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spookyserenades · 1 year ago

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Trouvaille - Chapter Eight

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 23.4k

Trouvaille Masterlist

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Updates on the 7th of each month

Annnd it's August!! We've come a full year (at least, since I've begun writing Trouvaille) and now the story is matching up with post dates 💃🏻 I hope you're all well! This update features some angst, and the final two scenting scenes.... one of which is particularly spicy, as a head's up! This chapter concludes the scenting arc, and after this, we'll be moving more quickly into other plotlines 🥳 There's also plenty of tender moments in this chapter, so I hope you'll enjoy those as well. As always, comments, feedback, questions, and even ranting/screaming is always welcomed! My inbox is open, as is the taglist. Without further ado, please enjoy this update!!

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Jeongguk gracefully pulled back from her body, the agile movement allowing him to land backwards on the balls of his feet so he could lean against one of his bed posts, staring down at Y/N with lidded eyes. Adjusting the strap of her tank top back over her shoulder, Y/N frowned slightly when she realized the fabric covered his mark up. Jeongguk hummed, appearing to be gathering his thoughts before he resumed the conversation they were having prior to his… collapse.

“So, none of us particularly like Taehyung. I mean, that much is fucking obvious. Contrary to what you may have assumed, I think you’re a pretty smart girl– I’m sure you’ve picked up on all of us avoiding him like a virus,” Jeongguk began, a thoughtful look spreading across his face. Stunned by the compliment, Y/N felt herself flush from the neck upwards.

“Even so, he’s not a threat to us. If he wanted to kill any of us, he would have done it already. So really, there’s no reason for us… er, Namjoon, really, to knock his teeth down his throat. Yet. From what Yoongi told me about his little chat with the bear, Taehyung is in no hurry to befriend any of us yet– all the more reason for us to give him space,” Jeongguk adjusted the loose collar of his tee shirt as he spoke, before trudging on, “If things get sticky and there’s cops knocking on the front door somewhere down the line, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. We’re all keeping an eye on him in the meantime, but I’m confident he won’t hurt you, at the very least,” Jeongguk continued, watching Y/N carefully as she heaved her upper body up so she could sit up straight.

“So what you’re saying is… you’ve all decided to steer clear of Tae, but keep him under surveillance at all times? And all the while, he’s content with just keeping to himself? Is that right?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, the elk hybrid’s tapered ears flickering lazily as he nodded in response. “Is it wishful thinking to hope fights like that won’t happen again between any of you?”

Chuckling without responding to her inquiries, Jeongguk passed a tattooed hand over his face, moving to his wardrobe to pull some fresh sweatpants out of it. While his back was turned to her Y/N dragged her eyes up from his legs, over his muscular back, and to his mussed hair and antlers. His antlers were truly something to marvel at; though the scale of them were significantly smaller than were when Y/N first saw them while he was still in elk form. She wondered if that was some kind of trait scientists had worked into elk hybrid DNA. After all, it would be pretty difficult for Jeongguk to carry around the weight of full-scale elk antlers while shifted into human form. The shape of them seemed to encircle his head, perhaps another scientist’s idea, maybe to prevent others from colliding into the antlers accidentally, compared to the way if they’d branch out horizontally– taking up more sideways space. They were covered in a rich brown velvet and looked soft to the touch, Y/N staring at them unabashedly since his back was turned.

Squinting, she noticed the very tip of one of his antlers, one that was crooked like a tree, seemed to have a viscous liquid sluggishly rolling down the length of it, and as she leaned closer to get a look at it, Y/N realized it was blood. Stiffening, Y/N immediately got to her feet, rushing over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder without thinking. Jeongguk flinched in surprise, looking down at her with a scandalized expression as she got on her tip-toes to confirm that he was truly bleeding.

“Jeongguk, you’re bleeding! One of your antlers!” Y/N exclaimed, reaching her hand upwards to touch before stopping herself abruptly. She didn’t know if antlers, like hybrid ears, were sensitive, and didn’t want to risk him getting angry with her.

A noise of surprise fell from his lips, gripping his sweatpants in his fist and stalking towards his bathroom while mumbling to himself. Y/N followed after him hot on his heels, eyes on a spot of velvet covering his antlers that seemed to be beginning to peel away from the bony appendage. In the mirror, he turned his head in a few different directions, a deep grimace appearing on his face as a droplet of blood slipped down his antler and onto his cheek.

“Aw, fuck… its late August, I forgot about this bullshit. Don’t worry about it, I’m not hurt. My velvet’s just shedding,” Jeongguk groaned, using the back of his hand to smear the blood off of his face with annoyance. “Unfortunately, I’ll be walking around here for the next few days looking gory as hell, and it makes a goddamn mess.”

“How often does that happen?” Y/N asked, awed. Gripping the lip of his granite sink vanity, Jeongguk made eye contact with her reflection.

“Just once a year, usually around this time,” Jeongguk answered, spinning slowly so he could look down at her again. “Alright, let’s focus, here. I want to shower and sleep for at least four hours.”

Blushing, it dawned on Y/N that she was taking up a bit too much of his time especially after he had stayed up the entire night, clearing her throat. Part of her ached to ask more questions surrounding the particular subject of velvet shedding; such as if it was painful for him, but she bit her tongue.

“You’re right, okay. What else should I know?” Y/N inched backwards into his bedroom, the elk hybrid leaning his hip against his sink vanity. Out of the corner of her eye, she clocked the charm bag she had made him resting on his dresser, beside his notebook and the ruby rosary he’d used to get rid of that entity. He had half a mind to ask about it, one million questions begging for answers from the elk hybrid, but she had to keep it together, for now.

“Last night was a full moon. Namjoon is a wolf hybrid… Do you know what I’m trying to say?” Jeongguk narrowed his eyes purposefully when Y/N shook her head with confusion.

“You know, how there’s that idea that wolves howl at the full moon and are riled up by it? Technically, it’s something of a circulated rumor, but I’m led to believe that there’s some truth in it. It’s not like he’s a werewolf or anything, so stop looking at me like that. I think a full moon just influences his mood, that’s all. He’s more agitated and moody than he’d be otherwise. This whole week leading up to the full moon the wolf has been acting bizarre, anyways; fine one moment, pissed off the next with no explanation as to why. It gave me whiplash, at first, before I put the pieces together.”

She was still staring at Jeongguk incredulously, trying to process that he was pretty much telling her the explanation for Namjoon’s behavior was adjacent to Hollywood lycanthrope lore. Her mother always used to tell her people tended to act a bit strangely on the nights of a full moon, but never really put much stock into the theory. If anything, it was a sort of flimsy excuse as to why Namjoon had totally flown off of the handle, but she’d take any information Jeongguk would give her gratefully.

“I suppose if that is true, certain things would make more sense to me,” Y/N began slowly, trying not to make any more funny faces at the elk hybrid or insult his insight. “I get what you mean. He’ll be willing to converse one minute and the next he’s either glaring at me or avoiding me like I’m the plague. You two worked together to get rid of that entity, and the following day you both had that little spat outside…”

“It’s his species. Wolf hybrids aren’t adopted very often, they’re extremely temperamental, territorial. He’s been trying to establish dominance over the rest of the house since he’s gotten here,” Jeongguk yawned, another trail of blood falling from his antler and running down the side of his face. He didn’t seem to notice. “Then again, none of the hybrids you’ve adopted find homes quickly, unless they plan on shooting us or something. Not many humans are comfortable with lions, tigers, and bears in their homes.”

Snorting at his Wizard of Oz reference, Y/N sobered up a bit. The sad reality that she had only come to adopt her hybrids because no one else had wanted them, apart from someone looking to hunt them down for sport, had her stomach churning. Hybrids that were spliced with domesticated animal DNA were always the popular choice for the average potential adopting owner looking for companionship, as most people knew how to handle animals such as cats, dogs, and rabbits. The behavior of a jaguar hybrid was quite different than any house cat hybrid she had ever met. She thought it wise to order some guidebooks online that night; if she hadn’t known about Jeongguk’s velvet shedding, or Namjoon’s sensitivity to the moon cycle, what else didn’t she know?

“A lot of humans are just evil. Honestly, I’m surprised that they haven’t passed a law making hybrid hunting illegal. Makes me think some of these lawmakers partake in it themselves,” Y/N seethed, the primal urge to protect her hybrids coming back to her again. It seemed to be a frequent emotion, especially in the past 24 hours. “Alright, let me get out of your hair, or I’ll go on a tangent. Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“Yeah, I think that’s it. They’re probably going to be pretty pitiful when you go down to confront them, just warning you. They know they fucked up, neither of them want to upset you any further, so you should be good. You might need to patch them up a bit, they both got a few good blows to the face. Reeks of blood in here,” Jeongguk sighed, flicking the light on in his bathroom, turning the shower tap on as he spoke.

Growing antsy, Y/N decided it was time to get a move on before Jeongguk started stripping in front of her, knowing that he wasn’t exactly above that. She had a feeling Jeongguk knew exactly how much he affected her. With a jolt, her brain registered that it was highly likely that all of the hybrids in the house heard the pitiful noises she made when they scented her. It was slightly embarrassing, but there was nothing she could do about it. It probably wasn’t even something they thought twice about.

“Right, so I’m going to go talk to them, I guess… clean them up. Please get some rest, then come get some food, okay? Oh, and thank you, again, for everything. You’re sweeter than you look, Jeongguk,” Y/N couldn’t help but to tease him a little bit, Jeongguk snapping his head around as he was checking the water temperature and sending her an unimpressed grimace. She could see a whisper of amusement in his midnight eyes, however.

With that, Y/N offered Jeongguk a sincere smile before shutting his bedroom door and setting off down the hall. Mindlessly brushing a hand over the shoulder he had scented, Y/N felt her skin flushing as she thought about how brazen he had been, and how he was able to just switch it off in a flash and resume civil conversation with her. It was a bit disorienting, she thought, swiping the first aid kit she’d dumped on the bottom step of the staircase before running up to talk to Jeongguk.

Taking several breaths, Y/N started the short distance down the hall to Namjoon’s bedroom. The door was open; light from his large windows flooding out into the hallway, and Y/N hesitated as she approached the doorway. She could tell both of them were in there, the sounds of heavy books being slid back into their spots on the bookshelf and the ruffling of clothes being folded telling her so. Swallowing down her nerves, Y/N entered the room.

Namjoon was by the bed, which had been made already, folding all of the clothes he had torn out of his wardrobe. He was facing the window, away from her, but his ears were flat against his skull and his shoulders were drooped, so she knew he was aware of her presence. They had almost completely restored the room to how it was before all hell had broken loose the previous night, the blood on the floor mopped away, each item on Namjoon’s desk placed back in their rightful spots. Taehyung was staring at her from the book shelf, looking from her face to the medical kit in her hand while he cautiously placed a clothbound book about candle magic back in place.

“Morning,” Y/N greeted evenly, wanting to ease into the scolding as best she could. Judging by the thick cloud of doom in the room she had walked into, both of them already felt bad enough.

Entering the bedroom a bit further, she eyed Taehyung, who had hung his head and started to lift another book off of the floor. He’d changed into a fresh outfit, but looked disheveled and sleep deprived. She placed the first aid kit on Namjoon’s bed, standing a few feet from him as she unzipped it slowly.

Namjoon was surreptitiously avoiding her eyes, Y/N watching him fold a pair of jeans with his knuckles bloodied and bruised. He had thrown on sweats and a simple white tee shirt, and had apparently showered with his damp silver hair pushed back from his face, but like Taehyung, his appearance was tired and out of sorts. Silently, she scooped up the small armful of clothes he had folded, placed them back into his wardrobe, and marched back to her spot beside him.

“Come here, both of you. I want to clean up your injuries before they get infected,” Y/N commanded firmly, pointing at the bed she wanted them to sit on. “And, we need to talk. Or, I can talk and you can listen.”

Taehyung moved promptly, though rather leisurely, sitting on the foot of Namjoon’s bed. In consequence, the wolf hybrid sprung out of the way, nearly knocking Y/N over in the process. Gritting her teeth, she waited for Namjoon to sit down on the mattress a few feet from Taehyung with reluctant obedience. He still wouldn’t look at her.

Slipping into injury evaluation mode, Y/N assessed their wounds while trying to remove her emotions with great difficulty in doing so. Both had torn and bruised knuckles; Namjoon had a nasty cut over his right eyebrow and a split lip, Taehyung’s cheekbone and jaw was bruised and it looked like he might have bitten through his lip with his teeth when Namjoon had directed a blow there. Tutting, Y/N got to work by beginning to load up some cotton rounds with disinfectant.

“You two don’t have to be best friends, hell, you don’t even have to like each other. But you cannot get physically violent like that, no matter how you rationalize its justification. It’s not fair to the others that they were forced to break up your fight last night.”

Y/N knelt in front of Namjoon, who was closest to her, taking one of his hands that was gripping his knees and arranging his digits to be splayed over hers, dabbing away caked-on blood with the cotton round as she spoke. His hand was limp in hers, like he had resigned to being touched, and she could finally feel his amber stare on her even as she focused on his injured hand. He didn’t react to the stinging sensation of the disinfectant, even when she moved over to his dominant hand that had the brunt of the damage to the knuckles. She was erring on the side of being especially gentle with her ministrations, considering they were paired with a bit of a scolding.

“What would have happened if they weren’t here? If it was just the three of us, would you have fought until one of you got knocked out or killed? You know I can’t break up a physical altercation between any of you, you’re hybrids. Stronger and faster than me, sharper instincts, and you’re men on top of it all,” Y/N continued, rising from her knees to sit in between the two of them. “I know you’re both more than capable of having a conversation to hash out conflict. The violence was unnecessary, and it really broke my heart to see you two like that.”

The solemn vocalization of her feelings echoed about the room hollowly. She motioned for Taehyung to give her his hands while she saturated another cotton ball with fresh disinfectant. He slid his hand into hers easily, remaining eerily quiet as she cleaned him up. Surprisingly, both hybrids hadn’t made an attempt to respond to her in any way, almost making her feel guilty for even attempting to admonish them in the first place, but she knew she had to put her foot down before things escalated again. There was not a cell in her body that wanted to be patching up wounds inflicted by each other in the near future, and she was making that clear.

Pulling out some Neosporin, Y/N swiftly applied it to both hybrid’s hands, taking a few moments to collect her thoughts. The room was deathly silent, Y/N getting the feeling both of them were holding their breath. Shocked that Namjoon was letting her touch him this much, Y/N let out a ragged sigh, ready to wrap their hands before moving onto their faces.

“Namjoon, could you pass me that roll of gauze, please?” Y/N murmured, squeezing his palm lightly as she dabbed ointment on the knuckle of his right index finger, the most mangled one of all. Clearing his throat, Namjoon rummaged around in the kit, the roll of gauze appearing before her face at once. “Thank you.”

“Y/N… I’m sorry,” Taehyung whispered suddenly, Y/N motions wrapping the gauze around Namjoon’s hand methodically pausing for a moment. “I started it, shoving Namjoon. It spun out of control from there.”

Namjoon’s grip on her hand tightened as he grunted lightly, Y/N peering up at him curiously. There was a deep frown on his face, knowing that Taehyung was taking a bit too much of the blame. She finished wrapping up his hands, turning to Taehyung to do the same. She still had their faces to work on, Y/N clocking the dried blood crusted onto the sharp edge of the Kodiak hybrid’s jawline.

“I shoved him first,” Namjoon muttered, remorse dripping from his tone ever so slightly. Stunned, Y/N gawked at Namjoon through her peripherals while trying her best to steadily wrap Taehyung’s hand, looping the gauze around his thumb and back over his palm.

“Please, just– can you both try to avoid fighting like that? It makes me sad, seeing you two beat up like this. Please promise me you won’t do something like this again. No more violence in this house,” Y/N finished what almost felt like a parental spiel, dropping the gauze in her lap as she got up from her seat between them.

She was met with two pairs of eyes hesitant to lock with her own, and Y/N wondered what some of the others had said to them to get them to such a somber state of mind. Taehyung nodded, looking at his feet, while Namjoon’s ears drooped even further downwards.

“Alright, I’m done scolding. I’ll get some washcloths from the bathroom, fix up your faces,” Y/N brightened her tone a few degrees, spinning on her heel and disappearing into Namjoon’s en suite.

She returned after a couple of short moments, two warm washcloths in her hands as she stood in front of the wolf hybrid. Finally, he looked her in the eyes, his as unreadable as always, Y/N gripping the cloth in her hand before leaning down a bit to scan his face. Sighing sadly, she used her free hand to tuck a couple of fingers under his chin, tilting his face upwards and to the side so she could begin to blot away at the dried blood crusted around his eyebrow. While he definitely grew rigid with her close proximity and touch, Namjoon allowed her to clean up his face gently.

Cupping his jaw with her hand, Y/N dabbed all of the blood off of Namjoon’s brow, cheekbone, and finally his split lower lip as tenderly as she could, all while avoiding getting lost in his turbulent gaze. She tried to work quickly; the silence around her was absolutely deafening, and she was well aware that Namjoon wasn’t exactly keen on receiving physical touch.

“Okay, Namjoon… looks like you’ll just need a bandage over your eyebrow,” Y/N murmured absently, peeling the paper from plastic of a butterfly bandage to apply over the site. No matter what, both hybrid’s injuries would likely disappear within two days with their healing capabilities. “Sit still for me, won’t you?”

Y/N gently requested the latter part of her statement, noting that Namjoon was slightly squirming in his seat, his fluffy silver tail beating against his mattress periodically. He didn’t appear to like obeying orders from her, Y/N able to spot that from his body language a mile away, but did so without an utterance of a complaint. He really must have felt bad about his behavior the previous night.

“I… shouldn’t have said those things to you last night,” Namjoon vocalized out of the blue as she was smoothing the bandage over his brow bone. “I’m… sorry. Uh, hmm. Yeah, I’m sorry. I don’t actually think of you in that, um, way.”

Namjoon spoke as if it was the first time he was tasting a genuine apology on his tongue, the words clunky and awkward in his mouth. Even still, Y/N could detect the sincerity in them, even if it was the most bizarre way she had ever been apologized to. She kept in mind Jimin and Jeongguk’s theories that he hadn’t had much practice in being around sensitive emotions. She wondered if the speculation on his file that he had been a hybrid raised in the wilderness was actually true, based on his difficulty with dealing with certain emotional situations, but brushed it aside for later as she used a clean finger to spread some Neosporin onto his swollen cut lip. She didn’t miss the tiny intake of breath that came from him as her finger traced over the soft flesh.

The apology hung in the air heavily as she figured out how to respond. She’d pretty much forgiven Namjoon already, after his display of contrition and Jeongguk’s speculation that the full moon may have agitated him into volatility. As seconds ticked by and he was left without a reply, Y/N moving away from him to toss the bandage wrapper in the trash by his desk and the bloodied washcloth in the hamper, Namjoon began to fidget uncomfortably again. Humming, she turned back to him, reaching out to graze across his cheek softly. He stilled at the touch, pupils blown wide.

“I know. I forgive you, Namjoon,” Y/N smiled softly as she brushed her thumb over his elegant cheekbone, hoping that this event wouldn’t encourage the wolf hybrid to build up even stronger walls around himself. “Let’s try to put this behind us. Okay?”

Dropping her hand from Namjoon’s face, she turned her attention to Taehyung sitting stoically on the bed, his tongue peeking out from between his lips to try and get rid of some of the crusted-on blood at the corner of his mouth. Using the remaining clean rag, Y/N gingerly washed away the blood around his mouth, the Kodiak hybrid flinching as she passed over the tender, bruised area by his jaw. She quickly mumbled out an apology, using her palm to brush his curls off of his forehead to make sure the area was without injury. There was a small scrape by his hairline, Y/N dabbing away at it with a sigh.

“You got each other pretty good, huh? If we ever have an intruder, I’d actually feel bad for that son of a bitch,” Y/N attempted to lighten the mood, tired of simmering in angst and gloom.

Though neither of them chuckled at her joke, Y/N felt Taehyung’s posture loosen up a bit from beneath her. He didn’t need any bandages on his face, so Y/N expertly disinfected the wounds and finished up with the Neosporin. She ruffled Taehyung’s curls back into their place, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze before packing up the first aid kit.

“I think you’ve put this place back together well enough, you two should eat and take it easy the rest of the day, maybe get some space. Just find me later and I’ll refresh the gauze on your hands,” Y/N slung the strap of the kit over her shoulder, motioning for them to stand and follow her out into the kitchen. When she was patching up Namjoon’s face, she heard his stomach grumbling, and wanted the both of them to have a proper breakfast. “Yoongi made these really yummy pastries, perfect for fall coming up… some kind of hash, as well.”

The mention of pastries seemed too tempting to pass up for Namjoon not to stand from the bed and inch towards the door, Taehyung following close behind. Smiling, Y/N felt them waiting for her as she returned her kit to the closet beneath the stairs. She noticed Namjoon’s ears finally perked up after being flat against his skull for so long, a few shades of color coming back to his complexion. Taehyung remained a touch grim, shuffling beside Y/N silently as they headed for the kitchen.

Only Yoongi remained in the room, Jimin and Seokjin’s plates cleared away as they obviously fled to other parts of the house, perhaps to nap or wash up. The leopard hybrid was busy stacking leftover pastries onto a platter, the kitchen polished to a shine. Stiffly, both Namjoon and Taehyung took seats at the opposite ends of the kitchen; the former perching on a barstool, the Kodiak hybrid sliding into the booth of the breakfast nook.

“There’s still some hash left. Though, I’m not really in the mood to share it with either of you,” Yoongi said as soon as Namjoon sat across from where the leopard hybrid was standing and arranging pastries onto the platter, Y/N snickering lightly.

Now close by Yoongi’s side, Y/N attempted to butter him up a bit so he’d concede and let the other two eat. He peered down at her curiously, the curiosity quickly replaced by suspicion as she batted her eyelashes at him and placed a hand on his forearm. He looked pretty with his hair tied back, displaying several shiny silver hoops dangling from his ears, the tips of which were blushing pink.

“Yoongi, come on, can’t you share a little? You made so much. I want another cinnamon roll, too, anyways,” Y/N pouted, really laying it on thick. She hypothesized Yoongi was pretty easy to convince if teasing was involved, his tail flicking furiously behind him as he stared down at her hard.

“Fine,” Yoongi grumbled, Y/N letting go of his forearm with a satisfied hum. “But I’m not serving them. Get it yourselves.”

Yoongi eyed the other two hybrids in the room with contempt, all while placing the pastry with the most cinnamon and icing on it on a plate, offering it to Y/N promptly. He was too cute, and too sweet, for his own good, she thought.

“Thanks, Yoongi,” Y/N took the plate gratefully, smiling at him brightly as she immediately dove into the pastry.

She remained by his side, as he placed plastic wrap over the leftover pastries, though not before Namjoon was able to swipe one from where he was sitting. The wolf hybrid winced as the split skin of his lower lip stretched to take a bite, Yoongi chuckling lightly and shaking his head.

“Serves you right,” the leopard hybrid muttered, Y/N stepping on his foot as soon as the words left his mouth. In retaliation, his tail flicked back furiously enough to smack the back of her thigh, forcing a muffled squeak out of her mouth stuffed full with pastry.

Taehyung had filled up a plate with hash wordlessly, returning to the breakfast nook to eat by himself. After she was done with her cinnamon roll, Y/N decided to refill Yoongi’s coffee mug for him, ambling over to the coffee bar. She happened to peer out the kitchen slider window, a flash of something colorful outside catching her eye. Startled, she set Yoongi’s mug down, getting closer to the window.

“Oh my gosh! Is that Hoseok?” Y/N exclaimed, spotting the vibrant orange coat of a lean fox scampering around the backyard playfully. Foxes didn’t typically come out during the day time, and Y/N could hardly remember the last time one had visited her backyard.

“Yeah. I think he wanted to blow off some steam. Seokjin should be out there with him too,” Yoongi replied from across the kitchen, putting some condiments back into the refrigerator. “It’s not too often hybrids like to shift more than necessary, it’s more comfortable to be in our human forms. But being in animal form has its uses, mainly to expend any pent-up energy.”

Following Hoseok’s quick movements around the back yard with eager eyes, Y/N could barely keep track of him. Another noise of exclamation came from her as a separate form came into her view– a blue-black jaguar, slinking lazily around the hedges leading further back into the property. The sight was startling, of course, even though she knew it was only Seokjin. A childlike giddiness welled up inside of her as she watched the two hybrids explore the backyard, wondering if it would be alright for her to go outside and take a look at them more closely.

“Why don’t you go out there? Unless you prefer gawking from afar,” Yoongi’s voice echoing her inner thoughts was suddenly much closer to her, taking his refilled mug from the coffee bar with a wry grin.

“Would it be okay? I mean, I don’t want to bother them or anything, if they’re trying to blow off steam,” Y/N questioned, Yoongi looking highly amused.

“I doubt you’d be bothering them. Just make sure you turn around when they shift back, so you don’t get flashed,” Yoongi confirmed, pointing to the lawn chairs with both hybrid’s sets of clothes, folded neatly.

Scandalized, Y/N felt her face become as hot as an iron, though the desire to potentially interact with Seokjin and Hoseok while they were shifted greatly outweighed her embarrassment towards Yoongi’s comment. She could hear Namjoon muttering from his seat several feet away, Y/N yanking the slider door open excitedly before she could stop herself. She knew that Yoongi would be able to handle any bickering between the other two, and definitely nip it in the bud, so she left the three of them in the kitchen without too much worry.

The temperature outside was boiling and only growing hotter, Y/N cursing as she stepped out into the sunlight on the patio. Autumn’s arrival had never been so anticipated by her, especially as she began to perspire as soon as she felt the heat on her skin. She could no longer spot Seokjin, but could see Hoseok, who had paused his energetic sprints around the backyard to stand statue-still, staring at her with his head cocked.

Hoseok was a beautiful fox, his coat a glossy sunset color, his frame athletic and larger than most foxes she had seen before. Even from afar, she could now confidently tell that it was Hoseok, his clever eyes remaining and glowing even in his animal form. All she could think to do was wave, swearing she could hear Yoongi’s laughter from inside of the house, but it was one of the last things on her mind. Before she could even gather her thoughts enough to ask Hoseok to come closer, he did.

Hoseok bounded over to her, a noise of delight tearing from her lips as he sped past her in a flash, circling around her form joyfully while chittering softly. Y/N couldn’t believe she had an opportunity to interact with a fox so closely, Hoseok continuing to dash around her as if to dare her to try and catch him. Giggling, Y/N sunk her knees down into the sweet-scented warm grass, hoping he’d approach her once she lowered herself down. It was strange, to keep in mind that she wasn’t dealing with a wild animal, but with Hoseok, her charming and sunny fox hybrid.

“Hoseok, are you having fun? It’s not too hot out here for you?” Y/N cooed, trying her best to track his movements as he circled closer and closer around her body kneeling in the grass.

Hoseok chirped from behind her, Y/N feeling the bristly brush of his tail against the back of her arm as he got nearer than ever, until he made his final semi-circle to face her more fully. By the way she was sitting, Hoseok’s face was only an inch or so below her chin, Y/N able to count the black whiskers on his snout.

“You’re awfully cute like this, you know?” Y/N couldn’t help but comment, fingers twitching to reach out and scratch under his chin. She found it easy to tease Hoseok when his sharp tongue was unable to quip back, the fox hybrid leaning back on his haunches and staring at her inquisitively.

All at once, Hoseok stretched forward, his body laying down in the grass and his face settling down on Y/N’s knees. Trying not to squeal at the sensation of soft fur of his face brushing her knees as his chin settled in her lap, Y/N froze, her hands hovering mid-air as Hoseok made himself comfortable.

“Oh boy. Cozy, Hoseok?” Y/N chuckled, still refraining from indulging her desire to bury her fingers into Hoseok’s lustrous fur, as difficult as it was. Still, she couldn’t help but ask, at the very least. “Can I touch?”

