rafter until it feels like he might go tumbling down to the floor at any moment.

“Y-yes,” Yeosang squeaks, an adorable little lisp leaking into his voice. “Sorry, hyungie. I just…I just felt mad at San, I don’t know why.”

Seonghwa gives him a firm kiss on top of his head. “Maybe because you missed a dosage last night? You go cuddle with Sanie right now until you feel better, otherwise you’ll have a horrible day at work. Go on, you know it’ll help you feel more regulated.”

He passes Yeosang into San’s arms, who leads the snake hybrid away to one of the armchairs. He sits down there, pulling Yeosang into his lap.

“I’m trying very hard not to say anything,” one of the wrestlers says. He has a sharp face and a mop of thick black hair and laughing, lopsided eyes which he now turns on Seonghwa. “But there’s a squirrel on your ceiling, hyung. I don’t know if you’re aware.”

“I’m aware thank you, Wooyoung-ah,” Seonghwa says. “Kindly keep giving him space, he’s still very much getting used to being here and I don’t want you bothering him.”

“Moi? Bothering?” Wooyoung points at himself with an expression of offended innocence. A sleek black cat’s tail flicks from behind his chair. “When have I ever bothered anyone?”

“To list that would take eons,” the other wrestler says, sticking out a cute pink tongue at Wooyoung. He’s a bunny, with long floppy black ears framing his round face.

Wooyoung gasps. “Yunho! Your bunny is being mean to me.”

Yunho puts out a long arm, patting the bunny’s head. “Good job, Jongho-yah. Keep going.”

They both giggle, as does Mingi, while Wooyoung gasps in affront again.

“Stop teasing, please,” Seonghwa says, coming over to the table with a big pan. “Hojong-ah, help hyung serve this up please. And Minnie, will you get some extra spoons. I don’t seem to have brought enough.”

They seem to obey him without question, Jongho reaching for a spatula while Mingi jumps out of his chair.

Soon, everyone is digging into omelette and rice and some side dishes that Seonghwa has produced from the fridge.

Hongjoong watches with a bit of jealousy. He rather wants to have a taste of kimchi too. He hasn’t had any in years. But to do that would mean allowing himself to shift into his human form and for that he is nowhere near ready. Especially not after the whole to-do about Yeosang’s ‘meds’. He’s willing to bet that the cute bunny and the black cat and even the poor white rat with his thick glasses are also required to take their ‘medicine’ every night. There were always hybrid owners coming and going in the lobby at the lab, picking up the newest batch of pills for their pets. A batch of pills and a fat cheque. Maybe that’s how Seonghwa is really able to afford this nice apartment.

After breakfast, most of the visitors file out the door again, waving goodbye to Seonghwa and laughingly promising to be good at his insistence. Only two remain, except for Seonghwa. Yeosang and Mingi.

“What time do your classes start today?” Seonghwa asks, while he and Yeosang starts putting the dishes into the washer.

“My first one’s only at 1PM,” Yeosang says. “But Mingi’s is at 11, so we’ll leave at around 10. Thank goodness we’re not in first year anymore, all those classes seemed to start at 8.”

Seonghwa nods, with a laugh. “And what a time we had getting you guys fed and out of bed early enough!”

Hongjoong feels that someone is watching him, and when he looks at Mingi he finds the white rat’s eyes boring into him.

“Hyung, may I shift and talk to the squirrel?” Mingi asks. “What’s his name, anyways?”

“I don’t know yet,” Seonghwa says. “He hasn’t told anyone. You can shift, but be careful, huh? He gave me a good nip yesterday.”

“Oh no!” Yeosang says. “Are you okay, hyungie?”

“Yes,” Seonghwa gives him a quick reassuring smile. “Nothing to worry about! The wound is already closing up.”

Mingi has taken his glasses off in the meantime and he now promptly shifts down into his animal form, leaving his clothes in a puddle on the floor. He is rather large for a rat, but then again he’s rather large as a human, too.

“Hello!” he calls in Sciurish, scurrying across the floor to the same bookcase that Hongjoong used to climb up. “Can I come up and say hello to you?”

“No,” Hongjoong says. “Fuck off.”

The rat chuckles, but he does stop on top of the bookcase, keeping a safe distance between him and Hongjoong.

“I should warn you that Seonghwa-hyung has heard me swearing enough that he knows most of the Sciurish ones by ear. He’ll know if you’re cussing him out.”

“I don’t care.”

Mingi nods. “Fair enough. He probably hasn’t given you any rules yet, so you don’t have to. If one of us swears at him it’ll be a different ball game.”

Hongjoong shifts on his paws, trying not to look curious. “What’ll he do? Beat you?”

“Oh, goodness no.” Mingi looks somewhat amused. “He’ll smack us, at the most. If we’re in human form. In animal form he’d probably just scold.”

Hongjoong scoffs. “As if he’d let you stay in animal form when you’re in trouble.”

“Let me stay in my animal form?” Mingi’s eyes widen. “You mean…oh. No. No. That’s why you’re not telling anyone your name, right? You’re scared that you’ll be forced to shift?”

Hongjoong shrugs. It’s fairly obvious, isn’t it?

“Listen,” Mingi says earnestly. “Seonghwa-hyung would never do that to you. I don’t know what horrible kind of place you were at before, but here that would never happen. Sanie and Yunho would also die rather than make any of us do something without our consent. Especially something as personal and special as shifting. You don’t have to worry about that. Ever.”

“You asked him if you could shift, though,” Hongjoong says, snidely, nodding down at Seonghwa.

“I wasn’t asking for his permission,” Mingi says. “I was asking because I trust him to tell me if he thinks it’s unsafe.”

Hongjoong shifts uncomfortably again, flicking his tail. Mingi sounds genuine enough.

“They make him take stuff, though,” he says. “The snake. He has to take medicine even though he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t sound like they care very much about his consent.”

Mingi shakes his head firmly. “It’s not like that. Yeosang has a condition that he needs to take medicine for.”

“Yeah, right,” Hongjoong gives a sarcastic laugh. “I’m sure that’s what it is. They’ve probably got him signed up for one of those paid medicine trials. Fat cheque for the humans and fuckass side-effects for Yeosang or whatever his name is. And beatings if he doesn’t take them. Spare me the marketing, rat. I’m not falling for it.”

Mingi just watches him for a few long moments.

“Is that what happened to you?” he asks. “Your previous human signed you up for medical trials?”

“I wish,” Hongjoong says. “Mine was the one running the trials, so I got to be used as a lab rat all day long. Fun stuff.”

Mingi’s eyes soften with sympathy. “Oh, that sounds awful. I’m so sorry that happened to you. And I promise you, these people would never do something like that to you.”

“No, of course not,” Hongjoong says. “Only to Yeosang, right? Do you not care because he’s a snake? Rats vs snakes, right? You probably like that he’s getting hurt.”

Mingi’s mouth curls with distaste.

“No, of course not. That’s a disgusting thing to say.” 

He patters to the edge of the bookcase. 

“Yeosang-ah!” he calls in Feran. “Would you come tell this poor bastard that no-one is making you take medicine for nefarious purposes?”

Yeosang looks up in surprise. “What? What are you even talking about?”

“Just shift and come talk to him, please? He seems convinced that you’re being mistreated.”

Yeosang shifts quickly, turning into a beautiful black, green and yellow snake. Hongjoong isn’t quite sure what kind it is, precisely, but it definitely looks venomous. He’s rather glad that he’s safely up in the rafters, when Yeosang comes slithering over. He hauls himself up onto the seat of the armchair, swaying there for a moment, his forked tongue darting out of his mouth.

“What’sss going on?” he asks, in heavily accented Sciurish. He flickers a friendly eye at Hongjoong. “Hello! What’ssss your name? My name’ssss Kang Yeossssang.”

“He doesn’t want to say his name,” Mingi says. “Because the people he was with before used it to force-shift him.”

Yeosang makes a noise of disgust. “Awful humansssss. Don’t worry though. Our hyungiessss aren’t like that.”

“That’s what I keep telling him,” Mingi says.

“They make you take medicine though,” Hongjoong says. “Why?”

“Because I have epilepsssy,” Yeosang says.

Hongjoong scoffs. “Snake hybrids don’t get epilepsy.”

“It’s not naturally occurring, no,” Yeosang says, switching into quiet Feran. “I have post traumatic epilepsy, because of a brain injury. I was…you know how some people and even some hybrids think that venomous snakes like me shouldn’t be allowed? Because we’re inherently dangerous and uncontrollable and violent? There was a group like that on my university campus for a while. They caught me coming home from an exam one evening.” Yeosang’s head bobs, his eyes half-closing for a moment as though trying to shut out the memory. “They beat me up and then they threw stones at me until they thought I was dead. I would have been, if San and Wooyoung didn’t find me in time.”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” Hongjoong says. “That…it must have been awful. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s okay now! As long as I take my medicine well, I rarely have seizures. And hyungies take care of me well.”

Hongjoong nods, not quite knowing what to say. His accusation seems rather awful, now that Yeosang has explained the situation.

“Is it…is it okay for you to go university, though?” he asks then. “I heard you talking about classes. Isn’t the group still there?”

“No,” Yeosang says, his lips curling. “Seonghwa-hyung…Seonghwa-hyung took care of them. They’re not going to hurt anyone ever again. Not if they know what’s good for them.”

“Seonhgwa-hyung?” Hongjoong echoes. “I thought San and Wooyoung found you.”

“Well, yeah. But Seonghwa-hyung found the guys who attacked me. San and Wooyoung are my mates, but Seonghwa-hyung is like…he’s like our den mother. Or our pack leader. He takes care of all of us and heaven help anyone who tries to hurt one of his babies. You don’t have to worry about being treated badly as long as you’re with Seonghwa-hyungie. He’ll keep you safe.”

Mingi and Yeosang leave after a bit, saying something about going to study before their classes. Seonghwa says goodbye to them in the hallway and then comes back and starts closing the curtains and turning off the lights. He packs some things into a leather messenger bag, putting it down next to the armchair underneath Hongjoong’s perch. Then he climbs on top of the chair. He is just tall enough to look Hongjoong in the eye, where he is still perched in the corner where the rafter meets the wall.

“It’s almost time to go to work now,” he says. “I’m not really comfortable leaving you here by yourself all day. And we still have to disinfect your wounds and give you your nutribooster, right?”

He reaches out a hand, and Hongjoong flattens himself against the wall with a furious snarl.

“You know what you’ll get if you try to touch me! Fuck off!”

“I know that last one,” Seonghwa says pleasantly. “And I’ll thank you not to swear at me, kit. I know you don’t particularly want me touching you right now, but we don’t really have a choice. Your wounds need taking care of. So we’re doing this whether you like it or not, unfortunately.”

Hongjoong whips his tail up when the hand comes for him again, gathering his energy to launch himself teeth first at Seonghwa’s fingers.

Just as he is about to jump, Seonghwa says something in a stern voice. In Sciurish. Horrible, broken, completely unintelligible Sciurish.

“Bus lane!” he says, very sternly and solemnly. “And proper chair reopen. Yeah?”

Hongjoong blinks, dropping his tail in sheer surprise. Buses? Chairs? What the hell?

He is so distracted that he quite forgets that he was about to bite Seonghwa bloody. A warm hand closes around his limp body, picking him up and holding him close to Seonghwa’s face.

“Strawberry,” Seonghwa says, with such warm approval that Hongjoong feels something twisting in his stomach despite everything. Then Seonghwa continues, rather smugly, in Korean: “I knew asking Mingi for some Sciurish words would work!”

For the first time in he doesn’t know how long, Hongjoong feels laughter bubbling up in his throat. That must be why Seonghwa stayed outside in the hallway for so long, ‘saying goodbye’ to Mingi.

“I guess it did. Though not in the way you’re thinking, I’ll bet.”

Seonghwa grins at him as he carefully steps down from the chair. “I wish I could understand more Sciurish. You’re not swearing at me anymore, are you?”

“I could always start up again.”

Seonghwa carries Hongjoong over to the kitchen counter, where he carefully places him down next to a bowl where some disinfectant has already been prepared.

“Does it sting much when it goes on?” Seonghwa asks, wetting a cotton ball in the chemical smelling mixture. “I hope it doesn’t, you poor thing.”

“It stings like a bitch, but it’s better than the alternative.”

Seonghwa scratches his back, his fingers warm on Hongjoong’s fur.

“You’re really talking to me now, aren’t you? I wish I could understand what you’re saying. I expect it does sting, most disinfectants do. I’ll go quickly then, so you don’t have to suffer for long. Okay, strawberry?”

It must be some Sciurish pet name, that Mingi tried to teach Seonghwa, but Hongjoong can’t for the life of him decipher which word it is that Seonghwa is butchering so badly. Despite that, he finds himself still oddly soothed by it.

Hongjoong braces himself as Seonghwa carefully dabs the disinfectant mixture onto his back. It stings, but it doesn’t really hurt, not in the way that Hongjoong has known other things to hurt. Seonghwa blows on the wet spots to help them dry faster, scratching soothingly under Hongjoong’s chin all the while.

Once Hongjoong is dry, Seonghwa puts him into the travel cage, where he has now placed another soft blanket and old t-shirt combination, just like in the nesting box. He doesn’t close the door immediately, instead bending down and pulling Mr. Giraffe from under the couch where Hongjoong dropped him.

