#they’re all crusty unstable creatures

[perpetually-jungshook]

Without You: Bloodstone (End)

Genre: AU, bts!werewolf, fantasy, angst

Warnings: language, violence, suggestive content

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Werewolves, contrary to popular belief, are usually gentle creatures. Except for a very specific set of circumstances, they would never hurt a human (on purpose). The few unfortunate times when mistakes were made put a permanent dark mark on the beasts and people began labeling them as monsters. What the human population failed to recognize was the fact that they were protecting us from something much more sinister. Luckily, a few survived and the gene was passed down hereditarily until one day finding its way to me… in the form of my best friend.

Link to: Storyboard (reference pictures) | General lore post | Intimacy lore post Prologue | Previous | Masterlist | Epilogue

Loyalty is often as blind as justice should be, as unstable as a lightning storm ought to be, and as misplaced as an opinion in the truth.

Chapter 28:

When I wake up, I feel disoriented. There are no windows in the bunker, no way to tell the time except by looking at a clock. Emerging from my blanket cocoon, I check Yoongi’s watch- my watch. Eight o’clock? How strange. I thought I’d been exhausted, but I apparently only slept for a few hours. I get up, limbs heavy, face puffy. I splash some water on my eyes and decide to change clothes. Mine are covered in spots of a crusty white substance, probably the foamy fluid from Halsahm’s wound. I shudder thinking about it- the doors, the demon circle, the whole ordeal.

After a quick shower, I manage to find a light sweater and some jeans in one of the drawers. They’re mine, clothes that I’d been keeping in Jimin’s dresser. Taehyung must have moved them when he was setting up my room. Or Jimin brought them when he decided to kick me out. Pushing up my sleeves, I open the metal door and limp down the hallway toward the kitchen. I need water and something to eat.

I pause when I see the gaping hole where the mistletoe doors used to be. “Missing limb” doesn’t quite fit as a description for the sense of defenseless dread that fills me.

Grabbing a glass, I fill it with water from the sink and sip it carefully, keeping my gaze on the dark stairwell. My ears search for sounds, untrusting of my surroundings. The tick of the watch; the hiss of the air vent; the hum of the refrigerator. I start to relax.

No demons. But also no werewolves...

I pick up a few fruits from the basket on the table before making my way around the bunker. Almost all the doors to the bedrooms are open, revealing no one is inside. Jungkook’s door is closed so I knock, but there’s no answer. I press my ear against the metal, but hear nothing and move on. I find the once mysterious hallway is also empty. It seems they’ve cleared the broken doors. This leaves a straight, open passage to the workshop, which is empty too. The dread sinks its claws further into me.

“Munhee?” I try. “Jungkook?”

My voice vaguely echoes through the concrete passages. I keep listening. Nothing. I make my way back to the kitchen, then look at the dark stairwell leading up to the ground level. Had they gone outside-?

Dark stairwell. Even with the shack hiding the entrance to the bunker, there are always little lines of sunlight that make their way through the cracks of wood. But there isn’t any light at all. It’s not eight in the morning. It’s eight o’clock at night.

I’m not sure whether this is less or more worrying. Where are they?

“Jimin?”

I’m not hopeful that he’ll answer, but if anyone stayed behind while the rest of the pack went out, it would be Jimin. At first, he doesn’t respond either, but then I hear footsteps. The boy with the coffee colored hair walks down the stairs at a leisurely pace. He couldn’t have been far from the little shack.

“Ah, so she’s alive.”

It takes me a moment to realize he’s joking. I force a weak laugh. I won’t lie though. I’m glad to see he’s here.

“I was kind of tired.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Jimin says quietly as he leans against the frame of the double doors.

“What were you doing outside?”

“Guarding the bunker, like you wanted me to.”

I have the urge to ask him all of the questions on my mind. Where had he been all that time before the attack? Why had he returned? How had he known to come back? The only thing I do ask is, “Where is everyone?”

“Hoseok smelled something.”

I have to take a deep breath. Why do I always have to probe so tediously for information?

“Smelled what?”

“A demon.”

My whole body goes rigid in irritation, but thankfully Jimin continues unprompted, “No, not your friend. A different one. Munhee’s.”

