Chapter Text
San wondered if that was how he was going to die – completely bare, sprawled out on the guest room bed, his mate comfortably curled up against him, sound asleep. Not the worst way to go, but certainly an embarrassing one.
San was exhausted. He had been nervous but excited for their rut and heat to finally sync up, thrilled when it actually happened. Then his rut ended – sooner than usual, after just two days. He could tell Wooyoung’s heat would be shorter too, already nearing its end after four days, but…
When San’s rut ended, his instinctual needs settled, his mind cleared, and all the exhaustion of the past days crashed down on him at once.
A clear-minded San was not ready for an eager Wooyoung at the peak of his heat.
Wooyoung made a soft noise in his sleep, and San’s heart flipped in panic. He held his breath, eyes locked on Wooyoung’s flushed face. Wooyoung huddled closer, letting out a low purr before settling again. San released a slow, quiet exhale.
Just one more hour. He just needed one more hour to rest, and then–
A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and San’s heart stuttered when Wooyoung whined in response. Miraculously though, he didn’t wake up, and the door cracked open.
“Are you decent?” Seonghwa’s voice drifted in.
San grimaced. “Hold on.”
Moving as carefully as possible, he reached for the blanket that had somehow remained at the foot of the bed, then draped it over their bodies. Gaze falling onto Wooyoung’s sleeping face, the dim light of the lamp giving his skin a soft glow, San couldn’t help but smile. His fondness fluttered through their bond, and Wooyoung let out a soft sigh, a faint smile tugging on his lips despite his slumber.
“You can come in.”
Seonghwa stepped inside, carrying a tray with a large steaming bowl and two glasses of water. He tried to mask it, but San caught the slight wrinkle of his nose and the flash of disgust on his packmate’s face when the scents of the room hit him. It was quickly replaced by a kind smile.
“How are you?” Seonghwa asked as he settled on a chair near the bed, nudging the lamp aside to place the tray on the bedside table.
The food smelled incredible and the tender pieces of meat sitting at the top of the bowl made San’s stomach tighten with hunger.
“I think he’s going to kill me, Hwa,” San admitted, wide-eyed.
Seonghwa chuckled behind his hand and held out a glass of water. San reluctantly – and carefully – peeled himself away from Wooyoung to sit up and accept the glass. The blanket kept covering Wooyoung’s shoulders, but it pooled on San’s lap, revealing his bare chest. Thankfully, Seonghwa didn’t comment on the various marks littering his skin. Not that San truly cared – his alpha swelled with smug satisfaction every time he remembered them.
Seonghwa didn’t linger. After he updated San on the rest of the pack and San reassured him of Wooyoung’s condition, he pressed a kiss to both their heads and took his leave.
San sat motionless for a moment, eyeing their still-steaming dinner. He was hesitant to wake Wooyoung up, but this would be their first warm meal in four days. It was worth a shot.
Gently, he nudged Wooyoung’s shoulder.
“Baby?” he murmured. He pressed a kiss to Wooyoung’s cheek, then another, just because he could. He had discovered that Wooyoung's cheeks became even softer, even squishier during his heat, and it quickly became addictive.
Wooyoung stirred after several more kisses, blinking blearily. A faint crease lined his cheek from where it had been pressed against the sheets. San would have cooed if he weren’t busy holding his breath, waiting for Wooyoung's reaction.
Wooyoung scrunched his nose cutely, eyes flickering past San’s shoulder.
“Food?”
San exhaled in relief. He helped Wooyoung sit up, then hurried to grab the bowl and the second glass of water before Wooyoung’s omega could take over again.
“Seonghwa brought it for us,” he explained while Wooyoung downed the water in one go. “Yunho and Mingi helped him cook.”
Wooyoung hummed, handing the empty glass back to San. His gaze dropped to the bowl again, but didn’t linger there. Instead, his eyes flicked to the discarded sweater near San’s knee. San followed his line of sight as it roamed over the bed. He grimaced. The nest looked nothing like how Wooyoung had built it four days ago.
“Wanna tidy up a bit?” San asked, although he already knew the answer.
Wooyoung nodded and San got out of the bed, bowl still in his hands. Wooyoung immediately moved to rearrange the blankets and clothes they had borrowed from their packmates.
“You can eat,” Wooyoung said, not looking up.
San shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll wait for you.”
To San’s relief, the food was still warm by the time Wooyoung was done and San was back in bed. Wooyoung sat cross-legged in front of him, a blanket draped around his shoulders, while San kept one on his lap, chest and shoulders still bare. He smirked at the way Wooyoung’s gaze kept flickering downward.
He liked being looked at by his mate. It was perhaps silly, but it made his alpha puff up with pride. In exchange, San was allowed to touch Wooyoung’s bare legs whenever he wanted – a fair trade.
Despite Wooyoung’s half-hearted grumbles, San insisted on feeding him. Wooyoung was still weakened by his heat, and San simply loved taking care of him. Wooyoung probably knew that, because he didn’t resist for long, and the soft, content warmth San felt radiating through their bond told him everything he needed to know.
They shared their meal in comfortable silence, until Wooyoung started asking about San’s earlier conversation with Seonghwa.
“Mingi cried this morning,” San reported. His gaze caught a stray grain of rice clinging to Wooyoung’s lip and, without thinking, he swiped it away with his thumb and popped it into his own mouth. “Seonghwa said he was fine afterward. Jongho seems okay today, but he was rather down the past two days.”
Wooyoung hummed, accepting another mouthful of food.
“You know what that means, right?” San asked.
A weary smirk curled at the corner of Wooyoung’s lips. “A hug attack?”
San grinned, mirroring his expression. “A hug attack.”