Of course, Hoseok was unable to answer in his shifted state, but he nuzzled his face further into the bare skin of her thighs, tail swishing behind him languidly. Taking his reaction to her words as a go-ahead, considering he hadn’t yanked himself away, Y/N promptly buried a hand in the silky fur between his ears.

Immediately, she massaged through the fur, lightly scratching Hoseok’s scalp with her fingernails as his eyes slipped shut with the sensation. Like always, she avoided the hybrid’s ears out of consideration for their sensitivity, stroking down from the crown of his head to between his shoulder blades. In her lap, Hoseok had become a boneless heap, enjoying every touch she had to offer, his breath coming out in short pants wafting over the skin of her legs.

She must have hit a sweet spot right behind one of his ears, Hoseok shuddering as his eyes snapped open. Kneading her fingers into the spot a bit more firmly in response, a tiny growl came from the fox, the pink of his tongue flashing before her eyes as he dragged it in a long strip over her thigh. Jolting at the velvety, wet sensation, Y/N’s cheeks were flaming, though she wasn’t exactly surprised that Hoseok was teasing her even while fully shifted into his fox form.

“Cheeky boy,” Y/N muttered, still stroking the soft fur behind his ears as she looked away from him, trying to find Seokjin in the tall grasses and weeds making up the backyard. “Hmm… where’s my Seokjin, huh?”

Mostly talking to herself, her hand slipped away from Hoseok’s crown as he sat up, head turned towards the large tree by the picnic table. Slow blinking at her through his peripherals, Y/N followed his gaze, squinting at the tree a little ways in the distance. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, the thick branches of the ancient oak tree cloaking the picnic table in ample shade, the vibrant green leaves rustling with the dry breeze. Taking a closer look once Hoseok nudged his nose towards it, Y/N scanned the crooked branches stretching across the sky as she got to her feet to follow Hoseok trotting over to the tree.

“Oh!” Y/N squeaked, finally managing to see what Hoseok was trying to show her. Seokjin had climbed the tree, resting on a particularly thick branch lazily.

One of his arms was dangling off of the branch, Y/N gulped at the razor-sharp claws hanging in front of her face. Hoseok barked out a strange sound close to the word wow, pawing at the tree trunk as Seokjin placidly opened his eyes, peering down at her and the fox hybrid. Her pulse was racing, not being able to get over being near such a large (and usually lethal) cat. In one fell swoop, Seokjin elegantly jumped down from the branch, Y/N stumbling backwards in shock as he landed in front of her. The impact he made with the soft grass was barely audible, Seokjin incredibly light on his feet for his size; considering his stocky build and strong musculature. Trying not to stare at his fangs as Seokjin returned Hoseok’s vocalizations with a hoarse, guttural noise, Y/N watched as Hoseok got in the jaguar’s face and began to screech, as foxes do when engaging in fights.

“Uh oh. Are you two fighting now?” Y/N giggled, Hoseok immediately clamming up and sitting down to stare at her. “Aren’t you best friends, though?”

Seokjin pulled away from Hoseok, stalking towards Y/N. Doing her best to remain still, she allowed Seokjin to approach her without shying away– his copper-penny eyes boring into her intensely. To her great surprise, Seokjin ducked his head, nudging Y/N’s palm and apparently attempting to get her to pet him. A soft exclamation fell from her mouth, her fingertips smoothing over his skull while he leaned up into the touch with a feral purr. She kept repeating in her mind– it was her sweet, gentle Seokjin, the one who held her until she fell asleep the previous night, not a wild jaguar that might take her hand off.

“So pretty,” Y/N breathed, getting a good look at Seokjin’s blue-black coat.

Darker fur along his torso was decorated with rosettes, and his coat was glossy, but Y/N did not miss some of the old scars littering his body, much like the ones she had noticed the day she had adopted him and treated the wound on his side. Biting down on her lip, Y/N focused on scratching behind Seokjin’s ears, him seeming to enjoy it just as much as Hoseok had by the way he was rubbing his face against her thigh. Using her free arm to swipe sweat off of her forehead, Y/N ached to head back into the AC, even being in the shade wasn’t enough to convince her to spend any more time outside. Hoseok began to pant as he sniffed around the oak tree, the heat surely taking a toll on him as well.

“Guys, we should head in. It’s too hot out here to be out for very long, and I’m dying for a popsicle or something. Care to join?” Y/N cupped Seokjin’s face, scratching below his ears soothingly as she spoke. His eyes were shut, turning to putty in her hands.

Hoseok promptly scampered to the patio where he had left his clothes, Y/N trailing after him with Seokjin close behind. The latter seemed a little disappointed that she had to stop petting him in order to follow Hoseok, but he trudged beside her quietly regardless. Reaching the scorching-hot pavingstones of the patio, Y/N heard the slider door yank open, but was too busy staring at the fox and jaguar in front of her. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to being so close to apex predators like that, willing to be pet and doted on.

Her vision cut out as a sinewy hand pressed over her eyes, another gripping her waist as she was pulled into someone’s chest abruptly. Squealing, Y/N grabbed at the wrist keeping her waist in place, the scent of vanilla and mulled spice filling her senses.

“I told you to turn around, or you’d get flashed. Those two are shameless,” Yoongi whispered into her ear, Y/N shivering at the paired sensation of his hair brushing against her neck and his gravelly voice from inches away. Even though she tried to squirm away from the leopard hybrid, his grasp on her was ironclad, keeping her firmly in place with her back against his chest.

“Hey, Yoongi, you’re gonna give the poor girl a heart attack, sneaking up on her like that,” Hoseok’s voice finally rang out in the humid air, Yoongi’s clamp over her eyes only growing firmer.

“Put some pants on, Foxy. Standing there chastising me with your junk out, have a little decency or self respect, at the very least,” Yoongi replied gruffly, Y/N all but melting into his chest with the proximity and the timbre of his voice.

“Oh, like what you see, kitty?” Hoseok shot back over a mouthful of laughter, the sounds of fabric sliding over flesh from a few feet away heightened with one of her senses robbed from her.

“You never seem to run out of shit to say, huh?” Yoongi griped, his pinky finger threading through one of the belt loops in her denim shorts. For some reason, the action felt incredibly intimate. “Your fly is down, Seokjin.”

All at once, Yoongi’s hand dropped from her face, Y/N blinking rapidly as bright sunlight burned her eyes once her sight was returned to her. Yoongi maintained his grip on her waist almost possessively, and she knew the sweat rolling down the back of her neck suddenly had nothing to do with the heat outside.

As her eyes focused, she caught Seokjin tugging up the zipper on his jeans, his broad shoulders straining against the white tee shirt he’d shrugged on haphazardly. Gulping, she averted her stare as Hoseok clomped over to her with his plastic slides slapping the paving stone patio, cocking his head to look at her inquiringly.

“How did the scolding go? Tail between their legs? Not that Taehyung has much of a tail, in the first place,” he asked dryly, the expanse of his dewy golden skin exposed by a flimsy muscle tee (that he must have picked up at the mall) catching sunlight and dazzling her.

“Foxy,” Yoongi’s tone had a warning edge to it, his hand finally retreating from Y/N’s waist as he pulled the slider door back open, a rush of cool air flooding out into the patio space. “Shut it, already.”

“Yoongi, honey, it’s alright… everyone deserves to be filled in,” Y/N insisted, motioning for both him and Hoseok to head into the house before her, Yoongi’s tail going ramrod straight at the sound of his name being called. “Everything went smoothly in my opinion, Hoseok. I’m hoping that this incident won’t be repeated, I can’t bear the thought of seeing any of you hurt like that again.”

“You’re being mushy, again, silly girl,” Yoongi chortled between words in front of her, Y/N noting that both Namjoon and Taehyung had vacated the kitchen.

Muttering under her breath over Yoongi’s incessant need to poke fun at her, she shut the door behind Seokjin, who was smiling at her so kindly that she thought she’d fall over at the way his full lips tugged into the saccharine shape. It was difficult to grasp just how breathtakingly beautiful Seokjin truly was without even trying, donning such a simple outfit and nearly dripping with sweat. She had to tear her eyes from him promptly in order not to dwell on that fact for too long.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, so I’m a sap, whatever! Anyways, thank you guys for everything last night… helping with the cleanup after the cookout, intervening during the incident– all of it,” Y/N passed a forearm over her dewy forehead, mind on peeling wallpaper off of the second floor hallways– when she was upstairs earlier, she realized the paper had pulled from the walls in large sheets due to the recent heatwave, even with the new AC system pumping through the house.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re overly forgiving?” Hoseok poked Y/N in the shoulder as he leaned over the island they had congregated at, a devilish grin revealing his sharpened incisors. “No, wait. Alice said you’re ‘known to be too trusting’, if I remember her words correctly from that phone call you had last week.”

“H-hoseok!” Y/N squeaked, her face coloring with mortification. Simply shrugging, Hoseok traced patterns into the granite of the island countertop, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. “Al–”

“Hoseok, didn’t you want to show me how to use the sauna? Quit the wiseass act, for once,” Seokjin vocalized abruptly, his fingertip and thumb tugging at Hoseok’s russet ear sharply. At the contact, Hoseok braced himself on the granite with a swiftly masked dark grimace, springing into action.

“You’re lost without me, Jinnie,” Hoseok choked, his hands trying to grasp at Seokjin’s tail as the jaguar hybrid lured him out of the kitchen and in the direction to the basement. “Hey! Where’d you learn the word ‘wiseass’, anyway? I didn’t teach you that!”

As Hoseok’s voice faded, Y/N was left staring at Yoongi’s silhouette illuminated by the fridge light as he rummaged around in the drawers, his ears fluttering with each subtle move she made rounding the counter as she reached his side. The leopard hybrid was silent until he happened upon what he was looking for; sending a smirk over his shoulder at Y/N.

“Here, have a drink. Hot out there, huh?” Yoongi tossed Y/N a bottle of electrolyte water, which she miraculously caught mid-air. Uncapping it, she took several greedy swigs, narrowing her eyes at the leopard hybrid’s smug expression.

“You know? You’re a real wiseass yourself, Yoongi,” Y/N accused, just about fed up with his borderline flirtatious banter. “Come on, let’s watch a movie or something… I’ll put on something boring, so you can take a nap. You’ve been up pretty much all night, regardless of what you told me this morning.”

Yoongi watched her carefully as she finished her drink, even allowing her to tow him along to the parlor entrance from the kitchen with her hand wrapped around his dainty wrist. Supposing she could save the wallpaper-peeling endeavor for the next day, perhaps when it wasn’t so hot, she decided to spend some personal time with the hybrids after the chaotic day before, Y/N felt Yoongi’s tail occasionally curl around the back of her knee as she dragged him to the parlor. She was pleased to discover Jimin occupying the room already, freshly showered and perky, poised in the leather recliner as they entered the room, a Star Wars movie playing on cable. It was clear that Jimin didn’t know how to fully operate the TV and remote control yet; distinct confusion painted all over his features.

“Jimin, sweetheart, want to watch something else? If this isn’t up your alley, let’s change it!” Y/N declared, swiping the remote from the coffee table once situating a limp Yoongi against one of the couch armrests. The leopard hybrid was pretty much half asleep by the time she had towed him into the parlor room, much to her delight– he was adorable when he was sleepy.

“Ah, I hate to be a bother, Y/N,” Jimin murmured, barely above a whisper to accommodate Yoongi’s clear drowsiness. His sandy ears remained alert, his expression clear, leading Y/N to believe he may have gotten a decent night’s sleep even after the events of the previous night.

“Shh, Jimin, you’ll never be a bother,” Y/N assured speedily, flicking through her digital movie stash in search of something that may intrigue the coyote hybrid; and after a few moments she spotted something that could potentially spark his interest (not to mention, potentially bore Yoongi to unconsciousness). “Oh! I think you might enjoy this– Casablanca. Old Hollywood, with its charms and all!”

Jimin leaned forward on his seat, eager butterscotch eyes roaming over the film’s description. She had kept in mind his taste in literature– Joan Didion’s ode to some of the gripes of Hollywood in Play It as It Lays– and ran with it. While the film wasn’t necessarily similar to the book he had brought with him from Montana, it was Old Hollywood, and Jimin struck her as someone who preferred a classic to a flashy space movie. As per usual, Jimin’s emotions were easy to read, and he was obviously curious.

“Looks entertaining, Y/N. I’ll gladly watch it with you,” Jimin shot her his award-winning smile, Y/N hardly able to press play with the reception of the gesture. The added fact that he had finally dropped the “Miss” from her name had her heart racing, to boot.

The film began to roll fuzzily on the flatscreen, furthering Yoongi’s relaxation into the couch cushions. Y/N took it upon herself to spread a knitted throw over the leopard hybrid, hoping that the action would convey her deep gratitude for talking to Taehyung the night before. Whatever he had said, clearly it had worked some magic in calming the Kodiak hybrid down.

It was incredibly peaceful; enjoying an old movie, with a drowsy Yoongi several inches away from her on the couch, and Jimin’s insightful commentary on the film itself every once and a while. Staying with the two of them for the time being, Y/N felt her stress surrounding the others, the house renovations, and the possibility of additional physical fights between the hybrids melt away.

Yoongi began to stir in his drowsy state beside her, low rumbling purrs coming from his chest as he maneuvered himself closer to Y/N. Unceremoniously, Yoongi curled onto his side and dropped his body down heavily, his head landing in Y/N’s lap as he pulled the blanket closer around himself. Jolting in surprise, Y/N let out an amused snort in response, Yoongi’s ear fluttering sluggishly with his eyes shut. Glancing at Jimin sideways, the coyote hybrid thoroughly invested in the film and seemingly paying no mind to her nor Yoongi, Y/N began to gently card her fingers through Yoongi’s hair, the inky strands slipping through her fingers like rivulets of water.

A deep, satisfied sigh deflated his chest slowly and rounded out in a purr, apparently enjoying the sensation, Y/N tucking a lock behind the shell of his human ear and stroking the long strands by the nape of his neck. Ever since Yoongi had scented her, he had grown increasingly clingy and almost affectionate, which was something she didn’t entirely mind at all, if she was being honest with herself. It was almost like in another life, or in another existence entirely, she and Yoongi had been in this position before, had brushed each other’s lives in some way.

Continuing to fiddle with the leopard hybrid’s hair while he fell into a deep sleep on her lap, Y/N returned her attention back to the film and the occasional exchanged comments with Jimin. She was able to fish her phone out of her pocket without disturbing Yoongi, filling an online shopping cart with seven different guidebooks for each hybrid she had adopted.

Y/N had the feeling that she’d have extra time to read the books while she was at work the following week, considering foot traffic would be light with the end of the summer season. Not to mention, she wasn’t giving tarot or psychic readings, so she knew that there would be a few hours where she’d have nothing to do but sit on a stool behind the counter– in her mind, a good way to spend it would be educating herself on her hybrids. Once the order was placed, she relaxed deeper into the couch, lightly massaging Yoongi’s scalp as the movie rolled on.

The rest of Saturday passed slowly like honey dripping from a wooden dipper; consisting of lazy movie marathons with Jimin, napping Yoongi, and later Hoseok and Seokjin– all while trying to beat the heat with popsicles, and ordering sushi for dinner instead of having to cook. Booze began to flow around 5 o’clock, Hoseok making some kind of tequila concoction with crushed ice and lime for everyone, which finally roused Yoongi out of his sleep and off of Y/N’s lap, puffiness filling out his cheeks. Once he had moved off of her, she made her rounds to respective bedrooms, writing down sushi orders from Jeongguk (who had also just woken up from his nap with sleep wrinkles on his cheek), Namjoon, and Taehyung– the task akin to pulling teeth with the latter two.

When the food arrived, by some miracle all seven hybrids joined her in the parlor to eat, even though Namjoon and Taehyung were carefully avoided by the others throughout the meal. The two that had fought took seats far from each other; Namjoon on the window seat a little ways away from the TV, Taehyung on a chair further back in the room by the entrance to the kitchen. Thankfully, not a single word was uttered by anyone surrounding the fight or the presence of the Kodiak and wolf hybrids, everyone’s full attention on the continuation of the New Girl binge they were in the middle of.

The only thing that seemed a little off to Y/N was Hoseok’s behavior, even though he tried his best to put on his most beguiling smile as he mixed up cocktails, he seemed on edge compared to earlier on in the day. Most interestingly, Y/N could tell it wasn’t due to Namjoon’s presence for once, as the fox hybrid appeared less frightened and more agitated, so she kept a particular eye on him as he absently picked his way through a California roll. He didn’t even poke fun at Seokjin like he normally did, even when the jaguar hybrid had opened up a soy sauce packet in a way that had it exploding all over the front of his tee shirt, deepening her concern.

After a couple of hours of watching the show and snacking on the Japanese takeout, Hoseok abruptly excused himself, making a beeline for the basement. Frowning, Y/N looked to Seokjin, who had been sitting on the floor in front of her feet, his head tilted backwards to make eye contact with her.

“What’s up with him? Do you know?” Y/N whispered into Seokjin’s nearest rounded ear, which twitched rapidly at the action, the jaguar hybrid’s eyes narrowing in the direction of the hallway to the foyer and basement.

“Yeah, I have a hunch. Maybe you should check on him,” a slight knowing edge was mingling with Seokjin’s melodic tone, causing Y/N to ease herself off of the couch. Tequila was fuzzying the edges of her sight, but she was still able to step her way around Seokjin after giving him an appreciative hair ruffle, ambling in the direction of the basement.

Deep down in her gut, Y/N had a minute clue as to what Seokjin was alluding to when she had questioned him. Hoseok was one of the last to scent her, along with Jimin, both of whom she was monitoring subtly for any symptoms of refraining from doing so. Hoseok’s fidgety, strange conduct during dinner certainly strengthened her suspicions, though it was his particular clingy mannerisms in fox form earlier in the day that had set off certain alarm bells in her head.

Still hearing quiet mumbling mingling with TV audio as she wrenched open the door to the basement, Y/N thought it best to shut it behind her once she was descending the steps and if her suspicions were confirmed. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to hybrid scenting rituals, anticipation flooding through her bloodstream as she tiptoed down the stairs.

The metal sound of dumbbells clanking together bounced around the bare acoustics of the basement almost immediately once Y/N reached the bottom step. It was a pipe dream to believe Hoseok had gotten true rest since the night before the cookout considering this wolf phobia, the excess of exercise Hoseok was performing was indicative of something deeper, clearly.

Coming into view of the gym space thanks to the mirrored wall, Y/N caught Hoseok performing aggressive overhead presses, his back turned to her and impressively heavy dumbbells grasped in his fists. Hoseok was nearly dripping with sweat, the amount of it not enough to chalk it up to his five minutes in the gym, his complexion in the mirror blotchy as he repeated a lifting motion over and over again. Still in his dampened muscle tee and sweat shorts, Hoseok’s chest heaved as he exercised, even though he knew she was standing behind him. She could tell by the way his posture locked up, his tail grew rigid, and his nostrils began to flare.

“Hoseok,” Y/N began, the fox hybrid promptly ignoring her and continuing his reps with renewed vigor. “Hoseok, stop. You’re gonna strain a muscle, you’ve been active all day.”

Y/N laced her words with heavy implication, knowing that clever Hoseok would undoubtedly catch onto the unsaid. Still, he refused to put down the dumbbells, staring at his own reflection in the mirror stormily. Hissing, Y/N marched up to his side, glaring at the fox hybrid’s stubborn side profile, tangible waves of body heat coming off of him like a furnace. Wondering why Hoseok was so reluctant to scent her, his attempts to abstain from the act so painfully apparent it puzzled Y/N to no end. Hoseok was one of the hybrids who warmed up to her the quickest, and usually didn’t shy away from physical contact, so the behavior was bizarre to say the least.

“Hoseok. Are you ignoring me? You look like you’re going to pass out, would you please put the weights down and look at me?” Y/N raised her voice a decibel or two, Hoseok’s jaw clenching and unclenching as a prominent vein appeared on his forehead. “Fucksake, Hoseok–”

Growling, Hoseok finally slammed the dumbbells back onto the metal rack, spinning on his heel to stare down at her with a cocked eyebrow. There was danger written all across his features, in a way that Y/N had never considered Hoseok could possess, sending a shiver down her spine as his darkened eyes swept over her face. His chest was heaving, taking two big steps towards Y/N, making her back up in consequence as her heart began to race.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to swear at you, I was just worried because you look so–”

“Look so what?” Hoseok cut her off sharply, backing her up until her ass made contact with the seat of the stationary bike, and there was nowhere left to go. “What do I look like?”

“Um! You’re just flushed, you don’t look bad or anything, I mean– I don’t think you could look bad–”

“You’re always talking yourself into a corner, darling, and look where it's gotten you this time,” Hoseok interrupted her babbling again, using one of his sneaker-clad feet to lightly kick between her ankles and widen her stance, Y/N slamming her mouth shut in response. “I’ll stop you there, before you dig yourself into a deeper hole.”

“You– and you’re always t-teasing me!” Y/N accused weakly, her words getting caught in her throat when Hoseok wrapped his hands around her waist firmly enough to have her wincing, finding herself plucked off of the floor and being placed onto the seat of the stationary bike.

Now eye-level with the fox hybrid, she gawked at him with wide, startled eyes, following the bead of sweat running down his temple and coasting down the side of his face. His hands remained on her waist, with enough force to likely bruise, Hoseok more worked up than she thought. Distantly, she cursed Seokjin inwardly for not giving her more of a warning surrounding the fox hybrid’s state, but as Hoseok’s tongue peaked out from between his lips to dampen the flesh, most coherent thought fled from her mind.

“I’ve told you before. You make it too easy for me,” Hoseok replied, his usually bright tone replaced with something darker, more predatory.

All Y/N could do was stare at him, effectively pinned to the seat with his vice like grip on her waist and his dangerously brilliant eyes boring into her like he could see through her skin. They swept over her throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as he let go of one side of her waist to drag a fingertip up and over her clavicle, tapping his index finger against her thrumming pulse. Shuddering, her eyelids slipped shut as her breath began to come out in small pants, Hoseok chuckling lowly at her reaction to his touch. She felt pathetic, basically turned into a puddle already and he hadn’t even gotten close enough to bite her.

His index finger trailed upwards to crook under her chin, his thumb resting beneath her lower lip, tilting her head up and to the side a bit. A small groan spilled from Hoseok’s lips as her throat became more exposed to him, her scent undoubtedly filling his senses powerfully. Squirming in her seat, Hoseok’s grip on her waist loosened, the hand traveling to the back of her head as he took a fistful of her hair. He wasn’t being gentle by any means, his fingernails digging into her scalp as he threaded strands through his digits, pulling her closer to his face as she finally opened her eyes.

Hoseok was but a breath away from her, Y/N finding herself focusing on the freckle kissing his cupid’s bow, his eyes lidded as he stepped impossibly closer, slotting himself between her legs and dipping his face down to nuzzle at her jawbone. Eyes rolling back in her skull at the sensation of his lips ghosting over her jaw, Y/N bit back a whimper, her hands finding purchase on his bare biceps, his skin slightly slippery and feverish with perspiration.

“Hoseok…” Y/N whispered, sensing that he was stalling a little bit, taking deep breaths through his nose while tucked into the crook of her neck as his ears twitched at the sound of his name.

“What, are you eager or something?” Hoseok returned coolly, lifting his head to speak into her ear directly. His breath ghosting over the sensitive area had her practically clawing at his skin. “Patience, my darling.”

The dulcet tone of his voice caused the whimper to finally tumble from her lips, Hoseok grinning against the shell of her ear before she felt the sharpened points of his incisors nip roughly at her earlobe. The action had her pressing closer to Hoseok, her chest flush with his as her hands fumbled to the back of his tank top, gripping the dampened fabric as an anchor. With the implications of the fox hybrid’s words, she no longer held any doubts that all of the hybrids were aware just how much she enjoyed when they scented her, the realization both humiliating and exciting once it dawned on her.

“Oh? Are you embarrassed? Worried that the others upstairs will hear you?” Hoseok murmured into her ear, hand dropping from her jaw to press against her lower back, the force of the touch making her spine arch harder into Hoseok’s chest. “Doesn’t matter anyways…”

Feeling Hoseok’s heart racing as he pressed himself against her, Y/N began to shake in response to his tone and shamelessness, using her thighs to squeeze Hoseok’s hips in an attempt to get him to hurry up and bite her already. Sighing deeply, Hoseok nudged the tip of his nose against the corner of her jaw, his soft lips finding the tender spot beneath her earlobe and planting a featherlight kiss there. Y/N knew then, Hoseok was unabashedly trying to rile her up; this was a new side to the fox hybrid Y/N had no idea about– rough, wild, domineering.

The kiss was immediately followed by the fox hybrid finally baring his teeth and sinking them into the same spot he planted his lips seconds prior, the razor-sharp sting of his incisors tearing into her flesh with borderline reckless abandon. Too startled by the blinding pain to make a noise, Y/N’s mouth dropped open in a silent scream as she felt thin streams of her blood running down the side of her neck. Growing entirely limp, her body weakly slumped against Hoseok’s firm chest, the pain of the bite fading more slowly than any of her previous ones, perhaps because of the harsh way he had torn into the skin, his hand on the back of her head still yanking at strands with force.

“A-ah, ouch, Hos-seok,” Y/N sobbed lightly, gliding shaky hands up to Hoseok’s shoulders for purchase, the fox hybrid groaning softly into her neck as her fingernails clawed at his deltoids. As the throbbing began to slip away, the fogginess of pleasure that came with the bite overtook everything– the combination of the two sensations almost too much to bear.

Pulling his teeth from the wound, Hoseok adjusted her in his arms by using a forearm to curl securely around her lower back, hand tangled in her hair moving to stroke the back of her head more tenderly. A couple of involuntary tears slipped down her cheeks in response to the overwhelming sensations washing over her; eyes rolling to the back of her skull when she felt Hoseok drag his tongue in fat strips from the base of her clavicle to just over the bite by the curve of her jaw, collecting the thin trails of blood that had dribbled from the wound.

Y/N was hardly aware of the low whines she was letting out as Hoseok held her more gently, paying almost reverent attention to cleaning up the area he had bloodied. He was supporting most of her weight in the process, Y/N winding her arms around his neck loosely to keep herself somewhat upright as he once again pressed a soft kiss over his mark. She blearily eyed the crescent-shaped divots she had created on the skin of his shoulder, a delirious scenting-addled brain remarking that she, too, had claimed him in some way. While Hoseok had been quite rough with her, she didn’t really mind, especially because all tension had drained from his body since, and he was now holding her so tightly.

“Sorry about the pain, I think I picked a tender spot…” Hoseok suddenly murmured into her neck, moving his arms so he could hug around her waist, hooking his chin over her shoulder. Finally, she could drop her head down into the crook of his neck, still feeling the loopiness of the bite. “I waited too long, lost control a little bit.”

Hoseok drew soothing patterns on her back as he embraced her, warmth spreading through Y/N as she nuzzled into him. His scent was comforting, and she was honestly relieved that he had finally calmed down from his incessant bouncing off the walls, but all at once she was exhausted.

“Do you need to sit here for a bit? Or do you want me to carry you upstairs?” Hoseok spoke again after several beats, piece by piece of Y/N’s intelligence coming back to her as the fog cleared from her head. “We should probably get you a glass of water, you bled a bit and it's so hot outside… I’m surprised Yoongi or Jin haven’t come down here to fight me yet.”

“No more fighting,” Y/N weakly choked into Hoseok’s warm skin, lifting her heavy head up a few inches to speak more coherently. “I s-swear, you’re all going to be the death of me, b-between the scenting, teasing, and the angst.”

Hoseok heartily laughed at her stuttered sentiments, pressing his fingertips into the tender muscles of her back as he held her. She realized she never answered Hoseok’s first two inquiries, blinking kittenishly at the fox hybrid as he studied her face calmly. The warmth and friendliness to his features had returned.