While he’s still being ridiculously vague, I can deduce his meaning clearly. Munhee’s demon. I recall a name, one I haven’t heard in a while. Baelmahr. An evil spirit we’d captured, the one Munhee trapped with sigil magic, had said “Baelmahr sends her regards.” The gendered pronoun confuses me slightly, but maybe demons refer to themselves differently.

“Munhee’s demon?”

Jimin nods, his dark hair falling in front of his eyes, “You were sleeping, exhausted, and wouldn’t have been very useful. So they left you here with me again.”

I’m about to enter the cycle of trying to relax while everyone else goes off on excursions that are far too big for me to handle while I fight down the shame and frustration... but then something dawns on me.

“Wait, did Jungkook go with them?”

Jimin gestures down the hall with a directional nod, “Nope. He’s in his room, passed out. At least that’s what Namjoon told me. Whatever he’s doing, he hasn’t left the bunker.”

Relief washes over me. He was far too battered for anything so strenuous. It’s nice to know he’s resting.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah.”

With a quick pace, I leave the kitchen, then pause and turn back to Jimin. “Really, I mean it. Thank you for working hard, sunbae.”

He opens his mouth, then the words seem to catch in his throat and he chooses to laugh lightly instead. His reaction isn’t patronizing or rude, but almost shy.

“You don’t have to speak formally to me.”

“Really? I thought you might like that though.”

Jimin shakes his head with something almost akin to affection, “Please. You’ve spoken informally to me for so long, it’ll be weird. And in sight of... what I did to you, I don’t think I could ask for that kind of respect.”

My sentiments toward the boy with the coffee colored hair soften just a bit. I don’t love him, but I can definitely see he’s trying and I appreciate that.

Jimin points toward the stairs, “Well, if you don’t need anything else... I’ll be doing the whole guarding thing.”

“If they don’t come back soon, maybe I can make some dinner?”

“I already ate.”

“Oh, okay.”

Jimin lets out a small, relenting sigh, “But maybe if you and Jungkook are eating I’ll come down and we can hang out or something.”

I smile genuinely, “Sounds great. I’ll let you know.”

We part ways, Jimin going back up the stairs while I limp across the hallway toward Jungkook’s room. When I reach his door, I knock.

“Jungkook?”

No answer. I knock again.

The door is unlocked so I open it slowly. Jungkook is right where Jimin said he’d be, sprawled out on the bed on his stomach with the sheets covering his waist and unharmed leg. It would be cute, if he weren’t battered and bruised. His head isn’t even on the pillow. It’s tucked under his arm... where I used to be.

My throat pinches and I’m half tempted to turn around and return to the kitchen, but I close the door and continue forward.

“Kookie?” I place my hand on his shoulder and he tenses, then lets out a huff, relaxing, turning onto his side, and hugging the pillow against his chest.

I keep my voice quiet, “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

The boy with the raven black hair mumbles, still half asleep, “Not yet...”

“You’re not okay yet?”

“Sleeping...”

“Oh, I mean how are your ribs? Your leg?”

Jungkook buries his face in the pillow.

I speak a little louder, “Jungkook.”

After another huff and a groan, he finally opens his eyes, looking tired and mildly annoyed, “What?”

“H-how are you feeling?” his sharpness makes me back away slightly.

He stares at me for a moment, then clarity washes over his previously foggy expression. He softens, “I’m sorry. I’m just tired and sore.”

“I only wanted to check on you. It’s okay, you can go back to sleep.”

“No, it’s not okay,” he sits up slowly, wincing and holding his ribs. “I didn’t mean to snap.”

I stay quiet for a moment, not sure what to say. The room settles into an uncomfortable quietness, the awkwardness blanketing the conversation heavily.

Eventually I speak up, “You’re in pain. It’s understandable.”

“No, before that too. I’m sorry for... for getting mad earlier. We shouldn’t have fought,” he sighs. “I wasn’t considering your feelings like I should’ve been.”

I take a step back, giving him space, and sit on the floor to relieve my aching feet, “Oh you mean yesterday. It was nothing. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have argued. You’re stressed out training and trying to stop evil spirits. All I have to do is study.”

Jungkook slowly shifts to sit on the edge of the bed to look at me with mild concern, “Don’t demean yourself. You work hard.”

“So do you.” I laugh lightly, “What were we even fighting about? It all seems like eight hundred years ago.”

“I know,” Jungkook laughs too. “But I’m still sorry.”