“Would you like to take this fellow with you?”

Hongjoong would actually like it very much, although he doesn’t particularly care for the way that Seonghwa is holding poor Mr. Giraffe by his head. He yanks the toy out of Seonghwa’s hand the moment it is inside the cage, cradling it to his chest and licking a few comforting stripes down the sides of his fluffy face.

Seonghwa smiles at him through the bars.

“You like him?”

“Yes!”

Seonghwa’s smile broadens. “Does that mean yes? I hope it does. I’m such an idiot actually, I kept thinking that I wanted to ask Mingi what the words are for ‘yes’ and ‘no’ in your language, and then I forgot!” He squats down, peering at Hongjoong. “Maybe you can tell me? You could like…wag your tail if the sound you made just now is yes.”

“Squirrels don’t wag their tails,” Hongjoong says, with dignity. “We’re not puppies! But I suppose I can flick it.”

Seonghwa lets out a genuine little squeal of delight when Hongjoong moves his tail.

“Yes! Thank you! Now I know. And can you please make the sound for ‘no’?”

Hongjoong hesitates, resting his chin on top of Mr. Giraffe’s head. A part of him is telling him to shut up and turn his back, because it’s a trick, isn’t it? Seonghwa is already getting him to relax, and he’s playing right into the human’s game.

But what game is it, exactly?

Jaehee and the other researchers at that lab certainly never showed the slightest interest in learning to communicate with him. Not in animal form, and certainly not in lowly Sciurish. Some of them knew a few words in Feran, but mostly the kind of vocabulary that isn’t meant for polite company.

None of them, certainly, would have been interested in knowing when Hongjoong was saying ‘no’.

“No,” Hongjoong says softly.

“Was that the sound for no?”

“Yes.”

Seonghwa claps his hands. “Yay, now I can ask you simple things! Does the disinfectant sting?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is it awful? Do you want me to ask Minho for another option that might be better?”

“No, it’s not that bad.”

Seonghwa doesn’t understand the last part, of course, but he seems to get the gist of it. “Okay. And do you like your giraffe?”

“Yes.”

Seonghwa’s smile broadens, his eyes twinkling prettily at Hongjoong. “I’m so glad. And are you okay with coming to work with me?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong says, and he is surprised to find that he actually sort of means it.

Seonghwa works in a library that is situated on the edge of a massive park.

Hongjoong can barely keep his eyes off the trees as Seonghwa unclips the travel cage and carries him up the steps.

“We can walk around a bit during my lunch break,” Seonghwa says. “You’d like to have a climb, wouldn’t you?”

”Yes!”

Seonghwa laughs, pushing the door open.

Inside the building, it is very quiet.

They are in a sort of large open foyer, with tall grey columns stretching up to the textured ceiling and a bronze bust of a dignified looking gentleman in a Joseon-style hat in a prominent position right in the middle of it.

Seonghwa’s footsteps echo as he crosses the polished marble floor and enters through an electromagnetic security gate into another room. It is much larger than the foyer and filled with neat rows of shelves almost as far as Hongjoong can see. On his left, wooden stairs lead up to a second, open story where more book-filled shelves are visible through the glass railings. It smells like books too, and of polished wood and somewhat stale air.

There are large windows in the wall on the right side, with a couple of comfortable chairs in front of it. Bright morning sunlight falls through and outside Hongjoong can see tall oak trees with lively shrubs growing around their trunks. A robin flies up from amongst the leaves as Seonghwa walks past the window, the flash of his wings making Hongjoong’s heart clench.

It’s been such a long time since he’s been high up in a tree, lazing on a thick branch, working over a piece of bark in his cheek and trading gossip with the robins. Hybrids or not, those little buggers are all smart enough to be up in everyone’s business. They’d always have the juiciest stories.

There is a wooden counter just past the windows, with three computers placed equidistantly on it. Seonghwa carries the cage behind the counter and through a door into a room where two other women are having a cup of tea at a conference table.

They look up when Seonghwa enters, smiling.

“Morning, Seonghwa-ssi!”

“Morning, Hayoon-ssi! Morning, Nari-ssi!” Seonghwa calls cheerily. He places the cage down on the corner of the table, pulling out a chair to put down his bag.

“Oh!” The woman on the right pushes her glasses higher on her nose, peering at Hongjoong. “Who’s that? A new friend?”

“Yeah! I picked him up at the shelter yesterday. He’s a squirrel hybrid. I don’t know his name yet, sadly.”

“He looks cute!” The other woman waves at Hongjoong through the bars of the cage. “Hi, sweetheart! I’m Nari and this is my friend Hayoon.”

Hongjoong moves away to the far end of the cage, wondering whether he should bare his teeth at her, just to warn her that he is not in fact cute and that she might lose a finger if she brings her hand any closer to the bars.

“He’s still adjusting,” Seonghwa says, picking up the cage and holding it close to his chest. “I wouldn’t try to pet him or anything right now.”

“Of course not!” Hayoon says. “We’ll give him all the space he needs. Are you okay, though? What happened to your hand?”

“Oh, just a silly little mistake on my part. Did the delivery from Kobo come in yet?”

“Yeah,” Nari gets. “We’ve put the boxes in Mrs. Hong’s office. She’ll no doubt want to check all them herself again, before she lets us near them.”

All three of them laugh, as though Nari has just told some inside joke.

Seonghwa chats with his co-workers while he makes a cup of tea for himself, which he then carries out to the counter along with Hongjoong’s cage.

“You stay here for just a bit,” he says, bending down to look at Hongjoong. “I gotta go say hello to my boss.”

When Seonghwa comes back, he turns on the computer and starts clicking around on it, occasionally typing something.

The angle is wrong for Hongjoong to see what’s happening on the screen and he’s not particularly interested anyways. He curls up in a corner of the cage, still hugging Mr. Giraffe against his chest, watching Seonghwa.

Seonghwa had been wearing a striped t-shirt and wide-legged pants this morning, but he’s now put on a long sleeveless open front cardigan, made of chunky blue wool. It has two big pockets, one on each side at the front. Even though it is summer, it is still cold inside the building. The aircon is probably on, in preparation for the heat later in the day. Hongjoong feels a bit cold too, even cuddled up with Mr Giraffe as he is. It’s a pity that this cage doesn’t have a nesting box too. He’d give anything for a nice long nap in a dark, warm, enclosed space right now.

“There,” Seonghwa says, with a last decisive click of his mouse. “That should put a fire under that useless fellow at the Jamsil branch. I’ve been asking him for weeks to send me a book on origami that one of our kids requested. I’m going to put away some books now. Do you want to come with me?”

It takes a while before Hongjoong realises that he’s waiting for an answer. He sits up, eyeing Seonghwa curiously.

”Yes?”

“Great! I won’t be able to lug the cage around, though. Too much of a bother and I need both hands to sort the books otherwise it’ll take ages. Okay if I put you in my pocket?”

If Hongjoong was in his human form, his jaw would probably have hit the floor. As it is, his paws just go slack and he drops poor Mr. Giraffe on the floor of the cage.

Seonghwa squats down, giving Hongjoong a friendly look through the bars.

“It’ll be comfortable, I promise! Mingi and Yeosang adore this sweater’s pockets in particular, that’s why I brought it along. Why don’t you just try it? If you don’t like being in there I’ll take you out at once. Is that okay?”

Hongjoong hesitates a moment more. It would probably be nice and warm inside Seonghwa’s pocket, wouldn’t it? And he was just wanting someplace dark.

“Yes,” he says then. “But if I don’t like it and you don’t take me out, I’ll bite you, see if I don’t.”

“No need to glare at me like that,” Seonghwa says with a laugh. “The moment you tell me no I’ll take you out!”

He picks Hongjoong up gently, his fingers curling around Hongjoong’s ribs. He picks up Mr. Giraffe with his other hand, slipping both of them into his left pocket.

Hongjoong is enveloped by soft darkness. It is gloriously warm and cozy, not just because of the woollen fabric, but because of Seonghwa’s body heat. Before Hongjoong knows it, he is already curling up against Seonghwa’s hip, nestling his nose into his tail.

“Alright down there?”

“Yes.”

A hand softly pats the outside of the pocket, tracing Hongjoong’s body gently. “Strawberry.”

“And strawberry to you too,” Hongjoong says politely, and this time he can’t help but giggle just a little bit, muffling the sound in the soft plumes of his tail.

When Seonghwa starts walking, Hongjoong is rocked gently back and forth by the movement.

Seonghwa stops for a moment, before moving again. Slower this time, his footsteps now accompanied by the sound of trolly wheels. A cart, probably, filled with the books that he said he was going to sort. He stops a few steps further, cupping his hand around Hongjoong through the pocket’s fabric as he bends over to pick up a handful of books. Then he straightens up, moving slowly down what Hongjoong presumes is a shelf, softly mumbling the names of the authors as he sorts the books into their proper places.

His movements have a strange rhythmic quality to them, Hongjoong realises after a while. First Seonghwa bends over, his hand cupping Hongjoong in the exact same way each time, keeping the cardigan’s front from swinging and maybe bumping Hongjoong into the cart in the process. Then he straightens again and moves down the shelves, with slow measured steps, muttering the names of the authors as he passes them and placing the books onto the shelves with a precise thunk-and-slide. Then it’s back to the cart to repeat the process.

It’s comforting, knowing the pattern. Being gently rocked as Seonghwa walks, and securely held when he bends over. Letting the warmth and the scent of books and Seonghwa soak into him, soothing the frayed ends of his nerves.

Hongjoong hasn’t groomed himself for a long time, but there in the darkness of Seonghwa’s pocket, it seems like the natural next step to stick his tongue out and lick a long, wet stripe onto one of his front paws. Then the other.

Then he runs both his paws over his face and up over his itchy ears, smoothing down his unkempt fur for the first time in what feels like years.

There’s no stopping once he’s started, not until all the itchy, nasty, wrong parts of his fur have been licked and nibbled and combed back into their proper place.

And then he curls up against the warm, solid curve of Seonghwa’s hip and lets himself be rocked to sleep.

Seonghwa wakes him up for lunch, taking him out of his pocket and putting him down on the large, polished table in the staff room. He takes a set of tupperware containers out of his bag, one of which contains rodent blocks. He tips a some of them out into the lid of the container and places it down in front of Hongjoong.

“Feel free to have a nibble, if you want.”

Hongjoong runs a pensive nail through Mr. Giraffe’s mane.

“I’m having some kimbap,” Seonghwa says, popping a piece from the open container in front of him in his mouth. “Absolutely delicious.”

He eats happily, occasionally telling Hongjoong a titbit about the things that happened while he’d been asleep - not much, apparently, except that a toddler fell on the steps and had to be revived by a piece of candy from the tin Hayoon apparently keeps on the counter.

Seonghwa opens another container, once he’s done with the kimbap, and Hongjoong’s nose immediately twitches at the fruity smell. Strawberry. How perfectly ironic.

Seonghwa takes one out, popping it into his mouth and humming happily.

“I got them from the farmer’s market last Saturday,” he says. “It’s really surprising that they’re keeping this well, don’t you think? I love strawberries.”

Hongjoong hides a grin in his tail.

”I bet you do.”

“Would you like one?” Seonghwa offers it to him with a smile.

The temptation is too much for Hongjoong. He also feels better after finally grooming, like he can finally try to eat again.

He takes the strawberry from Seonghwa, dropping Mr. Giraffe so that he can take the fruit with both paws. It smells even more delicious from up close, and it tastes just as delicious when Hongjoong sinks his teeth into it, the juice spilling down his chin, drenching the fur on his chest. He quickly took another bite and then another, wolfing down the entire strawberry in no more than four bites.

Seonghwa is watching him with apparent satisfaction. “Was it good?”

”Yes!”

“Do you want another one?”

”Yes!”

“Good,” Seonghwa says. “In that case I’m going to need you to eat at least two of those rodent blocks before I give you another piece of fruit. We don’t want you to have a tummy ache, do we?”

Hongjoong looks at the rodent blocks, licking his lips. He wants strawberries, not those dry, stupid pellets. Seonghwa should be glad that he’s eating anything at all, not trying to manipulate him into eating healthy.

Flattening his tail to make himself smaller, he inches toward the strawberry container.

But a hand is firmly put in his way, moving the strawberries out of his reach.

“You don’t have to eat rodent blocks,” Seonghwa says. “But if you want more strawberry you do.”

Hongjoong flicks his tail irritably.

”No!”

“Well, yes.” To Hongjoong’s chagrin, Seonghwa puts the lid back on the strawberries. “If you eat two strawberries in a row directly after not eating anything for goodness knows how long you’re going to end up feeling awful. And neither of us wants that, do we? Now, do you want a few rodent blocks before we go outside, or can I put them away?”

Hongjoong turns his back disdainfully on the rodent blocks. There is a soft click as Seonghwa replaces the lid, before he bundles all the containers back into his bag.

Then he scoops Hongjoong up and deposits him back in his pocket before Hongjoong can do much more than give a little hiss of surprise.

“Time for a walk!” Seonghwa says. “A bit of climbing will do you good, I imagine.”

Hongjoong would rather like to climb, although he can’t think how Seonghwa will manage it. He won’t want to just release Hongjoong into a park. Maybe there is an enclosed area where he’ll be able to climb?