“You don’t have to carry me, we can just go up together. I should bid everyone goodnight, anyways– it’s about time I attempt to get my sleep schedule under control before I head off to work Monday morning,” Y/N managed to articulate clearly, secretly praying for a peaceful Sunday before driving Seokjin and Namjoon to the city for the book club and then herself to a nearby suburb to pick up her shift at Judy’s metaphysical shop come Monday.

Making a move to stand up from her seat on the exercise bike, Hoseok inched away as she lowered her feet to the ground, his proximity still quite staggering as she tried to un-pin herself from his body against the bike. As he processed her words and movements, Hoseok shook out his limbs, stepping aside so she could move freely once more. Though, she couldn’t get very far without his sturdy hand slipping against her’s, intertwining his fingers securely around her own and their arms interlocking in an almost serpentine way.

“I forgot about you starting work on Monday,” Hoseok remarked, and Y/N could have sworn she caught Hoseok faintly pouting, but nonchalantly let him lead her still slightly slackened body to the stairs.

His hand clasped in her’s was rough, but warm and steady. He parted with her momentarily and dashed into his bedroom, softly ordering her to put on his hoodie as she quivered by the stairs waiting for him. With her brain less rational than usual, she slipped the woodsy smelling hoodie over her head without a word, Hoseok’s hand entangling with her’s once more as soon as it was draped over her body.

“Jinnie told me he’s going with you, you’re dropping him off at the library with the godforsaken wolf.”

Sucking in a lungful of careful breath, Y/N nodded to the best of her ability as the pair of them clambered up the stairs at snail's speed. With Hoseok’s immediate drop back into his sharp-witted persona, Y/N was left a touch whiplashed. How had he gone from dangerous desperation to happy-go-lucky in a matter of minutes? “I’m afraid my mother has roped Seokjin into the extracurricular, if you will. Though, you’re all more than welcome to join the bookclub… my mom would love it of course, and it gives you a chance to get out of the house,” Y/N noted, slightly lamenting the fact that her hybrids didn’t have many opportunities to engage with much of society due to their limited rights.

“I’m not really into books in that way. Don’t get me wrong, I read, but I can’t picture myself dissecting thematic overtones in the same room as that wolf. Besides, I’d rather bother Yoongi all day. He’s funny when he’s agitated,” Hoseok held the door to the basement open for her while he responded, tugging her hand as they both cleared the last step into the foyer.

“Well, just don’t push his buttons too much. He’s skilled with a knife, you know,” Y/N giggled, nudging his hip with her own as they made it into the kitchen. With a snort, Hoseok released her hand, retrieving a pitcher of water from the fridge and pouring her and himself a large glass. “I’m going to scour the internet, see if I can find other clubs or activities for hybrids in the area, maybe there will be something that interests you. That way you don’t have to be cooped up here all the time!” “Ha, like a hybrid summer camp or something?” Hoseok pondered, a playful lilt to his voice. Contrary to his words, Y/N knew Hoseok was interested in pursuing new hobbies, he’d had let it slip during their chat earlier that morning.

“No, not a summer camp, silly. There’s a recreation center not so far from here, they might have sports teams or art classes…”

“You should see if there’s a ghostbusting club for the elk,” Hoseok slid Y/N her glass of water, a smug look on his face as he registered the unmoved reaction from her towards his jab at Jeongguk. “Come on, it was a little funny. Don’t tell me you’re already smitten with him.”

“Hoseok, I swear,” Y/N groaned, taking her water and moving towards the entrance to the parlor. She could catch a glimpse of Taehyung from where she was standing, still curled up in the chair by the window and fiddling with the hem of his blue flannel as he watched the TV from afar. “One of these days you’ll meet your match, and then you’ll have to hold your tongue.”

The fox hybrid’s melodic chuckles were dampened in volume compared to the chatter and volume from the television, the rest of the hybrids still in their spots around the parlor as if she and Hoseok never even left. She wanted to bid them all a good night, hoping to get into bed before 11 PM, so she began with Taehyung, reaching into her pocket for the roll of gauze she had tucked in there earlier to change out the old bandages. Hoseok returned to his seat on the floor beside Seokjin, carefully avoiding the Kodiak hybrid as Y/N knelt before him to replace the gauze.

“Can I see your hands?” Y/N murmured quietly, holding her palms out expectantly as she snagged Taehyung’s attention.

His garnet eyes softened as he stared at her knelt form on the floor, leaning forward and immediately resting his large hands in hers, the movement carrying his strong sandalwood scent with it. The weight of his hands was solid and unyielding, Y/N immediately removing the old bandages from that morning and inspecting his knuckles. To her great surprise, the wounds already appeared to be half-healed, mostly scabbed over and bruised at that point. Still, she preferred to wrap them so he wouldn’t snag the scabs on his sheets when he went to bed, swiftly wrapping his hands up and giving his fingers a light squeeze.

“Alright, you should be good after this! I forgot you guys heal so quickly,” Y/N grinned at Taehyung, appearing quite thoughtful as she began to pull her hands away. “I wanted to say goodnight, too. I have to start heading to bed a bit earlier so I can get up for work on Monday without an issue.”

Taehyung’s ears fluttered, eyes taking in every inch of her face as she spoke. He had an air of unease about him, Y/N figuring that he was still thinking about the events that had unfolded the night before, possibly trying to scan her face for any hint of fear towards him that might still be lingering. Really, she wasn’t afraid of Taehyung, even after learning the dark secret he had been keeping from everybody and the fist fight that occurred between him and Namjoon. Deep down, she knew that Taehyung had probably agonized over harboring a secret so damning, and it wasn’t like he plotted the murder… he had been metaphorically cornered, forced to choose between life and death. Whether that was naive or not, that was yet to be seen.

“Goodnight,” Taehyung’s deep, mellow voice drew her out of her thoughts, her eyes locking with his once more and away from his wrapped knuckles. “I hope you sleep well…”

He was much, much closer to her face now, one of his hands moving out of her grip to cup her cheek swiftly before getting nearer than ever, planting a firm, resolute kiss between her eyebrows, the action so unexpected it had Y/N’s jaw hanging loosely. Blinking stupidly, Y/N put a hand over the spot his warm lips had stamped affection over, slowly rising to her feet. Taehyung’s eyes were focused back onto the television, leaving her to trudge away in a bit of a stun.

Snapping out of it the best she could, she made her rounds to each hybrid clumped on and around the couch, Seokjin making grabby hands for one of her palms and squeezing it tight with a disappointed look in his eyes that she was retiring early. Jeongguk grunted in response to her bidding goodnight with blood sliding down his cheekbones from his shedding velvet, smirking up at her as she bashfully recovered from both Yoongi and Hoseok hooking arms around her legs from the floor in a sort of joint-hug. Man, they were all getting clingy– and her poor heart could hardly take it. After smoothing her hand over Jimin’s shoulder and exchanging a set of ‘sweet dreams’, Y/N eyed the window seat Namjoon had been sitting on, now vacated. Perhaps he decided to hit the hay early, too, but she still wished that he’d said goodnight to her.

She exited the parlor, grinning as she heard the TV decrease in volume as Hoseok turned it down a little, making her way through the dimly lit foyer with her cheeks warm. Hardly paying attention to where she was going, her thoughts surrounding her regret that she’d have to sleep alone in her bed that night, Y/N let out a squeak once she realized there was somebody standing in the hallway leading to her bedroom.

Shifting awkwardly from one foot to another, hands stuffed into the pockets of his gray sweatpants, was Namjoon, his ears flickering at the sounds of her footsteps creaking against the rickety floorboards. In the moonlight, his eyes still glowed amber, and his presence had a shiver dancing along the ridges of her spine. Approaching slowly, Y/N prayed he didn’t sense her minor apprehension in doing so.

“Can I have a word?” Namjoon broke the heavy silence as soon as she got close enough for him to murmur, Y/N nodding slightly as moonbeams from the skylight made the silver strands of his hair practically sparkle. He was almost otherworldly. “About last night…”

“Oh, uh, is something still on your mind? I suppose I haven’t really talked to you much today…” Y/N managed to choke out, dreading what he was about to bring up. There was a chance he’d be looking to argue with her again, which was the last thing she wanted on her mind before she went to bed.

“It’s not about the fight,” Namjoon quickly interjected, the lightest peachy flush dusting the tips of his human ears as he looked away from her. Temporarily relieved, she waited for him to get to the point, composing his face into a more serious expression while he assembled his thoughts. “It’s about your mother.”

Blinking, Y/N felt ice flood through her veins, wondering just how many times Namjoon could take her completely by surprise like that. Apparently sensing the dread coursing through her, Namjoon pulled his eyebrows together, stepping closer into her proximity. His scent, a manly musk mingling with floral honey, infiltrated her senses with the movement, and oddly brought her comfort immediately.

“Ah, don’t worry, please. I pulled a few Tarot cards from her last night, and wanted to discuss it with you… before everything else went down,” Namjoon remarked quietly, tilting his head down in an attempt to catch her eyes.

Moving to bury her hands in Hoseok’s hoodie pocket, her fingers brushed the little roll of gauze within the fabric, avoiding eye contact with Namjoon cowardly. She still had to swap out his bandages.

“Even when I told her not to do any more readings on you guys after Tae, she still did…” Y/N muttered, bitterness flooding her taste buds. “Did she tell you that you were going to die in seven days, or something?”

Namjoon seemed to choke on his intake of breath, Y/N finally meeting his eyes as she watched him try to mask the shocked amusement wash over him.

“N-no, I should hope not!” Namjoon breathed, removing his hands from his pockets to rub at the bare skin of his arms, as if a chill washed over him. Cute. “Seriously, though. I need to talk to you, can you come in for a minute?”

Namjoon jerked his head backwards to his bedroom door, the room filled with dusty lamplight and smelling like essential oil floor cleaner. Chewing her lip, Y/N followed the wolf hybrid into the room. He shut the door almost completely behind her, clearing his throat and pointing to his desk chair.

“Here, sit. I managed to take a few notes about what I pulled, before…” clearing his throat again, Namjoon ushered Y/N over to his chair, which she lowered herself onto while he leaned one hip against the desk to look down at her. “Anyways, take a look.”

The Magician - Apparently representing the querent; myself. Change in a situation or an environment needs to be brought about through a certain skill set (I?) possess… Spiritual development. Concentration is needed.

The Eight of Cups - My interpretation of this is seeking out higher spiritual power with the risk of abandoning material or previous efforts or successes/abandoning what one already has. Turning your back on something important, forgetting someone or something…

The Nine of Swords - Impending disaster, unavoidable fate. Whatever the disaster may be, nothing can be moved past until it is dealt with.

Namjoon’s handwriting, as beautiful as ever, curled across the weathered parchment in smudged indigo ink, the page littered in smaller notes she couldn’t quite read and a series of arrows and underlining. Another tiny clue into who Namjoon was fell into place in her mind– apparently, he knew enough about Tarot to grasp the meanings of each card, and she could feel him inspecting her from his perch on his desk as she looked over his notes.

“So? What do you think?” Namjoon vocalized after a few moments, taking his notes from her gently. Y/N noticed the wrappings on his hands had some of his blood seeping through, making her frown.

“Huh? Oh, you want my thoughts on the cards?” Namjoon nodded in response to her breathy inquiry, his bitten ear twitching as she scooted the desk chair closer to him, in order to get a better look at his notes once more. “I’m a bit rusty with Tarot, Namjoon.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure you remember more than you think you do,” Namjoon insisted eagerly, his desire for any kind of information from her etched across his features and laced in his tone. Humming, Y/N scanned the notes again– she might as well give it her best shot, for his sake.

“Hmm. So… I think you’re correct in guessing that you’re represented by The Magician, part of the Major Arcana. The other two cards you pulled aren’t particularly positive cards, especially The Nine of Swords. The suit of Swords typically indicates a sort of intellectual challenge to overcome, whereas the suit of Cups alludes to a spiritual challenge. I’m not sure what your beliefs are, Namjoon, but to me… these cards suggest that there is some sort of spiritual trial you’ll have to face, something that you’ll have to use your knowledge and experience to overcome,” Y/N began deliberately, eyes on the ceiling as if to summon some of her Tarot knowledge back into her brain.

“This obstacle you’ll have to face might bring you a great deal of anxiety, and you may become so wrapped up in fixing it that you forget to check in with reality from time to time. The fact that you came up as The Magician is a comfort; whatever you may face I’m confident you’ll be able to handle it and come away with even more experience than ever before,” She concluded, feeling a little badly she couldn’t give a better analysis. Sixteen-year-old Y/N could have given him a thirty minute in-depth reading with enthusiasm.

Namjoon seemed to be in deep concentration, lips pursed as he stared at the piece of parchment as if it was going to start speaking to him. A small, amused smile stretched across her face as she waited for her words to sink in, tapping her pointer finger on his knee in front of her to get his attention. It certainly did the job, Namjoon staring at her like she had grown a second head at once. Snorting, she fished the gauze out of Hoseok’s hoodie pocket, reaching out expectantly for his hands.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Namjoon muttered, though he put down the parchment and stretched out his hands either way.

“Indulge me,” Y/N whispered, cradling his palm in front of her face so she could gingerly peel the soiled gauze off of his knuckles. He hissed, whether in response to the gauze sticking to his wounds or her words.

His knuckles hadn’t quite scabbed over like Taehyung’s had yet, but Y/N supposed he took a few more harsh swings than the Kodiak hybrid had. Brushing her thumb over his skin tenderly, she held her breath as she re-wrapped his hands, waiting for him to say something, anything at all.

“Did I provide you with any useful insight, or were those theories you’ve already considered?” Y/N finally prompted, placing his hands back down on his lap. This time, he seemed reluctant to lose contact with her, as his left ring finger dragged along her palm more slowly than it should have.

“You’ve definitely confirmed a few things for me, thank you,” Namjoon replied, easing himself off of his desk and shaking out his tail he was sitting on. “I don’t know if I should tell you this, because I know you’re going to bed…”

Freezing her movements in rising from his desk chair, Y/N gawked at the wolf hybrid’s cryptic expression. What now?

“Well, now you have to tell me, or I won’t sleep a wink,” Y/N insisted, standing up to her full height and feeling Hoseok’s hoodie skimming her thighs as she straightened out. Stepping closer to him, she cocked her head, waiting for him to open his mouth and cut to the chase.

“I’m not sure that Jeongguk and I were able to permanently banish that entity last week. I think, based on this reading, and some of the tension still lingering, it might try to come back,” Namjoon uttered softly, carefully scanning Y/N from head to toe as if to analyze her body language and reactions.

Her shoulders sagged, not exactly taken aback by this revelation, because she, too, had entertained the idea. She still didn’t have any idea what kind of ritual the two of them had carried out to banish the entity in the first place, as she was totally unconscious throughout, and barely had the time to ask either of them about it amongst the chaos of the last week. There were the grounds to consider, where the Y/N had accidentally summoned the entity all those years ago in the first place– she highly doubted Namjoon nor Jeongguk had broken free from her side to cleanse the grounds that night. For all she knew, it could be lurking at the edges of the property, waiting for the right moment to gain entry into the home again.

“Yeah, I was thinking that too, lately. I’m not sure what you two did to stave it off for this long, but it is likely that I’ll have to do some heavy-duty protection wards around the property and the house next weekend. I might even have to do a full-scale banishment, if that doesn’t work,” Y/N sighed roughly, twisting her hands in the soft material of the hoodie’s pocket.

“Can I help?” Namjoon blurted, his back straightening out in purpose, eyes widening fractionally. “You should enlist Jeongguk’s help, too. If we work together, the chances of successfully getting rid of it are higher.”

Stunned, Y/N felt her mouth dropping open, wondering if this was Namjoon’s way of making it up to her for the way he acted the previous night, especially considering Jeongguk was the one to break up the brawl and haul the wolf hybrid away and Namjoon was still willing to team up with him. Maybe, he saw it as his ‘spiritual challenge’ he must overcome, or maybe he was more interested in the paranormal than she originally thought.

“You wanna help?” Y/N repeated meekly, Namjoon nodding once. “Alright, that’s a good idea– the three of us together can cover more ground quickly. When I go to work on Monday, I’ll pick up some things for the wards. If it comes to a full-scale banishment, we should wait for the next new moon in two weeks, just before your birthday.”

Namjoon froze, the constant sway of his silver tail even pausing, as pure astonishment washed over him. Cocking an eyebrow at his reaction, Y/N wondered if she said anything out of turn, or if he was re-thinking the whole ordeal now that she was discussing details.

“How do you know when my birthday is?” Namjoon asked, his complexion turning quite pale and then quite pink.

“What do you mean? It was on the clipboard at the shelter, and on the hybrid database I logged onto once I got your ID number from your official adoption certificate,” Y/N put her hands up as if she was caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Namjoon was so bizarre.

“Oh,” was all he offered in response, again gaping at her like she had an extra head.

“Anyways, we can discuss all of this some more tomorrow. Have you finished Wuthering Heights yet? I’m taking you and Seokjin to the library on Monday, don’t forget,” Y/N began to inch towards his door so she could head to bed. If she stayed any longer, she ran the risk of opening her big mouth and asking him about his favorite cake flavor, or a gift he had his eye on, and ruining her planned surprise of making all of the hybrid’s birthdays special in general.

Mortification further radiated off of the wolf hybrid in tangible waves, evidently not finished with the book, as he frantically turned to his nightstand and fumbled for the book. He seemed to have about 70 pages left. Trying not to giggle at his endearing mannerisms while his guard was down, Y/N reached his door while he was distracted.

“I’m heading to bed now, see you in the morning, okay? Don’t stay up too late reading,” Y/N called, giving him a little wave. Jerking his head up, Namjoon allowed the corner of his mouth to curl up shyly.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” the wolf hybrid returned, his amber eyes trained on her and the sensation of it remaining long after she shut his door behind her.

Once settled under her quilt in her bedroom, Y/N tapped out some reminders on her phone in an attempt to extract one million floating tasks from her brain and trap them in written word. There was a grocery list from Yoongi, some things she wanted to pick up for Jimin at the hardware store, and a reminder to look for hybrid clubs and activities. Some stray ideas for Jeongguk and Namjoon’s separate birthday parties, a note to call Ben and the twins, as well as a small list of items to look for at Judy’s on Monday.

She had never felt so busy in her life, even when she was working back-to-back shifts at the animal hospital, but she found that all of the things she had on her plate brought her excitement, rather than exhaustion and dread. Apart from, of course, the very real possibility that she’d have to deal with that nasty entity again. As she switched off her lamp and got cozy, she tried not to dwell on ghosts and demons, or the fact that the bed felt empty without Seokjin, and willed herself into what she prayed to be a sleep full of pleasant dreams.

Sunday morning was rainy, gloomy, and the stifling heat was thankfully broken. Y/N hauled herself out of bed early to shower and pick out her outfit for work the next day. An alert on her phone told her that all of her hybrid guidebooks had been delivered and were waiting on the porch for her, so she sped out of her bedroom to collect them and stow them by her nightstand before any of the hybrids could notice they were there. It wasn’t like she didn’t want them to see the books, she just didn’t want to give them another reason to tease her about her lack of hybrid knowledge.

Once the books were tucked away, she followed her nose to the kitchen with her laptop under her arm– a buttery, sweet smell floating through the house and making her mouth water. Most meals these days were completely taken care of by Yoongi, purely because he often beat her to the kitchen to do so before she could even lift a finger. Yoongi had told her not to worry about feeling guilty over him preparing meals for the rest of the house, as cooking was something he genuinely enjoyed, but she still felt odd about letting him shoulder the responsibility.

Yoongi had prepared an almost comical stack of pancakes that he was consistently adding to a hot plate in one of the warm ovens, his long hair damp with his morning shower and tucked behind his ears. The counter was littered with sliced fruit, boats of maple syrups, sticks of butter and mixing bowls. The only other hybrid in the room was Jimin, who Y/N had noted preferred to rise early over the past week. He looked a bit hungover, nursing a rather large cup of coffee, cheek cradled in his palm and sandy ears drooping. Both hybrids perked up as soon as she waltzed into the room, Yoongi shuffling over to her with a mug containing coffee made to her precise preference. The realization that he had gotten the ratio of cream to sugar exactly right had a flush settling over her cheeks as soon as the drink washed over her taste buds.

She sat next to Jimin, the coyote hybrid oh-so-subtly slouching closer to her on his barstool, and made small talk while they waited for some of the other hybrids to make their appearances. Setting up her laptop, she drummed her fingers against the keyboard, wondering which part of her to-do list she should tackle first. Jeongguk’s birthday was fast approaching, and a flash of panic struck through her when she considered there might not be much time left for her to order gifts and a cake for him.

“Morning! Is there bacon?” Seokjin’s sweet voice had her eyes tearing away from the loading Best Buy home screen to seek out his face.

He was in almost the exact same outfit as Yoongi, a pair of blue jeans and a long-sleeved thermal, but Seokjin’s was a cornflower blue and Yoongi’s was a deep wine color. Immediately, he widely smiled at Y/N, offering her an enthusiastic wave, to which she returned with a slight chuckle.

“Haven’t made it yet,” Yoongi replied, flipping a pancake mid-air as if he was Gordon Ramsay or something. “I’ve been waiting for it to thaw, over by the sink. I’ll get to it.”

“Can I cook it?” Seokjin moved to the island, inspecting the limp package of uncooked bacon. Y/N exchanged a sideways glance with Jimin, who still managed to convey his amusement even though he really looked like he would rather eat mud than a piece of bacon Seokjin cooked.

“Can you even cook? Do you know how to operate the stove?” Yoongi lifted an eyebrow at the jaguar hybrid, Seokjin’s ears fluttering in annoyance.

“I’ve watched you enough times to gather the mechanics, thank you,” Seokjin grumbled, Y/N desperately trying to swallow down laughter with Jimin practically shaking next to her. “And on my phone, too. When I can’t sleep, I watch cooking videos, I want to learn.”

Y/N straightened out at this, tilting her head to look at Seokjin while his back was turned to her. There were instances where he couldn’t sleep? Was she selfish to lament the fact that he hadn’t disclosed that to her previously? Distracting herself from dwelling on that, she half-listened to Yoongi slide a skillet onto the stove for Seokjin and scrolled around on her laptop for a video camera for Jeongguk. Aware of Jimin looking over her shoulder, she finally came across a reasonably priced one with all of the specs she was hoping for– full spectrum, night vision, easily hand held. With the camera and a protection plan in her virtual cart, she clicked the option for in-store pick up, so she could drop by later that day on her grocery and hardware store run.

As if summoned as soon as the order went through, the elk hybrid traipsed through the entrance of the kitchen in his black hoodie, fiddling with a couple of his hoop earrings as he scanned the room. To Y/N’s surprise, he promptly planted himself on the other empty barstool beside her, and thankfully she had already closed out of the Best Buy website.

“Good morning,” Y/N greeted, feeling somewhat shy with his onyx stare boring through her. His eyes flickered to her laptop screen, where she was idly viewing the gallery of a local bakery, mumbling the same greeting back.

The fatty scent of bacon began to infest the room, Seokjin diligently turning pieces over in the sizzling pan and looking deeply satisfied with himself. He appeared to be doing quite well under Yoongi’s watchful eye, even though occasionally an acrid smell would fill the kitchen when he’d burn an odd piece. Slowly, the remaining hybrids found their ways to the kitchen; Hoseok grumpily complaining about the early hour still in his pajamas, Namjoon dressed smartly in a crisp linen button down and slacks, and lastly Taehyung, who entered the room so silently and unacknowledged by the others Y/N didn’t even realize he was sitting at the breakfast nook until she turned around at the sound of the rain increasing in density against the window. He gave her a half-smile, the red flannel he had on picking up the peculiar color of his eyes, Y/N giving him her brightest grin as if to make up for the fact that everyone else was ignoring him.

She turned over the ways in her mind that she could find out what kind of cake Jeongguk would want for his birthday, and all of them would give away the surprise and her intentions. Chewing on her lip, she felt Jimin shift closer to her yet again, his body heat quite comforting as his arm brushed hers. Shutting her laptop once Yoongi declared everything was ready, Y/N saw that he and Seokjin had set up a buffet style pancake bar on the island, the jaguar hybrid appeared gleeful and proud of himself, which had her practically melting when she got up to get a plate.

Namjoon was in front of her in the sort of clumpy line they had all formed to fix up their breakfast plates, Y/N spooned stewed berries onto her pancakes as she decided to slyly get the information she needed, in probably the most roundabout way possible. She did seem to like making things harder for herself.

“There’s this new bakery in town I want to try out, and I’ve been thinking about ordering cupcakes or something. I’d like to get you all your favorites if you tell me what they are,” Y/N announced nonchalantly, settling back into her seat and cringing somewhat as she basically heard crickets.

Getting the hybrids to tell her what they wanted when it came to food was always like pulling teeth, and she chalked it up to the fact that they likely didn’t have many opportunities to select things of their own preference. It saddened her, but now that they were with her, they really didn’t have to hesitate so much. She wished she could say that in so many words, but she didn’t want to risk hitting any raw nerves. Predictably, Hoseok responded first as soon as the shock cleared from his face.

“Uh… I don’t really know, all cakes are good cakes!” He began– not off to a good start. “I guess I like vanilla the best if I were to choose, simple but classic.”

“I liked those lavender cupcakes from the cookout, the ones your friend Ben brought,” Seokjin volunteered, a thick layer of maple syrup coating his voluminous lips. Nodding, Y/N added the two answers to a notes document on her phone for when their birthdays rolled around.

After what felt like forever, she was able to pry out an answer from all of them, and she had finished her stack of pancakes long before the list was complete. Strawberry cake for Taehyung, Yoongi liked chocolate with raspberry filling, Namjoon gave a vague answer with just ‘chocolate’, and Jimin had classic tastes like Hoseok with simple vanilla. Of course, Jeongguk was the last to answer, too busy staring at his phone and snacking on the burnt pieces of bacon Seokjin had set aside separately.

“Jeongguk? How about you?” Y/N nudged his shoulder with her own, and ironically he genuinely looked like a deer in the headlights, antlers and all.

“Huh? Oh, cake… I don’t like cake that much. I guess I enjoy cheesecake, but that's more of a pie, if people were being more honest with themselves,” Jeongguk finally responded while absently using his napkin to blot some blood away from his face that had been dripping from his antlers into his hairline, looking back down at his phone. Interesting!

“Cheesecake? Gross. Also, have you ever even seen an actual pie? Because they don’t look like a cheesecake,” Hoseok accused, his russet ears turned backwards as if his honor had been insulted.

“You’re an agitating motherfucker,” Jeongguk remarked simply, getting up to rinse his plate and stick it in the dishwasher. Yoongi began to shake with laughter, especially upon catching a glimpse of Hoseok’s visage cloaked with surprise.

Once the kitchen was cleaned up, the job going by quickly with so many hands, Y/N decided it was as good of a time as any to head out on her errands so she could spend the rainy evening cozy in the parlor. Before everyone vacated the kitchen, she notified the hybrids that she was heading out.

“Do any of you want to come with me? It’s pretty shitty weather out there, so I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to tag along. I just have to go to a few stores,” Y/N narrowed her eyes at the pelting rain outside of the kitchen window, hoping the grocery store wouldn’t give her paper bags.

Minutes later, Y/N– considerably damp from running to her car like a crazy person, found herself in the driver’s seat, Yoongi beside her, Seokjin and Taehyung in the back. The rest of the hybrids elected to stay at home, and Y/N was grateful Jeongguk hadn’t joined her so she could pick up his camera without raising suspicion.

“Jimin looked rough this morning,” Yoongi remarked offhandedly, his tail swishing languidly behind him as he pushed a half-full grocery cart down the bread aisle.

Nudging him softly in the ribs, Y/N tossed two packages of hamburger buns into the cart while Yoongi bared his pointed incisors at her. The force of the nudge wasn’t enough to cause any pain, and she knew Yoongi was just trying to tease her again– but regardless, she was thinking the same too. The coyote hybrid slunk away to his bedroom shortly after breakfast, claiming he wanted to take a shower and read, looking less sparkly than he usually did. Maybe tequila was not his friend.