“Thank you,” I get up and offer Jungkook my hand. “Can I have a hug please? A make up hug, just as friends. I know your instincts will probably be all messed up and maybe this is selfish but-”

He bypasses my hand, standing up and pulling me into an embrace. It’s comfortable, familiar, and doesn’t make my heart ache. My body knows something has changed. There’s no broken heart feeling. It’s more subtle like... somber acceptance.

“I love you,” Jungkook’s voice is quiet, but there’s an emptiness behind his words. It’s not that he doesn’t mean them, but rather his comment doesn’t contain the depth of emotion I would have wanted to hear.

“I love you too...” my own words seem shallower in comparison, accompanied by a pinch in my heart, which doesn’t sit right. So I repeat them with more conviction, changing the intention. “I love you too.”

I do love him, but as a friend. I must accept that now to respect both him and myself. There is no other way.

Smiling, I step back, “Do you want anything from the kitchen? I can go get you some water or the Calendulas for another healing session.”

“No thanks. I’ll be okay for now.”

“I’m gonna go make dinner then. Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

We exchange polite smiles. They’re small, but at least they aren’t as stiff as they were before and that’s reassuring. With one last glance at the raven haired boy, I make my way back to the kitchen. Things are still awkward between us, but can I really expect everything to be fixed so quickly? Wounds take time to heal and... people take time to change. I look toward the entrance to the bunker, knowing Jimin is up there somewhere.

I bring both boys dinner, just in case they decided they were hungry. Both thank me and I leave without further conversation. An hour or two passes. I start to grow concerned. Where are the others? Why aren’t they back yet?

Worst case scenarios start running through my mind as I search around for something to do. I settle on reading more about herbs. The quietness is almost painful, and that’s why I hear the frantic footsteps so easily.

“Eun?” Jimin’s voice. He’s uneasy. “It’s Seokjin. He’s running.”

I hurry up the stairs, abandoning my book to look at the surrounding fog filled town. It seems as if the thick white haze never left, though I know logically it would’ve burned off during the day. My internal clock has simply been bumped askew of the natural flow of time. And night seems to last forever.

A massive auburn wolf leaps out of the fog at a dead sprint, then skids to a halt in front of Jimin and me, spraying us in gravely dirt from the path. I shield my eyes, but not quickly enough. I have to blink away the sting to see the fur recede and his body change shape. The eldest pack member, panting, approaches quickly.

“Munhee needs you.”

“Needs me?” I lamely point to my chest. He nods, still out of breath. “For what? I can’t perform sigil magic. Is someone hurt? Do I need to get herbs?”

Seokjin shakes his head, forcing himself to stand up straight, “Just get on my back.”

“I’m going too,” Jimin steps forward.

The older man turns his gaze sharply to the younger, “No, you’re staying here and watching the bunker.”

Jimin’s upper lip twitches, piercing amber flashing briefly through his eyes, “You really think I’m going to let you take her near Baelmahr without being there?”

“Don’t say its name.”

“Like I’m going to let you tell me what to do-”

“Jimin,” I keep my voice calm and place a hand on his shoulder. “Not just the bunker. Jungkook too. Please look after him for me.”

The boy with the coffee colored hair scowls, but stops and takes a breath, then addresses Seokjin, “Fine. But you better keep her safe.”

“You have my word.”

As Seokjin transforms and I climb onto his back, Jimin leans against the shack, sliding to sit on the ground, mumbling, “Your word is bullshit.”

If I can hear it, Seokjin undoubtedly can hear it too, but if he does (strong “if,” maybe “even though”), he doesn’t react in the slightest. This sets an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Seokjin is not necessarily a prideful person, but he doesn’t usually suffer such disrespect. I don’t blame him, but his current nonchalance gets under my skin. Is he really in such a hurry?

The eldest pack member’s shoulders are wider than Jimin’s or Jungkook’s, so it’s easier to hold on as he breaks into a dead sprint. I try not to close my eyes, wanting to get a sense of where we’re going, but the spray of dirt, fog, and brushes of auburn fur against my face make it difficult. I quickly get lost in the milky blur of trees and foliage. When we cross the stream, I regain some sense of my whereabouts, but I lose it again as we leave the flowing water behind us.