He ate his own mouthful, appreciating the taste and warmth of a meal no doubt made with love and care. Wooyoung’s cooking was still the best, but after working alongside the omega for so long, Seonghwa had perfected his skills.
They finished their meal and made a quick trip to the privy closet after ensuring none of their packmates were upstairs. Once back, San left the empty bowl outside their door before hurrying back to the bed, where Wooyoung wasted no time climbing on top of him, nestling his face into the crook of San’s neck.
Even after the days they had just spent together and the nights they had shared, the feeling of Wooyoung’s bare skin against his own sent a familiar rush of warmth through San’s body, making his heart flutter. He closed his eyes to savor it, taking note of every detail ; the way Wooyoung’s stomach pressed against his when he inhaled, the absentminded movement of his toes, tickling San’s feet, the featherlight brush of his fingers tracing San’s collarbone.
San could feel Wooyoung’s emotions through their bond as well – peaceful and warm, safe. San’s alpha rumbled in quiet contentment, a soft growl escaping his throat, making Woyoung giggle. San smiled at the sound. He pressed a kiss into Wooyoung’s messy, slightly greasy hair.
“How are you feeling?” he murmured.
“Warm,” Wooyoung answered. “A bit floaty.”
San hummed, his fingers carding through Wooyoung’s hair. “Do you need…”
“Soon, probably.” Wooyoung nodded, head bumping against San’s chin. “But it doesn’t hurt yet, and I missed you.”
“We’ve been together for four days,” San replied with an amused smile.
Wooyoung huffed, pulling back just enough to pout at him. “You know what I mean. I wasn’t really there.”
San did know. He could relate, too. As much as he had tried to stay aware when their cycles started on Monday morning, the haze had quickly taken over. Their first evening was a blur, and most of the second day barely more than scattered memories. He had only come back to himself in the late afternoon that day, panting, sweating, body still intertwined with Wooyoung’s, his mate weakly nibbling at his neck.
“Four days though…” Wooyoung’s voice was quieter now, thoughtful. “Only one week left.”
A heavy feeling settled in San’s stomach. He swallowed, hand moving down Wooyoung’s head to rub slow circles into his nape, hoping to distract himself from the sudden somber thoughts.
“Maybe a little more. Seonghwa said Hongjoong thinks the snowflakes are still too thick to stop so soon.”
Wooyoung didn’t answer. San didn’t even need their bond to know how he felt – he shared the same fear, the same sadness.
A few days, one week, a month, it was still not enough when it meant telling their packmates goodbye, and that inevitable moment loomed closer with every passing hour.
The weight in San’s stomach climbed to his throat. He closed his eyes and exhaled shakily, trying to get rid of it, but it lingered, taking over his chest instead.
“Baby?” His voice wavered. “Can you kiss me, please?”
The words were barely out, and Wooyoung was already pressing their lips together, before San could even finish or be embarrassed by his own vulnerability. It wasn’t a deep kiss, just a gentle press of lips, Wooyoung’s palm cradling his cheek, but it was enough to chase away the tightness in his chest.
Wooyoung pulled back only to kiss him again, then again, until he eventually moved away to check on San.
“Thank you,” San whispered with a genuine smile.
Wooyoung’s own lips curled up, his relief as evident on his face as it were through their bond.
His expression fell almost comically fast. The smile trembled and faltered, then his lashes fluttered, his eyes glazing over. San knew this look. He had witnessed it many times over the past four days.
He brushed a long strand of hair behind Wooyoung’s ear, noticing the subtle change in Wooyoung’s scent as well.
“Is it coming back?”
Wooyoung nodded, the motion slow and lazy. When his body started to sway, San held his waist and carefully shifted their positions so Wooyoung lay on his back instead, San hovering over him but bracing his weight on one elbow to not crush him.
“What do you need me to do?” San asked quietly, hand caressing Wooyoung’s face.
His mate’s skin was already growing warmer, his breath uneven. A fresh wave of sweetened scent hit and San’s alpha stirred, his muscles tensing instinctively in response.
“Just kisses,” Wooyoung murmured.
San gladly obliged. He cupped Wooyoung’s face with one hand and caught his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. The simple contact made Wooyoung’s body react instantly, a soft sound escaping him. Their tongues brushed and San found himself shifting closer, rubbing against Wooyoung’s overheated skin, drawing a sigh from the omega’s parted lips.
San’s hand traced down Wooyoung’s side and San savored the way his mate shivered under his touch, responding to every movement of his lips, every flick of his tongue, until the sighs turned into quiet whimpers of pain.
“I’ve got you,” San murmured, breaking the kiss just enough to whisper against Wooyoung’s lips. His hand was moving lower, already knowing what his mate needed before he could even ask.
“A-Alpha…”
“I know, baby.”
San moved, and Wooyoung’s back arched beneath him, his chest heaving, his flushed skin glistening with the first sheen of sweat. San bent down, lips finding Wooyoung’s neck.
“It’s okay,” San murmured, kissing Wooyoung’s skin – his mating mark, exposed, healed, perfect. “Alpha will make it better. I promise.”
—
The days passed, the storm too, and with it came the time they had all wished would never come.
For a month, they had pushed the thought aside, clinging to the peace and warmth that came from their forced confinement, to the illusion that everything was fine. But San and Wooyoung’s cycles had come and gone, the sky had cleared, and all doubt and hesitation crumbled when Wooyoung’s condition began to deteriorate again. Fear lingered, sorrow too, but the determination to save Wooyoung burned brighter than everything else. Seonghwa saw it burning in Jongho’s eyes despite the tears rolling down his cheeks as he held Yeosang close.