Curiosity getting the better of him, Hongjoong scrambles up the side of Seonghwa’s pocket so that he can peek over the edge of it.

Seonghwa goes through the foyer and down the front steps, walking past the bicycle stand and down a walkway that meanders off into the trees. A short distance down it, where there is a bench under a large oak tree, Seonghwa stops.

Seonghwa sits down on the bench.

Then he lifts Hongjoong out of his pocket and placed him down on the ground between his feet.

“There,” he says. “Off you go. I’ll call when it’s time to go back inside, so don’t go too far, hmm?”

Hongjoong gapes almost as hard as he did that morning, when Seonghwa suddenly started speaking nonsense Sciurish to him.

Seonghwa is just letting him…go?

Without a collar or a chip buried somewhere in his flesh. Without an enclosure somewhere just past the trees to ensure that Hongjoong stays close. Hongjoong could be halfway across the park by the time Seonghwa called for him. The human would never be able to catch up with him.

But still, Seonghwa is smiling peacefully down at him, seemingly not worried in the least.

With his heart hammering in his ribcage, Hongjoong takes a tentative jump in the direction of the large oak tree.

Seonghwa leans back against the bench, taking a book out of his other sweater pocket.

With two more leaps Hongjoong is at the foot of the oak tree. Another takes him up to the nearest horizontal branch, his claws seeking purchase for a moment before he finds his balance. He hasn’t been in a tree for so long, not a proper one like this.

It is strong and old, the branches reaching up as far as Hongjoong can see. 

Seonghwa is reading now, his nose buried in his book.

Hongjoong scurries up to a higher branch, pausing there with his nose twitching in the wind.

He tried to run away more than once, from the lab. It was surrounded by the woods on all sides and Jaehee never went to very much trouble to keep the doors to the outside locked, for the very simple reason that he knew no hybrid can really survive that long in the wild. Despite looking a lot like an actual squirrel, Hongjoong isn’t actually one. And he was raised in the dark underground of the Central City sewers, not the woods. He’d stay away for days, at the most, and then inevitably come back when he was hungry enough.

Jaehee would beat him, of course, for all the inconvenience he’d caused.

It will probably be inconvenient for Seonghwa, too, if Hongjoong disappears now. Might make him angry, might cause his apparently impenetrable wall of kindness and patience to finally collapse. Mingi and Yeosang might seem genuine in their belief that Seonghwa is unequivocally good, but Hongjoong knows better, knows that it’s just a matter of time, until he finds something that will make Seonghwa remember that he’s nothing but a dirty, vicious animal.

Hongjoong jumps up a few more branches. Then he crawls to the edge of one of them, leaping over into the branches of another tree. Then another and another and another, crossing over from tree to tree, until he can no longer even pick up Seonghwa’s scent.

It is dark, by the time Hongjoong goes back to the library.

He doesn’t quite know if he hopes to find Seonghwa there or not.

But he is there, sitting on the steps, reading a book in the light falling out of the foyer.

Hongjoong hops onto the stone railing next to him. He’s pretty sure that he doesn’t make a sound, but Seonghwa looks up anyway.

“Hello,” he says.

He makes no move to grab Hongjoong. And he doesn’t look particularly angry either.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Seonghwa says. “I was worried about you.”

He seems genuine. Like he’d actually just been worried about Hongjoong’s safety, rather than being angry at the inconvenience.

“I want to ask you something.” Seonghwa is holding his phone out to him, the Notes app open on the screen. “I researched this afternoon. And I think I’ve figured out why you don’t want to tell me your name. You’re scared that I’ll use it against you, right? The bastards at that lab probably made you shift at their whim so that they could experiment on you. And you don’t want to give me that power. I understand that completely and I think it’s very smart of you to be careful. But I can’t continue just calling you ‘kit’, can I? So, how about you choose a name that you’d be comfortable with? Anything is okay. You can just type it into the phone.”

His face is cast in gold by the security light, his bright eyes wide and inviting.

Hongjoong sits up on his hind legs and taps the keys with his front paws.

Call me Joong.

And then, after a moment’s hesitation.

Sorry abt ur hand. I won’t bite u again.

3. What-A-Mess

Things sort of settle into a rhythm after that. Hongjoong goes to work with Seonghwa every day, riding around in his pocket while he goes about his tasks. He starts taking the rodent blocks that Seonghwa offers him, mostly because Seonghwa turns out to be awfully stubborn about not letting Hongjoong have any strawberries unless he’s eaten his blocks first. And well, they’re not that bad, compared to the cheap stuff that Jaehee used to feed him.

The rest of Seonghwa’s friends still come for breakfast every morning. Sometimes they go to San or Yunho’s flat for dinner, or they all go out to a restaurant. And on the weekends, and some evenings after work as well, they all go to the park just across the river from the apartment building so that the hybrids can play outside.

Hongjoong very quickly starts to love that park.

He’s never been particularly good at playing with other hybrids, but with Mingi and Yeosang and Wooyoung and Jongho it doesn’t seem to matter. He can play rough and tumble games and climb trees and chase balls with Wooyoung, Mingi and Jongho. Or, once he gets tired of their high-energy antics, he can just wander off with Yeosang. The snake hybrid is an odd little fellow, with an endearing obsession with wildflowers. He spends long afternoons slithering around the woodland groves around the park, searching until he finds the prettiest flowers which he then carefully carries back to San in his mouth. Hongjoong hops happily along with him, neither of them speaking much. On occasion, he finds a particularly pretty flower, too. Which he then carries back to drop close to where Seonghwa is sitting. Entirely by accident, of course. As are the acorns and seeds and bits of tasty grass he finds sometimes, which also have a mysterious way of slipping out his paws or his mouth just where Seonghwa might find them.

Seonghwa doesn’t seem to mind.

In fact, he seems rather charmed, picking up whatever little gifts Hongjoong drops for him and taking them home. The flowers he hangs upside down on little pieces of string, strung up next to the bookcase. The acorns and other things he carefully lines up on the window sill, building up a sizable collection after just a week or two. It gives Hongjoong a little thrill every time he looks at it.

Unfortunately, it also makes the urge to start caching stronger every day.

Caching is the one instinct Jaehee never managed to train out of him. It would make him absolutely livid, opening a drawer in his pristine lab to find it stuffed to the brim with rodent blocks or moving an instrument that he hadn’t used in a while only for an entire bag of sunflower seeds to spill across the floor. No matter how many times Jaehee ranted and screamed and kicked him into a pulp for it, Hongjoong didn’t stop. Not until the very last, those last few days in the lab when he was too weak and sick to even move out of his cage.

Seonghwa also doesn’t like a mess.

His neat house is testament to that. He’s always after the others to clean up after themselves and to eat neatly and immediately throw away their trash. 

Once, he even smacks San at breakfast for spilling milk all over himself, Wooyoung and the table.  After Seonghwa told him to be careful about where he puts his glass down and to stop trying to steal Wooyoung’s sausages. He does neither, which ends in milk splattering across Wooyoung’s shirt, San’s pants, half the table and a goodish bit of the kitchen floor too.

For a moment, no-one moves. Not even Hongjoong, where he is nibbling on his two breakfast strawberries, safely out of harms’ way on the kitchen table.

Then San jumps to his feet like he’s been stung by a wasp.

“Oopsies,” he says, his voice cracking. “Let me just get a-”

“Stop,” Seonghwa says and San freezes in his tracks.

Seonghwa’s jaw is clenched so tightly that Hongjoong wonders if his molars might snap. He watches breathlessly as Seonghwa gets up, takes San by the arm and bends him across the back of his own chair before bringing his hand down on the younger man’s backside in a volley of sharp swats.

“I told you to be careful,” he says, emphasising each syllable with another firm smack. “I told you not to make a mess. You know better, San-ah. This wasn’t an accident, this was carelessness and disobedience. Pure and simple. You. Know. Better.”

He ends with three horrifically hard swats to the under curve of San’s bottom, and then he stands the younger man up, spinning him around to face him.

“I’m sorry,” San says, sniffling. His face is glistening with tears. “I didn’t listen, hyung. I should have been careful. I’m sorry, please forgive me.”

Seonghwa watches him intently for a moment, his eyes searching over San’s face for Hongjoong knows not what. Then he softens, gently patting San’s glistening cheeks dry with his palm before drawing him into a tight hug.

“It’s alright, Sanie. You’re okay, hyungie forgives you.”

San hugs him back tightly for a moment, breathing shakily into Seonghwa’s shoulder.

Then he straightens, going to fetch paper towels from the counter to start cleaning up the milk.

Hongjoong puts his last bit of strawberry in his mouth, carefully licking his paws clean.

If Seonghwa is willing to smack another human over a bit of spilt milk, what might he do to a hybrid that starts hiding food all over his apartment?

There really is only one way to find out.

The next morning, Seonghwa shrugs his messenger back onto his shoulder and asks, as usual:

“Ready to go to work, Joong-ah?”

“No,” Hongjoong squeaks.

Seonghwa blinks at him. “You…don’t want to go?”

“Yes.”

For a moment, Seonghwa just stares at him. Then he squats down, so that he is sort of on the same height as Hongjong, where he is standing on the kitchen counter.

“I won’t make you go if you don’t want to. But are you sure you’ll be alright here, all by yourself?”

“Yes.”

Seonghwa watches him intently for a few more moments. Then he sighs, straightening his knees again.

“Okay. You can stay. But I’m coming back to check on you during lunch time, alright?”

Hongjoong flicks his tail to show that he understands. Until lunch gives him more than enough time to get it over and done with.

Seonghwa pets his head, scratching behind his ears before running his hand over the length of Hongjoong’s body, letting Hongjoong’s tail glide smoothly through his fingers.

“Bye, Joongie! Be good!”

Hongjoong doesn’t say yes, because he fears that it would be a bald-faced lie.

Once the front door has slammed shut behind Seonghwa, Hongjoong immediately jumps into action.

Getting food is not a problem - Seonghwa has shown him the crate on the low shelf next to the sink. There are plenty of rodent blocks, seeds, nuts and even a bag of tree bark. All free for the taking, as Seonghwa has reassured him on numerous occasions. Just how ‘free’ it really is, Hongjoong supposes they’ll have to see today.

Hongjoong starts with the sunflower seeds, since they are his favourite. He stuffs his cheeks chock full of the little black and grey striped seeds. Then he heads up to the rafters, to the first place that he’s identified as a good cache.

By the time he hears the lock beeping, Hongjoong feels something between supremely satisfied with the web of food now hidden around the apartment, and absolutely petrified by fear. He grabs Mr. Giraffe from the floor of his cage, bounding up into the branches to a vantage point where he can see Seonghwa entering the apartment.

Seonghwa comes in moments later, pausing to take off his shoes and line them up neatly on the rack just like he always does. He’s wearing a red and white polka-dot blouse with black wide-legged trousers today, and Hongjoong has the fleeting though that red really, really suits him.

But then Seonghwa freezes, his shoes still in his hand. He is staring down at the rack. Looking, Hongjoong knows, at the handful of rodent blocks he hid inside a pair of old sneakers that Seonghwa no longer wears.

Seonghwa stares a moment more, and then he puts his shoes down and straightens up. His eyes search over the apartment, until they land on Hongjoong. Full of such understanding and softness that Hongjoong feels like he might melt into a tiny pool of reddish butter.

“I see you’ve hidden some food for us, kit.”

For us, he says. For us.

Seonghwa takes a few steps into the apartment, looking it over once more. Then he comes to stand next to Hongjoong’s cage, smiling at him through the wire.

“Why don’t you show me where you’ve put everything, sweetheart? I’m sure you’ve found the most marvellous places.”

And so, Hongjoong spends a most enjoyable lunch hour scurrying all over the apartment with Seonghwa at his heels, making the most lovely noises of appreciation and admiration at each hiding place that Hongjoong reveals.

“Under my sweaters? What a wonderful place for a bit of sunflower seeds, Joongie. No-one would dream of looking there, now would they?”

And then -

“Oh! I didn’t even see these rodent blocks and they were right under my nose.”

Last of all, Hongjoong chirps at him until he climbs onto the armchair by the bookcase again, so that Hongjoong can show him his cache on top of the rafters.

Seonghwa whistles.

“You’ve got half the kitchen up here,” he says. And then, shaking his head slowly. “And you remember all of these places?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong chirps.

“I’ve already forgotten half of them,” Seonghwa says. “You’re a wonder, Joong-ah. And you’ve taken care of us so well! This much food could last a whole den of squirrels a whole winter and you prepared all of it in just one morning. I’m so proud of you.”

It feels like something blossoms in Hongjoong’s chest, something that he’d quite forgotten even existed inside him, at some point. Warmth and pride and happiness, all mixed into one.

He really can’t help it.

He jumps down from the rafter and hops onto Seonghwa’s hand, which is resting on top of the bookcase. Then he runs all the way along Seonghwa’s arm up to his shoulder and throws his front legs around his neck. Feeling Seonghwa’s pulse thrumming against his stomach, his breath whispering in the fur on top of his head.

Seonghwa makes a soft, endeared noise, his hand coming up to cup Hongjoong’s body and gently thumb over his ears.

“Happy with your caches, kit?”

And Hongjoong wishes, for the first time ever, that he could be in his human form again. Just so that he could tell Seonghwa just how full his heart is.