It doesn’t take long for the eerie feeling of stillness to crawl across my skin. The crickets fall silent. An odd pressure settles across my chest and the longer Seokjin runs, the more I feel as if I can’t breathe.

The auburn wolf skids to a stop in a very familiar place, the Hepatica field.

I can see the four remaining wolves pinning something down. A person. Munhee. As soon as we enter the clearing, she lets out an inhuman scream. I drop down from Seokjin’s back, rushing over to her.

Namjoon, the giant blue-grey wolf, flattens his ears against his head, letting out a growl. It isn’t aggressive, but a warning.

“I know,” I assure him, kneeling down in front of Munhee. “She’s dangerous but...”

I draw my silver knife from my boot, just in case.

Munhee looks up at me. There is so much blood on her face it’s hard to tell where it’s coming from. Her forehead? Maybe her nose or lips? One of her eyes is red red too, but it’s due to the demon’s summoning magic. The other is her normal brown. On her forehead is a sigil- a sealing symbol. It’s inside of her. Baelmahr. But she’s fighting it.

“Eun, listen closely. The wolves are going to take me back to the bunker and probably kill me in the process. Don’t stop them. Don’t try to save me. The magic is too advanced for you.”

“What? I- I could learn. I’ve been studying.”

My heart is in my throat, pinching it with anxiety. She’s giving up so soon? Why? And if she knows it’s inevitable, why is she fighting it? To warn me away from curiosity or recklessness?

“No. Unless you find someone with skills that far surpass mine, it’s impossible-”

Munhee abruptly lurches forward, screeching again, so loudly that my ears ring. Panic floods through me and I scramble backward, holding up my knife as a precaution, but the wolves manage to pin down her limbs. The perceived pressure on my chest increases.

Blood red has started to seep into Munhee’s other iris.

“Keep studying. Train the wolves, work with them,” her voice is starting to sound desperate. “Find a mentor and learn sigil magic before you even think about summoning.”

“Summoning? Why would I do that?” I speak quickly, not wanting to reduce the time she has to talk.

“Use the wolves. Trap the demons in the bunker. It’s what I was trying-”

She wails, once more straining. Dirt and dead leaves spray upward around her as she flails and the wolves dig in.

“There are only so many of them. Find the one who can break sigils. Ekomas, I think... You have to find a way to trap it too. Namjoon.”

The wolf lets out an acknowledging huff.

“You know what to do.”

The next few minutes pass like a terrifying reenactment of an exorcism gone wrong. Munhee screams in that terrifying mix of inhuman voices, struggling, clawing at the ground. At one point she tosses Yoongi aside and tries to get ahold of Hoseok. Seokjin has to step in. Even though their features are lupine, I can tell they’re conflicted. How can they hurt the person they’ve imprinted on?

A snapping branch makes me look over my shoulder. It’s just Jungkook and Jimin, the former limping in his human form, the latter a coffee colored wolf supporting him as they walk. The closer Jungkook gets, the more he favors his good leg and the more slouched he becomes, curling around the ribs that I know were broken. His condition must be worsening due to the effects of the demon. He couldn’t have walked all the way here by himself either.

“What’s going on?”

I stand, dusting myself off. “We need to get Munhee to the bunker. What’s the easiest way?”

I look to Namjoon for an answer as the demon starts speaking in a language I don’t understand.

The blue-grey wolf just shakes his head, clearly at a loss.

Think.

Demons can break down doors. Ropes won’t work. It’s taking four wolves just to hold her down.

“Jimin, Yoongi, I need you to find me something flat to put her on, like a sled. We’re bringing her back.”

I have every hope that at the end of this, she could come out alive.

As I continue giving orders, knife still in hand, the calmness in my voice surprises me. I’m starting to sound like Munhee.

Jungkook approaches me hesitantly, “What can I do?”

“Just stay here. Tell me if anything happens.”

He nods.

As we finish assembling the sled and the wolves bodily drag a writhing Munhee onto it, my friend with the raven black hair approaches me again.

“This doesn’t feel like a satisfying end,” he whispers. What an odd choice of words.

I watch the ochre, auburn, blue-grey, and bronze wolves once again pin her down. Jimin and Yoongi grab either end of the platform made from a large strip of the pliable bark of a tree, pulling and pushing respectively. There’s an empty feeling in my chest that will be filled by fear later.