Seonghwa had known this would be hard. He had tried to steel himself for this moment, but no amount of mental preparation could compare to the raw pain of reality, as he watched and heard his packmates share their sorrow.
Watching them say their goodbyes to their friends from other packs yesterday had been difficult, their farewells to the house this morning even worse, but this… Seonghwa’s breath hitched as another wave of tears slipped down his cheeks.
They all stood in front of the house, Countess and Kuschel waiting patiently a few meters away, stamping at the snow-covered ground. Seonghwa stood by Hongjoong’s side, Wooyoung nestled against their head alpha, trembling with quiet sobs. Hongjoong’s face was damp with tears. To their right, Jongho was talking to Yeosang, both of them red-eyed and sniffling.
But it was the sight to Seonghwa’s left that shattered him the most – Yunho, San, and Mingi wrapped into a tight hug, clinging to each other as if letting go would break them entirely. They had been locked in that embrace for the past ten minutes, the stream of tears never ceasing.
Seonghwa wanted to stop this. He wanted to take Mingi’s place, to find another way. How had they ever agreed to separate those three? How cruel had they been to let Jongho venture to the West? Why–
“We’ll find the ingredients,” Jongho said, interrupting Seonghwa’s swirling train of thoughts. The alpha was gripping Wooyoung’s shoulders now, forcing their gazes to meet. “Then we’ll come back to you, and we’ll cure you. You hear me, Wooyoung? We’ll cure you. You just need to hold on a little longer.”
Wooyoung could barely speak through his sobs, but he nodded weakly. Jongho lifted his pinky, his bottom lip trembling.
“Promise me,” he whispered.
It was obvious how much Jongho needed this, needed something to hold on to, something to carry with him for difficult times. Wooyoung lifted his own trembling hand and hooked their fingers together.
“I promise,” Wooyoung murmured. “Only if you promise to stay safe.”
Jongho gave him a sad smile. “I promise.”
They hugged. Yeosang joined them, then Seonghwa did the same, pulling Hongjoong with him until they were one mass of grief and love, sobbing into each other’s shoulders, all hoping they could stop time itself.
When the trio finally pulled apart, Seonghwa took San into his arms, letting him cling to his cloak and cry against his chest. Seonghwa didn’t look as Mingi said his final goodbyes to Wooyoung – some things were just too painful to witness.
A while later, they watched as Mingi and Jongho mounted their horses. Through the tears and the weight of their fear of the unknown, determination still burnt in their eyes – the only thing strong enough to carry them forward through the year ahead.
Seonghwa placed a hand on Jongho’s calf. “Thank you for being so brave.”
Jongho’s throat bobbed, his eyes glistening with fresh tears, but he still managed a smile. “Take good care of him for us.”
“You know we will.”
It was the hardest thing Seonghwa had ever done but, eventually, he let them go. He stood there, holding a still sobbing Yeosang as he watched his packmates disappear into the trees, the last traces of hoofprints fading beneath the falling snow.
No one moved for a long time. Yeosang’s sobs had quieted, but he hadn’t let go of Seonghwa. Every now and then, another tear would slip down Seonghwa’s cheeks as he stared at the empty path. Yunho held San tightly, while San pressed Wooyoung against his chest, carding a hand through his hair.
Hongjoong stood at the center of their sad tableau, chin up, cheeks dried, but jaw clenched.
Seonghwa wasn’t sure what they were supposed to do now, how they were supposed to just… live.
The decision was made for them when, after minutes of silent mourning, San suddenly gasped. Yunho moved at the same time, and Seonghwa turned his head just in time to see them helping Wooyoung to the ground, the omega’s body limp.
“He fainted,” San stated, already sliding an arm under Wooyoung’s knees and the other around his back to lift him. “We stayed outside too long. He’s freezing.”
They all followed him inside in silence. They were used to this by now, to Wooyoung collapsing without warning. It didn’t have to mean something bad.
But it could.
Seonghwa lingered for a moment longer, his gaze fixed on the snowy forest outside. He let out a heavy sigh and looked away, shutting the door.
San carried Wooyoung to the guest room – the space that had unofficially become the mates’ shared room. By the time they arrived, Wooyoung was stirring weakly, eyes fluttering open, though he remained dazed and sluggish. His limbs hung limply as San lowered him onto the bed and tucked him under a thick blanket.
“Get some rest, sweetheart,” Seonghwa murmured, brushing damp strands of hair away from Wooyoung’s forehead as San moved around to retrieve extra blankets. “I’ll bring you lunch later.”
He knew it was bad when, instead of arguing and insisting that he was fine enough to join them later like he usually did, Wooyoung simply nodded, eyes already closing as he burrowed deeper into the pillows. He curled into a ball, body shaking.
It stayed that way for five days.
The fever came first, then the aching limbs, and finally, the relentless cough. Wooyoung only grew weaker as time passed, barely able to eat some days, shivering no matter how many blankets they wrapped him in or how hot his baths were. It was hard to watch.
It was hard to live, too. Mingi and Jongho’s absence had left an emptiness none of them knew how to fill. Everything felt different, duller, grayer. Their dynamic had shifted, too. When San wasn’t with Wooyoung, he spent his time secluded in Yunho’s room with the other alpha, the way they used to in the past. Seonghwa couldn’t blame them for that – he knew how much Mingi’s absence weighed on them both, how much they needed each other’s comfort. He just wished they would talk to the others instead of shutting everyone else out.
Hongjoong was worse, burying himself in his room, like he usually did when things got too hard, when emotions threatened to spill. Seonghwa knew how much he was hurting, but Hongjoong avoided any conversation that brushed the topic of his feelings.