That night, Hongjoong can’t sleep. He curls up in his nesting box with Mr Giraffe again, but no matter how he twists and turns, he just can’t find a comfortable position to go to sleep in. It’s hot, his skin growing sweaty and his fur starting to clump together around his ears and neck and under his tummy.

Taking Mr Giraffe under his arm, Hongjoong slips down to the floor in the dark. The cool tiles feel like a balm against his sweaty, strangely painful body.

Maybe Seonghwa was right, and he shouldn’t have had that second strawberry at lunch. Or maybe he’s getting sick? With all those chemicals that Jaehee pumped into him over the years it wouldn’t be surprising.

Even lying spread out on the cool floor, Hongjoong still can’t manage to get comfortable.

He pushes Mr Giraffe away from him after a while, not being able to bear the heat that the giraffe’s fluffy body seems to trap against him.

His body feels strangely heavy when he tries to roll onto his other side.

And when he looks down at his paws, he sees that the fur is splitting across his knuckles.

Knuckles?

Oh, God.

No.

No, no, no.

He’s shifting.

Hongjoong curls himself into a ball with a groan, trying to squash his body back into the squirrel form that it is rapidly losing. He doesn’t want to shift, he can’t, he won’t, it’s not safe.

But there’s no stopping it.

He grows and grows. Naked, vulnerable skin displacing his familiar fur, uncomfortably long bones stretching his frame.

Until he is left curled up in a foetal position on the floor, shivering in fright, hugging his tail against his chest.

Seonghwa is bending over him in the darkness, the flashlight on his phone bright in his hand.

“Joongie?” he says. “Joongie, is that you?”

Hongjoong scrambles away from him with a weak cry of fright, trying to find somewhere, anywhere to hide. But his body is too big now and he can’t even get underneath the couch. He ends up in the corner between the armchair and the bookcase, his hands defensively in front of his face and his tail whipping shakily against his legs.

“Joongie?” Through his human ears, Seonghwa’s voice is a little higher, less textured. “Kit, it’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Hongjoong snarls at him when he moves closer, and Seonghwa stops in his tracks. He lowers himself slowly into a seated position, his movements deliberately slow.

“Did you shift without meaning to?” he asks. “That must have been scary.”

“Don’t…” Hongjoong says, his tongue stumbling over the unfamiliar words after so many weeks of using only Sciurish. “Don’t want it, don’t want to be big.”

“I know.” Seonghwa’s voice seems to soothe something inside him, despite everything. “I know, honey. But it’s to be expected, you know? A hybrid isn’t meant to stay in one form for too long. You’re meant to be fluid, to shift back and forth multiple times a day. Your body must be tired of sticking to one pattern for so long. And it knows that you’re safe here, that I won’t hurt you.”

Hongjoong peers at him through the plumes of his tail.

“Won’t…won’t hurt?”

“Never,” Seonghwa promises. “You’re safe here, kit. Nothing’s changed just because you’re looking a little different now. You’re still safe here with me.”

And Hongjoong can’t help thinking about being in Seonghwa’s pocket, dainty fingers curling protectively around his body every time the man bends down. Just so Hongjoong won’t accidentally get bumped into something.

“Safe?” he echoes.

“Safe,” Seonghwa says.

And this time, Hongjoong allows Seonghwa to crawl slowly closer and pull him into a warm hug.

4. Rules

Without his fur to cover him, Hongjoong is in dire need of clothes. Seonghwa lends him an oversized t-shirt, but none of his trousers or skirts are unfortunately equipped to deal with Hongjoong’s voluminous tail. So Seonghwa calls Wooyoung, who comes bursting in from their apartment only moments later.

“Hyung shifted? Oh my god! Hi, Joongie-hyung! Hello!”

Hongjoong ducks behind Seonghwa, grabbing onto the back of his shirt.
He likes Wooyoung, of course he does, but it just seems a little…much right now.
Seonghwa catches Wooyoung around the waist, bringing him to a wriggling halt.

“Hey, calm down, kitty. Joongie’s a bit nervous still, okay? Just slow down, then you can say hello to him nicely.”

“Okay, hyung!”

Wooyoung takes a deep breath and then he peeks over Seonghwa’s shoulder, grinning at Hongjoong. “Hi, hyungie!”

“Hi,” Hongjoong says shyly, inching out from behind Seonghwa. “Hi…Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung squeals, but not too loudly. “I love your voice! Can I give you a hug?  Please?”

Hongjoong really doesn’t have it in him to say no, not to the bright kitten eyes that Wooyoung is giving him. He nods.

To Wooyoung’s credit, he doesn’t jump on Hongjoong. He slowly steps out of Seonghwa’s embrace and puts his arms lightly around Hongjoong’s shoulders.

Awkwardly, Hongjoong hugs him back.

“Your hair is so pretty,” Wooyoung coos, tightening the hug. “The exact same colour as your fur! And your tail, oh my gosh, hyungie, your tail! It’s so pretty and huge and fluffy.”

There has probably never been a squirrel on earth who doesn’t like being complimented on their tail, and Hongjoong can’t help but giving a little flick to show off its deep reddish plumes. It earns him a happy giggle from Wooyoung and a soft ‘wow!’ from Seonghwa, which for some reason makes warmth fan over his cheeks.

“Knock-knock!” someone calls from the front door, which Wooyoung must have left open in his haste.

Hongjoong lets go of Wooyoung, darting behind Seonghwa’s back again.

This time, he is brave enough to peek around the human’s shoulder. San and Yeosang are standing in the door with a bundle of clothes.

“Can we come in?” San asks. “Wooyoung just ran over without actually bringing clothes, so we figured we’d bring some over.”

Seonghwa laughs. “Yes, please come in.”

“And come see how cute Joongie-hyungie is!” Wooyoung adds.

Hongjoong hasn’t really touched Yeosang in his human form before and he is surprised to feel just how cold the snake hybrid’s body is. Yeosang hugs him tightly, pressing a little kiss to the top of Hongjoong’s head.

“I’m so glad to see you like this, hyung! You must really be feeling a lot happier.”

And well, that Hongjoong is.

Only a few pairs of Wooyoung’s pants actually fit him, since his tail is quite a bit bigger than Wooyoung’s.

“Don’t worry, kit,” Seonghwa says, probably seeing Hongjoong’s worried look at the stack of discarded clothes. “We’ll stop by the department store later today and get you some new outfits.”

“Will that be okay?” Hongjoong asks, a little nervously.

Seonghwa holds out an arm to him, and Hongjoong immediately goes over to him, nestling into Seonghwa’s warm side.

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

“Because…because clothes cost a lot of money?” That was the reason Jaehee gave, at least, for keeping him naked around the lab.

“I have enough money to take care of you, Joongie.” Seonghwa gently cups one of Hongjoong’s ears. “I wouldn’t adopt a hybrid if I didn’t! So don’t worry about it, hm?”

That makes Hongjoong feel a bit better.

He feels even better when he gets to sit at the table at breakfast and finally have one of Seonghwa’s onion-and-mushroom omelettes. There is warm, fluffy sticky rice on the side and tangy blocks of radish kimchi to top it all off.

Jaehee never let him, or any of the other hybrids at the lab, eat human food. It was much cheaper to feed them in their animal forms and God help them if they ever tried to sneak some of the food that the human lab workers ate. 

Seonghwa helps him without question when his hand grows tired of holding the chopsticks and he starts dropping them again and again about halfway through the meal. He just moves Hongjoong’s plate a bit closer to his, picks up a clump of rice and a piece of omelette and pops it into Hongjoong’s mouth. Hongjoong leans his head against Seonghwa’s shoulder while he chews, trying not to think about crawling into his lap and nuzzling into his warm stomach and licking his chin and maybe, just maybe, pressing a little kiss of thanks to his cherry red lips.

It is fortunately Saturday, so Seonghwa takes Hongjoong to the doctor's immediately after breakfast.

Or tries to, at least.

"I don't need to go," Hongjoong says, strategically putting the couch between him and Seonghwa. "I feel completely fine. I really do."

Seonghwa's determined expression doesn't falter. "I'm glad you feel okay, kit. But you still need to get checked out by a doctor. Minho said that it is absolutely vital, since there's no knowing what kind of injury transference there is between your forms. Judging by the scars I saw on you, I think there's quite a bit."

Hongjoong puts his arms instinctively around himself, feeling the familiar ridges on his biceps. The puckered skin reaches all the way back, over his shoulders, down his spine.

"So I have scars," he says, defensively. "Nothing to be done about it. They're old."

"A doctor still has to give you a check-up," Seonghwa says.

Hongjoong flicks his tail. "I won't! It'll smell awful and there will be…there will be needles and test and all sorts of awful things. I won't. I won't."

"Honey," Seonghwa says. "Oh, honey, come here."

He holds out an arm and despite himself, Hongjoong can't help but reluctantly step into his embrace. Seonghwa gives him a tight hug.

"I know it's scary," he says, velvet soft into Hongjoong's ear. "But I'll be there with you. Okay? I won't let them do anything to you that you don't want. I promise."

Hongjoong relaxes slowly into his hold, moulding himself into Seonghwa's warm chest, drawing his comforting woodsy scent into his nose.

"Do I really have to go?"

"Yes," Seonghwa says. "I'm sorry, but there's no getting out of it."

"Okay," Hongjoong says. "But…but you have to stay with me the whole time. Or I'll bite someone."

Seonghwa looks faintly amused, when Hongjoong leans back to look into his face.

"Don't worry, kit, I won't leave your side."

And he doesn't. He stays right by Hongjoong all through his visit to the sciurologist, through the questions and the blood tests and the part where Hongjoong has to take off all his clothes so that the doctor can catalogue all his scars.

It is a long list.

Hongjoong thinks that the doctor looks somewhat ill himself, by the end of it.

But Seonghwa just holds Hongjoong's hands, the warmth in his eyes never wavering.

A few days later, they are having lunch in their usual spot on the bench outside the library, sharing kimbap and ham-and-cheese sandwiches and a packet of chips between them. Seonghwa produces an entire container of strawberries as well, which he puts into Hongjoong’s hands.

“You can eat as many of them as you like, this time,” he says, with a wink.

Hongjoong wastes no time, yanking off the lid and stuffing a handful of strawberries into his mouth. Luckily he’s wearing a red chequered shirt and black jeans today, one of the many outfits that Seonghwa selected for him. Even if he spills some strawberry juice, it won’t show up that much on the red or the black. He takes another handful when he’s done with the first, eagerly squashing them into his mouth and enjoying the bursts of tart juices on his tongue.

When he looks up, Seonghwa is watching him with such obvious endearment in his eyes that Hongjoong feels warmth spreading over his face again.

“You know you kept calling me ‘strawberry’, right?”

Seonghwa looks confused. “What do you mean?”

“In Sciurish.” Hongjoong gulps down the strawberries, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You were saying ‘strawberry’ to me the whole time. When you were, like, trying to praise me or something?”

Seonghwa gasps. “I was trying to call you a good boy!”

He throws his head back and laughs, so infectiously that Hongjoong can’t help but burst into giggles of his own.

“Oh man,” Seonghwa sighs, shaking his head. “You must have been so confused!”

“It was funny,” Hongjoong says. “But I was confused at first. That’s actually what stopped me from biting you. Just being so confused by all the gibberish you were spouting.”

“And here I was, thinking I had my superb Sciurish scolding skills to thank.” Seonghwa chuckles again. “Well, thank you for putting up with me calling you a strawberry. I hope you weren’t offended.”

Hongjoong shakes his head, looking down at his lap. Then, he quickly pops another large handful of strawberries into his mouth.

“I don’t mind,” he mumbles around them. “But…but you can call me a good boy too?”

“What’s that?” Seonghwa asks. “I don’t think I got that last part, Joong-ah.”

Hongjoong painstakingly chews his strawberries, hoping that Seonghwa’s attention will wander and that he’ll forget that Hongjoong even said something. But when Hongjoong finally swallows and looks up, Seonghwa is watching him with a faint smile.

He reaches out a hand, cupping Hongjoong’s chin and carefully wiping his mouth. “So? What did you say, kit?”

“You…you can call me a good boy, too,” Hongjoong says, a little breathlessly.

Seonghwa cups the back of his neck, ruffling through the thick hair under his ears.

“You are a good boy, sweetheart. You’re the best boy, aren’t you? And so brave.”

Hongjoong ducks his head against Seonghwa’s wrist, not able to keep his tail from shivering in delight. Seonghwa’s hand moves up to his ears, scratching all around them and fondling their silky curves and Hongjoong finds his eyes slipping shut, a soft little chitter of pleasure tumbling from his lips.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Seonghwa says. “I didn’t think it right for us to discuss it while you weren’t really capable of talking to me. But I feel like this is an important moment to decide where we stand.”

Hongjoong opens his eyes, giving Seonghwa a weary look. Is this the moment where Seonghwa tells him that he doesn’t want them to get any closer than this? Or that he’s sending him away, now that Hongjoong is getting better?

“It’s nothing bad, kit,” Seonghwa reassures.

“Okay,” Hongjoong says softly. He moves away from Seonghwa, pulling his feet up onto the bench and folding his arms and his tail tightly around them.

“What…what is it?”