I glance at each of the haggard wolves, worn down from obvious exhaustion. They’ve all gone through so much. We have all gone through so much.

Munhee screams inhumanly again and I’m unable to hold back a wince this time.

She was so strong, and yet she couldn’t stop Baelmahr. I can’t help but wonder: will the same thing happen to me with Halsahm?

This doesn’t feel like a satisfying end.

I finally mage to respond to Jungkook’s comment, “That’s because it’s not. She didn’t deserve this.”

His voice is quiet in the eerily silent night air, “Did any of us?”

✩✩✩♔✩✩✩

A/N: Well that was quite the journey 😊 Remember, there WILL be a Bloodstone epilogue, a small offshoot series from Jimin’s POV, and maybe one more lore post. Thank you so much for reading!

Send me your theories/questions here. Or just come say hi ;)

Support me/Donate and get some super rad 😎 rewards

Much love ~🐰 xx

[chrollohearttags]

texting me after a year of not speaking to tell me you saw my OF and b*at off to it is crazy.

[perpetually-jungshook]

Without You: Bloodstone (Part 24)

Genre: AU, bts!werewolf, fantasy, angst

Warnings: language, violence, suggestive content

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Werewolves, contrary to popular belief, are usually gentle creatures. Except for a very specific set of circumstances, they would never hurt a human (on purpose). The few unfortunate times when mistakes were made put a permanent dark mark on the beasts and people began labeling them as monsters. What the human population failed to recognize was the fact that they were protecting us from something much more sinister. Luckily, a few survived and the gene was passed down hereditarily until one day finding its way to me… in the form of my best friend.

Link to: Storyboard (reference pictures) | General lore post | Intimacy lore post Prologue | Previous | Masterlist | Next

Loyalty is often as blind as justice should be, as unstable as a lightning storm ought to be, and as misplaced as an opinion in the truth.

Chapter 24:

No matter how suspicious I am of Munhee, I can’t help but feel sorry for her. She’d probably just sealed a demon inside a body (which takes a lot of energy) or had banished one (whatever that entails). Now, on top of that and almost directly afterward, she has to exorcise or cleanse the traces Halsahm had left inside me.

I have so many questions, about my friends, about Jimin, about the “good spirit” that’s apparently enabling magic within me, at least according to the demon; but as Munhee leads me to one of the few unused rooms, I come to realize that even if I somehow found the words to ask, I wouldn’t retain any of the information anyway.

We make it to the nearest door that isn’t Jimin’s and she asks me to lie down. Perching on the edge of the bed, Munhee’s whole body sags in what I can only assume is exhaustion. I don’t press her for information, though the anxiety that someone is hurt beyond repair is an ever present gnawing in my brain. The fact that she says nothing is simultaneously reassuring, yet foreboding.

Hoseok walks through the open door a few minutes later, holding a book and a bucket. He sets them down, then backs away.

“I hope you don’t mind if I stay over here,” he whispers.

Munhee shakes her head, “She’s conscious this time. Hopefully she’ll be able to control herself.”

That doesn’t bode well for me.

The next few hours are excruciating. Munhee doesn’t have enough energy to do the exorcism all in one go. This leads to a cycle of incantations, convulsions, and vomiting. Obviously, Munhee only participates in one out of three of those activities. I partake in the other two.

It’s strange though, despite the full body spasms and the incredible pain that claws at me like hooks being dragged across my insides, I somehow manage to recognize a few things. The bright piercing green in Munhee’s eyes is similar in intensity to the amber color for the wolves’ and just as bright as the crimson in the demons’. I’m assuming in this case it’s a dissipative type of magic, to get rid of the evil spirit. I’m proud of myself, seeing how much my knowledge base and understanding of magic have expanded.

By the time Munhee sits back, declaring she’s finished, panting hard, Hoseok has long since gone, Namjoon stopped by to check on us and brought water, and Seokjin placed a tray at the door with food for both of us. She weakly pats my shoulder as the last of the foamy white bile expels itself from my stomach. As I look into the bucket, finding a blood laced mess, dried and crusty in some parts, highly viscous to runny in others, it almost makes me vomit again.

“I’ll get that for you,” she gently takes the bucket after closing the book. “Try to drink some water and eat what you can. I’ll have someone bring you dinner. You and I both need to get our energy back.”