And then there was Yeosang – left on his own when Seonghwa was too busy taking care of Wooyoung, skipping dinner and retreating early every night, disappearing into his room only to join Seonghwa for breakfast with dark circles under his eyes.
Seonghwa sighed as he replaced the damp cloth on Wooyoung’s burning forehead.
“It’s more than halfway through.”
Seonghwa nearly dropped the cloth on Wooyoung’s face in shock, startled by Wooyoung’s voice. The omega had been asleep all morning – Seonghwa hadn’t noticed him opening his eyes.
He placed a hand over his chest, willing his pulse to settle, and offered Wooyoung a soft smile.
“What is?”
Instead of answering, Wooyoung shifted, attempting to sit up. His arms shook with the effort, his weakened body struggling to obey him. Seonghwa reached out, helping him until he was resting against the pillows. Wooyoung sighed, eyes closing as his head lolled against the headboard.
“My eye,” he whispered.
Seonghwa’s stomach clenched. His fingers curled around the damp cloth in his hands.
He had noticed it too – of course he had. Every day, without fail, he checked on the creeping silver overtaking Wooyoung’s iris. The change seemed to be accelerating and with it came the fear, the uncertainty of what it meant.
What would happen when the silver consumed the brown entirely? Was it a way to check on how much time Wooyoung had left?
Seonghwa didn’t know what Wooyoung wanted to hear now, or even what to say. He wished he could push the dark thoughts away, but he knew Wooyoung’s mind was trapped in the same cycle. So he said nothing.
Instead, Seonghwa set the cloth aside and pulled Wooyoung into his arms, holding him close.
—
If the fever didn’t kill him, the migraine surely would. Wooyoung had already thrown up twice in the last two hours from the pain alone. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even open his eyes. The throbbing in his head was relentless, unyielding no matter how he positioned himself, no matter how much time passed. The salve Seonghwa had spread on his forehead had helped – he would have passed out again if not for it - but it wasn’t enough.
Wooyoung let out a pitiful whimper as the door creaked open. He recognized Yeosang from the footsteps alone, even before the soothing scent of elderflowers reached him.
“Oh. We didn’t know you were awake.”
Wooyoung tried to reply, but all he managed was a broken sound, something between a sigh and a sob. He felt the mattress dip near his hip and expected Yeosang to speak again, but to his confusion, silence followed. Wooyoung frowned. He debated whether opening his eyes and risking being killed by the daylight to check on his packmate was worth it, but before he could decide, something soft and warm brushed against his temple.
“Does the salve help?” Yeosang asked softly.
Wooyoung swallowed. He gave a slight nod, gritting his teeth when the pain shot through his skull.
“Okay,” Yeosang breathed. Fingers found his temple again, then a full palm, then two, on each side of his head. “Please don’t panic.”
That made Wooyoung’s eyes snap open, and question already forming on his lips–
But all thoughts fled his mind when a blinding light burst from his temples. It didn’t last long, barely a second or two, and then Wooyoung was left staring at Yeosang’s worried face.
The pain was gone.
“What the fuck.”
Wooyoung gawked at him, mouth agape.
“You’re a healer,” he gasped in realization.
“I’m… I’m an enchanter,” Yeosang corrected, his voice quieter than Wooyoung had ever heard from him. He looked down, avoiding Wooyoung’s gaze. “I can enhance… things. Not heal. And I’m not a good one…”
He sighed, pulling his hands off Wooyoung’s head.
“Magic is more common in the West, so my family never really talked about it. I knew my great-grandmother and one of my cousins could use magic but that was it. I didn’t realize I was gifted too, until recently...” He hesitated, fingers curling on his lap. “I think… I think seeing you in so much pain triggered my magic. Suddenly, I could do things – keep flowers from wilting for a few more hours, lessen the pain when I stumbled my toe. Then I found out Jacob knew a lot about magic, he helped me figure out what I was, and…” Yeosang swallowed. “I’ve been practicing ever since.”
Wooyoung tried to close his mouth – he probably looked stupid – but he was still stunned by the revelations and the fact that his pain was gone. He shook his head in disbelief.
“Do the others know?”
Yeosang timidly looked up. “Jongho does. And, well, Jacob.”
Wooyoung couldn’t contain the wide smile that broke across his face. He shot upright, ignoring his still aching limbs and overall weakness, and grabbed Yeosang’s hands, barely stopping himself from shaking him in excitement. Happiness and pride surged through his chest.
“Oh my stars, that’s amazing, Sangie! You’re the coolest packmate ever!”
Yeosang, however, didn’t look as thrilled. His brows were furrowed, worry and hesitation lingering in his expression. Wooyoung’s grin faltered as he tilted his head, meeting Yeosang’s uncertain gaze. His eyes looked suspiciously wet.
“Sangie?”
“Aren’t you mad at me? Or… disappointed?
Wooyoung frowned. “Why would I be?”
Yosang pulled his hands free, resting them on his lap instead. He let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe I could have helped ease your pain months ago.”
“Could you?”
The question seemed to catch Yeosang off guard. He blinked in surprise, meeting Wooyoung’s eyes. He stared for a long moment searching for something there.
“No,” he whispered, eventually.
Wooyoung smiled. “Then why would I be upset? We’re sooo celebrating this,” he declared, drawing out the vowel as he bounced on the mattress. “I’m baking a cake!”
He wasn’t sure he could actually bake a cake in his current state, but that was beside the point. They needed a cake.
“Wait, I… I’m not sure I’m ready to tell the others,” Yeosang said, catching Wooyoung’s arm before he could slide off the bed.
Wooyoung stopped, turning back with a frown. “Why?”
Yeosang looked away. Wooyoung’s frown deepened.