“I want to tell you the rules,” Seonghwa says. “As long as you live with me, I will expect you to stick to them or suffer the consequences.”

Hongjoong nods slowly. He puts the tip of his tail into his mouth, chewing pensively on it.

It would feel nice, knowing where he stands. Knowing what’s allowed and what isn’t. Knowing where the boundaries are, if only so that he can more effectively push against them.

“What sort of rules?” Hongjoong asks.

“Just a few simple ones,” Seonghwa says. “No biting. No lying. Being respectful and kind to others. No running off on your own without telling me where you’re going. Listening to me, when I tell you to do something.”

“And if I break the rule?”

“Then I’ll spank you.”

Hongjoong’s bottom tingles, and he can’t help squirming just a little on the bench. He’d seen Seonghwa smack San before. Hard. It looked like it hurt, though probably not as badly as the beatings Jaehee used to give him. San hadn’t even bled, after all.

And Seonghwa had been very nice afterwards, wiping away San’s tears and hugging him.

“I know that spanking doesn’t work for everyone,” Seonghwa says gently. “Many hybrids prefer it, for the soothing effect it has on their instincts. But if it’s not something that’s comfortable for you, we can always discuss other options. The rules will stay, they’re pretty non-negotiable. Biting, for example, will never be okay. But if you don’t want corporal punishment, we can think of other consequences to apply for you.”

Hongjoong thinks for a moment more. But then he sits up, dropping his feet to the forest floor and meeting Seonghwa’s gaze determinedly.

“I’m okay with it,” he says. “I…I want it. If that’s okay?”

Seonghwa takes his hand, interlacing their fingers.

“Of course it’s okay, kit. If you want it, I’ll be more than happy to provide it.”

They ride home on Seonghwa’s bicycle again that evening, Hongjoong sitting on the back carrier. His arms wrap around Seonghwa’s waist, his cheek nestles up against his human’s warm back and his tail bobs behind him in the deliciously fresh evening breeze. He watches, rather dreamily, as the city lights flicker past. Neon greens and reds and purples and blues.

He wonders which rule he should break first.

Biting seems the obvious choice, but it’s also the first thing that Seonghwa mentioned as something that he wouldn’t budge on. Thus, it is probably the thing that would make him the maddest if Hongjoong did it. On the one hand it might actually be good to just start with the worst offence and get it over with. But on the other hand, Hongjoong is a scaredy cat. He likes it when Seonghwa looks at him with soft eyes and speaks kindly to him and gives him all the hugs and the ear rubs and the tail pets that he wants. He does not want to find out what it feels like when Seonghwa glares at you, or scolds you or, worst of all, bends you over and smacks you until you cry.

But there really is no getting out of it.

Now that he knows the rules, knows what makes Seonghwa angry, he has no excuse for not breaking them.

Because what if Seonghwa won’t actually just glare and scold and smack his bottom? What if he’s like Jaehee? What if he gets angry, and angry means black eyes and a bloodied mouth and loose teeth and ribs that won’t stop aching for days? What if it means being pinned down and hurt in ways that Hongjoong hasn’t even let himself think about?

He has to know. He has to.

With that in mind, Hongjoong decides to break his first rule that very evening. He chooses a rule that Seonghwa didn’t actually mention during their talk. But San got smacked for it, so it must still be a rule. Not making a mess.

Hongjoong sneaks into Seonghwa’s room while the human is busy taking a shower after dinner. He sneaks into Seonghwa’s bed, to be precise, where he promptly strips off the bedding, turns the fitted sheet inside out and starts piling all the pillows and sheets and blankets back into it. With the fitted sheet creating a shell, keeping everything together, Hongjoong can happily hollow the centre out until he created a perfect little nest. He puts Mr. Giraffe in a place of honour right at the top, safely tucked between two fluffy pillows.

It only needs some snacks, and after pondering for a moment, he scampers back to the kitchen where he grabs some apples, a bag of chips, the tin of cookies that Wooyoung brought over the other day and a small container of maraschino cherries. Jongho recently inducted him into the mysteries of glazed fruit and Hongjoong can hardly imagine something more delicious to snack on while lying curled up in a nest.

Leaving the food out in the centre of the nest, where anyone can see it and nick it for their own nest, feels all wrong, so Hongjoong quickly digs into the bedding to find some hiding spots. The apples he wiggles into the gap between two pillows near his head. The cookies, together with the cherries, he presses in between the fitted sheet and the bundled up blanket at his feet and the chips he ends up covering under another blanket. Outside the nest, since it would be disastrous if someone accidentally laid down on the packet, but still within reach.

Then Hongjoong climbs into the nest and curls up on his side, hugging his tail to his chest with both arms.

The water turns off in the shower about five minutes later. Hongjoong flickers his ears back and forth, trying to discern what the various soft sounds behind the door might be. Probably Seonghwa drying himself, putting on his pyjamas, brushing his hair.

The door opens.

Hongjoong hugs his tail tighter, waiting for the outburst.

Footsteps cross the carpet, coming to a standstill right next to the bed.

“Oh, hello,” Seonghwa says. “What’s this?”

He doesn’t look particularly angry. Endeared, rather, his eyes twinkling down at Hongjoong and his mouth quirking up into a smile.

“It’s a nest,” Hongjoong says, slowly.

“And you made it in my bed?” Seonghwa puts a hand over his heart. “Oh, kit. How lovely! I’m honoured. May I get in?”

“I…yes…I suppose so,” Hongjoong says, watching in wonder as Seonghwa quickly puts away his shower things before eagerly clambering into the nest next to Hongjoong. With the two of them it’s a tight squeeze, but a perfect one, just as it should be. Bodies should tangle together in a nest, your tail should be able to curl around your mate’s back and-

Hongjoong blushes deeply, although he knows that Seonghwa can’t hear his thoughts.

His mate? Really? He doesn’t even know if Seonghwa has anything remotely near romantic feelings for him, and here he is soppily thinking how pretty Seonghwa’s waist looks, softly framed by the reddish plumes of Hongjoong’s tail.

“What a lovely nest you made for us, Joongie,” Seonghwa says.

Close like this, Hongjoong can see the shadows his long eyelashes cast on his cheeks, the faint smile creases around his nose, the devastating beauty of his eyes.

“I don’t understand,” Hongjoong says.

Seonghwa cups his cheek. “What don’t you understand, baby?”

“I made a mess? But you’re not angry? I-”

“This,” Seonghwa cuts him off, rather severely “is not a mess, kit. This is a nest, isn’t it? A beautiful, lovely, perfect little squirrel nest. Why would I be angry about that? I’m just happy that you chose my bed to make it in.”

There is pressure building behind Hongjoong’s eyes for some reason. Seonghwa likes his nest. Seonghwa actually likes his nest. He thinks it’s pretty.

“You…you really like it?” Hongjoong asks.

Seonghwa nods firmly. “I love it, Joongie. I’ve never seen a prettier nest.”

“There’s…there’s snacks too,” Hongjoong says, trying his best not to let the wobble of tears become audible in his voice. “Apples…and…and cookies…and other things.”

Seonghwa laughs softly, pulling him into a tight hug and wiping away the tears from Hongjoong’s cheeks with his palm.

“How thoughtful of you, strawberry. Thank you. I’ll definitely have a bite if I get hungry during the night.”

Hongjoong can't help but smile through his tears at the use of the old nickname. He nestles closer to Seonghwa, wriggling as deep into his embrace as possible and breathing in his lovely soft woodsy scent.

Like always, the scent makes something itch in his memory. But this time it doesn't only itch, it seems to twist like a key, bringing an old memory tumbling into the foreground of his mind.

His parents' nest, back in the sewer colony where he grew up, was an ugly and threadbare little place. Most nests in the colonies were. But his mother always kept a sheaf of carefully dried leaves tucked away in her sewing basket. Sometimes, in the evenings, she'd tell him how he'd been born surrounded by green leaves. His father had travelled three days and three nights to bring back those leaves, to give his wife a little taste of home as she gave birth to Hongjoong and his littermates. And Hongjoong could always smell it, in his mind's eye, as though the memory of fresh greenery surroudning him in his first moments on earth had somehow remained in his subconscious.

It is that smell, somehow, that Seonghwa reminds him of.

Since his first attempt didn’t work, Hongjoong has no choice but to up the ante for his next attempt.

“Seonghwa-ssi, can I stay home today?” he asks the next morning, when Seonghwa starts getting ready for work.

Seonghwa gives him an teasing look. “Eager to stay home and nest a bit more, kit?”

“Y-yes,” Hongjoong says, rather uncomfortably. “I want to nest!”

“Of course you can stay then.” Seonghwa kisses him on the forehead when he leaves, and it feels rather like a mark of Cain, burning on Hongjoong’s skin.

Because he’s not planning to go anywhere near his nest.

Instead, he knocks all the pillows from the couch, pulls off the pretty paisley throws, twists the curtains up around the curtain rods, takes all the shoes from the rack by the door and scatters them around, carefully spills milk all over the kitchen counter an then goes into the bathroom, where he throws all the towels on the floor and puts a glob of toothpaste on his finger, rubbing it all over the mirror.

By the time Seonghwa is due to come back from work, Hongjoong is just one tightly coiled ball of panicky nerves.

Seonghwa is going to be livid. His house has been turned upside down. If he smacked San that hard for a bit of spilled milk, what is he going to do to Hongjoong?

Dirty rat. You don’t know how to live like a human, do you? Dirty, filthy, stupid animal.

Hongjoong scratches violently at his ears for a moment, trying to extinguish that horrible taunting voice from his mind. How does he still remember Jaehee’s voice so well, all these months later?

When the lock starts beeping, Hongjoong almost shifts into his squirrel form. He can hide when he’s small, Seonghwa won’t hurt him, won’t pin him down and-

“Hi, Joong-ah!”

Seonghwa is bending down to take off his shoes, but he freezes, staring at the empty rack.

He looks up slowly, first at Hongjoong, then letting his eyes comb slowly over the chaos behind him.

Hongjoong can’t breathe properly, his tail quivering against his shoulders.

Seonghwa takes a slow, measured step into the apartment.

“What happened here?” he asks.

“I…” Hongjoong says. “It…but…sorry! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it. Please-”

He ducks on instinct when Seonghwa reaches for him, but the man only takes him by the shoulders and gently leads him over to the couch. Then he sits down, and pulls Hongjoong bodily into his lap.

“Breathe.”

Hongjoong sucks in a shaky breath, clinging tightly to the front of Seonghwa’s shirt.

“Another one,” Seonghwa prompts gently. “There you go, it’s alright, Joongie.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Breathe first, baby. We’ll talk in a moment.”

He pulls Hongjoong’s head down to rest on his shoulder, gently working his fingers over his tense ears and the bow-tight muscles in his neck.

Hongjoong sucks in another breath, and another. Pushes his nose deeper into Seonghwa’s skin and lets his familiar woodsy scent wash over him.

“Did you make a mess on purpose?” Seonghwa asks, when Hongjoong’s breath has quite evened out.

“Y-yes.”

“Why?”

Hongjoong sniffs.

“I wanted…wanted to break a rule? To see what you would do?”

Seonghwa pats slowly over his ears. “But there’s no rule about this? Making a mess?”

Hongjoong sits up with a start, giving him an accusing look.

“There is too! You smacked San for it!”

Seonghwa’s eyes widen for a moment, and then he shakes his head firmly.

“Honey, no. Sanie didn’t get in trouble for spilling the milk! He got in trouble for not listening to me. I told him to be careful, didn’t I? And I told him not to make a mess, in that specific instant, because I saw that he was about to spill something and that he could not do that by just being careful. But he didn’t listen to me and that’s why I punished him. There is no rule about making a mess. Messes happen. I make a mess too, sometimes. It’s just something that happens. You clean it up and you move on with your life.”

Hongjoong can only stare.

“You mean…you mean you’re not mad? About all this?”

“Nope.” Seonghwa gently brushes his hair back. “I mean, it’s not ideal, and I would like it if you didn’t do it again. But I’m not going to punish you for it. You just have to clean it up, that’s all. If you make a mess, you clean it up.”

Hongjoong lets out a long breath, which somehow turns into something like a laugh.

“Wow…I mean…wow, I’m an idiot.”

Seonghwa smiles too. “Maybe a little bit.” But then his face sobers. “You did this on purpose though, right? You were planning it this morning?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong says, with a sudden awful premonition of where this is going.

“So when I asked you if you were going to nest…you lied?”

Hongjoong squirms in his hold, looking anywhere but into Seonghwa’s eyes, which he can feel boring into the top of his head.

“Maybe? But can’t we chalk it up to extenuating circumstances? I couldn’t tell you that I was going to make a mess of the entire house because I thought you would be mad about it…”

“If you did tell me that you were going to make a mess of the house I wouldn’t have been mad,” Seonghwa says. “And you wouldn’t be going across my knee right now, would you? No lies, kit. You knew about that rule.”

Hongjoong whines, sending him a pleading look. “But…hyungie…”

Seonghwa’s lips make a funny movement.

“Hyungie? Since when do you call me hyungie?”

“Since I’m trying not to get smacked?”

Seonghwa lets out a short laugh. “Unfortunately that only makes me more inclined to smack you, you naughty little thing. I suppose I am your hyung, am I not? And that means I should definitely be teaching you right from wrong.”