Munhee stands and stiffly makes her way toward the door, book under one arm, half full bottle of water in hand, and bucket handle in the other. She scoots the empty tray into the hall with her foot before closing the door. I don’t hear her lock it.

After a small sip of water, I allow myself to collapse on the bare mattress. I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. No, realistically, more like two miles. My body aches, but the throbbing seems to have stopped. Any progress is good progress, right?

Sleep comes too quickly.

The next few days pass in a blur, a fluid state of wake and sleep. Certain things stick out to me, but they’re like events in a movie montage, only less cohesive and clean cut. One moment flows into, then tangles with the next. I remember Namjoon, Hoseok, Munhee, even Jungkook, but they’re all as tangible as ghosts. I remember food, water, moving to a bed that’s made with soft sheets and pleasantly heavy blankets.

Between these moments of lucidity, all I see are the piercing blood red eyes of demons and all I hear is the uncannily whimsical laugh of the little girl, accompanied by the whispered phrase:

You’re mine.

The first sight I truly wake up to see is Jimin. I want to recoil, but he’s not doing anything wrong. In fact, he’s sleeping, curled into a ball next to the bed, head resting on the mattress beside me. I try to keep still as I slowly regain awareness, not wanting to wake him up out of common human decency. The details of his face fade in and out of focus, but it’s more like a soft blur than the nightmare I’d been slipping in and out of.

His hair has fallen across his forehead and eyes, making them hard to see, but they are definitely closed. His breathing is peaceful and even, lips slightly parted, a little chapped. He’s not bruised anymore, but his cheeks are a bit paler than normal. Still, if he’d treated me differently, maybe I would think he’s beautiful- no, he is beautiful. If he had treated me differently, been a decent person, maybe I might have actually grown to love him.

But he took away Jungkook. He took away my freedom to choose Jungkook and for that it would take a miracle for me to even consider him as a friend.

Jimin stirs, his sleep blurred eyes opening slowly. For some reason, I don’t look away, but neither does he. This leads to a few seconds of awkward staring before his eyebrows knit, “What the fuck are you looking at?”

I scoff and try to sit up, but when that fails, I settle for turning onto my other side and facing the wall, making sure to passive aggressively bump his head. I can hear him stand, his voice a bit hoarse, “I didn’t mean that.”

“Right.”

“I’m just not used to people-”

“I don’t care what you are or aren’t used to. What are you even doing in here?”

“Well this is my room so…”

This time, I do manage to sit up. Jimin’s room? I look around, finding the space pristinely clean. I’m not sure what type I originally pinned him as, but it definitely wasn’t this type. The only evidence that the room has been lived in at all is a bookcase that I haven’t seen in any of the other rooms, which is odd considering the uniformity of the furniture in the bunker. On these shelves is a collection of knick knacks- small figurines, a frame filled with pressed flowers, a couple books with titles and authors that I’ve never seen before.

On one of the middle shelves, all by itself, suspended by a hook drilled in the backing, is a necklace. It looks like real silver.

“Why am I in your room?” I ask quietly, taking the malice out of my voice.

Jimin shrugs, crossing his arms, “Would you rather be with the dead body?”

I would rather be in Jungkook’s room, but I guess I should be thankful I’m still alive and in relative comfort. I decide not to reply, running my fingers through my hair as if it’ll clear my thoughts. I’m hungry.

“That’s what I thought,” he huffs.

Taking a calming breath, I swing my legs sideways, out from under the covers before slowly pushing myself up and deciding not to directly respond to that either, “I’m getting food.”

“Let me get it for you.”

“Don’t try to keep me in here, I’m not-”

“Do you really think I’m going out of the goodness of my heart? Because I love you?” he scoffs, upper lip twitching. “You can’t walk.”

“What are you talking about? I can walk no problem.”

As soon as I stand, I fall flat on my side. Jimin hadn’t even moved in an attempt to catch me, but I didn’t expect him to. This appears to be his preferred method of teaching.

He smirks, “So what do you want to eat?”

Fifteen minutes later, Jimin and I sit on his bed, each of us eating a cup of instant noodles, not speaking. He brought a small CD player and soft classical music or traditional folk songs trickle quietly from the speakers. It’s almost pleasant.

“Jimin, why do you hate Munhee?” I don’t look up from my noodles when I ask this, knowing it may provoke him. He hates questions, but I hate sitting here feeling idle.