“You know, he’s the only one who hasn’t scented you yet. He probably feels like shit because of that,” Yoongi continued after a beat, examining a loaf of milk bread and dropping it into the cart as well. Y/N stiffened, not used to any of the hybrids explicitly bringing up scenting unless right before the act.

“God, you think? Why didn’t he tell me– and we’re not going to be back for at least another hour,” Y/N stared at Yoongi with alarm, the leopard hybrid shrugging with a lazy flicker of his ear. “What if he collapses like Seok–” Y/N immediately cut herself off with a hand clamped over her mouth, whipping around to stare at the jaguar hybrid with an apology clinging to her tongue. To her surprise, he wasn’t trailing after her at the moment, only Taehyung was at the end of the aisle scrolling through his phone.

“Don’t worry, he took off towards the produce like five minutes ago. Not that he’d care if you brought that up,” Yoongi assured, scanning the crumpled list in his hands distractedly. “Jimin will be fine. Actually, he has more self-restraint than most of us, which is pretty impressive.”

“Oh, was that a compliment for Jimin? Warming up to him, are you?” Y/N teased, Yoongi gritting his teeth and pushing the cart ahead of her. She caught the hem of his thermal, tethering herself to him so she wouldn’t be left behind, snickering the whole way.

“He’s one of the more tolerable ones. Seokjin’s fine, too. Jury’s still out with Foxy…” Yoongi replied begrudgingly nonetheless.

She didn’t know what was taking over her, but she wiggled her fingers against the wine-colored fabric covering Yoongi’s sides to tickle him once she was next to him, eliciting a purr and a tiny, toothy smile from the leopard hybrid.

“And what about me? Is the jury still out on me, too, Yoongi?” Y/N prodded jokingly, straightening out a wrinkle on his shirt while he reached for a jar of peanut butter on the shelf.

Yoongi paused, his tail brushing the length of her thigh as he turned to look down at her, a mysterious expression on his face as she continued to fix his wrinkled thermal. She forgot that she was in the middle of the grocery store with two other hybrids to worry about, soaking in the thoughtful twinkle in his hazel, feline eyes.

“Verdict is still pending,” Yoongi replied, smirking at the pout stretching across her face at his response. She let go of his shirt as he pushed the cart towards the produce section, Y/N ready to ice him out for a bit out of spite, until he continued. “‘Course I like you, sweetheart.”

Nearly tripping over a display case of cup ramen noodles, Y/N felt her body go both hot and cold as Yoongi simply slunk away with the cart, tail curling placidly behind him as if he didn’t say anything out of the ordinary. The nerve! Heart racing, she managed to pluck up the rest of the vegetables on the list that she could remember, spotting Seokjin not too far away merrily stacking cartons of strawberries in his arms.

With the groceries in the trunk and the three hybrids safely buckled into their seats, Y/N dragged them to the hardware store and blasted in and out to pick up a basic toolbox for Jimin. The coyote hybrid had wanted to get started on stable work that morning, but because of the inclement weather, he was stalled and Y/N wanted to get him some new tools to cheer him up.

Beside her, Seokjin was humming along to a Radiohead song on the radio. Yoongi had let him take the passenger seat on the way back, which was probably best for Y/N’s nerves considering he had dropped the ‘of course I like you sweetheart’ bomb on her. Not that she had calmed down at all, with Seokjin seeking out her hand immediately as soon as he clambered into the car, idly fiddling with her fingers as she used her other hand to keep an unsteady grip on the steering wheel.

“Just one more stop to make…” Y/N managed to squeak over the music, rain, and the blood rushing in her ears.

Seokjin traced her knuckles with his fingertips, causing goosebumps to pebble up the flesh of her forearm. She didn’t have the guts to sneak a peek at him reacting to her clear enjoyment of his touch. Y/N was going to die an early death, and the cause of it would be the seven hybrids she adopted.

A middle-aged man from the Best Buy store brought out Jeongguk’s camera after Y/N made a quick phone call for curbside pickup, not wanting to trudge out in the rain again. A box appeared in the window, and she tried not to frown, noticing the highly judgmental look on the man’s face as he looked from Y/N, to Seokjin and the way the jaguar hybrid was holding her hand, and even going so far as to peer into the back seat to raise an eyebrow at Yoongi and Taehyung. She could somewhat read the look on his face, typical dirty male thoughts as his eyes flickered back over her, zeroing in on the especially bruised bite Hoseok had given her on her neck.

“Thanks, have a good night,” Y/N ground out, wanting to yank the mustache off of the man’s face. Seokjin gingerly leaned over her body to accept the box, flashing the undeserving man a sharp-toothed beautiful smile.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will too,” the man mumbled, clicking his tongue and promptly heading back into the store.

Infuriated, and not knowing what the fuck that meant, Y/N swore at him while rolling the window up, adding a middle finger for good measure even though the man’s back was turned. She’d have to write a nasty Google review about that particular Best Buy. What was he insinuating?

“Wow, what a dick…” Y/N seethed, blasting through a yellow light so she could get home as quickly as possible. “Looking at me like I’m some sort of depraved sicko.”

“Don’t pay attention to those motherfuckers. Those are the type that think the purpose of hybrid adoption is…” Yoongi stopped speaking abruptly, noticing the dark look crossing over her face from the rearview mirror. She knew where Yoongi was going with that thought, and didn’t like it at all.

Some perverse people would indeed adopt hybrids for the sole purpose of entering a sexual relationship with them, which filled Y/N with utter disgust. Adoptions should be made from a place of wanting to give a hybrid a home and offering friendship and protection, not simply to exploit them in that way. Seokjin softly squeezed her arm, her fury definitely palpable and coming off in waves. She didn’t care.

“You’re not pieces of meat Yoongi,” Y/N snapped, the leopard hybrid’s eyes widening as she caught them in the rearview again. “He should’ve kept his mouth shut, it was fucking rude and the assumption is insulting. I’m sorry you three had to sit through that, I’m fucking livid… maybe I should call Ben and see if he can somehow dig up some dirt and get him fired…”

She had forgotten Taehyung was even behind her, silently witnessing her spiral into simmering rage, until she felt him gently pat the top of her head, reaching over her headrest. Somehow, that simple touch had her melting back into her seat, some of the red in her vision clearing away.

“It’s okay. It’s happened before, it’ll happen again, people with dirty looks and assumptions. What matters is that we’re with you, and their opinions don’t matter,” Seokjin murmured quietly, his words wrapping around her heart and effectively making her hold back a swoon. By then, her anger was gone, and Yoongi struck up a conversation surrounding what he planned on making for dinner.

When they got back, the three hybrids took care of the groceries, Y/N leaving Jeongguk’s camera in her car for the time being. As she unlocked the front door to the house, Taehyung gave her a one-armed hug, noticing she was still a little perturbed from the whole Best Buy dickhead exchange. She leaned into his strong frame, letting Yoongi in with his fistfuls of plastic grocery bags, humming as the Kodiak hybrid’s sandalwood scent calmed her down pretty much entirely.

Shuffling into the house, she helped Yoongi put everything away in the kitchen, before parting with the three hybrids to seek out Jimin. She wanted to check if he was feeling alright, give him his new toolbox, and hopefully encourage him to scent her. Because she had work the next day, she felt anxious about leaving him for most of the afternoon if he started feeling even worse.

Jimin’s door was closed, so she knocked carefully to alert him of her presence, however he likely heard and smelled her coming down the hall anyways. A somewhat hoarse ‘come in’ responded to her knocking, Y/N awkwardly shouldering her way in with the heavy toolbox. Jimin was lounging on his blue velvet chair by the window, which was cracked open and bringing the earthy smell of the rain in. His hair was neatly combed back and he was dressed in simple sweats and a long-sleeved cream cotton shirt, and he looked leagues better than he did that morning. Still, the way he death gripped the book he was holding, and the subtle twitch in his jaw seemed to be the cracks in his carefully constructed composure.

“Good book?” Jimin nodded, his ears fluttering as he put the book down to listen to her more fully. “Got you something!”

Y/N set the toolbox down on the windowsill beside the chair he was sitting in, not noticing the way he stiffened as she got closer. What she did notice, however, was the sensation of piercing yellow eyes burning a hole in her face, which had butterflies battering around in her guts. She did a little ta-da jazz hands number, grinning at the coyote hybrid as he tore his eyes from her face to inspect what she was offering him.

“Oh! Are these for…” Jimin began distractedly, swallowing thickly as if the room was filled with some kind of mind-altering gas. “This was on my list I sent you.”

“Mm-hm, I know you wanted to get out there today and start chipping away, and I figured you were a bit disappointed that the weather is inclement. I picked this up to cheer you up,” Y/N explained, wondering how on earth she could bring up the fact that he still hasn’t scented her.

In reaction to her words, Jimin’s cheeks flooded with a peachy blush, Y/N resisting the urge to reach out and pinch them. For a few moments, they went over Jimin’s plans– he was going to fix up the chicken coop first, as it was the easiest job on the list– the rasp of the coyote hybrid’s voice pleasant in her ears as he spoke. He seemed to relax a bit after a few moments, scooching closer to the edge of the chair to talk to her. When she opened up the toolbox to show him everything inside, trying to wrestle a screwdriver out of its spot, her fingertips nicked the sharpened edge of the tool, making her hiss in pain as the metal sliced the skin of her pointer finger.

“Ugh, I didn’t think those things could be so sharp,” Y/N whined pitifully, holding her injured finger up to her face, inspecting the wound with her lip jutting out into a pout.

The atmosphere immediately changed, and it was almost like the room dropped several degrees in temperature. In her folly, she hadn’t registered Jimin’s sudden silence, the way his posture turned coiled and rigid, and his tongue swiping over his lower lip hungrily. Quite literally forgetting that she was standing in Jimin’s room and that he was even in front of her, Y/N flinched in surprise when the coyote hybrid wrapped his roughened palm around her wrist. Pausing, she stared at Jimin with widened eyes, his own eyes a bit more lidded than she remembered them when they were discussing chicken wire. He was focused on the blood running down her fingertip, a pointed tooth biting down on the flesh of his lower lip, his jaw clenching once again.

“I should probably get a bandaid,” Y/N whispered, Jimin’s grip around her wrist delicate but keeping her in place. “Jimin?”

Apparently her words were falling on deaf ears, the coyote hybrid pulling her closer to him as if spellbound, and Y/N was similarly dazzled as she allowed him to tow her between his spread legs. Cringing as she caught a whiff of her own blood, she blanched when Jimin held her injured hand delicately right in front of his face. Just like that, she was ensnared by the coyote hybrid, eagerly holding her breath.

“Come here,” Jimin huskily broke the silence, mingling with the pattering of rain on his windowsill.

He spread his legs further, tugging her down carefully, a muffled squeak coming from her as she found herself perched on Jimin’s left thigh, his free arm wrapped around her waist and her legs dangling between his. Briefly, she felt like she was sitting on Santa’s lap at the mall– but the thought disappeared as soon as it popped into her head. His thigh was strong underneath her, toned from likely years of being an equestrian, but his arm slung around her waist was gently secure and tender, contrary to the fact that he’d really just pulled her down onto his lap.

“J-jimin?” Y/N breathed, close enough to him now to hear barely-audible growls bubbling up from the back of his throat, his eyes slipping shut at the sound of his name. Most of her hybrids seemed to have similar reactions when she said their names– she distantly wondered why that was. “What are you…?”

Y/N knew pretty well what Jimin was doing, but she couldn’t find her words to encourage him with her looking at her like she was an angel that appeared in his bedroom on a cloud. After sending her a pointed eyebrow raise, Y/N made herself comfortable in Jimin’s arms, his lavender shampoo calming. Her heart was pounding still, the intensity at which Jimin examined her head-to-toe dizzying, and his ears perked up forward and alert when her breath began to come out in shorter huffs and puffs.

“Is this alright?” Jimin whispered, slowly rotating her wrist by his lips, his voice so low and breathy she had to lean closer into his chest to hear him. She pulled her eyebrows together, because clearly it was okay– she wasn’t about to deny him an instinctual need, especially when the others had already done so before him– Y/N nodded either way.

“Yes?” Jimin hummed, his grip around her wrist loosening so he could swipe up a drop of blood running down her wrist with a pointer finger, the growls in his throat becoming more audible by the moment. “I’m yours? You’re mine?” Going completely still with this utterance, Y/N gasped, unable to break away from Jimin’s penetrative, hazy gaze. She knew, with all of the experiences she had with the others, that they tended to say things that seemed to stem from a more instinctual area of their brain before they scented, but the coyote hybrid’s words held such meaning that she could hardly process them rationally. She was his, she was all of theirs, there was no denying– each of them had completely claimed a spot in her heart– there was no room for conceiving the idea of ever abandoning them, which she knew was a reason many of them held off on the ritual in the first place, thanks to information she had learned on the internet shortly before Yoongi had scented her. Jimin, however, needed further confirmation, which she was more than willing to provide.

“Y-yeah. Yes, you’re mine,” Y/N managed to stutter, feeling Jimin’s hand wrapped around her waist drop to her thigh and squeeze ever so slightly.

Entranced, Y/N watched as Jimin pulled her wrist to his mouth, the only sounds now coming from the downpour filtering in from the cracked window behind the two of them. Keenly concentrated, Jimin ignored her blood, staining his own fingertip and running down her palm, choosing to pull the tender underside of her wrist to his lips at a glacial speed. Time was suspended, much of the rushed thrill from some of the scenting rituals she had been through with the others absent but the intensity still very much there.

“You smell so sweet…” Jimin growled, the hand on her thigh flexing against her muscles briefly; and Y/N could almost detect thin restraint in the grip, Jimin was ever the gentleman regardless of his animalistic instincts.

With her eyes half-closed, Jimin at last brought his lips to her flesh, placing a hot open mouthed kiss by her wrist bone. The ample petals of his mouth were delicate, but the action was searing against her flesh as he basically made out with her inner wrist, his devious tongue peeking out occasionally to trace along one of the veins closest to the surface of her skin. Mewling softly, Y/N slackened her body weight even further into Jimin’s embrace, letting him fully support her as he mopped up some of her blood with a swipe of his tongue.

“Jimin…” Y/N sighed dreamily once he passed over a particularly sensitive spot with a barely-there drag of his teeth, eyes drifting shut. “I–”

“Shhh…” the coyote hybrid shushed her tenderly, the pointed edges of his canines finally grazing what she presumed to be his chosen area to mark, Y/N hooking her free arm around Jimin’s neck without a second thought. “Just relax, I’ve got you.”

With a mixture of a groan and a primal growl, Jimin sunk his teeth into her vulnerable wrist almost painlessly, the action so smooth and sensual Y/N could only focus on the blissful expression blooming over the coyote hybrid’s sculpted face as soon as he broke skin. If she wasn’t limp before, she certainly was after that, Jimin’s plump lips wrapped around the edge of her wrist as he infused his scent with her own with his teeth buried in her flesh, and the cloudy sensation the bite brought on having her head lolling back onto the coyote hybrid’s shoulder. The calming scent of lavender enveloped her senses, and Jimin was being so gentle with her, she swore that she could fall asleep on his lap, listening to his measured breaths and the rain outside.

Through fuzzy vision, she watched Jimin not only brush his tongue over the bite he created, but also clean the blood from her wounded finger as well, satisfied grumbles coming from his chest by her ear. Giggling at the ticklish sensation, Jimin hummed, now holding her hand gingerly as he took a look at the screwdriver injury, his lips dropping into a tiny pout. Y/N reached out with her free hand, still chuckling weakly, and poked his fleshy cheek, indulging in a desire she had been harboring since she adopted him. His eyebrow cocked up in response, a playfulness in his golden eyes as she withdrew her hand, and he decided to retaliate by completely taking her off guard– he brought her wounded finger to his lips and enveloped the tip of the digit into his mouth.

Gasping, stared at Jimin’s lips wrapped around her finger, dissolving into utter shock as his tongue whirled around the cut, the minor sting disappearing under his ministrations. It was her turn to groan, not sure if the action of him tending to her wound in this way was sweet or total teasing on the coyote hybrid’s part. A distant part of her wondered if the soothing properties of hybrid saliva soothed all wounds, not just marks left behind by scenting, because it certainly felt like her cut was already treated and bandaged. He pulled the digit from his mouth slowly, never breaking the intense eye contact they were currently suspended in, Y/N realizing her hand around his neck was entwined with the cropped blonde hair at the base of Jimin’s neck, embarrassingly, tightly so.

“Better?” Jimin’s ears twitched, likely picking up her accelerated heart rate, finally releasing her hand and brushing some hair from her face. “You’ll still need a bandage, but it should be soothed. And, you should be more careful, Y/N.”

Mumbling into his shirt, Y/N secretly agreed with him; if that was how he reacted when she got hurt, it was better for her nerves to avoid doing so at all costs. She focused on Jimin’s forgotten book, cast aside from when she first entered the room, and he was reading her old copy of The White Album that he must have swiped from the library. Distantly, she recalled something Alice once said– nothing more attractive than a man who reads Didion.

“Alright, up you go,” Jimin cleared his throat, using his hand on her waist to nudge her up and forward, off of his thigh, standing with her as she got her footing. “I have some bandaids in my bathroom. Stay here, for a second.”

Jimin leveled a sweet smile at her, though his expression was serious and there seemed to be a few things floating around in his head, his eyes a bit far away. She shifted from one foot to another, humming as Jimin squeezed her shoulder softly before retreating to his bathroom, the sounds of him pawing through his vanity drawers making her ears perk up. Taking a moment to look around his room, it seemed that Jimin had made himself somewhat at home, though the room was quite unchanged compared to the day she brought the coyote hybrid home. The only things she noticed that indicated someone was occupying the recently renovated bedroom were bits and bobs on his dresser, which she neared closer to to get a good look.

The knapsack that he had traveled from Montana with hung from a knob on the dresser, but the contents were carefully placed on the surface of the dresser. On the left hand side, the formerly crumpled hat he had pulled out of the bag last week was smoothed out and sitting by a lamp, a couple pieces of jewelry (a silver bracelet, silver hoop earrings) placed on a leather square, and on the right was his coiled belt and buckle, as well as a photograph. Footsteps approached before she could take a look at the photo, Y/N peering up at Jimin with a sheepish expression when he caught her snooping. Simply smiling at her, he took her wrist gently, peeling paper off of the bandaid he’d fetched and wrapping it around her little injury. Her eyes drifted back to the photo, the edges of it weathered and crinkled.

“That’s me and my sister, I was twelve, she was nine,” Jimin plucked up the picture, offering it to Y/N gingerly.

Taking it like it was made of glass, Y/N brought the photo closer to her face, a tinier version of Jimin grinning at the camera on the back of a palomino horse, one of his front teeth missing and a mini cowboy hat placed precariously on top of his head. In front of him was a little girl, his sister, with the same honey blonde hair and bright golden eyes, her cheeks rounded as she was frozen mid-laughter, Jimin holding onto his sister tightly while she gripped the horse’s reins.

“Aw, Jimin! This is so sweet, you two are adorable, and you look so alike,” Y/N cooed, placing the picture back down on his dresser while still admiring it. She’d never been to Montana, but the nature surrounding the two young hybrids was gorgeous and wild. “I can find a frame for this, so you can display it properly.”

A pang of sadness spread through her chest, wondering if Jimin missed his sister, his family, and old life. Perhaps, in the future, there would be an opportunity for her to book a flight and take Jimin to visit his family– now that he was adopted and not on the run, there would be no reason for him not to go see them every now and again.

“You meant it, right?” Jimin asked quietly after a few moments, Y/N tearing her eyes away from the photograph to search his eyes with confusion. “A few moments ago… am I really…”

Yours. Y/N knew what he was getting at after scanning his expression, the coyote hybrid easier to read than some of the others she had adopted. Humming, Y/N stepped closer, reaching out to squeeze Jimin around his middle, resting her cheek on his shoulder. He hesitantly reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her securely.

“Yeah. You’re mine. I’m yours.”

After a drizzly night spent watching Masterchef and devouring some kimchi stew and rice to combat the damp chill of the outside, Y/N made her rounds saying goodnight early once more, once she had cleaned up the kitchen with Yoongi and finished untangling herself from Hoseok on the couch. Shockingly, each hybrid besides Jeongguk and Namjoon had given her a big hug before she crawled to her bedroom with enough heat in her cheeks to fry an egg on the flesh. Though he hadn’t hugged her, Jeongguk let her dab a bit of blood off of his face with a tissue when she said goodnight to him from his spot on the recliner, a piece of his velvet hanging loosely from one of his antlers as he bit his lip and stared at her. Namjoon simply smiled at her, dimples and all, saying he’d see her in the morning.

Cursing when her alarm went off bright and early at 6:30 the next morning, Y/N sluggishly fumbled her way through her morning routine, blindly tapping out a wake up text with her toothbrush sticking out of her mouth.

Y/N: Good morning boys, ready to leave by 7:15?

Seokjin: Morning Y/N :) Yes!

Namjoon: ^^

Y/N: Perfect, see you in a few

Y/N shimmied into her outfit, some linen pants and a black long-sleeved shirt trimmed with lace she had fished out of the back of her wardrobe, hastily throwing on some Stevie Nicks-esque makeup. If she was going to work at a metaphysical shop, she might as well look the part. Satisfied, she left her room with her tote bag, making sure her wallet and keys were in there. She wasn’t paying attention, so she stumbled into Namjoon in the hallway, the wolf hybrid making a sharp oof sound as she collided into his back.

“Oh, sorry Joon,” Y/N wheezed, a bit of fuzz from the caramel sweater he was wearing sticking to her lip gloss and her head dizzy from smacking into a solid wall of back muscle. “In a fog… it’s so early,” she continued with a slight whine, Namjoon turning to face her with his face almost entirely pink.

“Um, it’s okay,” the wolf hybrid managed, coughing into his fist awkwardly as he followed her to the kitchen clumsily. She needed coffee, ASAP– she hadn’t even noticed Namjoon had been taken off guard by a nickname that had rolled off her tongue accidentally.

Yoongi was in the kitchen, naturally, still in his pajamas but placing items into paper bags. Of course, he already had her coffee ready for her, which had her reaching up to ruffle his hair in appreciation. Seokjin tiptoed into the kitchen shortly after, dressed neatly in a rose pink henley and jeans, excitement lighting up his orange eyes like a jack-o’-lantern.

After slamming some leftover pastries Yoongi made the other day down their throats, the leopard hybrid was shooing the three of them to the front door by 7:15, Namjoon and Seokjin scrambling to the car while she hung back. As she began to wave goodbye to him, Yoongi grabbed her elbow, halting her.

“Here, this is for lunch. Give one to each of the others, too,” Yoongi thrusted the three paper bags into her arms, making Y/N stare at him wildly. Yoongi made them lunch to go?

Unable to help herself, she leaned forward and up, planting a kiss on Yoongi’s cheek, the leopard hybrid squeaking in surprise the moment her lips touched the sleep-rounded flesh. Pulling away, Y/N saw Yoongi had gone rather statue still, mouth dropped open in shock. Giggling, Y/N made her way down the porch steps, casting one more look at the stunned leopard hybrid standing with the front door wide open.

“Thank you, Yoongi! Have a nice day, I’ll see you tonight,” she called, waving at him with the lunch bags swinging in her fist. It felt nice to have somebody think of her, making sure she had something to eat midday. She’d have to pick up something extra delicious for dinner, in thanks.

The weather was cool, leftover from the rain the previous day, so as soon as she slid into the car, Y/N hiked up the heat in the cab, though it hardly worked, shooting Seokjin a smile in the rearview mirror. He returned it, accepting the bag she offered him with slight confusion.

“Yoongi made us lunch. Isn’t that nice?” Y/N sighed while settling Namjoon’s bag beside his thigh, flinging the car into drive and praying that she could beat traffic to get the two hybrids to the Boston Public Library in a timely fashion. Judy had told her to show up around 8:30, so she was definitely in a time crunch.

“Why is this camera down here?” Namjoon asked after a few moments of listening to the tinny Rolling Stones tape she had begrudgingly put on for him, pointing to the box by his feet.

“Oh damn, I have to wrap that…” Y/N muttered, honking at someone stalling at a green light. “I got it for Jeongguk, his birthday is on Thursday. I thought he could use it for his paranormal investigation, if he wanted to take it up again.”

“Are you throwing him a party?” Namjoon spoke again incredulously, picking up the camera box and examining it, from what Y/N could tell out of the corner of her eyes.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag! It’ll be just the eight of us, though. I like to celebrate birthdays. I ordered him a cheesecake last night, even,” Y/N relented, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hedge around Namjoon.

“That’s sweet, Y/N,” Seokjin offered from the backseat, Y/N catching his eyes in the rearview, his scrunched up in mirth.

“You two can keep a secret, right? I’m a little bummed I couldn’t keep it a surprise, now you know you two will be getting parties too,” Y/N pouted, jumping on the highway and cringing at a crackling skip in the tape.

The two hybrids fell silent with this, as she predicted. None of her hybrids particularly enjoyed being the center of attention, apart from Hoseok, of course. She knew that Seokjin would definitely keep the secret since she asked, and Namjoon and Jeongguk were a bit on the outs at the moment, so she wasn’t particularly concerned he’d spill the beans to the elk hybrid.

“So, since you know now, can you give me some ideas on what to get you for your own birthdays? I don’t want to pick out something you won’t like,” Y/N broke the silence, crossing her fingers over the steering wheel she’d get at least a semblance of an answer from either of them.

“Um…” Seokjin mumbled timidly from the backseat, fastidiously staring out the window to focus on the bay outside of Boston.

“I really wish that when I was brought into the shelter, I knew what happened to my trailer,” Namjoon spoke suddenly, stunning Y/N so much she accidentally stepped on the brakes by a ramp a little too hard. “I didn’t have much, but my tapes were in there, my books. It’s probably sitting in some junkyard now.”

“I can probably see what I can do about that,” Y/N began slowly, her mind already coming up with a list of all the junkyards and impound lots around Boston.

“It’s alright. It’s likely it’s been cleared out, or impacted already. Uh… maybe you could find an old Walkman at a thrift store, or something,” Namjoon looked down at his feet, ears fluttering.

“I’ll see what I can do about the trailer, I’m serious, Namjoon,” Y/N insisted, once again attempting to make eye contact with Seokjin through the rearview. “Jin? Come on, give me something to work with!” Y/N teased playfully, Seokjin clearing his throat and nervously wiping sweaty hands on his pants.

“I don’t really know,” Seokjin admitted softly, causing Y/N’s heart to ache. Seokjin was in a lab most of his life, and spent more recent years performing in a circus– perhaps there wasn’t much time for leisure or exploring interests. “Maybe we could all go to a restaurant?”

“We can do that! After the book club, check out some local restaurant menus online, we’ll go anywhere you want,” Y/N encouraged brightly, finally managing to navigate into the city and minutes away from Boylston street. “We’re almost there, I’m going to call my mom so she can meet you two out front.”

By the time she hung up from her mother, who was nearly shouting with excitement in her ear, she was double-parked in front of the library. She told the two hybrids when exactly she’d be picking them up from the library later that afternoon, that they could hang out and read until the club started around 11. As soon as her mother appeared at the top step of the library, Namjoon bid her a gentle goodbye, eagerly exiting the car and jogging up the stony steps of the building.

“I hope you have fun today, Seokjin! You can always text me if you need me,” Y/N watched as he unfastened his seatbelt, his tail curling around his waist in what she perceived to be in response to having to part with her.

“Good luck at work today, Y/N,” Seokjin replied, giving her shoulder a light squeeze as he pushed himself out of the car.

She stayed put until she saw her mother sling both her arms around the hybrid’s shoulders, talking to them animatedly as they disappeared into the library. Shaking her head, Y/N honked back at someone behind her, pissed that she was blocking part of the road, and set off to her new job.