“Sangie. You know no one will be mad at you for not being able to help sooner doing, right?”
Silence.
“Sangie.”
“It’s frustrating!” Yeosang burst out, voice wavering as his eyes filled with tears. “You’ve been suffering for so long, you’ve probably lost days, weeks of your life expectancy because of the pain, and I was right there the whole time, doing nothing, even though-”
“Sangie,” Wooyoung called gently, placing a reassuring hand over Yeosang’s to interrupt him. When Yeosang hesitantly met his eyes, Wooyoung smiled. “There’s no place for regret in a situation like this. Even less when you’ve done your best. You didn’t know.”
He gave Yeosang’s hand a comforting squeeze when his packmate sniffled.
“But you read the list like I did. You know we’ll need an enchanter once we gather all the ingredients, and that won’t be for a while. So let’s make a deal, yeah? Let’s only focus on the future, not the past. You focus on practicing for that moment, on what you’ll be able do, and don’t dwell on what you couldn’t. And if, when the time comes, you still don’t feel ready, that’s okay too. We’ll just go with the original plan and settle in a village with an enchanter instead. Sure, I’d much prefer you to be the one to help me, but not if you’re pressured to do so, and I know for sure that the others would tell you the same. No one will force you to carry more weight than you can handle, Sangie.”
Silent tears spilled down Yeosang’s cheeks, but he nodded. Wooyoung squeezed his hand again, grinning when Yeosang squeezed back. He really needed to lie down now, his body screaming for rest, but Wooyoung wanted to make sure Yeosang was truly okay first.
“I’ll be your enchanter for the cure,” Yeosang murmured. His voice still wavered, but his resolve was clear. “I’ll work hard. I promise.”
His gaze met Wooyoung’s again, and this time, Wooyoung could see the determination shining through his tears.
He smiled. “I don’t doubt it.”
—
Emptiness. That was the feeling Seonghwa felt the most since Mingi and Jongho had left. He had only recently managed to stop himself from worrying every hour of the day, after Hongjoong had pointed out numerous times that they wouldn’t be receiving any news for a while – no letters, no messengers, nothing to ease or deepen their concerns. They had left two weeks ago. By now, they were far enough Seonghwa doubted anyone they knew would come knocking at their door with bad news.
Still, the worry never truly left. Seonghwa just forced himself to carry it in silence. And now was not the time to dwell on it – he had a meal to cook.
San entered the kitchen not long before Seonghwa was finished, most likely drawn by the scent of the stew simmering in the pot. Seonghwa turned to greet him with a smile but faltered when he caught a glimpse of his packmate’s face.
San was retrieving plates from the cupboard, but his movements were stiff, his expression strained. A deep crease folded his brow, his jaw visibly clenched.
“Sannie?” Seonghwa stopped stirring to fully turn to his packmate. “Are you alright?”
San placed the pile of plates onto the table with an audible clatter. He grimaced, bringing a hand to his chest and gripping his shirt.
“I’m not sure. I’ve been feeling weird,” San admitted.
Seonghwa frowned. “Weird how?”
San pressed his palm deeper against his sternum. Seonghwa caught a whiff of his scent and, even with his weaker sense of smell, he noticed the change there, the uneasiness seeping from his packmate.
“It’s like… It’s oppressing. But the feeling is weird, like it’s not entirely mine. I think it’s coming from the bond.”
“With Wooyoung?”
San nodded, grimacing again. Seonghwa didn’t like that. Wooyoung being ill was one thing, a familiar reality by now, but the fact that San was physically feeling the effects of it today was concerning.
“Is he awake?” Seonghwa asked, returning to his his pot, though his grip on the wooden spoon had tightened.
“Yeah, but I don’t think he’ll last long enough to eat.”
Seonghwa swallowed, nodding. Although not surprising, San’s words stung.
“Go ask someone else to set the table,” Seongwa said, gesturing behind him without turning. “You should sit down and rest for a bit. I’ll check on Wooyoung when I’m done here.”
“Okay. Thank you, Hwa.”
San’s footsteps shuffled toward the door, then it closed behind him. Seonghwa let out a long breath, staring into his pot.
He was trying his best to ignore it, but the worry was gnawing at him. Ten days had passed since Wooyoung had collapsed on their doorstep, feverish and trembling, and his condition had never improved – only worsened. The fever, the cough, the migraines, the dizziness, and then, most recently, the numbness creeping into his fingers and toes. Wooyoung slept more than he was awake, and when he did move, someone had to hold him upright, his legs too weak to support him, even for a few moments.
The more Seonghwa looked at him, the more it felt like Wooyoung was fading before his eyes, and there was nothing he could do but wait, watch, and fear for the worst.
He swallowed hard and gave his pot one last stir before extinguishing the fire. He reached for the ladle, intending to bring the stew to the dining room, when a sudden commotion from the other side of the door caught his attention.
With how on edge he had been lately, his stomach instantly twisted with dread. Even though he told himself it could be nothing, he was already moving, hurrying out of the kitchen.
All his attempts to stay calm shattered when he heard San scream Wooyoung’s name upstairs.
Seonghwa bolted across the room and up the stairs in an instant, heart hammering against his ribcage.
Then everything came to a standstill. His thoughts. His heart. The world around him.
Because there, in the middle of the hallway, Wooyoung’s body lay motionless on the floor.
“He's not breathing!” San’s voice rang, filled with raw panic.
Seonghwa’s heart plummeted to the ground.
Yeosang fell to his knees on the other side of Wooyoung’s body, hands trembling. San grabbed Wooyoung’s wrist, fingers pressing against his pulse point. It fell limply to the floor when he let go, his face draining of color.