Hongjoong wriggles again, whipping his tail just a little, trying to ignore the heat pooling in his stomach. “But I won’t do it again!”

“Hyung knows,” Seonghwa says, keeping Hongjoong in place with infuriating ease. “Because I’m going to make sure of it. Come on, over my knee you go.”

He stands Hongjoong up and then promptly pulls him down, this time face down over his lap. Seonghwa’s knees are warm, pressing with reassuring firmness into his stomach.

“I don’t want your tail to accidentally get a smack,” Seonghwa says. “You have a sensitive tail, don’t you, baby? So hyung will keep it out of the way for you.”

“T-thank you,” Hongjoong says, once again having to put all his will power into not thinking about something. Tails. Seonghwa’s hand on his sensitive tail. Oh, God. He can’t think about that right now or Seonghwa’s knees won’t be the only firm thing pressing into his stomach.

“Thank you who, kit?” Seonghwa asks, his voice sweet but with a core of steel to it that makes Hongjoong limp at the knees.

“Thank you, hyungie,” he squeaks.

Seonghwa pats his bottom. “Good boy. Now, why are you in trouble, Joongie?”

“Because I lied.” Hongjoong ducks his head into his arms, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, hyung. I really won’t do it again.”

“I know.” Seonghwa’s palm rubs a wide circle over his bottom. “I forgive you, my sweet. Are you ready to start?”

“Yes, hyung.”

Cool air brushes over Hongjoong’s bottom for a moment when the warmth of Seonghwa’s palm is taken away. Then the same palm descends with a swift crack that makes Hongjoong’s ears flick in surprise despite the fact that he knew it was coming. Pain blossoms on his skin. Another smack cracks down, just a few inches lower than the first.

Seonghwa rapidly covers the full surface of Hongjoong’s bottom in sharp smacks. They’re not terribly hard or cruel, just enough to make him squirm and gasp in discomfort. And the last few blows, landed with deadly accuracy to the undercurve of his bottom, make him yelp.

Then Seonghwa lets go of his tail and turns him over right side up on his lap.

“No more lies?”

Hongjoong nods, breathless and smarting and held entirely safe in the strong circle of Seonghwa’s arms.

“No more, hyungie. Promise.”

Seonghwa’s face softens. “Good boy. You were very brave, you know that? Taking your spanking so well.”

Hongjoong sniffs, feeling wetness pooling in his eyes. Despite blinking furiously, he can’t stop the tears from cascading down his cheeks, especially when Seonghwa’s face softens even further and he gives a soft hum of sympathy.

There is no other, or better, place to hide his tears than against Seonghwa’s neck, so that’s what he does, burrowing deeply into Seonghwa’s arms and clinging tightly there until he no longer feels anything except soft and sleepy.

“Joongie-hyung…did we hear you get smacked last night?” Wooyoung asks the next evening in the park. The five hybrids are all gathered together in their animal forms under the big oak tree, chattering softly together. In Feran rather than Sciurish, so that Wooyoung and Jongho can understand too.

“You can’t just ask him that,” Mingi says, butting Wooyoung on the chin with his head.

“Why not? We’re friends and it’s nothing to be ashamed about!” Wooyoung turns sharp green eyes on Hongjoong again. “So, did you? Get smacked, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong says. “I was an idiot.”

He tells them shortly what happened.

Mingi shakes his head, but Wooyoung and Jongho, and even Yeosang, nods with understanding.

“Boundary testing,” Jongho says, sagely. “Very normal in young kits.”

“I’m older than you,” Hongjoong says, quirking his tail at him.

“Oh, I noticed,” Jongho says. “Because you can’t catch me for shit, old man!”

And then he’s off, hopping furiously across the grass with Hongjoong in hot pursuit.

Hongjoong catches him on the other side of the clearing, knocking him over on his back. And then Wooyoung is suddenly chasing him, with Mingi joining in and Jongho doing binkies around Yeosang like a mad little thing in an attempt to get the snake hybrid to join in, too. Round and round they go, until they collapse into a tangle of warm bodies, giggling and chittering and panting in satisfied exhaustion.

Over the weekend, Seonghwa takes Hongjoong to a rodent specialty restaurant. It is a small place near the river, squashed so deeply into a back alley that it’s almost hard to find. But the food is delicious, as it is specifically aimed towards rodents in their human form. Hongjoong has some sort of nutty pie and roasted veggies with seeds and shaved tree bark soup. For dessert, he and Seonghwa share a glazed fruit tart.

It is quite natural, somehow, since they are sharing a plate, for him to skewer a piece of tart with his tiny fork and offer it to Seonghwa. When Seonghwa takes it with a hum of thanks, Hongjoong finds himself staring at Seonghwa’s soft, red lips, closing around the shiny metal of the fork. He wonders how it would feel, pressing his own lips against Seonghwa’s.

When he looks up he realises that he’s been caught, and that Seonghwa is laughing at him with a naughty twinkle in his eyes, as though he knows exactly what Hongjoong had been thinking.

Hongjoong hurriedly pretends to wipe his mouth, hoping that the serviette will hide the crimson blush spreading over his cheeks.

“Ah-ah,” Seonghwa picks up his fork, spearing a piece of tart. “Now it’s my turn. Open up, Joongie.”

He cups Hongjoong’s chin with a soft hand, forcing Hongjoong to meet his eyes as he holds open his jaw and places the piece of sweet dessert on his tongue. Then he presses Hongjoong’s mouth shut again, wiping a crumb from the corner of his mouth.

“Chew, baby. That’s what you’re supposed to do with food.”

It’s just a little condescending and a little patronising, as is the little boop he does on Hongjoong’s nose. It is also somehow very hot and Hongjoong chews obediently, the heat spreading down his face into his neck and his chest.

“Good boy,” Seonghwa says, eyes dancing. “Now swallow.”

And, oh, Hongjoong is gone.

Completely and utterly gone.

After they’re done at the restaurant, they take a walk along the river.

“I don’t have to hold your hand, do I?” Seonghwa asks, teasing again. “You won’t run away?”

“You don’t have to hold my hand,” Hongjoong says.

It’s Seonghwa’s own fault, really, for giving him the idea.

Because he waits until Seonghwa’s back is turned to him for just a moment, watching a boat going past on the river, and then he makes a run for it.

All along the riverbank, dodging around couples with strollers and human runners plodding along, weaving through a field full of benches where people are having picnics and staring at the stars.

He glances over his shoulder every once in a while, grinning a little to himself every time he sees no sign of Seonghwa yet. He’s human, after all, not able to keep up with a fast squirrel like Hongjoong.

Which is why Hongjoong practically jumps out of his skin when he turns a corner and comes face to face with Seonghwa, leaning calmly against the railing looking out over the river, his arms crossed over his chest.

“H-hyung!”

“Got you,” Seonghwa says, with a rather eerie little grin. “Come over here, kit.”

Hongjoong approaches him warily, not entirely surprised when Seonghwa’s hand closes around his wrist as soon as he is close enough, and he is dragged right into the human’s grasp.

“What did we say about running off?”

“Not-not to. Without telling you where I’m going.”

“And did you tell me where you were going, when you dashed off on this little expedition?”

“No,” Hongjoong says reluctantly. “But you knew anyway! You got here before me. How did you even do that? You can’t run faster than me. At least not that much.”

“That is entirely besides the point,” Seonghwa says. “What is to the point is that you broke a rule, kit. And what happens when you break rules?”

Hongjoong twists his wrist just a little, but finds no leeway in Seonghwa’s firm grasp. “Smacks.”

“Smacks indeed, because that’s what naughty kits get.” With that, Seonghwa tugs Hongjoong unceremoniously forward, bending him against the railing.

“Hyung!” Hongjoong twists around in horror. “Hyung, we’re outside!”

“And it’s dark and no-one’s going to come down here to the water at this time of the evening,” Seonghwa says. “But even so, we can finish this back home if you’re uncomfortable?”

Hongjoong pouts, turning back to the railing with a huff. He’d hoped that Seonghwa would change his mind about smacking him, not just offer to smack him at home!

“Are you ready?” Seonghwa asks.

“Yes, hyung.”

A warm hand folds around his tail, shifting it safely out of the way just like last time.

Then Seonghwa’s palm cracks down over his jeans.

Hongjoong clings to the railing, gasping at each scorching spank. These are definitely not the sweet little smacks he’d gotten the other evening. They’re proper wallops and Hongjoong has to clamp his lips shut to stop himself from squeaking.

But Seonghwa stops quickly, before it gets too much, spinning Hongjoong around so that his back is against the railing now.

“Do not run away from me again, kit. I’ll always find you and you’ll always find yourself right back over my knee.”

His hand is still on Hongjoong’s tail, his other hand trapping Hongjoong against the railing.

He looks down at Hongjoong and Hongjoong looks up at him, and for a moment, time seems to hang motionless in the sweltering summer evening.

“Yes, hyung,” Hongjoong says, still a little breathless from the sting spreading through his ass.  And then: “Hyung?”

“Yes?”

“Will you kiss me? Please?”

Seonghwa puts a hand on the back of his head, tilts his chin up with a slender thumb and then he does. Deep and claiming, his lips warm and soft against Hongjoong’s.

And Hongjoong puts his arm around Seonghwa’s neck and kisses him back.

A few days later, Hongjoong breaks two more rules.

Completely without planning to, and in a way that always makes him feel a little sheepish, afterwards.

It starts during the afternoon, while he is still at the library with Seonghwa. There is some sort of kids’ event going on all day, with little ones, humans and various kinds of hybrids, running all over the place and having to be looked after and entertained and escorted from one activity to the other.

Hongjoong doesn’t get to see much of Seonghwa the entire day. Not even during lunchtime, which forces him to eat all by himself on their usual bench in the park.

The last event, which involves some woman entertaining the children with balloons and flowers popping out of a hat and all manner of other silly things, is supposed to end at half-past three. But they end up going until after four because everyone is having so much fun and enjoying themselves so much.

Everyone except Hongjoong, that is.

He wanders around between the shelves, listening to the excited cheering and laughing, feeling thoroughly miserable and sorry for himself. Seonghwa had asked if he wanted to sit with him for the last event, but Hongjoong hadn’t wanted to. Then Seonghwa had promised that he’d be done by half-past three and that Hongjoong could finally shift and go into his pocket. Hongjoong hasn’t been in his pocket all day, because Seonghwa didn’t want him to accidentally get squished by an overly zealous hug. The kids keep hugging Seonghwa and Hongjoong can’t even go in his pocket. Unfair.

And here they are, inching towards ten past four, and Seonghwa is still sitting with those stupid kids, grinning at that stupid woman. Not even caring that Hongjoong is wandering around here all by himself.

Hongjoong peeks around the end of the shelves, at the group of children sitting on the colourful mats in front of the window. Seonghwa isn’t even looking at him, too engrossed in what the woman is doing with some stupid balloon.

Chittering softly to himself, his tail swishing unhappily, Hongjoong walks down the row of shelves again.

Maybe he should try to read something. But he’s read so much today already, there isn’t even a single interesting book left in the library.

Something in the corner catches his eye, and he goes closer to investigate. It’s the ladder, which the librarians use to organise the tall shelves against the long far wall. The ladder is attached to a set of runners, allowing the person on the ladder to push themselves down the long shelves as they put the books back into their proper places.

His nose twitching, Hongjoong puts his foot on the first rung. He’s always wanted to try the sliding ladder, but Seonghwa always tells him not to go up there. It’s not a toy, supposedly.

But Seonghwa isn’t here now, is he?”

Hongjoong climbs about halfway up the ladder. Then he puts a hand on the shelf and gives a hard shove.

The ladder flies away at breakneck speed, clattering to a halt at the end of the shelf so abruptly that Hongjoong is almost thrown from the rungs. Luckily he manages to stabilise himself with is tail and clamber back onto the ladder again.

Giggling, he tightens his grip on the ladder. Then he uses his foot to kick off, careening to the other side of the slide again. And back again, faster and faster each time, the ladder crashing to a halt with increasing volume after each run.

“Joong!” A sharp voice says behind him. Seonghwa is standing between the shelves, his hands on his hips. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Having fun!” Hongjoong calls back cheerily, putting out a foot to kick off again.

“Yah, stop!” Seonghwa says sharply. “Get down from there at once, you naughty kit.”

“No,” Hongjoong says. “I don’t want to.”

Seonghwa widens his eyes in clear warning.

“If I have to come up there to get you, you’ll be one sorry little kit, Joong-ah.”

Hongjoong sticks out his tongue, and then his middle finger. And then he kicks, giggling at the sight of Seonghwa’s affronted face, disappearing behind the shelves.

Going back would be gliding right into the lion’s mouth, so Hongjoong jumps down to the floor so that he can dash off between the shelves.

But a hand closes over the back of his collar before he’s gone two steps.

“You,” Seonghwa says grimly, “are in so much trouble, young man.”

At home, Seonghwa sends him to fetch the hairbrush from his dressing table.

Hongjoong shakes his head, backing up against the kitchen counter as far as possible. “Hyung…”

“You’re in trouble because you didn’t listen to me,” Seonghwa says, shrugging off his messenger bag and then turning to face Hongjoong, his hands on his hips. He looks handsome, in the wide-legged black pants and the pretty white blouse he’d been wearing for the event. Devilishly handsome and lovely and hot which is why Hongjoong had been wanting to be with him all day and now instead of kisses and tail rubs on the couch he was going to get smacked. It isn’t fair.