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj @singukieee @serendididy @lilacdreams-00 @dreamerwasfound @ninjacups @osakis-gf @itwillbealways-d @xthefuckerysquaredx @momowantscats @molshole @g-oomz @uarmyhore @lopprhe @oopscoop @xicanacorpse @i-like-anime13 @hemziii @demarie04 @im-sinking-in-mud @talkyoongitome @bangtxnbxunch @primrose2507 @kihyunniesmonbebe @7evensin @lilmxchis

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#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #hybrid au #bts ot7 x y/n #bts hybrid au #bts fic #bts au #bts hybrid x reader #bts hybrid fanfic #namjoon fanfic #seokjin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #hoseok fanfic #jimin fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook fanfic

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lividstar · 5 months ago

Text

🪐 — ♡ FROM SATURN TO MARS

៚ wc: 24.2k

៚ angst, fluff but not really, astronomer!san x stargazer!reader, star-crossed lovers, right person, wrong time, san is literally “☝️🤓” personified but it’s alright because he’s a sweetheart

៚ warnings: mentions of suic!de

៚ playlist !

៚ Life has always felt like a constant struggle for you, burdened by the weight of a terminal illness that looms over every moment. The concept of finding peace, of unwinding, seems as foreign as the distant stars. Each attempt to embrace the fleeting joys of life feels like an effort wasted, as the ever-present shadow of your inevitable end dims any flicker of hope. Despite countless reassurances that it’s worth trying to find solace, the reality is that the pain and fear remain ablaze. Living each day with the knowledge of your limited time, you’ve tried to hold onto the present, to ignite a spark of hope in the face of despair. But unlike others who find motivation in the idea of living life to the fullest, the idea only brings you more anguish. Every attempt to seek positivity feels hollow and unreachable when every breath is a reminder of what you're losing. Little did you know how much your world would change when you meet Choi San, an aspiring astronomer who just happens to be a boy full of wonders—ones you’ve always believed have already ceased to exist.

Dreams come in different forms and can mean a lot of things.

Dreams can be a fleeting memory playing throughout your unconsciousness, and it could be a reminder of what once was—a moment from your childhood wherein your feet are dragging you at a fast pace around the playground, crumbs of the sand slowly invading your shoes as you turn your head behind to check if the distance between you and your playmate is closing further, flashing them a teasing look with a huge smile on your face—ending just before the moment you trip on your own feet and wail over a dark bruise on your knee.

It could also convey a wish that you yearn to come true, a thread high up in the air that you desperately want to have a grasp of and pull down on your level. It could be an ambition that you want to achieve, an activity you wish to participate in in the near future, a famous attraction you dream of visiting one day—simply put, saying you have a dream could convey different implications.

But amidst its vast sea of meanings, we all, at some point, have, or have had a dream in common: to live a life different from our own.

Maybe it hits you when you’re standing on the second highest pillar of the podium, holding your silver medal while the one at the very top shamelessly dangles their gold prize with a bouquet in their hands. Maybe it hits you when you pass by a section of a mall featuring expensive artifacts and seeing people your age walk through the aisles so easily as if it’s not a new thing to them. Maybe it hits you when you look in the mirror after scrolling past the page of an influencer considered by the masses as the embodiment of beauty.

Or maybe it hits you every single time you realize you’re alone in the battle against you and the fate of your life.

You were born with a shadow hanging over your life, a rare, incurable illness that marked you from your very first breath. From the moment you entered the world, doctors surrounded you with words like “degenerative,” “terminal,” and “limited time,” their clinical detachment doing little to soften the blow. For your parents, it was a devastating revelation, turning what should have been a joyous occasion into a lifelong struggle against an invisible enemy.

As a child, you didn’t fully understand the weight of your condition. You grew up watching other children run and play, while you sat on the sidelines, your body betraying you in ways their carefree laughter could never comprehend. Frequent hospital visits and endless medical tests became the norm, each one a stark reminder of the battle raging within you. The disease, a silent thief, slowly sapped your strength and vitality, leaving you more fragile with each passing year.

Your family wrapped you in love and support, their concern palpable in every gentle touch and soft-spoken word. Yet, despite their efforts, the isolation was inescapable. Friends drifted away, unable to understand your world of limitations and restrictions. The future that once seemed bright and boundless was now a narrow path, shadowed by the inevitability of your illness.

Growing up, you learned to withdraw yourself from the world, seeking refuge in the confines of your room. The outside world, with its boundless energy and endless possibilities, felt like a mocking contrast to your shrinking existence. Even the well-meaning efforts of your family to uplift your spirits felt like hollow gestures, incapable of penetrating the thick fog of despair that seems to love embracing you. Optimism now seems pathetic for you to have—like a distant memory, a relic of a past life now unreachable.

“Have you heard about the upcoming meteor shower next week?” Your father’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts, drawing your attention back to the present. You glance up from the book you’re reading, curiosity piqued.

“Oh...?” You manage to respond, the word hanging in the air like a broken bridge between your world and theirs.

“I saw it on today’s news headline. Thought I’d break the news to you since you love those kinds of things,” he says, passing by the couch where you sat and ruffling your hair lightly.

That’s right.

The night sky, vast and unending, was your sanctuary. In the quiet hours when the world is quiet in a deep slumber, you’d find a profound sense of peace under its sprawling canopy. The stars, scattered like shimmering diamonds across the pitch black sky, spoke to you in a language that exceeds even the deepest of words. You felt a kinship with these distant suns, their light traveling across the eons to reach you, a solitary observer. Their constancy provided a stark contrast to the unpredictable ebb and flow of your life. While your body betrayed you, the stars remained steadfast, their glow unchanging and eternal. It was this constancy that you clung to, a fading glimmer of hope in your darkest hours.

Each night, you would sit by the window, wrapped in a blanket, eyes scanning the heavens for familiar patterns and new discoveries. The cool night air would brush against your skin, a gentle reminder of the world beyond your room, while the silence enveloped you in a cocoon of temporary peace.

During these moments, you’d feel a connection to something greater than yourself. The stars were not just distant balls of burning gas; they were ancient, ethereal, and eternal. They had witnessed the birth and death of galaxies, the rise and fall of civilizations. In their presence, your own life, with all its pain and brevity, seemed part of a larger image you could never be able to picture. You were all but a small thread in its grand design, and in a way, you’ve grown to find comfort in that knowledge.

The moon, in its phases, has become a symbol of your journey. Waxing and waning, it mirrored your own cycles of hope and despair. When it was full, you felt a surge of strength, a fleeting belief that perhaps you could overcome the odds. When it was new, you were reminded of the darkness that loomed, but also of the promise that light would return.

In the solitude of these nights, you allowed yourself to dream. Not of a future filled with pain and uncertainty, but of other worlds and possibilities. You imagined traveling among the stars, free from the confines of your ailing body. You pictured yourself as an explorer, charting the galaxies, uncovering the secrets of the universe. These dreams, though unrealistic, gave you a sense of purpose, a brief escape from the harsh reality you faced.

Your mother joins in on the conversation, momentarily placing the knife down on the cutting board as she peeked in the living room from where she stood in the kitchen. “I know an observatory somewhere in this town. If you want, I could take you there. It would be beautiful—the place would provide you a clear view of the night sky.” She smiles, waiting for your nod of agreement.

And when it didn’t come as she anticipated, she decided to walk around the kitchen corner, making a beeline to where you sat on the couch with a pillow placed on top of your crossed legs. The cushion beside you sinks as she occupies it, reaching for your hand settled down on the pillow to caress the back of it gently with her mildly calloused fingers.

“We don’t know for sure when the next meteor shower will occur, and… there’s not much time left,” your mother whispers hesitantly, and despite being certain that you’ve already gone numb, the look in her eyes initiates a crack in your heart.

“I know you hate the thought of going outside, but I don’t want you to miss out on this opportunity. Remember when you used to bug me everyday to make a meteor shower happen after I read a book about it to you?” she brings up a distant memory, and you find yourself traveling back in time to recall it.

Back then, when you were just a carefree child with no worries, still unaware of the cruelty that resides in the real world, you genuinely believed your mother was powerful enough to be capable of making a meteor shower occur.

Since you’ve always held fondness of the stars and so much so of your mother, you always saw her as some sort of a hero of high authority, sometimes even calling her ‘Deity of the Stars’ and making poorly drawn colored sketches of her in what you liked to call her hero suit. You swore it was realistic and highly possible back then, but now, you could no longer see it as anything more than a ridiculous superficial thought.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I did that…” you trailed off blankly, erupting a soft fit of laughter from your mother.

“Well, you were young. It was bound to happen. But anyway,” she shifted in her seat, holding your hand just a little tighter now. “Stargazing became your favorite thing to do after finding out about meteor showers, so… I think it would be nice to revisit a fragment of your childhood, won’t it?”

You stared into the void of nothingness, momentarily zoning out to consider your mother’s words. She was right, so right you couldn’t even bring yourself to be pessimistic and wish she wasn’t.

“I just… I want you to at least feel happiness again while we still have time left, and watching the meteor shower would be a good kick-start for that,” she said, and you gently tighten your grasp on her hand as well. If only you could yearn for your own happiness as much as she does for you.

Finally, you looked right into her eyes. “Okay,” you nod, the single word carrying the weight of your acceptance.

Your mother’s face lights up with a mixture of relief and sadness. “Great! Great, I… I can’t wait to take you there,” she beams with a shaky voice, and despite the wide smile on her lips, there were still tears falling down her eyes. She looks away as she attempts to wipe them out, and it shatters your heart even more.

Taking the pillow off your lap and placing it on the empty spot on your other side, you lean forward to engulf her in a heartfelt embrace, and she doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around you as well. She buries her face in your neck, the fabric of your shirt muffling her sobs of joy. You swore you had already gone numb, but this time, you feel a stray tear slowly fall down the skin of your face.

If you couldn’t bring yourself to experience the wonders of life for your own sake, then you’d do it for your parents.

—

The night before the meteor shower enveloped you in an eerie stillness, as if the world itself was holding its breath. You found yourself once again at the window, gazing out at the vast, star-speckled sky. The room was bathed in the faint glow of moonlight, casting a dim, silvery glow over everything. Outside, the symphony of crickets serenaded the night, their rhythmic chirping mingling with the soft hum of your room’s air conditioner. Occasionally, the rustling of your blanket as you shifted ever so slightly, trying to battle the cold evening air, broke the quiet atmosphere.

Whenever you’d find yourself in this scenario, looking up at the stars as their light glimmered and pierced through the inky darkness, a profound sense of calm would usually settle over you. The night sky had always been your refuge, a place where you could escape the harsh reality of your existence.

But tonight… tonight was different.

A heavy gloom began to seep into your thoughts, spreading through you like the thick ink of a quill spreading through a blank white paper. The beauty of the stars, which once brought solace, now seemed to mock your suffering. A wave of despair crashed over you, and your mind wandered to the inevitable end that awaited you.

The thought of your impending death hung over you like a dark cloud, casting a pall over the fleeting moments of joy you managed to grasp. It felt so unfair—so profoundly unjust—that your life had to be this way. You had dreams, aspirations, and desires just like anyone else, but they were perpetually out of reach, caged by the bars of your illness.

Why does it have to be this way? Why was such a cruel fate destined to be bound to you? It’s not like you asked to be born with such a disease—it’s not like you asked to be born. Everything that has ever happened to you your entire life has been against your will. For all the years you’ve spent in this world, you weren’t living—you were surviving.

You sighed, a deep, weary sound that seemed to echo in the silence of your room. The stars twinkled back at you, distant and untouchable. Your heart ached with the weight of your reality. How could you ever feel genuine happiness knowing that every moment was borrowed, that every smile was tinged with the bitterness of impermanence? The thought of letting go of everything you held dear gnawed at you relentlessly. It was a cruel joke, this life of yours, filled with fleeting moments of beauty overshadowed by an ever-present sense of doom.

Your thoughts then drifted to your parents. The sacrifices they had made, the countless nights they spent worrying about you, and the mountains of medical bills they had to pay—all of it weighed heavily on your conscience. You felt like a burden, an anchor dragging them down into an abyss of despair and financial ruin.

You leaned your forehead against the cool glass of the window, the weight of your guilt pressing down on you like a physical burden. It was a familiar feeling, one that had become an unwelcome companion over the years. The self-blame gnawed at you relentlessly, a persistent whisper in the back of your mind, telling you that you were the cause of all this pain.

This is all your fault.

Your thoughts eventually spiraled into a darker territory. If only you could just die sooner, you mused bitterly, then your parents wouldn’t have to endure this endless cycle of hope and despair. They could finally be free from the financial strain, the emotional turmoil, the constant fear of losing you. You envisioned them laughing together, their faces free from the lines of worry that had become so deeply etched into their features. They deserved that happiness, and you felt like you were stealing it from them.

It was so, so unfair on their behalf. All they ever wanted was to have a happy family—and then you let out your first breath and ruined everything.

The guilt was suffocating. It wrapped around your heart like a snake to its victim, squeezing tighter with each passing moment. You felt like a burden, a weight that your family had to carry, dragging them down with you into the bottom of the pit. The treatments, the surgeries, the endless doctor visits—they all felt like futile attempts to hold back the inevitable. And with each one, you saw the toll it took on your parents, the way their shoulders sagged a little more, their smiles became a little more forced.

You hated yourself for it. You hated that you were the cause of their suffering. You hated that you couldn’t be the healthy, carefree child they deserved. The resentment you felt towards your own body was a constant undercurrent, a bitter poison that tainted every moment of your life. How could you ever bring yourself to feel happy when your very existence seemed to be the source of so much pain?

The stars outside your window blurred as tears filled your eyes. You blinked them away, but they kept coming, hot and insistent. The enormity of your guilt was overwhelming, an ocean that would haunt you almost every single day. You wished, more than anything, that you could be someone else—someone who could bring joy instead of sorrow, hope instead of despair.

But you weren’t. You were trapped in this failing body, watching as your parents’ lives were consumed by your illness. The knowledge that you were the cause of their suffering was a wound that never healed, a constant ache that you carried with you every day. And it made the prospect of finding happiness feel impossible, a distant dream that you could never reach.

You clenched your fists, the frustration and anger boiling up inside you. Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t you be normal, healthy, free? The unfairness of it all was like a knife twisting in your gut, sharp and fresh as it draws blood from your insides. You didn’t ask for this life, this body, this fate. And yet, you were the one who had to live it, the one who had to endure it all because it’s the only thing you can do.

You longed desperately for a sign, something to tell you that there was a reason to keep going. You searched the night sky for it, hoping that maybe the stars, your silent companions, would offer you some form of guidance or comfort. But they remained silent, providing no answers to the questions that have been disturbing your mind.

Oftentimes, you found yourself wondering why you were still holding on. Why not just let go, end the suffering now? The thought of slipping away, of finding peace in the nothingness, was a tempting escape. What was the point of all this suffering? Why continue to drag yourself through each day when the end was inevitable and so painfully near?

But then, once more, you thought of your parents. The image of their faces, worn with worry and exhaustion, flashed before your eyes. They have sacrificed so much for you—time, money, their own happiness—all in the hope of giving you a chance at life. You couldn’t bear the thought of their sacrifices being in vain. You couldn’t stand the idea of their grief and guilt if you gave up now.

It was this thought, more than anything else, that kept your will to stay in this world going. You didn’t want their efforts to be wasted, didn’t want the countless hours spent in hospitals and the endless piles of medical bills to be for nothing. Their love for you was evident in every exhausted smile, every gentle touch, every whispered word of encouragement. You couldn’t repay them by giving up.

You needed a sign, something to break through the darkness and give you a reason to keep going. You needed to believe that there was more to life than this endless suffering, that there was still something worth fighting for. But each day that passed without such a sign left you feeling more hopeless, more resigned to your fate.

The thought of the upcoming meteor shower lingered in your mind. Perhaps, just perhaps, it would provide the solace you so desperately craved. Maybe standing beneath the falling stars would bring you a sense of peace, a glimpse of the beauty that still existed in the world despite your pain.

Maybe there, you’d find the sign you’ve been helplessly looking for, a reason to hold on for just a little longer.

—

You wake up in the afternoon, the sunlight passing softly through your bedroom curtains, painting gentle shadows on the walls. Stretching, you slowly make your way to the living room, drawn by the sounds of clinking pots and the savory aroma wafting from the kitchen. As you enter, you see your parents in the kitchen, working together as they prepare what seems to be an extravagant feast.

“Mom? Dad?” you call out, your voice slightly raspy from sleep.

They turn their heads toward you, their faces lighting up with warm smiles. But their expressions quickly shift to concern as they notice your puffy eyes, the lingering evidence of last night’s tears.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, trying to mask your emotions.

Your father steps out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He walks over to you, his eyes filled with gentle worry. “Were you crying last night?” he asks softly, his voice a tender blend of concern and love.

You shake your head quickly, turning his words down. “No, no, I’m fine. I just… overslept, that’s probably why my eyes are puffy.” The lie feels heavy on your tongue, but you can’t bear to add to their worries.

Your father doesn’t push further, though it’s clear he doesn’t believe you. Instead, he switches the topic, his tone turning lighter. “We’re cooking up quite a feast today. Your mom got a little carried away, I think,” he says with a chuckle.

You glance over at the kitchen, the counters filled with various ingredients and dishes in different stages of preparation. “What’s all this for?” you ask, puzzled.

Your mother turns from the stove, her face bright with a mixture of excitement and something deeper, something sadder. “Today’s a big day for you, since you’ll be going out tonight,” she says, her eyes shining. “We couldn’t help but get a little excited and maybe go a bit overboard.”

You furrow your brow, confused. “Why? I know there’s a meteor shower, but what’s so special about me watching it?”

Your parents exchange a glance, a silent conversation passing between them, filled with unspoken words and shared sorrow. Your mother turns off the stove and walks over to you, her expression softening with a bittersweet smile. She reaches out and takes your hands in hers, leading you to the couch where the three of you sit down together.

“Honey,” she begins, her voice gentle but firm, “we know how hard things have been for you. And we know how much you love the stars. This meteor shower… it’s not just any event. It’s something special, something that we hope will bring you a bit of joy, even if just for a moment.”

Your father nods, his eyes glistening with emotions. “We wanted to make today special for you because… because we love you. We want you to have something to hold onto, a memory that’s beautiful and bright, like the stars you love so much.”

Your mother squeezes your hands, her eyes searching yours. “You’ve been so strong, so brave. We see how much you’re hurting, and we just want to give you a piece of happiness, something that can shine through the darkness.”

Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. “But… why go through all this trouble?” you ask, your voice slightly shaking.

Your mother flashes you a gentle smile. “Because you, my dear, mean the world to us. If doing all this could potentially be a way to help you find the light inside of you, then it’s not something we’ll deem troublesome at all.”

Your father wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a comforting embrace. “You’re not alone in this, sweetheart. We’re here with you, every step of the way. And tonight, we want to share the magic of the stars with you, to remind you that there’s still beauty and wonder in the world, no matter how hard things get.”

The weight of their words settles over you, a mixture of overwhelming love and a deep, aching sadness. You feel their sincerity, their desire to give you something beautiful, something that transcends the pain. And in that moment, you realize that this night, this meteor shower, is more than just an event. It’s a symbol of their unending love, their hope, and their determination to make your life a little brighter, even if only for a short while.

When you’re all finally seated at the dining table, the array of dishes laid out before you, there’s a tangible air of celebration mixed with a touch of melancholy. The scents of home-cooked food fill the room, and your parents’ faces are illuminated by the soft, warm glow of the overhead light.

As you begin to eat, the conversation flows naturally at first, revolving around the familiar comfort of family and the minutiae of daily life. But soon, your parents gently steer the discussion toward the evening ahead.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” your father asks, his tone light and casual, though his eyes are watchful.

You look up from your plate, feeling the weight of their expectations. “Just watching the meteor shower, I guess,” you say before turning your attention back on slicing the steak laid out in front of you, your voice steady but devoid of enthusiasm.

Your mother leans forward slightly, a hopeful smile on her face. “Maybe after we watch the meteor shower, we could stop by that new fast-food restaurant that opened last month. I hear their milkshakes are amazing.”

You offer a small, polite smile in return, shaking your head. “I think I’ll stick to just watching the meteor shower tonight.”

There’s a brief silence, the only sounds coming from the clinking of silverware against plates and the faint hum of the refrigerator. Your parents exchange a glance, their faces reflecting a mix of disappointment and understanding.

Your father tries again, his voice gentle. “Or we could swing by the mall for a little while. They’ve decorated for the season, and it might be nice to walk around, maybe do some window shopping.”

You feel the sincerity in his words, the genuine desire to make your evening special. But for now, the thought of venturing beyond the observatory, of facing the bustling energy of the outside world, feels overwhelming.

“Thanks, Dad,” you reply, your tone soft but firm. “But really, just the meteor shower is enough for me.”

Your mother reaches across the table, her hand covering yours. “We understand,” she says, her voice filled with a mixture of love and sorrow. “Baby steps, right?”

You nod, grateful for her understanding. “Yeah… baby steps.”

They continue to eat, the conversation shifting back to more mundane topics, but the undercurrent of their hopes for you lingers in the air. They don’t press further, recognizing that perhaps tonight, simply watching the meteor shower is as much as you can manage. Their sadness is evident, but it’s tempered by their acceptance, their willingness to let you take things at your own pace.

When the night falls, the air is filled with a sense of anticipation as the three of you prepare for the journey to the observatory. You find yourself in your room, standing before the wardrobe that holds the outdoor clothes your parents have bought for you throughout the years. Clothes that, for the most part, have only seen the light of day during hospital visits for your monthly checkups.

You reach for a long, dirty white dress adorned with a delicate pattern of tiny roses. It’s simple, yet beautiful—a piece that speaks to the girl you wish you could be, one full of dreams and wonder. You pair it with a dark red knitted cardigan, the warm hue adding a touch of vibrancy to your outfit. A pair of shoes, carefully chosen to match, complete your ensemble.

Deciding to fix yourself up a little, you apply a light amount of makeup. As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, you’re struck by a strange mix of emotions. There’s a hint of the person you could have been, the life you might have led.

As if on cue, there’s a soft knock on your door. “Are you finished preparing?” your mother’s voice calls from the hallway.

“You can come in,” you reply, turning to face the door. And when she enters, she’s nearly brought to tears at the sight of you.

“You look so beautiful,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. She crosses the room in a few quick strides, enveloping you in a warm, heartfelt embrace. Though you’re confused by the intensity of her reaction, you hug her back, your arms wrapping around her with equal tenderness.

When she finally pulls away, she cups your face in her hands, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m so, so, so proud of you,” she says, her voice trembling with sincerity.

You offer her a small, genuine smile, your hands reaching up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Thanks, Mom.”

Together, you make your way downstairs. Your father is waiting on the couch, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. “You look amazing,” he says, his voice filled with genuine awe. He stands and wraps you in a hug as well, his embrace warm and reassuring.

They really do love you dearly, and it makes your heart swell with a mix of gratitude and sorrow. It’s moments like these that remind you of the depth of their love, their unwavering support despite the countless hardships they have to face.

Soon, you’re all in your father’s car, the engine purring as you set off towards the observatory. The drive is serene, the world outside bathed in the soft glow of streetlights and the distant shimmer of stars. Your parents, sensing your nervousness, try to distract you with gentle conversation.

“Did you know that the observatory was built over a hundred years ago?” your dad asks, his tone light and engaging. “It’s seen countless meteor showers and celestial events. It’s almost like it has a history of its own.”

“Really?” you reply, your curiosity piqued. “That’s interesting.”

Your mom chimes in, her voice soft and soothing. “I read somewhere that watching a meteor shower is supposed to bring good luck. Maybe tonight will bring something special for all of us.”

You nod, giving her a small smile. Their efforts to lighten your mood are not lost on you, and though the anxiety still lingers, you feel a bit more at ease.

As the car winds its way through the darkened roads, you find yourself staring out the window, the stars above a silent reminder of the night ahead. You cling to the hope that this evening, beneath the vast expanse of the sky, something will shift—perhaps the night will end with you finally having a reason to hold on just a little longer.

When you finally arrive, you see the observatory perched in the middle of a grassy field atop a hill. The area around it is alive with people setting up blankets, reclining lawn chairs, and chatting as they wait for the meteor shower to begin. Some have chosen to stay inside the observatory, where telescopes and guided explanations promise a closer look at the sky.

You and your parents head towards the observatory, but something inside you makes you hesitate. The idea of watching the meteor shower while lying on the grass, feeling the earth beneath you and the sky above, seems more intimate and appealing.

“I think I’d like to watch it from here,” you tell your parents, glancing at the open field.

They exchange a look of concern. “Are you sure?” your father asks, hesitation evident in his voice.

You nod, offering a reassuring smile. “Yeah. You two should go inside. I’ll be fine out here. Baby steps, right?”

Your mother looks at you for a long moment, and a heartwarming smile finds its way to her lips. She was so, so proud of you. “Alright. We’ll be inside if you need us. Just come find us when you’re ready.”

“I will,” you promise, and with that, they head towards the observatory.

You spread out a blanket on the grass and sit down, the night air cool against your skin. Around you, groups of friends, families, and couples chatter excitedly. You can hear the hum of their conversations, the occasional burst of laughter, and the low murmur of anticipation. Despite the crowds, you feel a profound sense of solitude.

The meteor shower begins, and you crane your neck, squinting at the sky, but you can’t see anything. Frustration starts to build, knotting in your chest. Just as you’re about to give up, a voice speaks from behind you.

“You might want to use a telescope for that.”

You turn around, startled. Standing behind you is a fairly attractive young man. He’s wearing a white shirt with a flannel over it and black pants, framed glasses perched on his nose. His presence is unexpected but you don’t speak against it nevertheless, and he gives you a warm, easy smile.

“Here,” he says, sitting down beside you and handing you a small telescope.

You take it hesitantly, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment. “Uh… thank you,” you mumble awkwardly—understandably so as you don’t exactly know how to talk to anyone who isn’t your family or your doctor, bringing the telescope to your eye. As you adjust the focus, the sky bursts into clarity, and you see a streak of light arc across the darkness—a meteor.

“Wow,” you whisper, unable to tear your gaze away.

The young man chuckles softly beside you. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

For a while, the two of you sit in companionable silence, watching the sky. Each meteor that blazes across the heavens feels like a small miracle, a moment of beauty in a world that often seems so harsh and unkind.

He breaks the silence, his voice gentle and filled with enthusiasm. “You know, this year’s meteor shower is part of the Perseids. They’re actually debris left behind by the comet Swift-Tuttle, which orbits the sun every 133 years. The meteors you’re seeing tonight are fragments of that comet burning up in Earth’s atmosphere.”

You put down the telescope for a moment and look at him, intrigued but unsure how to respond. His knowledge and passion are evident, and you don’t want to interrupt or discourage him. Fortunately, he seems to notice your silence and continues, his excitement growing as he speaks.

“It’s one of the most spectacular meteor showers because the particles hit the atmosphere at over 133,000 miles per hour, creating these bright, fast streaks of light. And on a good night, like tonight, you can see up to a hundred meteors per hour.”

Wanting to add your own contribution to the conversation so you wouldn’t seem like you’re just putting up with him, you say, “You seem to know a lot about astronomy.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling into crescents. He shyly rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I’m an aspiring astronomer, so…”

“Really?” You react to the unexpected newfound knowledge about this stranger with genuine surprise, your interest being genuinely piqued.

“Yeah,” he says, his smile widening. “Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been obsessed with the night sky. There’s just something about the vastness of space, the mystery of it all, that makes me feel... connected, I guess. Like, there’s so much more out there, you know?”

“I’ve always loved the stars too,” you admit quietly, almost as if sharing a secret. “They make me feel... less alone.”

His eyes soften and you’re not sure how you were able to see it happening clearly even though your surroundings are dim and the reflection of the distant lights cover the lens of his glasses—not to mention the strands of his hair at the very front framing his face, and he nods. “Exactly. It’s like looking at the stars makes everything else seem smaller, less overwhelming.”