“There’s no pulse–”
“You need to–”
Yeosang’s voice faded into the background. The world blurred at the edges, the shouts fading, sounding distant. Seonghwa felt numb, like he was floating outside his own body, eyes locking onto Wooyoung’s face – his too pale skin, his lips tinged blue, his closed eyes.
Seonghwa barely registered Yeosang tapping Wooyoung’s cheeks, or San’s desperate cries for help. He barely noticed Hongjoong and Yunho appearing behind him, still wearing their cloaks and boots.
Then Hongjoong spoke, voice sharp, commanding, and San started pressing against Wooyoung’s chest, rhythmic compressions that shook Wooyoung’s body.
And Seonghwa knew what it meant. He knew, because Miyoung had taught them, ‘just in case’.
Dark spots invaded his vision. He was going to throw up. His body swayed, but someone caught him before he could collapse.
“Breathe, Hwa. Please.”
Yunho’s hands squeezed his arms once, twice. Seonghwa blinked. The pressure grounded him, dragging him back to the present, to the screams, the dread, the nightmare still unfolding before him.
“Wooyoung, please!”
Yunho’s grip tightened, his body shaking against Seonghwa’s. Hongjoong kneeled on the floor, staring at Wooyoung’s lifeless body, his face empty. San moved to breathe into Wooyoung’s mouth. Yeosang’s hands hovered over Wooyoung’s body, touching his temples, then his forehead, his chest.
“What are you doing!” San yelled, returning to the chest compressions.
“I don’t know!” Yeosang’s voice broke. His hand finally settled on Wooyoung’s wrist, bringing it against his own chest as he closed his eyes. His lips moved in a frantic whisper. He looked at Wooyoung’s wrist again, at Wooyoung’s face, then went back to his whispers. He repeated the action several times, tears spilling down his face, until he shook his head.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he cried, cradling Wooyoung’s wrist against his chest.
San’s movements were starting to get sloppy, too frantic. Someone needed to take over. Seonghwa tried to move, but his body was too numb, and Yunho’s grip too tight around him, he-
“Pulse!” Yeosang gasped. Eyes wide, he pressed his thumb into Wooyoung’s wrist again. “I have a pulse! San!”
San stopped abruptly and pressed his ear to Wooyoung’s chest.
The entire room held its breath.
San closed his eyes.
“It’s beating,” he whispered, voice breaking as his forehead dropped to Wooyoung’s chest. “It’s beating.”
His tears finally fell.
Seonghwa exhaled sharply – relief, shock, and exhaustion crashing down at once. He slumped toward the wall, Yunho moving with him, his own body shaking with silent sobs.
For a moment, no one spoke. They just held onto Wooyoung, onto each other, as reality settled in.
Then Hongjoong wiped his red-rimmed eyes and got to his feet, hiding his trembling fingers into fists.
“We need Miyoung,” he said, voice too quiet, too weak. “She’s at Sangyeon’s today, I can- I'll go get her. Don’t leave him out of your sight.”
His voice cracked. His own rules to never go out alone seemed to be forgotten, and by the time Seonghwa found the strength to respond, Hongjoong was already gone.
They brought Wooyoung back to his room. When Miyoung arrived, accompanied by Sangyeon to ensure her safe return later, Yeosang was still sobbing, and San’s grip on Wooyoung’s hand was so tight both their knuckles had turned white. The room was draped in silence as they gathered around, watching as Miyoung examined Wooyoung. When she finally straightened, they all held their breath.
“There should be no complications,” she assured them, a collective breath of relief passing through the room. “He might take a while to wake up, though,” she added as a warning, but Seonghwa had expected much. He remembered her words from last time – ’the illness isn’t at its worst yet, this will happen again.’ Looking at Wooyoung’s pale, motionless form, remembering the paralyzing fear gripping his body, San’s desperate cries, the emptiness on Wooyoung’s face…
Seonghwa doubted anything could be worse than this.
“I have a theory,” Miyoung said after a pause, tucking away her tools.
She had applied a poultice on Wooyoung’s forehead and arms, the faint herbal scent lingering in the air despite the clothes now covering the ointment. Yeosang had pressed his hands to Wooyoung’s temples and wrists once she was done, and a white light had flickered beneath Wooyoung’s skin for an instant, before it faded. No one had uttered a word – too stunned by the display, too numbed by the previous events to process it properly. Yunho had simply pulled Yeosang into a side hug, squeezing his arm in a quiet promise that they would talk about it later.
“I think I have one too,” Hongjoong said from the doorway. He had not moved since Miyoung’s arrival, his gaze locked on Wooyoung’s face. All traces of his earlier panic had vanished, replaced by layers of practiced composure.
Miyoung gestured for him to continue. Hongjoong hesitated, stealing one last glance at Wooyoung, before he decided to speak.
“It might be the separation from Mingi and Jongho. His condition was bad for a while but it drastically deteriorated once they left and now that…”
One layer of composure cracked along with his voice. Seonghwa looked away. It was hard to witness his head alpha breaking in front of them.
“That’s what I suspect too,” Miyoung confirmed, stepping in when Hongjoong remained silent. “You’re the reason he’s still alive. You’ve been slowing his illness and his heart knows where to seek the love it needs to survive. It’s been like that for months. So now that two of those sources are gone…”
She trailed off, but the meaning was clear enough. That theory made sense. Wooyoung had collapsed the moment their packmates left, and things had only gotten worse since then. The migraines, the coughing fits, even the fever had been more concerning than usual.
“Do you think he can get used to the separation?” Yunho asked.
Miyoung sighed, turning back to look at Wooyoung. She stared for a long moment, before her lips pressed into a thin line, and she shook her head.
“I think it’d be safer to bring your packmates back.”