“I don’t hate her.”

“But-?”

“She irritates me. There’s a difference.”

“Okay,” I relent, scooping noodles into my mouth to give me an excuse not to speak.

Jimin surprises me by continuing, “Among various other reasons, I don’t like her because she treats me like a child. Me and everyone else. I think it’s ridiculous and disgusting.”

I shrug, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, though his words do have a bit of truth to them, even if he acts unfairly or rudely. She’s clearly babied Jungkook and me on several occasions, when our limits could’ve been pushed for further productivity.

“She treats us like pets. With the others, I can understand. They need her, rely on her, have imprinted on her- whatever. They don’t mind being her puppets. But us? You, me, Jungkook… we’re different. We don’t need her.”

I finish chewing and swallowing just in time to reply, “So there’s a ‘we’ now?”

“Touché.”

“Besides, without her, I wouldn’t know what I’m doing- with Jungkook or magic.”

Jimin lets out a dissatisfied huff, “You and I both know I’ve helped you more with training Jungkook than she did.”

“That’s a very vain assumption to make.”

He rolls his eyes, “If I hadn’t said anything his progress would’ve plateaued.”

“Do you have a complaint for my magic training too?”

“No.”

“I’m surprised.”

He sets his empty cup aside, frowning, “I’m not an entirely terrible person.”

“That’s an opinion.”

I don’t know what’s making me so snarky with him. Maybe the fact that I’m tired. Maybe the fact that I’m tired of him.

Jimin sighs, his gaze dropping to the bed, “Another reason I dislike her? She was his tutor, you know.”

“Who?”

“Munhee tutored Namjoon. I’m not sure how they met or what she’d been ‘teaching’ him, but don’t you think it’s a bit suspicious that she can use magic and he’s the first one that transformed in the pack?”

A queasy feeling bubbles in my stomach, but I’m not about to start making conspiracy theories again- not until I see some solid, irrefutable evidence. As I’ve concluded before, most of my misgivings toward Munhee are based on suspicion alone and she’s quite frank and honest with me. I have no reason to distrust her. Yet I have every reason to distrust Jimin…

“What if it’s a coincidence?”

“Seriously? You don’t see the connection?” he leans forward, taking the empty cup out of my hands to set it beside his own. For some irrational reason, having nothing in my hands makes me feel alone, vulnerable. His stare pierces through me, as if his eyes were amber, but they’re not. “Wolves transform early only when there are evil spirits around. She knew Namjoon. Namjoon transformed early. She’s summoning demons, Eun.”

I’d thought about it before, especially after seeing the strange pit in the center of the workshop, but at the end of the day correlation is not causation.

“What’s your proof?”

“Namjoon being pack leader is proof enough.”

“No, it’s not.”

The conversation stagnates in a momentary lull, despite the dense amount of information he’s attempting to relay. The classical music makes the room feel oddly stuffy.

“Look, I’m not trying to make you hate her, or prefer me over her or anything. But I’m telling you, that’s what she’s doing.”

“Why would she though?” I can’t help but question him. Summoning demons? It doesn’t make sense.

Would she do it to collect the pack? For what end? She raised them, trained them. She couldn’t mean them any harm. She wouldn’t bring them together like this just to satisfy some vendetta against werewolves. Otherwise why not kill them after they’d imprinted on her, when they’re at their most vulnerable?

Of course, there’s always the possibility that Munhee would try to corrupt the wolf pack so that they eventually wouldn’t hurt demons, but who in their right mind would do that? Who would side with evil spirits? Someone threatened? She has an entire pack to protect her now. Thus the theory circles back, contradicts itself, and I can’t find a motive.

Jimin takes a while to answer, also giving me time to mull it over. I’m not sure if he’s legitimately thinking about it, or if he’s just trying to add suspense; yet when he does speak, the least I can do is appreciate his honesty.

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out, but you have to admit that something seems wrong.”

Jungkook had expressed the same thing to me a while ago. He had been uneasy, but I’d eventually chalked it up to the fact that they had been trapping and containing demons in the bunker. What if…? I shake my head subtly to clear it. No. I’m not going to judge her based on someone else’s gut feelings, whether I trust that person or not. If this whole bite experience has taught me anything, it’s that I need to start making decisions for myself… in the areas that I am able to.