Feeling an unexpected sense of ease, you shift slightly to face him a little more, curiosity bubbling up inside you. “Do you know any interesting facts about astronomy?” you ask, your voice tinged with genuine interest.

It was refreshing hearing him talk so passionately about this year’s meteor shower, telling you about facts you were certain not even a quarter of the people in here—save for the astronomers—know of, and you’re not sure why, but it made you want to hear him share his knowledge with you more.

He looks at you, momentarily puzzled. “Like... anything? Anything at all?”

You nod eagerly. “Yeah. I mean… I love stargazing, but I don’t really know much about astronomy itself. I just think the night sky is comforting and looks pretty.”

A warm smile spreads across his face, and he seems delighted by your interest. “Well, where to start?” He takes a moment to think. “Did you know that the Sun, our own star, produces the energy equivalent of 100 billion nuclear bombs every second through nuclear fusion in its core? Or that neutron stars, which are the remnants of supernovae, can spin up to 500 times per second? They're incredibly dense—a single teaspoon of neutron star material would weigh about a billion tons!”

He was practically beaming while sharing the facts about astronomy he knows of, and it drives your curiosity—despite being unsure if it’s directed to any further knowledge from him or to the young man himself—even further.

“That’s insane," you say in genuine astonishment. “How do neutron stars spin so fast? And… how can something be that dense? I can’t even imagine it.”

His eyes light up, clearly pleased by your genuine interest. “Neutron stars are fascinating, right? Their rapid rotation is due to the conservation of angular momentum. When the core of a massive star collapses in a supernova, it retains its angular momentum but its radius shrinks dramatically, causing it to spin much faster—kind of like how a figure skater spins faster when they pull their arms in.”

“And the density?” you press, leaning in slightly.

“Well,” he continues, “neutron stars are composed almost entirely of neutrons, which are packed so closely together that their density becomes astronomical. It’s mind-blowing to think about, but it’s because all the empty space between atoms gets eliminated, leaving just the neutrons packed together.”

His passion for astronomy is contagious, and as he explains the wonders of neutron stars, you can’t help but be impressed by his vast knowledge. You find yourself wondering just how long and often he studies, as it’s a fascinating sight to see someone so dedicated to their passion. In a way, you envy that trait—it’s something you’ve longed for in your own life.

“Neutron stars are just one example,” he continues speaking, oblivious to your internal musings. “The universe is full of these mind-boggling phenomena that challenge our understanding of physics and reality.”

You watch him, noting the excitement in his voice, the way his eyes sparkle as he speaks. It’s clear that he lives and breathes this subject, and his enthusiasm is infectious. There’s something comforting about his dedication, a reminder that there are people out there who are deeply connected to their passions.

His eyes twinkle with curiosity as he asks, “Do you have any favorite constellations in particular?” You tilt your head, wondering where this is going. “Why do you ask?”

He grins. “I want to see if I have any interesting facts about it. I’ve read a lot about constellations, so I’m curious if I can tell you something new about your favorite.” You think for a moment before replying, “Orion. I’ve always liked Orion.”

His face lights up. “Orion, the Hunter! That's a great choice. Did you know that the stars in Orion's Belt—Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka—are all blue supergiants? They’re incredibly hot and massive, much more so than our Sun.”

He continues, “Betelgeuse, the red supergiant that marks one of Orion’s shoulders, is fascinating too. It’s so large that if it were placed in the center of our solar system, its surface would extend beyond the orbit of Mars. Betelgeuse is also a semiregular variable star, meaning its brightness changes over time. Astronomers think it could go supernova anytime within the next million years, which in cosmic terms is pretty soon.”

He then dived deeper into the lore and facts about Orion, his enthusiasm evident. “Then there’s Rigel, Orion’s other shoulder star. It’s a blue supergiant about 870 light-years away from us. It’s one of the brightest stars in our sky, around 120,000 times more luminous than the Sun. But it’s not just one star—Rigel is actually a star system with at least three components, possibly even more. There’s Rigel A, the supergiant, and a pair of smaller stars that orbit around it.”

You listen intently, drawn in by his enthusiasm. As he continues to talk, you can’t help but be captivated by the depth of his knowledge. He speaks with such passion and ease, and you wonder just how long and often he must study astronomy to know so much. It’s a stark contrast to your own experiences, where your illness has often overshadowed any pursuit of hobbies or interests.

“Another fascinating thing is that Orion’s Belt aligns almost perfectly with the pyramids of Giza in Egypt. This alignment has sparked numerous theories and legends about ancient civilizations and their connection to the stars. Some believe the pyramids were built to mirror the constellation, symbolizing a connection between Earth and the heavens,” he says, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping as if sharing a secret.

You find yourself thinking about how amazing it is to see someone so deeply invested in something. His eyes light up with every new fact he shares, his excitement palpable. It makes you feel a twinge of envy; you wish you could have such a passion, something that drives you and fills you with purpose.

“And there’s more,” he continues, “The Horsehead Nebula, which is part of the Orion Molecular Cloud Complex, is a dark nebula located just south of Alnitak, the leftmost star in Orion’s Belt. It's named for its distinctive shape, which looks like the head of a horse. It’s a fascinating area of space where new stars are being born.”

You listen, mesmerized not just by the information but by the boy himself. There’s something inspiring about his dedication and the way he finds joy in the cosmos. For a moment, your own struggles seem distant, replaced by a curiosity and a desire to know more.

“Wow, I had no idea there was so much to Orion,” you say, genuinely impressed. He smiles, his eyes still twinkling. “There’s always more to learn and discover. That’s what I love about astronomy—it constantly reminds me how vast and mysterious our universe is.”

Just as you practically feel that he’s about to steer the conversation towards you and ask if there’s anything you’re passionate about, you’re quick on your feet to beat him to it, “Why do you want to become an astronomer? Why are you so dedicated to it?”

He pauses, his expression softening as he considers your question. “It’s a long story,” he begins, his eyes flickering to the stars above. “But the short version is, I’ve always been fascinated by the night sky. When I was a kid, my parents got me a telescope for my birthday. I remember the first time I saw the rings of Saturn—I was completely hooked.”

You watch him closely, noticing the way his features light up with each word. There’s a deep-seated passion in his voice, a genuine love for the subject he spoke of.

“My grandfather was a big influence too,” he continues. “He used to take me out to this old observatory near our house. We’d spend hours there, just looking at the stars and talking about the universe. He’d tell me stories about constellations and the myths behind them. Those moments felt magical, and they sparked a curiosity in me that never went away.”

He glances at you, a small, wistful smile appearing on his lips. “As I grew older, I realized that astronomy wasn’t just about looking at pretty stars. It’s about understanding our place in the universe, exploring the unknown, and constantly challenging what we think we know. There’s so much out there that we haven’t discovered yet, and that’s what drives me. The idea that, no matter how much we learn, there’s always more to uncover.”

You nod slowly, captivated by his words. It’s clear that his dedication to astronomy isn’t just about the science; it’s about the wonder and endless possibilities the universe holds.

“And I guess,” he adds, his voice softer, “it’s also a way to keep that connection with my grandfather alive. Every time I look through a telescope, it feels like he’s there with me, sharing that moment."

“That’s incredible,” you say, your voice filled with genuine admiration. “It’s amazing how something like a childhood gift can shape your entire life.”

He chuckles, the sound warm and comforting. “Yeah, it’s funny how life works out sometimes. Well… what about you? Do you have anything you’re passionate about?”

You hesitate, looking down at the grass, the weight of your own struggles pressing on your shoulders. “There’s nothing in particular that I hold any sort of passion for,” you admit hesitantly. “It just feels pointless. There’s not enough time for me to explore anything, and even if I did, it would all go to waste in the end anyway. So, I never really bothered to try.”

The young man listens intently, his expression thoughtful. “I understand,” he begins, choosing his words carefully. “It’s easy to get overwhelmed by the idea of how things might end, especially when you feel like you have limited time. But sometimes, it’s not about the end result; it’s about the moments in between. Focusing on what’s happening right now, what’s right in front of you, can make all the difference."

You let out a small sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and sadness. He doesn’t understand at all—but he’s not at fault for that. “That’s easier said than done.”

He nods in agreement. “Well, you’re right. It is easier said than done. But, hey, there’s always a first time for everything, and this could be one of those times. Starting small can make it more manageable.”

“But what’s the point in doing all that, anyway?” you ask, a hint of resignation in your voice.

He leans in slightly, his gaze warm and full of hope—a stark contrast to yours that are devoid of emotion. “The point is to find those little moments of joy and meaning, even if they seem insignificant. Maybe it starts with something as simple as taking a walk in the park, trying out a new flavor of your favorite food, or experimenting with a different style than what you're used to. These small steps can lead to new experiences and, who knows, maybe even a newfound passion.”

He continues speaking, “It’s about creating moments that matter to you, no matter how small they might seem. And maybe, over time, those moments will add up to something bigger, something meaningful.”

You look at him and, without much emotion, remark, “You seem to be a really sentimental and optimistic person.”

He blushes slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I try to see the bright side in everything. It’s not always easy, but I believe there’s always something good, even in the toughest situations.”

Is there?

You hesitate, then ask, “But what if you come across a situation where it’s impossible to see the bright side? What would you do then?”

His smile falters for a moment, and he looks thoughtful. “That’s a tough question,” he admits. “I think, in those moments, it’s about finding any sliver of hope you can, no matter how small. Sometimes, it’s not about seeing the bright side immediately but about holding on until things start to make sense. It might mean leaning on others for support, finding strength in small victories, or just surviving one day at a time.”

You glance down, digesting his words. They resonate with you more deeply than you expected. Though he doesn’t know it, he is describing your life—the struggle, the search for any small piece of hope.

He continues, his voice softer. “There are times when the world seems overwhelmingly dark, and in those times, it’s okay to acknowledge that it’s hard. But I believe there’s always a way forward, even if it’s just a tiny step at a time.”

“But what if you can’t find any sliver of hope because there’s none in the first place?” you ask, your voice tinted with a mix of frustration and resignation.

He pauses, as if he’s beginning to sense the weight of your words. “Are you… speaking from a personal perspective?” he asks gently, afraid to hit any sore spot.

You look down at the grass, avoiding his gaze. The silence stretches, and he takes it as a sign to answer.

“Well, sometimes, it feels like there’s no hope at all,” he begins carefully. “I’ve had moments like that, where everything seems bleak. When that happens, I try to remember that feelings are temporary, even the worst ones. It might not seem like it now, but change is the only constant. If you can’t find hope in your current situation, maybe it can come from something small, something outside of the immediate struggle.”

He shifted slightly closer, playing with the lace of his shoe while he sat cross-legged. “It might be a smile from a stranger, a kind word from a friend, or even a moment like this, where you’re sharing your thoughts with someone. Those tiny moments of connection can sometimes provide the sliver of hope we need to keep going.”

You remain silent, processing his words. He continues, “And if you can’t see any hope right now, that’s okay. Sometimes, we have to lean on others to help us find it. You don’t have to carry the burden alone. There are people who care about you and want to help.”

“Do you think there’s hope left for those with a doomed fate?” you ask, your voice coming out as a whisper, filled with an unspoken plea for reassurance.

He falls silent for a moment, contemplating your question. “Hope is a complicated thing,” he begins slowly. “Even in the darkest of times, hope can be the smallest of lights. It’s not always about finding a way to change your fate, but rather finding a way to live despite it.”

He looks up at the sky, his eyes reflecting the faint glow of the stars. “I believe that even when someone’s fate seems doomed, there can still be moments of beauty, connection, and meaning. Those moments might not change the outcome, but they can change the experience of the journey. It’s about making the most of the time you have, no matter how limited it may be. It can be as simple as watching a meteor shower with someone who cares, or as profound as realizing that your life, however brief, has touched others in ways you might never fully understand.”

You listen, his words weaving through the heavy fog of your thoughts. His sincerity offers a glimmer of comfort, a reminder that even in a seemingly hopeless situation, there can still be a reason to hold on, even if just for a little while longer.

Suddenly, your conversation with him is interrupted by the distant call of your mother. Both of you glance back towards the source of the voice. The realization hits you that it’s time to go home. You turn back to him, a slight reluctance in your eyes.

“It’s getting late. I should probably head home,” you say, standing up and brushing the grass off your dress. The cool night air feels heavier now, carrying with it a sense of the evening coming to an end. “You should too.”

He remains seated, his eyes fixed on you with a warm smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he replies, but makes no immediate move to get up. There’s a quiet understanding in his gaze, an acknowledgment of the fleeting yet meaningful connection you’ve shared.

You both wave goodbye, and you add, “Thanks… for talking to me. It was nice meeting you.”

“It was nice meeting you too,” he says while smiling, still seated, watching you walk away, his eyes following your every step.

As you approach your parents, their broad smiles greet you, filled with a mix of curiosity and pride. “What’s the matter?” you ask with genuine curiosity.

“Did you make a new friend?” your mother inquires, her eyes sparkling with hope and a touch of relief.

At the mention of the young man, you glance back towards where you left him. He’s now engrossed in his telescope, scanning the night sky with the same passion that drew you to him in the first place. You turn back to your parents with a nonchalant shrug. “I’m not really sure.”

Your father places a gentle hand on your shoulder, his grip warm and reassuring. “We’re proud of you for trying to talk to someone new,” he says, his voice filled with encouragement.

Your mother nods in agreement, her smile soft and understanding. “It’s a big step, and we’re just glad you took it.”

On the ride home, the car is filled with a comfortable silence, the kind that allows thoughts to flow freely. You find yourself replaying the stranger’s words over and over in your mind. His perspective on life, his deep passion for astronomy, and his hopeful outlook seem to carve out a small but significant space in your heart. His advice to focus on the present rather than the daunting future lingers, a beacon of light in your often dark and uncertain world.

As the car rolls through the quiet streets, you glance out the window at the night sky. The stars seem a bit brighter now, each one a reminder of the infinite possibilities that exist, even in the face of overwhelming odds.

Suddenly, a realization hits you, pulling you out of your reverie. You didn’t get to ask him what his name was. A pang of regret settles in your chest, mingling with the residual warmth of the evening. You wonder if you’ll ever see him again, or if this brief encounter will remain just a fleeting, albeit impactful, memory.

For the first time in a long while, you feel a tiny flicker of something akin to hope. It’s fragile and tentative, but it’s there, nestled in the corner of your mind, whispering that maybe, just maybe, there’s more to life than the bleakness you’ve grown accustomed to.

For once, the shooting stars have heard your wish to be given a sign to keep going.

—

A few days later, you find yourself under that dark cloud of sadness again. It always strikes at the most unexpected times—like now, while you’re in the shower. The water droplets sprinkling from the showerhead feel more like a deluge, and you can’t shake the sensation of being drowned by your own thoughts. The sadness, always lurking in the background, engulfs you completely. You turn off the shower, the silence of the room only amplifying the roar of your thoughts. Leaning against the tiled walls, you tilt your head back, as if trying to prevent the tears from falling. Just as the dam is about to break, a voice echoes in your mind—his voice, almost as if on cue.

“I believe that even when someone’s fate seems doomed, there can still be moments of beauty, connection, and meaning. Those moments might not change the outcome, but they can change the experience of the journey. It’s about making the most of the time you have, no matter how limited it may be.”

His words cut through the darkness, offering a glimmer of light. Making the most of your time... no matter how limited it may be. You remember him mentioning the small steps you can take: going on a walk, trying out new things. An idea starts to form, slowly but surely.

After finishing your shower, you head to your room. A staring contest with your closet ensues as you ponder what would be appropriate for a day at the park. Once you settle on something comfortable yet presentable and finish fixing yourself up, you walk to the living room, where only your father was found as your mother was away for work. The sight of you fully dressed up surprises him—in a good way.

“What’s the occasion?” he asks, trying to mask his astonishment.

Shyly, you respond, “Can you drive me to the park?”

Your father’s eyes widen in surprise, and you can see he’s holding back tears. His voice choked with emotion, happily agreeing. “Of course! I mean, of course, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

His pride and happiness is palpable, and for the first time in a long while, you feel a small sense of accomplishment. It’s a tiny step, but it’s the beginning of something new. As you walk towards the door with your father, the young man’s words continue to echo in your mind.

On the drive to the park, you gaze out the window, watching the world pass by. The trees blur together, and the sky stretches out infinitely, offering a sense of calm. The hum of the car is soothing, and for a moment, you let yourself be enveloped by the tranquility.

Your father, hands steady on the wheel, breaks the silence with a gentle question. “What made you want to go to the park today?”

Turning to him, you muster a small smile, so faint it could barely be seen. “Just... making the most out of the time I have left,” you shrug.

Your father glances at you, his eyes softening with a mix of pride and sadness. He doesn’t say anything, but his expression speaks volumes. He’s grateful to see you taking steps, no matter how small, towards finding some semblance of joy or normalcy.

As the car continues down the road, the significance of this simple outing begins to settle in. It’s not just a trip to the park; it’s a step towards living, towards reclaiming moments that were lost in the shadow of illness and despair.

When you finally arrive at the park, you take a deep breath, ready to embrace whatever this new experience might bring. For now, you’re just a girl, standing in a park, making the most of the time she has, and that’s enough.

Your father gives you a reassuring smile. “Make sure you message me when you’re ready to be picked up, okay?” You nod, trying to mirror his smile. “I will.”

He waves goodbye as you step out of the car, and suddenly, you’re alone. Taking small steps, the outside world feels almost unfamiliar. People are everywhere—couples, friends, families. Pets chase each other around, vendors sell a variety of foods, and the trees provide a gentle, comforting breeze.

You stroll through the park, slowly taking in your surroundings. Every step is cautious because this isn’t exactly familiar territory. But you remind yourself—baby steps. This is a new experience, and you deserve to cut yourself some slack.

Lost in your thoughts, you wander through the park, hardly noticing as the density of people around you gradually increases. The noise rises, a symphony of chatter, laughter, and footsteps, becoming more unbearable with each step you take. It’s as if the sound waves themselves are pressing against your skin, squeezing tighter with each passing second.

Suddenly, the environment feels overwhelmingly loud. Anxiety hits you like a tidal wave, swift and unrelenting as you begin to realize what you wish had just gone over your head: you are alone in a place you’ve never stepped foot on before.

Your heart races, pounding in your chest with such force that you fear it might explode. Every noise seems amplified, and every glance from a passerby feels like a spotlight trained on you. The world around you blurs and narrows into a tunnel vision where only the threat of being watched remains clear.

Your breaths become shallow, rapid, and each inhale feels like it barely reaches your lungs. You place a trembling hand on your chest, trying to ground yourself, but it only seems to make the panic more palpable. Your throat tightens, making it hard to swallow, and a cold sweat breaks out on your forehead. Tears well up, stinging your eyes as the sense of doom takes hold.

Your legs feel unsteady, almost as if they might give out beneath you at any moment. The crowd seems to close in, the once little groups of people now a suffocating mass. The world around you distorts, sounds warping into an unintelligible hum. You feel disconnected from your body, as if you’re watching yourself from a distance, helpless to stop the panic that courses through you.

Just as you begin to take a step back, desperate to escape, you collide with something solid. It’s a person’s back, and when you turn, you see the broad figure of a man wearing a black fitted turtleneck. You’re about to flee, but he turns, his expression initially one of surprise.

“Oh, sorry—”

Then recognition dawns on both your faces. It’s the young man from the observatory. He sees the panic in your eyes, the hand clutching at your heart, the tears threatening to spill over. His face softens, concern replacing surprise, and he steps closer, his presence grounding in the midst of your chaos.

“Hey, are you okay?” His voice is a lifeline.

You can’t trust yourself to speak, so you just shake your head, eyes wide and pleading. For a moment, you catch a glimpse of the expression you held on your reflection on the lens of his glasses, and it drives you into despair even further.

He cautiously steps even closer, his voice low and soothing. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You're safe. Just breathe with me, alright? In and out.”

He starts to breathe slowly and deeply, demonstrating for you. At first, it’s hard to match his calm rhythm, but focusing on his steady breaths helps. Gradually, your own breathing slows, deepens, the frantic pounding in your chest easing slightly.

He keeps his gaze locked on yours, his voice a constant, comforting murmur. “You’re doing great. Just keep breathing.”

The world begins to settle back into place. The noise recedes, and the faces in the crowd become less threatening. Your breaths come easier, the tightness in your chest loosening its grip. Tears that were on the brink of falling retreat, leaving your eyes wet but no longer overflowing.

His eyes remain warm, filled with genuine concern. “Do you want to sit down for a bit?” he suggests, certain that you needed a little more time to calm down. You hesitate for a moment, then nod in agreement.

He leads you to a nearby bench, his presence bringing a somewhat calming aura as he sits beside you. He tries to engage you in small talk, attempting to distract you from your overwhelming thoughts. “So, what brings you to the park today?” he asks gently.

You fiddle with your fingers on your lap, grateful for the normalcy of the question and the fact that he seems to be trying to distract you from your thoughts.

“I followed your advice from that night at the observatory,” you explain. “You talked about making the most of the time I have left by trying out new things. I remembered that and decided to come here.”

He looks genuinely surprised. “Really? I didn’t expect you to remember that, let alone follow it.”

You offer a small nod. “This morning, I was feeling down, and your words just came to me. That’s when I decided to come here. But I wasn’t expecting it to be so… hard. I’ve barely been here thirty minutes and I already had an anxiety attack.”

His expression softens with understanding. “It’s completely normal to feel that way. Huge crowds can be really overwhelming, especially if you’re not used to them.”

He pauses, sensing there’s more to your anxiety but refrains from pressing further. Instead, he offers a supportive presence, hoping you’ll share only what you’re comfortable with. To his surprise, you continue.

“I’ve never been to the park before,” you admit, your voice a whisper. “I’ve been mostly isolated my entire life.”

His curiosity is piqued, but he respects your boundaries. He nods, his eyes reflecting empathy. “That must be really tough,” he says softly. “I can’t even imagine.”

There’s a moment of silence, comfortable and filled with unspoken understanding. For once, you don’t feel the need to fill the conversation—just his presence was enough.

“You know,” he begins, looking out at the park with a contemplative expression, “the first time I went to a new place by myself, I felt pretty overwhelmed too. It was nowhere near what you’re going through, but I get a bit of what it’s like to be surrounded by so much and feel so alone.”

You appreciate his effort to relate, to connect. It’s a small comfort, but it matters. “Thank you,” you say quietly. “For being here, and… for understanding.”

He smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes and warms you from the inside. “Anytime. And remember, everyone starts small. You’re doing great just by being here.”

Silence fills the air for a few seconds, allowing the tranquility of the park to envelop you both. Then, a thought surfaces, nudging you gently. “You know…” you begin, turning slightly towards him, “I still don’t know your name.”

His face lights up with a shy smile. “Oh, right. I guess I forgot to introduce myself properly. My name is San. Choi San.”

“San,” you repeat, letting the name roll off your lips. “Like the mountain.”

He laughs, a soft and endearing sound. “Yeah, exactly like the mountain. You’re not the first to make that connection,” he says with a grin, a hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks.

The wind rustles the leaves in the trees, carrying with it the distant sounds of laughter and conversation. You sit there, feeling a strange mix of relief and curiosity. San’s enthusiasm for life and his kindness provide a stark contrast to the isolation and fear that have been your constant companions.

“San,” you say again, more to yourself than to him, feeling the name claim a place for itself in your mind. There’s something grounding about it, something that makes you feel a little more connected to the world around you.

In an attempt to keep the discussion going and to distract yourself from what happened earlier, you decide to ask him what he asked you earlier.

"So, what brings you to the park today?" you inquire, your curiosity genuine.

San leans back slightly, looking around as if the park itself might answer. “I often come here to clear my head or unwind, especially when I'm going through something. It’s like a little sanctuary for me. Being out here helps me calm down and gather my thoughts.”

You wish you weren’t so afraid of being by yourself in huge crowds. If only you could do the same as San, finding solace in a place like this without feeling overwhelmed.

“What do you like about the park? Why does it bring you comfort?” you ask, and he smiles, a faraway look in his eyes.

“There’s something about the openness of it all. The way the trees rustle, the sound of children laughing, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves. It’s grounding. It reminds me that there’s more to life than the stress and the noise. It’s a place where I can just be.”

“You really seem to have a deep connection with a lot of things. First, astronomy, and now, nature,” you remark, a hint of admiration in your voice.

San nods, his eyes reflecting the sunlight filtering through the trees. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. It’s always been a place where I can reset and remind myself of the bigger picture. For me, nature has this way of putting everything into perspective.”

It was a fascinating sight to see, in a way. Spending all your hours within the confines of your home and being imprisoned by your own fate for pretty much all the years you’ve spent in this world has proved to be something that had imprinted a huge impact in the way you live, because even seeing passion being radiated by people is enough to elicit genuine surprise from you.

So this is what being in a world outside of yours is like.

So this is what seeing things in a perspective different from the one you’re holding is like.

So this is what not being you is like.

You look around, trying to see the park through his eyes. “I wish I could feel that way. Most of the time, I just feel... overwhelmed.”

San looks at you with understanding. “It’s okay to feel that way. Everyone has their own journey. What matters is that you’re trying. Coming here today was a big step, and it’s a good start.”

You nod, feeling a bit reassured. “Thank you. I guess I just have to take it one step at a time, huh?”

“Exactly,” San agrees, his voice encouraging. “And remember, it’s okay to take breaks and ask for help when you need it. You’re not alone.”

His words resonate with you, and for the first time in a while, you feel a glimmer of hope. It’s small, but it’s there, nevertheless. “Maybe I’ll try to come here more often, see if it helps.”

San smiles warmly. “I think that’s a great idea. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll find as much peace here as I do.”

You sit in comfortable silence for a while, watching the park come to life around you. The chaos that felt suffocating earlier now seems a bit more manageable, with San’s presence providing comfort.

As the conversation winds down, you feel a sense of gratitude. “Thank you, San. For everything. I didn’t think talking to a stranger could make such a difference.”

San chuckles softly. “Sometimes, a fresh perspective is all we need. And, well, we’re not really strangers anymore, are we?”

You offer him a small smile, feeling a connection forming. “I guess not.”

As the sun begins to set, casting a warm orange glow over the park, you look at San and say, “I should probably ask my father to come pick me up.”

San nods, stretching a bit after adjusting his glasses. “Yeah, I should head home too. My cat is probably wondering where I am.”

Your curiosity is piqued despite your earlier intention to leave. “Oh, you have a cat?” you ask.

“Yeah,” San replies with a smile. “Her name is Byeol, she’s a Siamese cat.” He pulls out his phone and shows you a picture of her. Byeol is a strikingly beautiful cat with piercing blue eyes and a sleek, cream-colored coat accented with darker points on her ears, face, paws, and tail.

“She’s adorable,” you say, admiring the photo. “She looks like a princess.”

San beams with pride. “Right? She’s a handful sometimes, but I wouldn’t trade her for anything. She’s always there when I need her, even if she’s just curling up next to me while I read.”

Just as you’re both caught up in talking about Byeol, you see your father's car pulling up. The sight of him brings you back to reality, reminding you of the time. You turn to San, feeling a bit rushed. “I should go. It was nice talking to you again, San.”

San waves with a smile, a hint of déjà vu in his eyes as he watches you walk away. “Same here. Take care.”

You walk towards your father’s car, your thoughts swirling with the day’s events. As you settle into the passenger seat, your father starts driving and asks, “So, how was your day at the park?”

You decide not to mention your anxiety attack, not wanting to worry him. “Today gave me a piece of a new perspective in life,” you say instead.

Your father glances at you, curiosity etched on his face. “What do you mean by that?”

You glance out the window, gathering your thoughts. “Do you remember the boy from the observatory?”

He nods. “Yes, is he the boy you were sitting with on the bench?”

“Yeah,” You confirm. “We crossed paths again today by accident.”

“Did you spend time together?” your father asks, his interest clearly piqued.