Miyoung asked to stay overnight to monitor Wooyoung’s condition, so Sangyeon left alone a short while later. She had already finished her work at Sangyeon’s by the time Hongjoong had summoned anyway – something about a yearly medicinal shot for one of Sangyeon’s packmates’ allergies.
Leaving Wooyoung had been difficult, but once Hongjoong left to see Sangyeon out and Yunho gently guided Yeosang to his room, Seonghwa eventually convinced himself that Wooyoung would be safe enough with San.
He led Miyoung to his own room, the only other one with a double bed that didn’t reek of alpha pheromones, and busied himself changing the sheets.
“I’m sorry we don’t have a proper guest room anymore. I’ll find you some clean clothes. I think we still have some of yours from that time Mingi got the flu twice in one month.”
“Oh, I remember that,” Miyoung laughed, kindly handing him a folded pillowcase just as he was about to cross the room to grab it. “Thank you, Seonghwa.”
“I should be the one thanking you.” Seonghwa offered her a small, tired smile. He slid the pillow in the case and settled it against the headboard. “It’s–”
A door slammed down the hall so violently it made them both jump. Seonghwa bit his lip, a heavy weight settling in his chest.
“Excuse me, I… Make yourself at home, please,” he said quickly, already moving past her. “I’ll be back.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Miyoung reassured him. “He probably needs you more than I do.”
Seonghwa wished she was wrong, but he knew she wasn’t.
He crossed the hallway and stopped in front of Hongjoong’s closed door.
“Hongjoong?”
A crash sounded from within the room, followed by the crack of glass breaking against the floor. Seonghwa pushed the door open just in time to see Hongjoong sweep everything off his desk in one violent motion, sending papers, books, and ink crashing to the floor.
“Hey, calm down,” Seonghwa rushed to him, grabbing his arm. “Hongjoong-”
“We can’t save him!” Hongjoong spun around fast, yanking his arm free, eyes wide, scent sharp. “It’s over!”
“You can’t say that.”
“Yes, I can, because it’s the truth,” Hongjoong snapped. “We were running out of time even with our best plan, and now what? We can’t even do that.”
“Hongjoong-”
“His heart stopped!”
Hongjoong’s alpha voice rang through the room, making Seonghwa flinch and instinctively take a step back.
“His heart…” Hongjoong’s voice dropped to a whisper. His shoulders sagged, his hands falling limply to his sides. “And he’s supposed to have months, years left… What’s going to happen to him until then?”
Seonghwa felt the despair flowing through his own chest. He had thought about it too. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. But the thoughts hurt, and Seonghwa wasn't sure how much more he could take after everything that had happened in the past hour.
Hongjoong sank to the floor, eyes unfocused. Seonghwa slowly followed, kneeling in front of him. He rested a hand on his head alpha’s shoulder.
“You can’t give up, Joong.” Seonghwa murmured, allowing the nickname to slip. Hongjoong barely reacted, keeping his head down. “You’re our head alpha. You’re the one keeping us from crumbling, keeping us standing. The pack needs you. Wooyoung needs you. You told us to keep hoping as long as he’s alive.” Seonghwa squeezed his shoulder, leaning in to meet Hongjoong’s eyes. “He’s alive.”
Hongjoong’s breath hitched, and then, the dam finally broke. A sob tore from his throat as he dropped his head, shoulders shaking under Seonghwa’s touch. The first sight of tears twisted Seonghwa’s heart. Hongjoong always fought to be their unshakeable leader, carrying their burdens without ever showing the weight of his own. But now that strength was gone, stripped away by dread and exhaustion.
Seonghwa pulled him into his arms and Hongjoong clung back, fingers trembling against his back.
“I’m scared,” Hongjoong whispered.
“I know.”
I am too.
—
Wooyoung woke up for the first time the next evening, but he wasn’t fully there. His eyelids drooped heavily, his gaze distant and unfocused. He remained unresponsive no matter who tried to stir him – even when San pressed soft, lingering kisses to his cheeks, arms, or forehead.
Days passed like this. The moments Wooyoung was awake were rare, and each time his lashes fluttered open, they seized the opportunity to give him water and broth. On the better days, they managed to make him eat a few bites of soft bread or mashed vegetables before exhaustion pulled him away again.
Miyoung stayed over the first week to tend to the things none of them knew how to handle – the parts of care that required both experience and, sometimes, a firm stomach. Seonghwa made sure to watch and learn, standing beside her as she worked, absorbing everything. When she finally had to leave to tend to her other patients, Seonghwa took over without hesitation.
Today was another of those moments when Wooyoung lay awake, eyes open but empty, his soul lingering somewhere beyond the room. With Seonghwa’s help, he had finished a small bowl of soup and managed half a cup of water.
Humming a song he had heard Wooyoung whistle a few times, Seonghwa dabbed away the trail of soup that had dribbled down his packmate’s chin. With his mind still unresponsive, one of his body’s only instinctive responses was to swallow, but it wasn’t always reliable. Sometimes he choked, sometimes his lips closed at the wrong moment, or his head moved. But Seonghwa was patient, and he didn’t mind cleaning after him. As long as Wooyoung drank and ate.
Once Wooyoung was clean and settled again, Seonghwa carded his fingers through the tangled mass of dark hair that spilled over Wooyoung’s chest – San’s hair. It was unkept, greasy from days of neglect, knots catching between Seonghwa’s fingers as he combed through them absent-mindedly.
“You should come downstairs and eat something, Sannie. Yunho or Yeosang can stay with him for a while.”
Seonghwa wasn’t surprised when San only shook his head. He sighed, tucking a stray lock behind San’s ear.