Jimin closes his eyes for a moment before he looks away, over at the shelves, amber tendrils curling into his irises, but never fully consuming them. I follow his gaze to the silver necklace and by the time I look back at him, the piercing yellow is gone.

“Can I ask you something?” his voice is unusually quiet, almost soft.

I can’t say no. I ask him strange questions all the time, so I nod.

“Do you really think… we aren’t monsters?”

“Werewolves?”

“Yeah.”

I let out a small sigh, using it to buy time as I formulate an answer, “Werewolves fight evil spirits, so they aren’t bad in theory. But I think whether or not they are considered ‘monsters’ is up to each person individually.”

Jimin lets out a humorless laugh, “You’re saying I’m a terrible person.”

“I never said that.”

“It was implied.”

Here we go again. Can’t we ever just have one nice conversation? The classical music in the background is noticeably out of place, while at the same time contributes substantially to the overall discord.

“I’m not implying you’re terrible. I’m implying that you’re an asshole.”

“But I saved your life.”

And this is the crux of my problem with Jimin.

“You can save my life dozens of times and I still won’t forgive you for what you did.”

He stands, walking away from the bed so that his back is to me, “Is this about me biting you still?”

“Yes.”

“When are you going to let that go?”

The fact that I’d thought we might have been having a decent talk, even bonding or simply creating mutual respect… it makes his comment hurt all the more. I finally realize that the disparity between our reactions doesn’t stem from a lack of understanding about what happened, but rather from a lack of understanding about how the incident affects me.

“You’re smart, Jimin. I can tell. So why do you insist on being so oblivious?”

He turns around and for the first time, I can see the regret in his eyes, “And you’re a nice person, Eun. So why can’t you understand me? Why can’t you like me?”

“Because you refuse to-”

Before I can finish, he continues, his words clipped, “It’s not my fault. None of this is. I didn’t ask to be attacked. I didn’t ask to have that bastard’s blood shoved down my throat. And I certainly didn’t ask to be abandoned by him afterward. It’s not my fault…”

“No, but it is your fault what you say and do to me,” I remain seated, watching him carefully. “I don’t want to be mean, but it’s the truth. Whatever happened, I’m sorry, but it’s not an excuse.”

Jimin, much to my surprise, slowly lowers himself to his knees beside the bed, resting his cheek on the mattress, mirroring the position he’d been in when I woken up, except now his eyes are fixated on the silver necklace.

“You’re right.”

We don’t say anything to each other after that and I’m almost relieved when there’s a knock at the door. It’s Munhee, checking up on us. She immediately hands me a bottle of water and a silver knife, then tells me she has to do a checkup on my body and mind. Jimin doesn’t protest, whether it’s because he thinks my health is important or because I now have a weapon that is effective against him, I’m not sure. He doesn’t even look as I leave.

She leads the way to her room, asks me a bunch of questions about how I feel and how Jimin treated me. I answer all of them to the best of my ability and as honestly as possible, though remain a little vague about the topic of our “argument.” Munhee lets me go after an hour or so and I return to Jimin’s room, not knowing where else to go. I don’t want to be in “my” new room due to recent gore and Jungkook’s is apparently off limits. A comfortable bed sounds better than anything right now and that means I’m not sleeping on a bare mattress, so even if I have to negotiate and put up with…

Jimin is gone. A little relief floods through me. He’s probably off doing whatever he does when he disappears for days at a time. Hopefully he won’t be mad about me staying here. Maybe it’ll play into the whole instinct thing and soothe him, like how I started staying close to Jungkook originally.

I sigh as I settle beneath the blankets, pulling them up to my nose to shield myself from the cold air flowing out of the air vent. The classical music had been turned off, allowing my mind to wander.

Jimin had relented in the end. Maybe… he can change. It’s a bold assumption and something I’ll probably regret considering later. Still, he has been slightly different since I woke up, since the whole demon incident, and even after the bite. Maybe if I just try a little more, he’ll see that the world isn’t all bad… that the man who “abandoned him” doesn’t matter because as long as Jimin tries to change, tries to become a better person, he’ll have people to support him. I will support him.

But then a month passes, and Jimin has yet to return.

✩✩✩♔✩✩✩

Send me your theories/questions here. Or just come say hi ;)

Support me/Donate and get some super rad 😎 rewards

Much love ~🐰 xx