“Well, kind of,” you reply, thinking back to your conversations with San. “We just sat on a bench and talked about things. Nothing special, really. But it felt different. I felt different.”

Your father seems intrigued. “Is that where you got this ‘new perspective’ from?”

“Maybe,” you admit, a small smile forming on your lips. “He has this way of seeing the world that makes it seem... less daunting. More manageable. He talked about finding beauty and meaning even in difficult circumstances, and it just made sense to me.”

Your father looks at you, pride and relief evident in his eyes. “I’m glad to hear that. Sometimes, all it takes is a different viewpoint to make things seem better. And it sounds like this boy has a good influence on you.”

You nod, looking out the window as the scenery passes by. The streets, houses, and trees blend into a comforting blur. You can’t help but think about how much San’s words and presence have impacted you in such a short time. His optimism and the way he embraced life, even with its uncertainties, had struck a chord within you.

At the same time, your curiosity about him couldn’t help but wander around further.

—

Last night, sleep came with a weighty heart, knowing all too well what awaited today. The bright red marker on the calendar hung by your door, circling the dreaded date, was an ever-present reminder of your reality.

Your monthly checkup.

It was never just a routine visit for you. Each trip to the hospital was a stark reminder of the inevitable. The sterile smell of antiseptic, the chill of the air-conditioned rooms, the cold, clinical atmosphere—everything about the hospital filled you with dread. The monthly checkups were less about monitoring your health and more about confronting the slow, inescapable decline. You loathed the look of concern on your parents’ faces, the hushed conversations with your doctor, the heavy sighs and the sympathetic nods. You knew your health was deteriorating, and each visit confirmed what you already feared. And that was what you hated most.

Now, as you sit in the car with your father driving, your mother’s absence due to work commitments is painfully felt. The air is thick with unspoken fears and desperate hopes for some glimmer of good news, though deep down, you all know it’s a futile wish. The treatments, the surgeries—they were all temporary measures, patches over a wound that couldn’t truly heal.

Today, however, feels different.

For the first time, the thought of bad news brings a strange, new fear. Typically, you had accepted your fate with a resigned indifference. What has changed now? Why do you suddenly care so much about the results?

The answer isn’t clear, but you suspect it has something to do with the recent days at the park, the unexpected encounter with San, and his earnest words about finding beauty and meaning in the limited time one has. His encouragement to live, even if it’s just a little bit, seems to have ignited a spark within you—a spark you can’t ignore.

As you watch the scenery blur past, your mind drifts back to those moments at the park. The seed of hope he planted now feels fragile but growing. The hospital looms ahead, an unwelcoming fortress, and you feel your heart tighten as you pull into the parking lot. Your father’s grip on the steering wheel is firm, his knuckles white. He looks at you, offering a strained smile.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice betraying the calm demeanor he tries to project. You nod, though your stomach churns with anxiety. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Together, you walk into the hospital, the familiar antiseptic smell hitting you immediately. The nurse at the reception desk recognizes you and gives a sympathetic nod before leading you to the examination room. You sit on the crinkling paper of the exam table, your father standing beside you, his hand a steadying presence on your shoulder. The doctor enters, clipboard in hand, and offers a professional but warm smile.

“How are we feeling today?” she asks, her tone gentle. “Alright,” you reply, though it feels like a lie that even you can’t bring yourself to believe.

The checkup begins, each procedure a familiar invasion. Your mind is a whirlwind, each step a reminder of your reality. When it’s over, the doctor looks at you with a mix of pity and professionalism before asking your father to step outside. You know what this means. It’s never a good sign when they need to talk privately.

Left alone, the silence is heavy and suffocating. You glance around the room, trying to focus on anything but the conversation happening outside. The sterile instruments, the educational posters on the walls—they all seem like cruel jokes.

Minutes stretch on like hours until your father finally returns. His face is pale, eyes red-rimmed, but he forces a smile. “Let’s head home,” he said softly.

You nodded, feeling your heart sink. Another bad report, another reminder of the inevitable. As you and your father headed toward the exit, a familiar figure caught your eye by the reception desk. He turned his head slightly, and your suspicions were confirmed.

San.

Why was he here? Visiting an ill family member? A friend, perhaps? Or... was he the patient himself?

Before you could delve deeper into your thoughts, your father’s voice pulled you back to reality. “Let’s head home," he repeated gently, and despite your curiosity, you turned your attention away from San and followed your father outside.

On the ride home, the atmosphere in the car was heavy with unspoken dread. You sat in the passenger seat, your eyes fixed on the passing scenery, but your mind was elsewhere, trapped in a whirlpool of anxiety and fear. The hum of the engine and the rhythmic thud of the tires on the asphalt were the only sounds, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside you.

Your father’s silence was louder than any words. His grip on the steering wheel was tight as if desperately trying to hold himself together, and you could see the pain etched in his features. You mustered the courage to ask, your voice coming off as a whisper, “Dad, what did she say?”

He hesitated, and for a moment, you saw the facade he tried so hard to maintain begin to crumble. His eyes welled up with tears, his breath hitching as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. “You… you have a month left to live,” he said slowly, his voice breaking, each word hitting you like a sledgehammer.

Time stopped.

The world held its breath.

And so did you.

The world outside the car ceased to exist, reduced to a blur of colors and shapes. The weight of his words pressed down on you, suffocating and inescapable. A month. Just one month left. Four weeks. Thirty days. The enormity of it was paralyzing.

Your mind went blank, your father’s quiet sobs becoming a distant, muffled sound. You stared at your lap, your hands clenched into fists, knuckles turning white. Your breaths came in short, shallow gasps, as if the very air around you had turned to lead.

No, no, no. This can’t be. This can’t be.

“I’m so, so sorry, darling…” your father whispered, his voice choked with emotion. The raw pain in his words shattered the fragile dam holding back your tears, and you felt your heart splinter into a thousand pieces.

When you pulled into the driveway, the house loomed ahead, a familiar sight now tainted with a sense of finality. Your mother stood by the door, her face a mask of worry and sorrow. She had been crying; her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks streaked with dried tears. It seems as if your father had already informed her about it right after his conversation with your doctor. As you stepped out of the car, the last vestiges of your composure crumbled.

You ran to her, needing the comfort of her embrace. She opened her arms wide, gathering you into a tight hug. You buried your face in her shoulder, the sobs wracking your body as she held you close, her chin resting on your forehead. One hand gently rubbed your back in soothing circles, while the other cradled your head, fingers tangled in your hair.

“It’s going to be alright,” she murmured, her voice trembling. But you both knew it was a lie. There was no alright, no miracle waiting around the corner. Just the cruel march of time, slipping away faster than you could grasp.

Inside the house, the usual warmth felt hollow, a stark reminder of the fleeting moments you had left. The living room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a cage. Your father’s footsteps echoed in the hallway as he followed you in, his presence a silent testament to the shared grief weighing down on your family.

You slumped onto the couch, the weight of the news pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe. Your mother sat beside you, her arm around your shoulders, offering silent support. Your father joined you, sitting on the other side, his hand resting gently on yours.

“We’ll get through this,” he said softly, though his voice betrayed the uncertainty in his heart. You nodded, but the words felt empty, a hollow echo in the face of an unforgiving reality.

The room fell into a heavy silence, each of you lost in your thoughts. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, an unwelcome reminder of the time slipping away. You wished you could stop it, freeze this moment and hold on to the fragile threads of hope that still lingered.

But deep down, you knew the truth. Your time was running out, and there was nothing you could do to change it.

When night falls, you find yourself in a familiar situation, sitting on your bed while gazing at the stars outside. Somehow, they still provide a sense of comfort, even if it’s slowly starting to dim. An hour ago, when you went to your room to “sleep,” you heard the muffled cries of your parents the moment you shut the door behind you. Instead of heading to your bed, you stayed there by the door, ear pressed against it, listening to their helpless sobs.

The sound was unbearable. It wasn’t just the sadness in their voices; it was the raw, visceral pain, the sense of impending loss. It cut through you like a knife. You couldn’t handle hearing them cry. You couldn’t handle making their suffering even worse.

You had to rid yourself of them before it got worse on their behalf.

So here you are now. Minutes ago, you were just stargazing, but now, half your figure is outside your window. Carefully, you sneak out of your room, making sure to avoid any noise as you slip past the gates. You look back at your home once more, and your heart shatters. You hold back your sobs, then you make a run for it, not daring to look back.

Your bare feet pound against the ground, the sharp edges of the tiny stones biting into your skin. Each step hurts, but you keep running. The pain is nothing compared to the torment in your heart. Nothing else is on your mind but to run, run, run.

The night was cold, the chill air stinging your face as you eventually found yourself standing on the edge of the cliff. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the sweat from your frantic run. The city lights below twinkled like distant stars, mocking the darkness that had enveloped your heart. Each breath was a struggle, each sob a dagger in your chest

You thought of your parents, the look of devastation in their eyes when the doctor had delivered the news. You thought of the pain you had caused them, the weight of their sorrow pressing down on you like a physical force. How could you continue to be the source of their suffering?

Your mind raced with thoughts of escape, of ending the agony for everyone involved. You imagined the relief on their faces when they no longer had to watch you fade away. It seemed like the only way to free them from this nightmare.

As you stood there, teetering on the edge, you closed your eyes, ready to take the final step. But before you could, a strong hand grabbed your wrist, yanking you back from the brink. You gasped, eyes flying open, and found yourself pulled into the firm embrace of a familiar figure.

San’s arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly. His chest heaved with the exertion of his run to catch you, his breath hot against your ear. “What are you doing?” he demanded, his voice a mix of fear and desperation.

You couldn’t find the words to respond, your body trembling uncontrollably. He didn’t let go, his grip tightening as if afraid you might slip away. The reality of what you had almost done hit you like a tidal wave, and the sobs you had been holding back broke free, wracking your body.

San slowly took steps back, ensuring you were safely away from the edge of the cliff. You clung to him, sobbing into his chest. “There’s no point, San,” you cried, your voice broken. “There’s no point in living. I can’t. I can’t do this anymore—please, I just... I need to end it all...”

San’s heart ached at your words. He tightened his hold on you, trying to infuse his strength into your frail, trembling body. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here,” he whispered, his voice soothing, attempting to anchor you in the present. “Let’s sit down, okay?”

He gently guided you to sit down, and you didn’t protest, your soul and body too numb to resist. He sat beside you, keeping a firm arm around your shoulders, rubbing your back in slow, calming circles. The silence between you was thick with emotion, but he was patient, waiting for you to find your voice.

After a few minutes, you took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, San,” you whisper, and he leans in closer because he can’t hear you. “I don’t think I can still find it in me to believe in the existence of hope anymore.”

He looked at you with concern. “What’s wrong? What do you mean by that?”

You turned to him, your eyes filled with unshed tears. “I have a month left.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “A month left? What do you mean?”

With a deep breath, you revealed the truth. “I’m diagnosed with a terminal disease, San. I’m cursed.”

San’s eyes widened in shock. “What? No, that can’t be...” His voice trailed off, the weight of your words settling in.

“I’ve known for my entire life,” you continued, your voice trembling. “But today, the doctor told my parents that I only have a month left to live. I don’t know how to keep going, knowing that my time is so limited.”

“I’ve always felt different, San. Since birth, I’ve been living with this disease, and it feels like I’m on borrowed time. Every single day, I wake up knowing that my life is on a countdown, and it’s exhausting. I can’t let myself be happy because I’m terrified that if I do, it’ll be snatched away from me. It’s like there’s this invisible barrier between me and the rest of the world. I see people finding joy in the simplest things, and I can’t. I just can’t.”

San’s eyes are filled with empathy and sorrow as he listens, his hand never leaving your shoulder. You take a deep breath and continue, the words coming faster now, as if a dam inside you has finally broken.

“I feel like such a burden to my parents. They don’t say it, but I know. Every hospital visit, every new medication, every surgery—it’s like I’m a constant reminder of the life they could have had without me. I’ve seen the fear and worry in their eyes every time we talk to the doctors. It’s like a knife twisting in my heart every single time. I hate seeing them suffer because of me. I hate that my existence is a source of pain for them.”

Your voice trembles with the weight of your emotions, but you push on, needing to get it all out.

“I can’t do normal things like everyone else. I’ve missed out on so much because of this illness. School, friends, just going out and having fun—none of that has ever been normal for me. I’ve been isolated for most of my life, and it’s so lonely. I watch from the sidelines as life goes on without me, and it hurts… it hurts so much.”

Tears begin to flow freely down your cheeks, and you don’t bother wiping them away. San’s grip on your shoulder tightens, offering silent support.

“I feel guilty for wanting to be happy. Every time I see my parents smile, I feel like I’m taking that away from them because of my condition. I feel like I’m stealing their chance at a normal, happy life. I wish I could just disappear and take all their pain with me. I wish I could give them a break from all this suffering. So, that’s why I…”

You pause to catch your breath, the weight of your words pressing down on you. San remains silent, his eyes never leaving yours, his presence grounding you. The sobs come harder now, your body shaking with the force of your emotions. San pulls you closer, wrapping you in a warm, comforting embrace. His presence feels like a lifeline.

“I’ve tried so hard to be strong, to put on a brave face for them. But it's getting harder and harder. I’m so tired, San. I’m so, so tired. And the worst part is, I feel like I don’t even have the right to be tired. There are so many people who have it worse than me, and I feel guilty for feeling this way. But I can’t help it. I’m scared. I’m so scared.”

Your voice cracks, and you finally let go, crying freely into San’s arms. He holds you tighter, his hand gently rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“I just want to be normal. I want to live a life without fear, without pain. I want to be able to laugh without worrying about what comes next. But I can’t. And it’s killing me inside.”

San holds you as your sobs shake his chest, waiting until your breaths slow and the storm of your emotions begins to calm. He doesn’t rush to speak; he knows there are no quick fixes for what you're going through. When he does finally speak, his voice is soft and raw with emotion.

“I don’t have any magic words to make this better,” he begins. “I can’t pretend to understand the depth of what you’re going through. No one can, except you. What you’re feeling is valid, and it’s okay to be angry, sad, and scared. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

He pauses, letting the weight of his words settle in. “Oftentimes, life is incredibly unfair. It’s okay to acknowledge that. You’ve been dealt a really tough hand, and it’s not right or fair. But... you’re still here, aren’t you? And that means something. I’m proud of you for it.”

San’s grip on you tightens slightly, a gesture of reassurance. “You’ve been carrying this burden for so long, feeling like you have to be strong for everyone else. But you don’t have to do it alone. It’s okay to let people in, to let them help you carry the weight. Your parents, they love you, alright? They don’t see you as a burden. They see you as their precious child, someone they’d do anything for. They’re suffering because they can’t take away your pain, not because you’re causing it.”

You unconsciously nuzzle into his embrace a little more, the low vibrations from his chest as he spoke sending warmth throughout your troubled soul. “I know it’s hard to believe in hope right now. And maybe that’s not what you need at this moment. Maybe what you need is to just let yourself go. To let yourself feel everything you’re feeling without judgment. To let yourself grieve for the life you’ve missed and the dreams you feel slipping away. That’s okay. It’s okay to mourn those losses.”

San’s eyes meet yours, filled with sincerity and care. “You’ve been fighting so hard, and it’s okay to admit that you’re tired. It’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to be vulnerable. You’re human, and humans aren’t meant to carry these kinds of burdens alone.”

He lets the silence stretch, allowing his words to sink in. “If there’s one thing I want you to remember, it’s that your life has a meaning. Not because of what you can or can’t do, but because of who you are. The way you’ve touched the lives of those around you, the strength you’ve shown just by getting through each day—those things matter. You matter.”

You look at him through tear-blurred eyes, his words striking chords deep within your heart. “But what if I can’t keep going?” you whisper, your voice trembling.

San’s expression softens even further, and in his eyes, you see a reflection of the determination and care you’ve been too exhausted to summon for yourself. “Then we take it one day at a time. One moment at a time. And when it gets too hard, we lean on each other. I’ll be here, as much as you need me to be. We’ll face this together, okay? You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

We.

You pull back slightly, meeting San’s eyes with a questioning look. “Why are you so adamant about giving me these sincere, deep words? Why do you care so much about making me feel validated?”

A hint of sadness flickers in his eyes. “Because I know how it feels to watch something in your life slowly fade away, unable to do anything about it. It’s not the same as what you’re going through, but I get the gist of it.”

You tilt your head, curiosity piqued. “What do you mean by that?”

San lets out a soft sigh, gathering his thoughts. “Have I ever told you what else I was passionate about before I fully shifted my focus to astronomy?” he asks. You shake your head silently, eager to hear more.

“Well, besides my fascination with the stars, I used to love playing the piano. Not a single day went by without me playing it. During the day, I’d spend hours at the piano, and at night, I’d lose myself in the sky. Music was everything to me. I loved the way each note could convey a world of emotions, how a simple melody could touch hearts and tell stories.”

San’s eyes light up with the memory, a small smile forming on his lips. “There was something magical about the way my fingers danced across the keys, creating harmonies that felt like they were coming straight from my soul. The piano was my escape, my sanctuary. When I played, the world around me would fade away, and it was just me and the music. I felt connected to something greater, something pure and beautiful.”

You nod, imagining a younger San with a passion for music as vibrant as his love for the stars. “So… why did you drop that passion?” you ask softly.

San's gaze shifts to the distance, his voice taking on a heavy tone. “It’s not easy to hold onto a passion for something you know you’re going to lose the ability to fully experience.”

Confusion clouds your expression, urging him to continue.

He sighs, a heavy breath escaping his lips. “When I was a teenager, I was diagnosed with a condition that would eventually lead to complete deafness. It’s progressive, meaning my hearing would deteriorate gradually over time until it was completely gone. Knowing that, knowing I’d one day lose the ability to hear the music I loved, it broke me. Playing the piano started to feel like a cruel reminder of what I was losing.”

So that’s why you saw him at the hospital by the reception weeks ago.

San’s words hang in the air, each one sinking deep into your heart. The weight of his experience, his loss, mirrors the feelings you’ve been grappling with—you weren’t far different from each other, it turns out.

“I remember the day I found out,” San continues, his voice tainted with a deep sadness. “The doctor sat me down and explained that my hearing would gradually decline until I couldn’t hear anything at all. I was devastated. It felt like my entire world was crumbling around me. The thought of never being able to hear the music that had been such a vital part of my life was unbearable. I cried for days, maybe weeks. I didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to accept that something I loved so much could be taken away from me.”

He pauses, collecting himself. “So then, I stopped playing the piano. Every time I sat down to play, all I could think about was the silence that awaited me. It was too painful to face. I felt like a part of me was dying, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

You look at him, seeing a reflection of your own struggle in his story. “How did you keep going, knowing that?” you ask in a soft tone similar to the one he uses all the time whenever he’s talking to you. “How did you overcome that and stay so… positive?”

San’s smile is bittersweet, filled with a resilience that you find both inspiring and heartbreaking. “By finding new ways to connect with the world. At first, it was incredibly hard. I felt lost and hopeless. But I realized that I couldn’t let my condition define me. I had to find other things that brought me joy and fulfillment. That’s when I turned to the stars. The universe is vast and endless, filled with mysteries and wonders that don’t rely on one sense alone. It gave me hope and a way to cope with my reality.”

He takes a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “I also learned to lean on the people around me. I talked to the people I held close to my heart about my fears and struggles, and their support made a huge difference. I allowed myself to grieve what I was losing, but I also focused on appreciating what I still had. And as time went on, I found a new sense of purpose in helping others who were going through their own battles. Sometimes, just knowing you’re not alone can make all the difference.”

San’s gaze softens, and he takes your hand gently in his. “And to answer your question earlier, the reason why I genuinely want to help you is because I know what it’s like to feel lost and alone. And because I believe that even in the darkest times, there’s still a flicker of light. You deserve to find that light, to feel that hope. And if my words can help you see that, then it’s worth it.”

A flicker of light.

“Do you think you’ll ever reconsider picking up the piano again?” you ask, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

San shrugs lightly, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe someday, but in the meantime, I don’t really want to do that. For now, I’m content with my memories. Besides, I’ve found new passions to focus on.” His tone is casual, but there’s a hint of lingering sadness. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he asks, “Why? Do you have a favorite piece you’d like to hear me play?”

A soft smile appears on your lips as you respond, “My favorite piece is Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2.”

San’s eyes light up with recognition and delight. “Really? That’s also my favorite piece to play back when I was a child,” he says, his smile widening.

Seeing San’s happiness brings you a sense of joy you haven’t felt for pretty much almost your entire life. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you realize that his happiness has a profound impact on your own mood.

Wanting to delve deeper into that positivity, you decide to ask him more about his passion for playing the piano. “Can you tell me more about your time playing the piano?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

He raises an eyebrow, surprised but pleased by your interest. “Are you sure about that?” he asks, a gentle smile on his lips.

You nod eagerly. “Yes, I’m sure. Tell me anything about it. Your favorite memories, your love for music, all about it.”

San’s expression softens, and he takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “Alright,” he begins, his voice carrying a nostalgic tone. “Well, I started playing the piano when I was around five years old. My parents noticed I had a natural inclination towards music, always humming tunes or tapping rhythms with my fingers. So, they got me a small keyboard to play around with, and tell you what—I fell in love with it.”

He pauses, a wistful smile on his face as he recalls the memory. “I remember the first time I played a complete piece. It was ‘Für Elise’ by Beethoven. My hands were so small, barely able to reach all the keys, but the feeling of bringing music to life was incredible.”

You listen intently, drawn into his story. “What other pieces did you love to play?”

San’s eyes light up. “Oh, there were so many. ‘Moonlight Sonata,’ ‘Clair de Lune,’ and of course, ‘Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2.’ Each piece had its own story, its own emotions. Playing them was like telling a tale without words.”

He hums to himself, his expression turning more reflective. “But it wasn’t just about playing the notes correctly. It was about feeling the music, letting it flow through me. There were times I’d lose myself completely, hours passing by without me even noticing.”

His enthusiasm is palpable, and you find yourself smiling. “What’s your favorite memory associated with the piano?” you ask.

San’s smile widens. “There was this one time, during a school recital. I was about ten years old, and I played ‘Rhapsody in Blue’ by Gershwin. It was a challenging piece, but I’d practiced for weeks. When I finished, the applause was deafening. My parents were in the front row, beaming with pride. That moment felt like magic, like I was on top of the world.”

His eyes sparkle with the memory, and you can’t help but feel his joy. “That sounds amazing,” you say softly.

“It was,” he agrees, his tone warm. “Music was my escape, my solace. It was where I could express myself fully, without fear or judgment. Even now, though I can’t play as I used to, those memories bring me comfort.”

You nod, finding yourself feeling gravely touched by his experiences. “Thank you for sharing that with me, San. It means a lot.”

San’s smile is gentle, as always. “And thank you for listening. Revisiting those memories every once in a while helps me remember the beauty in life despite its challenges.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you remember something you probably should have asked earlier. “Hey… what were you doing here tonight, anyway?”

He chuckles, looking out at the night sky. “This place is my little escape. It’s another spot I go to when I need to clear my head. The park is great during the day, but this cliff... it has a clear view of the night sky, and you know how much I love astronomy. It’s windy, peaceful, and quiet here. No one else knows about this place—well, except for you now.”

He pauses, then adds with a playful grin, “I guess this is now a place only the two of us know.”

San checks his phone and sees the time: 3 AM. He turns to you, concern evident in his eyes. “It’s getting really late,” he says gently, his voice a soft whisper in the quiet night. “We should probably head home. The streets aren’t really the kindest at this hour. It’s not safe to stay out much longer.”

As his words sink in, reality sets in as well. You suddenly realize you ran here without considering how you would get back home. Embarrassment washes over you, and you look down at your bare feet, feeling foolish. “I... I don’t actually know the way back home. I just ran here without thinking,” you admit, your voice small and filled with regret.

San’s reassuring smile does little to ease your embarrassment, but it does bring some comfort. “I figured as much,” he says, glancing at your bare feet and nightclothes. “Do you know your parents’ phone number?”

“Yeah, why?” you ask, puzzled and a bit hesitant.“I’ll call them for you,” San replies. “You can explain everything to them. It’s safer this way.”

Panic rises within you, your mind racing with the possible reactions your parents might have. “No, no—I can't. They don’t know I ran away. They might be awake, looking for me. I just…” you trail off, your voice carrying a hint of guilt.

Sensing your fear, San places a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch calming. “It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I know the decision you made wasn’t the best, but it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Your safety is what’s important right now. If your parents are upset, it’ll pass. Their primary concern will be getting you home safely. Trust me.”

His calm demeanor and understanding words slowly convince you. Reluctantly, you take his phone and dial your mother’s number, your hands shaking slightly. Almost immediately, she picks up. “Mom…?”

You can hear the worry in her voice as she asks, “Oh my, oh my—darling! Where are you? Are you okay? Are you safe? Where did you run off to?”

“Mom, please calm down. I’m safe,” you say, trying to soothe her. “I’m about to head home now.”

“Okay, okay… where are you?” she repeats, her voice thick with concern and a touch of desperation. “I’m with San,” you say, hoping the name brings some comfort and reassurance.

“San?” your mother echoes, confused and worried.Your father, who is also listening in, seems to recognize the name. “San, the boy from the observatory and the park?” he asks, his tone shifting from worry to recognition.

San leans in, speaking into the phone with a calm and respectful voice. “Hello, Ma’am, Sir. Yes, it's me. I’m with your daughter, and she’s safe, please don’t worry. I’ll take her home now.”

Your parents express their gratitude, their relief palpable through the phone. “Thank you so much, dear. Please be safe,” your mother says before hanging up, her voice filled with gratitude and relief.

You look at San, a mix of gratitude and confusion on your face. “San, you don’t have to take me home, really. You’ve done more than enough by just being here. I can—”

He cuts you off with a small smile on his lips. “I insist. There’s no way I’ll let you walk home with bare, bruised feet. And you did mention earlier that you don’t even know where this place is, let alone how you got here. So let me, okay? Don’t stress yourself out.”

You find yourself in awe with how he was able to shut your mild stubbornness down in a way so gentle as if he was trying to explain to a kid why inserting a fork in an outlet isn’t a good thing to do. So, without a word, you just nod.

As you both stand up, San notices you shiver slightly. Without a second thought, he slips off his dark brown leather jacket and gently drapes it over your shoulders, revealing the plain black shirt he wore underneath.

“But what about you?” You ask, glancing at his now bare arms. “Won’t you get cold?” San shakes his head, offering a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me. You need it more than I do right now.”

You nod, pulling the jacket tighter around yourself. Just as you’re about to take a step, a sharp pain shoots through your foot, causing you to hiss in discomfort.

San’s eyes immediately drop to your bare, bruised feet. “Let me help,” he says softly. Turning his back to you, he crouches down slightly. “Hop on,” he urges.

You hesitate, feeling a bit shy about the whole situation. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden.” San looks over his shoulder, his eyes filled with gentle insistence. “I’m sure. It’s the best way to keep your feet from getting worse.”

Reluctantly, you wrap your arms around his neck, and he lifts you effortlessly. As he starts walking down the cliff, he moves with deliberate care, making sure each step is steady and safe.

“Where do you live?” he asks once you’ve reached the flat ground of the unfamiliar streets. He nods in recognition when you give him your address, thankful that he knows where the street is. The walk is silent but not uncomfortable. The night air is cool and the city is quiet, offering a moment of calm after the chaos.

As he continues walking, his pace steady and sure, you start to feel your eyelids grow heavy. Exhaustion from the night’s events begins to take over, and before you know it, you’ve fallen asleep, your head resting against his shoulder. San notices your soft snores and adjusts his steps to be even more careful, as he wants to make sure you get the rest you clearly need.

When San reaches your street, he notices a worried couple near your house. Drawing closer, he recognizes your parents, who, in turn, recognize him. Their faces flood with relief as they rush toward him, tears streaming down their cheeks.

“Oh, thank you, thank you so, so much,” your mother sobs, her voice thick with emotion. “You kept her safe. We can’t thank you enough.”