“You’re in trouble because you didn’t listen to me,” Seonghwa repeats. “Do you really want to make it worse for yourself? Do as I say, Joong-ah. Go get the hairbrush. Better to just get it all over and done with, hm?”

“But, hyung…”

Seonghwa lifts a finger. “One more word, kit, and I’ll put you over my knee right now and smack you until you’re in a more obedient frame of mind. And then you’ll go fetch the hairbrush and I’ll spank you even more with it. Is that what you want?”

“No,” Hongjoong says, tears springing into his eyes. “No, it’s not and it’s not fair! I was sad!”

“You were sad, so you climbed on a ladder that I’ve told you many times not to touch, refused to get down when I told you to and then disrespected me?”

“Yes! I wanted…I wanted you all day but you were busy and you didn’t have time and then you said you’d be done at half-past but you weren’t!”

Seonghwa heaves a sigh, his face softening.

“Oh, honey. Come here.”

He opens up his arms and Hongjoong hesitates just a moment before he hurries into them, burying his face in Seonghwa’s neck.

“I’m sorry you were having a hard time today,” Seonghwa pats his back softly, combing through his tail plumes. “You wanted to be with hyungie, mm?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be bad.”

“I know, my sweet. It was probably very hard for you, right? Since you came I’ve been able to give you all my attention whenever you needed it, so it must have been hard for you having to share me for a bit.”

Hongjoong nods, clinging tighter to Seonghwa’s neck.

“I promise we’ll do something nice together this weekend,” Seonghwa says. “To make up for today, okay?”

“Okay,” Hongjoong says in a small voice. “Are you…are you still going to spank me?”

Seonghwa pulls him back, so that they can look at each other. “What do you think?”

Hongjoong fidgets unhappily, pouting up at him.

“I…I was disobedient. And I did flip you off. I shouldn’t have done that, even if I was sad.”

Seonghwa nods, a small, proud smile curving his lips.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Will you go fetch the brush now, please?”

This time, Hongjoong goes.

The brush is awful, just like he expected.

It feels like Seonghwa is setting his poor, bare bottom on fire within just a few swats and before Hongjoong knows it he is squirming desperately on Seonghwa’s lap, his tail wriggling in Seonghwa’s hold.

“Hyungie! Hyungie, oww! I’m sorry!”

“Just a few more,” Seonghwa soothes. “You’re doing well, kit. Just a few more and then we’re done.”

“I’m sorryyyy!”

“I know, honey, you’re being so brave.”

Then he’s tipping Hongjoong forward, just a bit, to land a few awful, horrible smacks to the undercurve of Hongjoong’s bottom.

Hongjoong squeals, a sob finding its way up his throat and out of his mouth before he can stop it.

And then he’s sobbing bonelessly across Seonghwa’s lap, all the day’s tension bleeding out of him.

“Alright, kit,” Seonghwa says, somewhere above him. He is rubbing Hongjoong’s tail, gently combing through the soft plumes and massaging the sensitive skin.”It’s all over, you did so well. All’s forgiven, Joongie. You’re alright.”

He pulls Hongjoong upright on his lap, helping him to find a comfortable spot on his chest to bury his nose in. Then he just holds Hongjoong tightly, rubbing steadily up and down his back and over his ears  and mumbling soft reassurances that makes everything inside Hongjoong feel soft and gooey and loved.

5. Kim Hongjoong

A few days later, Hongjoong and Yeosang run into trouble at the park.

They are just crossing a footpath, in search of a new patch of violets that Yeosang was sure he saw the previous evening, when Hongjoong sees two dog hybrids.

They are busy peeing against a tree, and Hongjoong’s mind flashes warning signs at him the moment he sees the ornate collars around their necks. Not every hybrid that wears a collar like that is dangerous. But it makes it that much more likely that these two are part of some sort of purist group. The kind that believes that certain ‘evil’ species of hybrid shouldn’t be allowed to exist, much less roam freely around parks with other hybrids. Species like the cute little venomous tiger keelback, slithering along next to Hongjoong with a dandelion in his mouth.

Sure enough, when the two dogs catch a whiff of Yeosang, they come stalking over on stiff legs, their hackles rising.

“Well, well, well,” the smaller one says in Feran. He seems to be some sort of sighthound, although Hongjoong can’t be sure what kind exactly. “And what have we here? A poison mouth sneaking around the park where our puppies are supposed to play?”

“Jussst ignore them,” Yeosang mumbles in Sciurish. “Let’ssss go, Joongie-hyung.”

The other hybrids have taken to calling him that, ever since he let it slip that he’s a year or two older than them.

Deciding that Yeosang probably knows better than him when it comes to dealing with this sort of harassment, Hongjoong follows him as he slithers on.

But the dogs move to block their path. The bigger one, a Rottweiler, curls up her lips to growl at Yeosang. The snake hybrid freezes in his tracks, his body one stiff coil of fear.

“We don’t want your kind here,” the sighthound says. “They should have thrown all of you venomous lot in a fire after that incident in Busan.”

“Shut your face,” Hongjoong hisses, puffing up his tail.

“Hyungie, don’t…”

But then the Rottweiler is going for Yeosang, sunlight glinting on her long canines. Yeosang darts back, but her jaws close over him anyways, and she is shaking him viciously from side to side before Hongjoong can even recover from the shock.

Then he reacts on pure instinct. Jumping into the dog’s face, sinking his teeth into her forehead and clawing at her eyes with his sharp claws. She lets go of Yeosang and jerks back with a yowl of pain. Hongjoong is thrown clear by the sudden movement and he darts over to where Yeosang is now lying motionless.

There is a growl behind him and he turns to find the Rottweiler charging again.

Making a split-second decision, Hongjoong shifts into his human form. The sudden movement is enough to make the charging dog falter for just a moment, giving Hongjoong enough time to grab Yeosang and haul them both up into the nearest tree. The Rottweiler’s teeth close in the air right behind Hongjoong’s tail, as he yanks it up behind him just in time.

The dogs circle below the tree for a long time, barking and growling and taking running jumps up against the trunk. Swearing in Canissian, Hongjoong is pretty sure.

He is up high enough that they won’t be able to reach him unless they shift into their own human forms and start to climb. But purist bastards of their kind aren’t overly fond of using their human forms for anything, so Hongjoong thinks that he’s safe for the moment.

Of Yeosang, he’s not so sure. His skin isn’t broken, as far as Hongjoong can see. He must have been lucky enough to avoid the worst of the Rottweiler’s teeth. But he’s not responding to anything Hongjoong is saying, lying limp and quivering in Hongjoong’s arms.

“You just have to hold on a little bit,” Hongjoong tells him. “As soon as they’re gone I’ll take you to hyung. Just hold on a little bit, Sangie.”

Hope soars in him for a moment when he hears human footsteps, coming along the path. Maybe Seonghwa has come to look for them, for some reason. Or San, or Yunho. Or anyone, really.

But when the footsteps come closer, the dogs prick up their ears, their tails starting to wag.

A man in a suit comes strolling up to the tree, his hands in his pockets.

“What have you got here?” he asks. “Hello, mutts. Yes, yes, hello.”

He pets the dogs, who stick their heads into his hands with loving little whines.

The man’s eyes search through the branches for a moment, before they lock onto Hongjoong. He gives Hongjoong a slow smile.

“My, my. A little squirrel. And a snake.” He pats the sighthound again, drawing the dog’s ears through his fingers. “Good hunting, pet. Now it’s only a matter of finding out how to get them down. You’ve cornered them so nicely, it would be a pity if you were robbed of your kill, now wouldn’t it?”

“I’m not coming down,” Hongjoong says.

The man laughs, a rather horrible sound. “It speaks! What an abomination before the Lord. A speaking animal. That’s why your sort shouldn’t be kept around, you know?”

“If the Lord did not want me to speak he wouldn’t have made me like this,” Hongjoong says. “Perhaps he gave me a human form for the express purpose of telling you to go fuck yourself, you piece of shit bastard.”

The man laughs again, but the smile on his lips doesn’t go anywhere near his eyes.

“Now I’ll have to climb up there and get you,” he says. “No mutt talks to me like that.”

“Excuse me?” A polite, familiar voice says. “That is not a very nice word.”

Hongjoong feels so relieved that he could cry.

Seonghwa is stepping down from the footpath.

“Just keep walking,” the man says. “This is none of your business.”

“Except it is,” Seonghwa says. “That’s my squirrel. And my snake. I think you and your puppies better move along, before I call the police.”

The man eyes Seonghwa up and down,  one corner of his mouth curling up in a contemptuous smile.

“The police won’t get here in time, pretty boy.”

“Maybe not,” Seonghwa says politely.

They eye each other for a few long moments.

“One against three,” the man says. “Not very good odds, for you.”

Seonghwa gives him a slow, eerie smile. “I beg to differ. I know your kind. The puppies won’t attack unless you tell them to. So that means I just have to shut your foul mouth before you can give them a command. Easy.”

The man grins at Seonghwa.

“Pets, ta-”

Seonghwa hits him with a left hook across the mouth that sends him spinning into the dirt. He tries to sit up for a moment, blood streaming from his mouth, but Seonghwa gives him one neat kick across the face. He flops over on his side and lies still.

The Rottweiler and the sighthound are growling, but they do not move to attack Seonghwa.

Seonghwa bends over the man, rifling through his pockets until he finds his wallet, out of which Seonghwa takes his ID card. He glances at it quickly, before he throws the wallet and the card down next to the man’s motionless form. He dusts off his hands, looking rather disgusted.

Then he looks at the dogs.

“When your friend wakes up, tell him I’d strongly advise against him ever coming back here.”

The sighthound’s growls grow louder, as he inches a step towards Seonghwa.

“Do you remember what happened at Dongik University?” Seonghwa asks. “That was me. And I’ll do the same to anyone who hurts my kids. I’ll destroy them. You tell your friend that, and let him decide if he wants to show his face here again.”

Seonghwa turns his back on the dogs then, dismissively, as though he doesn’t even consider them worthy of his continued watchfulness.

He looks up into the tree, and Hongjoong immediately feels safer when Seonghwa’s eyes fall on him.

“Kit, can you come down?”

“Yes, hyung,” Hongjoong calls, keeping the shake out of his voice.

He climbs down rather slowly, with Yeosang’s limp body still clutched against his chest. When he’s low enough he feels Seonghwa’s hands on his hips, carefully guiding him down to the ground. Then the man grips his shoulders tightly, scanning his face and his body.

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“Yeosang’s hurt,” Hongjoong says. “The Rottweiler bit him.”

“First tell me if you’re okay,” Seonghwa says sharply, giving Hongjoong a little shake.

“I’m fine, hyung!”

Seonghwa lets out a breath, hugging Hongjoong’s head against him for a moment.  “Good. Okay, give Yeosang to me.”

He runs his fingers quickly over the snake’s limp body, softly calling his name. But then he shakes his head, looking at Hongjoong.

“Can you shift, please? We’ll be able to move faster if I can carry both of you.”

Hongjoong immediately shifts back down to his squirrel form, jumping onto Seonghwa’s hand when he holds it out for him and letting Seonghwa slip him into his pocket.

Then Seonghwa sets off at a run.

Yeosang turns out to be only in shock, and he recovers quickly once they get to the nearest emergency room. Hongjoong isn’t quite sure if it’s the IV that does the trick, or San and Wooyoung twining themselves around him on either side in the narrow hospital bed.

Two policemen show up at the hospital to take everyone’s statements, promising that they’ll pay a visit to Lee Minkang, which is the name Seonghwa found on the man’s ID document.

Much later that night, when they are cuddled up in Hongjoong’s nest and Seonghwa is already peacefully sleeping, Hongjoong carefully takes Seonghwa’s hand and holds it up in the moonlight sifting through the window.

His knuckles are turning purple, the skinned places scabbing over.

I’ll do the same to anyone who hurts my kids. I’ll destroy them.

The following night at dinner, Hongjoong bites Wooyoung. He has no choice, really.

I'll do the same to anyone who hurts my kids. I'll destroy them.

He knows he'll end up hurting one of them someday. Better to get it over with, before he gets anymore attached to Seonghwa.

He thinks it over very carefully, deciding that boisterous, confident cat hybrid is probably the one least likely to be frightened by a sudden attack. He’ll probably get angry, try to bite back. Hongjoong won’t have to feel as bad about biting him.

But he forgets that Yeosang is sitting right next to Wooyoung, and that cat hybrids have excellent peripheral vision and even better reflexes.

So, when Hongjoong turns from his plate and launches at Wooyoung’s arm with a snarl, Wooyoung is all of a sudden no longer sitting there, and Hongjoong is clamping his teeth down on Yeosang’s cold little elbow instead.

Yeosang makes a tiny, sad noise and faints onto San’s lap.

Complete pandemonium. 

Jongho leaps across the table and starts kicking Hongjoong, Wooyoung is scrambling up from the floor, hissing and cursing, Mingi is shouting.

And then Seonghwa says ‘yah!’ in a voice that makes the entire table go quiet.

Jongho rolls off of Hongjoong, sending him a dirty glare.

“Is Yeosang alright?” Seonghwa asks.