San offers a gentle smile and carefully shifts to let your father lift you from his back. Your father cradles you tenderly, carrying you inside with palpable relief. Your mother and San remain outside, just by the door.

“Where did you find her?” your mother asks, her voice still trembling. San takes a moment before replying, “I found her stargazing at a cliff I visit every night to unwind.”

Your mother nods, understanding. “I woke up with a terrible feeling. When I went to check on her, she was gone, and the window was open. I was so scared she might do something... drastic. She’s been in so much pain, especially after the news today. Knowing she only has a month left... it’s unbearable. I just want to give her a life without worries, but I feel so helpless.”

She holds back a sob, her eyes welling with tears. “I love her so much. She’s my whole world. Seeing her suffer like this, knowing there’s nothing I can do to take her pain away... it breaks me. Every day, I wish I could trade places with her, take away her illness, her pain. But I can’t, and it’s the most helpless feeling in the world. I try to stay strong for her, to show her how much I care, but sometimes I wonder if it’s enough. If she truly knows how much she means to us, how much we would do anything to see her happy, healthy. I wake up every night fearing for her, praying for a miracle, wishing she could live the life she deserves. It’s just... so hard."

San listens intently, his heart aching with empathy as he absorbs your mother’s words. He sees the deep lines of worry etched into her face, the way her hands tremble slightly with emotion—and it brought him a sense of pain knowing he’s now aware of the intensity of the pain both sides of your family felt.

“Your daughter is incredibly strong,” he begins softly. “I know it must be hard to see it sometimes, especially with everything she’s been through. But the fact that she continues to wake up each day, to face her illness and all the pain it brings, says so much about her spirit. Despite all the reasons she has to give up, she’s still here. She’s fighting a battle most of us can't even begin to understand.”

He pauses, glancing towards your bedroom window that your father had now shut close. “There’s a resilience in her that’s rare. Even tonight, when she felt lost and overwhelmed, she found her way to a place that brought her comfort—the stars. That takes a kind of inner strength and determination that not many people have.”

San looks back at your mother, his gaze empathetic and earnest. “And it’s clear where she gets that strength from. She’s had you and her father by her side, showing her what it means to love unconditionally, to fight for those you care about. That kind of support and love is powerful. It gives her the foundation she needs to keep going, even when things seem impossible.”

“Your daughter is a testament to the human spirit’s capacity for endurance. She’s facing something that would break many, yet she’s still standing. And that’s not something to take lightly. It’s something to be incredibly proud of.”

San’s words hang in the air, filled with sincerity and respect. Your mother looks at him, tears still glistening in her eyes, but now there’s a spark of hope and recognition. She nods slowly, understanding the depth of what he’s saying.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice choked with emotion. “Thank you for seeing her strength, for being there when she needed someone. It means more than you could ever know.”

San gives a small, reassuring smile. “It’s the least I could do. She’s an extraordinary person, and she deserves to know just how remarkable she is.”

—

The concept of unwinding has never been one to be easy to grasp for you.

You’ve been told it doesn’t hurt to try countless times, but the truth is that it does. It does hurt, and it hurts like a poisonous rose thorn piercing right through your heart. You’ve tried. You’ve tried to forget about the impending doom surrounding your life whenever you feel like it’s what has to be done in order to uplift your spirits, whether temporarily or not. You’ve tried to find it in you to make an effort to light up a dusty torch of hope in the middle of the void of despair. You’ve tried to focus on what you have now rather than dwelling over what you’ll have left in the future.

Why? Because it works for everyone else. The saying that goes “you only live once” is enough to push them to test the waters of their limits and fly beyond their borderlines. The thought of an opportunity no longer passing by once they ignore it when it first shows up is enough to knock it into their heads that they need to make the most of what they’re being given now, knowing they might never be able to have it again. But for you? Nothing has ever worked out well.

Until you met Choi San, at least.

Ever since he first spoke to you about facts regarding this year’s meteor shower sounding like a stuck-up science professor who’s a little in too deep with his profession for everyone’s liking, changes in the way your world spins have occured. Changes that were so subtle you’ve failed to notice it until they were all piled on top of each other—much like the slow process of a build-up of a painting that starts off with weird brush strokes you’d think wouldn’t look good if put together at first.

At first, his words were like bullets trying to make their way through a bulletproof vest. If anything, at some point, you even wondered if he was out—whether of his mind or of touch with reality—because surely a person cannot be that motivated to seek positivity in a world so cruel.

But as seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into days, days into weeks, the process of it all passes by like a blur and the next thing you knew was you were curious of the bliss of hope enough to wish you could dip at least a finger into his universe, just to see how your life could’ve been, had you not been so adamant to avoid optimism like it’s the plague.

Then one thing led to another, and now you’re unsure whether you want his world or want to be in his world.

Which is precisely why you’re now sitting on an all too familiar bench at the park in hopes of catching a glimpse of the person that pulled you into coming here.

You no longer trust yourself enough to wander off all alone again because you know what happened the last time you tried to commit such a thing. So then, you sit here, silently waiting, even with no guarantee that he’ll magically show up. He could be anywhere—another town, another place, maybe even sleeping. But at this point, it no longer matters much to you. You’ve come to see him as a guiding light, and you want to bask in his radiance as much as possible.

Lost in your thoughts, you’re jolted back to reality by a voice calling your name. Looking up, you see San approaching. “San,” you say, your tone coming off perhaps a little too cheerful than what you wanted to let on. As you shift to make room for him beside you, he sits down, a reassuring presence in the quiet of the morning. “What brings you here?” he asks, curiosity evident in his eyes.

You offer a small smile, one that you’re certain was enough to mask up your blatant lie of a reason. “You mentioned this was a place you come to clear your mind. I thought I’d give it a try, too.”

San’s expression softens, his heart melting at your words. “Is it working so far?” You glance around, feeling a sense of peace you hadn’t quite expected. “Yeah, it is,” you admit, meeting his gaze.

San grins. “You know, I also mentioned that I sometimes try new things to unwind.” You tilt your head, intrigued. “Yeah…?” you trailed off, sensing that there was a catch to his words.

He shrugs, looking around the park. “I mean, you could try that out as well, don’t you think?” he says. His smile became even wider as he gave the suggestion, the shape of his eyes turning into thin crescents, and it reminds you of a cat yawning.

“Ice skating, pottery painting, going to the arcade,” he begins, listing activities with genuine enthusiasm. “Maybe even visiting museums and just exploring different parts of the city.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you consider the possibilities. “That sounds... fun,” you say, a bit surprised at your own interest.

“It really is,” San assures you. “And it might help you find something you enjoy, something that gives you a break from everything.”

And that’s exactly how you spent the following days.

The morning after your not-so-coincidental meeting at the park, San showed up at your parents’ house to get their permission to take you ice skating. You were still asleep when he arrived, so you were completely unaware of his plan. When you finally woke up and went downstairs, you found San chatting happily with your parents in the living room. Letting out a startled shriek, you bolted back to your room, convinced you were hallucinating.

Three gentle knocks came from the other side of your door. “Hey, it’s just me,” San’s familiar voice called softly. Hesitantly, you cracked the door open, peeking out at him. “Are you real…?” you asked, reaching out to touch his face for a brief moment.

San’s cheeks turned a bright red as he laughed, covering his face. “I’m as real as I can be,” he assured you, a bit amused. You blinked at him, still processing his presence. “What are you even doing here?” you managed to ask.

“I planned to take you to go ice skating today,” he explained with a smile. And before you could speak up about your doubts of whether you’d be allowed to go outside or not, he beat you to it. “I already got your parents’ permission, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Before you could respond, he added, “I’ll wait for you downstairs. Take your time to get ready.” He stepped back, allowing you to close the door and gather yourself.

When you finally went down the stairs, you felt a little more put-together than usual. Your parents were quick to compliment your appearance, and San, though a bit late, managed to stammer out, “You look beautiful.”You didn't catch it, but your parents did, exchanging knowing glances. “What?” you asked, and San repeated himself, louder this time but somehow more bashful. “You look really beautiful.”

At the ice skating rink, you nervously stared at the skates in your hands. “You know what, San, maybe this isn’t a good idea…” you murmured, anxiety creeping in.San already had his feet settled down on the ice, extending his hand toward you. “I’ve got you, okay? I promise I won’t let go,” he reassured you with a gentle smile.

At first, you nearly fell over multiple times, your grip on San’s hands growing tighter and tighter until it reached his forearms, then his shoulders. At some point, you both failed to notice, but your arms ended up wrapped around his waist, and your face was buried in his chest out of sheer fear.

San, feeling your trepidation, gently motivated you to let go gradually and trust him. “Don’t be scared, I’m here. I’ll catch you if you fall, alright?”

And although you don’t trust yourself, you certainly do trust San. You took a deep breath and slowly let go of his waist, immediately clutching his forearms for support. He skated backward, guiding you as you learned to move your feet. Step by step, you started to get the hang of it. San’s face then lit up with a proud smile.

“You’re doing great!” he cheered. “Do you think you’re ready to try it on your own?”

Slowly, you nodded. San released you from his hold but kept his hands out, ready to catch you if you needed it. To his surprise and your own, you started skating smoothly. The initial heartwarming moment quickly turned playful as you began to chase him around the rink, laughing and shouting, “If I catch you, you’re a loser!”

San chuckled, skating just fast enough to keep a fair distance. “We’ll see about that!”

For the next day you spent together, you two decided to try pottery painting. As you settled at the table with your blank ceramic pieces in front of you, you asked San if he had a picture of Byeol on his phone. Despite his confusion, he obliged, scrolling through his gallery before handing you his phone with a picture of Byeol displayed. You both decided to put up a makeshift cardboard barrier between you to keep your paintings a surprise until you were both finished. With brushes in hand, you began to paint, each absorbed in your creative process.

When it was time for the big reveal, San removed the cardboard piece, proudly displaying his bowl. He had painted a breathtaking night sky filled with stars and the Orion constellation, knowing it was your favorite. On the bottom half, there was a cliff with two shadowy figures sitting side by side. “That’s us!” he said, flashing his signature cat-like smile that you’ve grown to admire. His depiction of your special spot touched your heart deeply, and you felt a lump in your throat as you fought back tears.

Then it was your turn. Nervously, you showed him your bowl, which featured a detailed painting of Byeol. San’s eyes widened with surprise and delight. He quickly took the bowl from you, examining the well-crafted details. “How did you manage to make her look even cuter? You did so good at this!” he praised, clearly impressed. And by the end of the day, you both decided to switch bowls as a keepsake of the memory.

The following day was spent having fun at the arcade. As soon as you both stepped inside, your eyes locked onto a claw machine filled with Sanrio plushies. You’d always wanted to try your luck at one of these machines, and the sight of the plushies sparked your excitement. Tugging on San’s shirt, you eagerly pointed to the machine. Before he could even ask, you grabbed his hand and pulled him towards it.

Peeking through the glass, you marveled at the assortment of cute plushies. A particular My Melody plush holding a strawberry, adorned with a red ribbon atop its head, caught your attention. “Look! I want that one,” you told San, pointing it out.

Without needing to be told twice, San inserted a coin into the machine. With expert precision, he maneuvered the claw and, on his first try, managed to snag the plushie. As the plushie dropped into the chute, San retrieved it and handed it to you with a triumphant smile. You squealed with delight, hugging the plushie tightly before impulsively wrapping San in a hug. Realizing what you were doing, you quickly pulled away, embarrassed. Little did you know, San wished the hug had lasted longer.

Next, you decided to try the dance machine. San insisted it would be fun, even if you both ended up looking ridiculous. As the music started, you both tried to follow the dance steps on the screen. You found yourself laughing uncontrollably at San’s exaggerated moves and his attempts to keep up with the fast-paced rhythm. Despite the occasional stumbles and missed steps, San’s determination to get it right made you laugh harder, and your shared laughter echoed through the arcade.

Afterward, you moved on to a basketball shooting game. San challenged you, confident he would win. “Prepare to lose,” he teased, smirking. Surprisingly, you gave him a run for his money, matching his score shot for shot. The competitive energy between you sparked playful banter and laughter. In the end, you narrowly lost, but San graciously declared you the winner of his heart, making you blush.

Next on your list was a visit to an art museum, a stark contrast from the loud arcade. The serene atmosphere offered a different kind of beauty, one that you both found captivating. As you wandered through the halls, you stopped frequently to admire various artworks—some by renowned artists and others new discoveries for you.

At one point, while you were deeply engrossed in a painting, San, standing behind you, quietly snapped a photo of you. He was about to take another when you turned around, smiling gently at him. Caught off guard, your face quickly turned to embarrassment as you walked over to him, covering your face and demanding to see the photo, fearing it might have caught you in an unflattering candid moment. However, to your surprise, the photo turned out beautifully.

Not wanting to be the only one captured candidly, you took his phone and insisted on taking his picture too. He protested, saying, “But if I know you’re taking a picture, it won’t exactly be candid, right?”

You waved off his objection, pushing him gently toward the artwork you were admiring. “Just act as if you’re admiring the painting,” you instructed. His shoulders shook as he tried to hold back his laughter, making you scold him lightly. Just as he turned to say something to you, you captured the perfect moment—his eyes closed in a genuine, joyful smile. Proud of the outcome, you showed him the photo. He smiled warmly, noting that you now had matching photos of each other.

Needless to say, you both spent the rest of the day not only admiring the artwork, but also one another.

Finally, the last item on your schedule was a simple yet meaningful stroll around the city. While it wasn’t exactly new to San, it was an entirely fresh experience for you, and he was more than eager to show you around and take you to places you had never visited before.

The first stop was a cozy cafe called ‘Heavenly Brews,’ a place he frequented and cherished. The signage outside was inviting, and inside, the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted you. San mentioned that one of his college friends worked there, and sure enough, behind the counter was a young man your age with long hair, busy making drinks. After a pleasant visit, where you enjoyed some of the best coffee you’d ever had, you left the cafe to explore more of the city.

As you walked, you passed by a lively tavern. The door was ajar, and you could see a bard passionately singing on a small stage, accompanied by a customer who seemed to be enjoying a spontaneous duet. The scene was vibrant and full of life, and it brought a smile to your face.

Continuing your journey, you noticed a large billboard featuring a famous football player. San noticed your curiosity and mentioned that he knew the guy personally. Surprised, you asked, “Really?” He nodded, explaining that the athlete on the billboard was the star of his college’s football team, and San himself had been part of that team too. This revelation added another layer to the fascinating person San was turning out to be.

You spent the rest of the day with him, walking through various streets and alleys, as he pointed out his favorite spots—places he had fond memories of and hoped to share with you. He mentioned wanting to visit all these places with you again, filling his voice with genuine enthusiasm.

Yet, despite his excitement, a pang of sadness tugged at your heart. The looming reality of your limited time made it hard to share his enthusiasm fully. Nevertheless, you managed a nod and a small smile, saying, “Yeah, I’d... I’d love to.”

—

San had told you to get ready for a special evening earlier during the morning by calling you, hinting at a surprise but refusing to divulge any details. “You’ll see,” was all he said as if wanting to leave you on a cliffhanger. He mentioned that your parents would drive you to the location, meaning they were in on the plan but remained tight-lipped about it. Confusion consumed you, but you got ready anyway, choosing to wear the dark red cardigan from your first meeting at the observatory. It held a fond memory and seemed fitting for the mysterious occasion.

As you walked downstairs, you noticed your parents waiting for you, their excitement evident. “What does San have planned?” you asked, unable to contain your curiosity.

They shared a knowing smile but refused to let you in on the details. Instead, they guided you gently to the sofa, their faces full of tenderness. “We just want to say how proud we are of you,” your father began, his voice thick with emotion and eyes glistening with unshed tears. He paused, seemingly collecting his thoughts, before continuing, “Despite everything you’ve been through, you’ve shown an incredible amount of strength and resilience. We see how hard it’s been, and yet, you’ve managed to keep moving forward. Your determination and courage are truly inspiring to us.”

Your mother, sitting beside him, reached out to take your hand, her grip warm and reassuring. Her eyes were shining with tears that threatened to spill over at any moment. “And we’re so happy that you found San,” she said softly, her voice filled with emotion. “He’s been such a positive influence in your life. We’ve watched you grow so much with him by your side. You’ve learned to lean on him, and it’s beautiful to see how much joy and comfort he brings you. We couldn’t have wished for a better person to be with you during these times.” She squeezed your hand gently, as if trying to convey the depth of her feelings through that simple gesture.

You felt a lump form in your throat at their words, and just as you were about to ask them what’s tonight about for them to be so emotional, they stood up and gently ushered you to the car. “You’ll see soon enough,” your mother said with a soft smile.

The drive seemed to take forever, your mind racing with endless possibilities. When the car finally stopped, you found yourself at the base of a familiar cliff—the same one you had run to back then. As you stepped out of the car, you saw San waiting for you, looking even more breathtaking in his well-chosen outfit.

He greeted your parents warmly before they drove off, leaving you two alone. “You look incredible,” San said, his eyes practically sparkling with admiration. Blushing, you replied, “No, you do.”

“I thought I’d fix myself up a little since I want tonight to be a special moment,” he replied bashfully, making you tilt your head. “What’s up with everyone wanting to act strange today?”

San laughed, refusing to answer as all he did was take your hand in his before walking up the path, making sure you wouldn’t trip on anything throughout it. Just before reaching the top, he stopped in his tracks. “Stay still for a moment,” he said, moving behind you. You felt his hands cover your eyes, making you giggle in confusion.

“San, what are you doing?” you asked, half-laughing. “Just trust me,” he whispered. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”After a short walk, he finally asked, “Ready?”

You nodded, and he slowly removed his hands. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight before you. The top of the cliff was transformed into a magical setting. A blanket was laid out, surrounded by twinkling fairy lights strung from the trees. An assortment of treats and foods was spread out, and a telescope stood nearby—the same one from the observatory. There were also cozy blankets ready for use.

“San, this is… I don’t even know what to say,” you said, your voice full of appreciation as you looked around, the warm lights reflecting in your eyes.

He smiled, looking a little shy. “I just… I wanted to do something for you, something I knew you’d like.” Taking in every detail, your heart swelled with emotion. “You know me so well, don’t you?”

You and San sit comfortably on the picnic blanket, a cozy blanket draped over both of you. Although he had prepared separate blankets, you insisted on sharing his, and despite being initially caught off guard, he was quick to happily oblige. Your head rests on his shoulder, your hands wrapped around his arm, basking in the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence. The silence between you is soothing.

Suddenly, you lift your head from his shoulder, causing him to turn his head towards you immediately. “What’s the matter?” he asks, his voice laced with gentle concern.

You smile softly and say, “I’ve been thinking about what you said about knowing that pro football player on the billboard. You know, the one from your college team.”

“Ah, Wooyoung?” he replies, recognition lighting up his eyes. You nod. “Yeah, ever since you mentioned him, I’ve been curious about your college experiences, particularly the life you lived back then.”

San’s face lights up with a mix of nostalgia and amusement. “Well, Woo and I were practically inseparable during college,” he begins. “We were always up to something, whether it was football or just hanging out. Lots of professors absolutely hated seeing us together, cause they know that when we are, we’re always up to no good.”

“Are you still close?” you ask, intrigued. “Not as much as we used to be,” San admits with a slight sigh. “He’s a pro player now, so he’s quite busy. Plus, he’s in a different country at the moment. We still talk to each other through messages and calls every other day, but we don’t see each other often.”

A fond smile crosses his face as he recalls a particular memory. “Oh, you know, I remember helping him make a move on his crush back then. It was quite the operation, and now she’s his girlfriend. Funny enough, she’s the one who took the photo of him on the billboard since she’s a professional photographer.”

You laugh softly at the story. “Sounds like you had a fun college life.” San nods, a nostalgic smile on his face. “Yeah, it was a great time.”

As he speaks, you find yourself drifting into a daydream, wondering what life might have been like if circumstances were different. Would you have met San in college? Maybe you would have been one of the people cheering for him at his football games, or perhaps you both could have been like Wooyoung and his girlfriend.

San notices you spacing out and gently nudges your shoulder. “Hey, everything alright?”

You wave him off with a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.” But just as you lean your head back on his shoulder, a sudden pang hits your chest. You wince slightly but brush it off, not wanting to ruin the moment.

San continues to share more stories from his college days at your request. He talks about the time he accidentally kicked a football into the opposing team’s coach’s face, causing quite a commotion. You can’t help but laugh at the mental image. He also recounts a grocery spree gone wrong, where he and his friends were kicked out within minutes because he broke a shopping cart trying to ride it.

He tells you about the week-long silent treatment between him and Wooyoung over stolen loot in a video game, and how they eventually made up after realizing how silly the whole thing was. His eyes light up with passion as he describes spending countless hours in the local library, devouring books about astronomy. Sometimes he’d stay so late that the librarian reserved a special table for him, where he often lost himself in the wonders of the universe.

Each story he tells paints a vivid picture of his past, filled with laughter, mishaps, and the simple joys of youth. As you listen, you feel a mix of admiration and affection for him, grateful for the glimpses into the life he lived before you met.

Just as you’re about to lean your head back on his shoulder, a sharp pang hits your chest. The pain is more aggressive this time, making you feel like you’re being strangled by an invisible force. Your breath hitches, and you clutch your chest, struggling to breathe.

San’s eyes widen in alarm. “What’s wrong?” he asks urgently, his voice filled with panic.“San, I can’t—I can’t breathe—San, I—” you manage to gasp out, each word a struggle.

Panic grips San as he checks you for any signs of what’s happening, all while trying to calm you down. “Just breathe, okay? I’m right here. You’re gonna be okay.”

But you know this isn’t an anxiety attack. The context and intensity make that unlikely. Tears stream down your face as you grab San’s hands, your voice trembling. “I don’t wanna die... I don’t wanna die yet... San, please... please...”

San’s face crumples with emotion as he realizes what’s happening. He doesn’t want to lose you. Tears pour down his cheeks as he holds your face in his hands, trying to comfort you despite his own fear. “You’re not going anywhere, okay? Stay with me.”

The pain in your chest begins to subside, but the reality of the situation sets in. You both know what this means. With tears still streaming, you cup his face, gently wiping away his tears. “It’s... it’s gonna be alright, San. It’s gonna be alright, okay?”

He shakes his head, his sobs growing louder. “No, it’s not. I can’t lose you. Not now.”

You smile softly despite the pain. “San, listen to me. You’ve given me so much. You’ve made me so happy. This... this isn’t the end. You’ll carry me with you, in your heart, always. I promise.”

He holds you tighter, his heart breaking as he feels your strength fading. The stars above blur with his tears, and all he can think about is how unfair this is. But in this moment, all he can do is be there with you, for you, until the very end.

You look up at him, a calm expression on your face. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. We... we’ve always been meant to end like this, anyway. I’m so, so sorry that I still let you into my world despite knowing that. I’m so sorry for being a burden, for taking your presence for granted, and not considering how you’d feel when the time for us to part ways finally comes.”

San shakes his head vehemently, his tears flowing freely. “No, no, don’t say that. You will never be a burden. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t regret entering your world one bit.”

Tears well up again, but you hold them back. “Still, I’m sorry. I’m sorry we have to end this way, I’m sorry I can’t live any longer to visit all your favorite places with you. I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, I’m sorry we can’t live the life we both want to have. I’m sorry my fate has tainted our story. I’m sorry. But I... I want you to remember this.”

You let go of his hands momentarily, and he looks confused until you start signing the words, ‘you’ll forever be my star.’ His heart shatters even more.

“You learned that... for me?” he asks, his voice breaking with sobs.You nod with a smile. “For you.”

You take his hand again, your voice gentle. “I want you to remember that when you feel down, during the times you see yourself in a bad light, when you feel like you’re not doing well enough. Because even if there are days where you don’t feel like the best version of yourself, in my eyes, you’re still my star. The only star in the empty sky of my life.”

“When you reach your dreams, when your name is known enough to catch people’s attention, when you become the star of your field, I want you to look up there,” you say, pointing at the night sky, “and smile. Because I’ll be there, smiling back at you.”

You shift your weak body to lay your head on his lap while he gently strokes your hair. “I think I wanna stay like this for a while.”

A comfortable silence fills the air, broken only by San’s quiet sobs. As you start to feel your body shutting down, you hold his hand, looking up at him. “In another life?”

“In another life.”

—

San, now a renowned astronomer, sits in a sophisticated studio for an interview. His translator is seated beside him, ready to relay the questions in sign language. The interviewer begins by asking San about how his passion for astronomy started. For a brief moment, an image of you flickers in his mind—you had asked him the same question years ago at the observatory. Snapping out of his thoughts, he clears his throat, focusing on the question. His answer mirrors the one he gave you back then, detailing how a childhood fascination with the stars turned into a lifelong pursuit of knowledge.

The interviewer then inquires about how he feels regarding his success. While San provides a positive response, he can't help but bring you up. “If it weren’t for a certain person,” he starts, his voice tinged with emotion, “I don’t think I’d be here right now.” The interviewer asks for elaboration, and San recounts how he met you during a meteor shower. From the moment you expressed genuine curiosity about his dreams of becoming an astronomer, his motivation grew. “This person taught me that it’s okay to fall when you can’t fight anymore, that allowing yourself to be weak makes you stronger than pretending to always be strong.”

When asked if he’s still in touch with this person, San’s expression turns bittersweet. “I’d like to think of them as a meteor shower,” he says, his voice soft. “A passing light meant to remind me of the wonders of life, never meant to stay.”

Returning home, San finds himself gazing at the night sky through the glass windows of his penthouse. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper—a letter you wanted him to receive after you had passed away. Your parents gave it to him during your funeral.

“Hello, San :)

I hope this letter finds its way to you. I don’t know when exactly my timer will run out of seconds to spare, so I’m not sure when you’ll receive this. Still, when you do, I hope you’ll find comfort in reading this, whether you’re feeling tired, frustrated, or when you’re not feeling anything at all.

First off, did you know that the average day on Pluto lasts for 153.6 hours long? You definitely already do, but for now, please pretend you don’t. I read this on a science website while searching up how to cook food in an air fryer—don’t ask me the correlation between those two things—and I just wanted to impress you with it.

On a more serious note, though, I don’t think you’re aware of how much of an impact you’ve left in my life. Before I met you that night at the observatory, it was like I was trapped in this huge bubble of emptiness that I couldn’t make my way out of. Each day was practically hell on Earth for me, and tell you what, it used to be so hard for me to be positive, let alone try. Then you came into the picture with no warning beforehand, and I don’t know when exactly the shift in my world occurred, but it was like there was a lost candle in the very back of my soul that you, somehow, managed to find and light up.

You’re a really cool person, you know? So cool I’m willing to overlook the fact that you always wear glasses when you don’t even have poor eyesight. Your glasses look good on you, though, so I guess I’ll count that as a valid reason. You have this sort of comfortable energy that’s more than enough to put me at ease, and all your words of wisdom are so genuine that even a (retired) pessimist like me had grown to keep them engraved in my mind. Not only are you a cool astronomy nerd, but you own a cat, too! You know, I really wish I could’ve met Byeol when I was still there with you, but I guess there’s a next time for everything, right? Maybe in a different life, Byeol would be my cat instead. Or, even better, we could team up to co-parent him. Doesn’t that sound like a nice reality to live in?

You know, I wish I could be there with you to witness your success. I bet you’re reading this after coming across an article about you that a journalist had published. Or maybe after an interview schedule. Who knows? The possibilities are endless.

I’m starting to get sleepy now, so I’ll end this letter here. If you’re out there, having a hard time, always remember that I’ll always be here for you, even if it’s not in physical terms. I hope your heart now feels a little lighter after reading this, San. I’m so, so proud of you.”

Droplets of tears soaked the letter, and San silently sobbed. Looking above, he sees a single bright star in the empty night sky, and when he managed to put a smile on his face, the star twinkled back to him in return.

Perhaps in another life, you’d be a permanent star and not just a fleeting meteor.