“I’m fine, hyungie,” Yeosang says. He is blinking woozily in San’s arms now.

“Take him home, please,” Seonghwa says. “Wooyoung-ah, you go with them.”

“But-” Wooyoung begins, his claws sharp against his black jeans. He is giving Hongjoong a look that could have set a block of ice on fire.

“Skedaddle,” Seonghwa says firmly. “I’ll deal with it, kitty. Yun, you guys clear out too, please. Take a pizza with, I’m sorry that we won’t be able to eat together tonight.”

San stands up with Yeosang in his arms, nodding at Wooyoung to take a pizza for them. Yunho, Jongho and Mingi follow their example, quickly grabbing one of the pizzas that they were supposed to share tonight and then heading to the door.

Then it is just Hongjoong and Seonghwa, who is still sitting at the head of the table with his hands folded in front of him.

Just looking at Hongjoong.

“Why did you bite Yeosang?”

Acid churning in his stomach, Hongjoong shrugs.

“Because he deserves it? He’s a snake he doesn’t-”

Seonghwa slams his palm down on the table hard enough that Hongjoong jumps about a foot into the air, his tail jerking up above his head in fright.

“Do not say another word of that nonsense,” Seonghwa says sharply. And then, taking a deep breath, he gets to his feet. “I need to take a walk so that I can calm down. Go wait for me in my room.” And then, when Hongjoong hesitates: “Go!”

Hongjoong scurries into Seonghwa’s room, his heart beating in his throat.

A moment later he hears the front door opening and closing.

Then silence.

Hongjoong sits down on the floor in front of the bed. He hugs his tail tightly to his chest and wishes that he could just sink into the floor and disappear forever.

Seonghwa looks almost normal when he enters the room about half an hour later.

He stops inside the door, looking down at Hongjoong for a few long moments.

“Get up,” he says then.

It’s rather hard to stand up on legs entirely made of jelly and regret, but Hongjoong somehow manages.

“You didn’t try to bite Yeosang,” Seonghwa says slowly. “You meant to bite Wooyoung, but he moved out of the way too fast.”

Hongjoong looks down at his socked feet. What does it matter, really? It would have been just as awful if he bit Wooyoung, he can see that clearly now.

“Well?” Seonghwa prompts gently.

“Yes,” Hongjoong says. “I was…I was going for Wooyoung.”

“Why? And why did you say that awful thing about Yeosang, when I asked you about it?”

Hongjoong’s claws are digging into his palms, his eyes burning.

“Were you trying to make me angry?” Seonghwa asks. “Joong-ah? Is that what you were doing? Trying to do the worst thing you could think of so that you could see how I’d react?”

Hongjoong doesn’t know how Seonghwa could possibly have figured that out. But he has somehow, and Hongjoong can nod, without having to somehow untangle the awful feeling in his chest into words.

Seonghwa is quiet for a few long moments.

“Alright,” he says, and he sounds relieved for some reason. “Alright, I understand. Can you look at me, please?”

Hongjoong tries, he really does, but in the end Seonghwa has to take his chin in his palm and firmly tilt his head up.

“You did an awful thing,” he says. “Trying to bite Wooyoung, who wasn’t doing anything to you. And biting Yeosang, who wasn’t doing anything to you either and had just lived through a horrible experience yesterday. I understand that you didn’t mean to bite him, but you did. You knew he was there and you were willing to take the chance that he’d get hurt or scared by attacking someone sitting at the table right next to him. I’m very disappointed in you, sweetheart. It was an unkind, careless thing to do.”

It feels like someone is ripping Hongjoong’s heart into tiny, tiny pieces. He doesn’t even care that tears are springing up in his eyes and cascading down his cheeks, or that little whimpers are wriggling out of his lips. Seonghwa is disappointed in him. He did something that made Seonghwa disappointed in him, that hurt Yeosang.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Seonghwa says. “I’m going to give you a belting. Then you’re going to go and apologise to Yeosang. And tomorrow you’re going to write apology letters to everyone who had to have their peaceful meal disrupted by your actions. And if you ever, ever bite someone like that again I promise you I will take a cane to you. You got me?”

“Y-yes, hyung,” Hongjoong says, his voice breaking.

Seonghwa gives his chin a tiny squeeze. “Pants down and bend over the side of your nest.”

Hongjoong’s hands are trembling so much that he gets nowhere with the button on his jeans and Seonghwa has to help him out of them.

Sniffling, Hongjoong lowers himself over the edge of his nest. His head and shoulders end up in the hollow, the pillows on the edge pushing his hips into the air in a prime position to feel the wrath of Seonghwa’s belt.

Seonghwa’s hand is on his tail, pressing it down in the centre of his back.

“Are you ready, kit?”

“Yes, hyung,” Hongjoong says, wondering if he’d missed the clink of Seonghwa’s belt buckle.

Air moves above him, and then Seonghwa’s palm connects squarely with the centre of his bottom. Then another and another, the pain spreading equally across Hongjoong’s bottom as Seonghwa covers it with a circuit of stinging swats. He lays down several circuits, gradually increasing the intensity and the area until it feels like a low but vicious little fire has been stoked all the way from the tops of Hongjoong’s cheeks to the middle of his thighs.

Then Seonghwa stops, his hand lifting away from Hongjoong’s back.

For just a moment, hope flickers up inside Hongjoong.

But then he hears the tell-tale clink of a belt buckle, the cold snick as the leather is pulled out of the loops.

Seonghwa’s weight settles down on his back, a little more firmly this time.

“Why are you here, Joong-ah?”

“Because…because,” Hongjoong has to cough, to dislodge the snot and tears clogging up his throat. “Because I hurt Yeosang. I bit him. And I tried to bite Wooyoung and I was mean and horrible and awful. And I…I said a bad thing. I said Yeosang deserved it because he’s a snake. I didn’t mean it, hyung, please, I didn’t mean it. I just wanted to make you angry.”

“I know you didn’t mean it, sweetheart.” Seonghwa rubs his tail comfortingly for just a moment. “I understand why you said it. But it was still an awful thing to say, right? And I’m still going to punish you for it, and for biting. Do you understand?”

“Yes, hyung.”

Hongjoong buries his head into his hands again, gripping onto his ears for comfort. But it proves to be precious little, when the leather whistles through the air and the first stripe of the belt lands across his bottom with a resounding crack.

He feels nothing, for just a moment, and then it’s like molten fire has been poured onto his skin.

The next stripe has Hongjoong screeching into his arms, his legs wriggling against the soft outside of his nest. It’s a comfort, on the one hand, to be able to bury his face into the comfort of his own nest. To smell Seonghwa’s soft woodsy scent around him, to have all the feelings of safety that comes with it.

But it also robs him of every last grain of self control, every last bit of ability to hold back his tears.

He’s crying within the next few cracks of the belt and sobbing helplessly by the time Seonghwa turns his attention down to the sensitive crease where his bottom and thighs meet. The first stripe there has Hongjoong bucking up into Seonghwa’s hand, his legs kicking wildly.

“Hyung! Hyungie, please. Please, I’m so sorry.” But there is no getting out from under Seonghwa’s hand and the belt finds his poor legs again. “I’m sorry!”

“Almost done, kit,” Seonghwa soothes, his gentle tone a contrast to the volley of swats he lays down on Hongjoong’s thighs. “We’re almost finished, my sweet. Just a little bit more, then it’ll all be over.”

Hongjoong collapses into his nest again, clinging desperately to his ears, as Seonghwa finishes up with a few more awful stripes to his sit spots.

And then it is done, and Seonghwa is gently pulling him to his feet and helping him into a pair of loose shorts.

Then he marches Hongjoong straight across the hall, where he rings apartment 507’s doorbell.

It is only the firm grip he has on the scruff of Hongjoong’s neck that prevents Hongjoong from making a run for it. Especially when the door opens to reveal not only a stern-looking San, but a clearly still furious Wooyoung.

“We’ve come to apologise,” Seonghwa says, pushing Hongjoong forward.

“And what if he starts biting us again?” Wooyoung asks, in a tone that makes Hongjoong almost wish that he was back with his head in his nest, Seonghwa’s belt whistling down on his rear.

“He’s never going to do that again,” Seonghwa says sweetly. “Unless he wants what he got tonight to feel like a walk in the park. Sangie doesn’t have to forgive him, of course, but I really do think it’s important that Joong apologises to him as soon as possible. And explains the reason behind his actions.”

“What reason?” San asks.

“It seems that Yeosang was an unintended victim in tonight’s events,” Seonghwa says. “Joong was actually trying to bite you, Young-ah. And the reason was that Joong was trying to test me. Doing what he knew would get the biggest reaction out of me.”

“Oh,” San says, his voice much gentler than it was before. “Oh, well…that makes a lot more sense, actually.”

“It’s not an excuse!” Wooyoung cuts in hotly. “There is no excuse for just randomly attacking someone at the dinner table. And for hurting Yeosang. You know what he’s been through, Joong! He’s been nothing but kind to you, and now you repay him like this?”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” Hongjong chokes out. “Young-ah, I’m so sorry. I know there’s no excuse. I wish I could take it all back. I’m so sorry that I hurt Yeosang and I’ll do anything to make it up to him. And to you.”

Wooyoung is quiet for a moment.

“You’d better say that to him, not to us,” Wooyoung says then. “Wait here, I’ll get him.”

They stand in awkward silence until Wooyoung returns, bringing Yeosang with him.

Hongjoong can’t bring himself to look up into the younger man’s face. He just stares at the younger man’s socked feet, with the small sunflowers and daisies printed all over them, and feels his heart break all over again.

How could he? Yeosang is an angel. A literal angel. And Hongjoong is a horrible person and it would be quite right if Yeosang never forgave him. He helped Yeosang, saved his life maybe, only to turn around and hurt him.

Seonghwa’s fingers tighten on the back of his neck, pressing him forward.

“Go on,” he says. “You know what you have to say, Joong-ah.”

Hongjoong swallows hard, trying to stop the tears from flowing long enough so that he can speak coherently.

“Yeosangie…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, it really was an accident. But that doesn’t change the fact that I did hurt you. I’m so sorry, I only tried to bite someone because I wanted Seonghwa to be angry at me and you got caught in the crossfire. I’m so sorry that I scared you and made you faint. It was so wrong of me. I’m so sorry.”

For a few long moments, there is no sound in the hallway except Hongjoong’s pitiful sobbing.

Then sunflowers and daisies appear in his field of vision, and a pair of strong arms pull him into a hug against a wonderfully cool shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Yeosang says. “I understand, hyung, I forgive you.”

“Y-you don’t…don’t have to.”

“I know.” Yeosang hugs him tighter, pressing a cold little kiss to the top of his head. “But I can. And I want to. I know you didn’t mean it, and I know you won’t do it again. I forgive you, hyungie.”

And those simple words, Yeosang’s easy forgiveness, hurt worse than anything else has that entire godforsaken day.

Hongjoong is crying again, too hard to quite know what’s going on. He is dimly aware of being gently loosened out of Yeosang’s hold, and taken back across the hallway and into Seonghwa’s apartment.

And then he’s somehow sitting on Seonghwa’s lap on the couch, and Seonghwa’s hand is gently gripping his chin, turning his face up to meet Seonghwa’s gaze.

He doesn’t look angry or disappointed or stern anymore. Just gentle and forgiving and maybe a little tired.

“Thank you for apologising to Yeosang,” he says. “That was very brave of you. I’m proud of you, kit.”

And that is really more than Hongjoong can handle in his current state.

He dives forward and manages to get a hold of a handful of Seonghwa’s shirt. And then he cries, probably harder than he has ever cried before in his life. He cries and chokes out half-broken apologies and pleas and promises to do better into Seonghwa’s shirt and Seonghwa scratches loving circles around his ears and pets his tail and rubs his back.

“I wanted you to get angry,” Hongjoong wails. “I’ve been waiting for you to get angry all this time. But you didn’t…you didn’t.”

“No,” Seonghwa says. “I won’t ever get angry with you, my strawberry. Not like that.”

“I want to see…wanted to see..” Hongjoong has to gasp for air. “Wanted to see what I had to do to make you hate me. To…to make you beat me and hurt me and remember that I’m just a hybrid. An animal.”

Seonghwa pets his ears. “There’s nothing you can do to accomplish that, Joongie. I will never hate you. And I always remember that you’re a hybrid. How can I forget, when I can always see your cute little ears and your pretty tail? The fact that you’re an animal doesn’t change how I treat you. I’m an animal, too. We’re all animals. None of us deserve any more or less humanity than any other.”

Hongjoong moves his arms up to grip around Seonghwa’s neck, pushing his face into the crook of his neck.

And then, quietly, like a confession, he says it.

“My name is Hongjoong. Kim Hongjoong.”

Seonghwa’s hand falters on his ears. And then he pulls Hongjoong into an even tighter hug.

“Kim Hongjoong. Hongjoong-ah. What a pretty, strong name. Just like my pretty, strong Joongie.”

“I love you,” Hongjoong says, muffled against Seonghwa’s skin. “Seonghwa-hyung, I love you so much.”

Seonghwa kisses the top of his head. “I love you too, Hongjoong-ah."

And then Seonghwa kisses his left temple and his right temple and his nose and his cheeks, his hand carefully cradling Hongjoong’s face so that he can plant kisses all over it.