San had barely left Wooyoung’s side since that harrowing day. He had stopped crying after the first days, but now his face was eerily blank, his eyes hollow. He barely spoke. If he wasn’t curled up against Wooyoung like he was now, then he was holding his hand, stroking his arm, kissing his face – always making sure to maintain even the smallest point of contact.
Seonghwa wondered how much of his state was the result of their mating bond, and how much came from his broken heart.
“At least drink something,” Seonghwa tried, already reaching for the still half-full glass on the bedside table. He guided it toward San’s hand and, after a moment, San lislessly took it – although he didn’t lift it to his lips. Seonghwa still counted it as a small victory.
“I’ll bring you more after lunch, alright? Call for us if you need anything in the meantime.”
He let his fingers run through San’s hair one last time before he finally stood. Bending down, he pressed a kiss to the crown of San’s head, then moved to press his lips to Wooyoung’s forehead.
“Come back to us soon, sweetheart,” he whispered. Wooyoung’s glassy stare remained unfocused, looking through him rather than at him. A sad smile tugged at Seonghwa’s lips. “We need you.”
—
When Wooyoung woke up, his hand was buried in San’s hair, unconsciously threading through the dark strands. San was asleep, nestled against him, his cheek squished cutely against his chest, his breathing slow and steady. Wooyoung frowned. He didn’t remember falling asleep. What had they been doing earlier? He felt weird. His lips were dried, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, and his body felt unbearably heavy. How long had he been sleeping?
His gaze drifted around the room, and he was surprised to see Seonghwa sitting by the window, scribbling in a leather-bound notebook.
“Hwa?”
Seonghwa startled, his quill freezing mid-stroke. He turned toward Wooyoung with wide, cautious eyes, as if unsure he had truly heard him.
“Wooyoung?”
“Did I fall asleep?” Wooyoung asked. He was confused both by how hoarse his voice was, and by the odd way Seonghwa was looking at him. “What time is it?”
Seonghwa rose from his chair. He set his notebook down on the bedside table, his movements careful and hesitant as he approached the bed and sat by Wooyoung’s hip, on the side San wasn’t already occupying. He slowly took Wooyoung’s hand, trapping it between warm palms.
“It’s a little after noon,” Seonghwa murmured. “It’s mid-March.”
Wooyoung blinked. He must have misheard.
“What?”
Seonghwa stroked his hand. “You’ve been unconscious for three weeks. Mingi and Jongho left five weeks ago.”
The words settled on him in pieces, his mind struggling to wrap around their meaning. His gaze fell on San’s hair – tangled, unkept. His breath hitched, panic slowly stirring in his chest.
“What happened?” he asked, voice trembling.
Seonghwa exhaled softly, then began to explain.
He told him about San feeling something was wrong first, about how Wooyoung had collapsed, his heart stopping, about San saving him. About Miyoung and Hongjoong’s theory, the messenger they had sent to bring Mingi and Jongho back, the discovery of Yeosang’s abilities.
Wooyoung learned that Hongjoong barely left his desk now, constantly checking over their finances, counting, recounting, trying to find a way to afford new horses and supplies. He and Chan had gone back to the village several times in the past weeks to ask, even though they had already done so before, if anyone knew of different ways to find the ingredients they needed.
When Seonghwa finally fell silent, the weight of it all settled heavily between them.
This was… bad. Wooyoung had lost three weeks of his own life. He already didn’t have much time left, and now there was a chance he wouldn’t even be conscious for what remained of it?
A lump rose in his throat. He tried to swallow it down, blinking rapidly against the sting behind his eyes.
“I can feel them coming back, I think,” he whispered instead, latching onto the only other thing he could feel, the only thing that didn’t hurt. A strange pull, somewhere deep in his mind.
“Yeah?”
Wooyoung nodded. “It’s pulling somewhere in my head.” He frowned, searching for the right words. “It’s like… Like it’s getting lighter, or something. It’s hard to explain.”
“It might be why you woke up.”
“Maybe.”
Silence fell between them again. Wooyoung could tell Seonghwa was struggling for words, but what could he even say?
Wooyoung brushed his fingers over San’s cheek, letting them trail down his jaw. His skin was warm beneath Wooyoung’s touch, his breath steady, but even in his sleep, his expression was tense.
“You should probably wake him up,” Seonghwa murmured, standing up. “He skipped lunch. I’ll brink you both something to eat and some water.”
He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to the top of Wooyoung’s head. He kissed San’s forehead too and, after one last sad smile, he left.
San stirred.
His body shifted, his brows furrowing. His eyes fluttered open, his sleep-laden gaze darting around the room, pausing at the door Seonghwa had just closed, before, finally, it landed on Wooyoung.
“Youngie?” His voice was still thick with sleep, hoarse from disuse.
Wooyoung smiled faintly. “Yeah. It’s me, kitten.”
San stared for a moment longer, until realization sank in. His face crumpled. A sharp breath caught in his throat before he let out a quiet, broken sob. He sat up abruptly and threw his arms around Wooyoung, pulling him into a crushing embrace.
“I thought I had lost you,” he choked out. “I thought I’d never hear your voice again. When we couldn’t find a pulse, I–”
His voice broke entirely, the rest of his sentence dissolving into desperate sobs. Wooyoung tried to comfort him, but he soon found himself crying too, silent tears slipping down his cheeks.
“I can’t be saved,” Wooyoung whispered, the words barely making it past the lump in his throat.
San pulled back so fast it startled him, his trembling hands coming up to cup Wooyoung’s face. His thumbs brushed away Wooyoung’s tears, even as his own kept falling.
“You will be saved.” His tone was firm, resolute. “Look at me.”
Wooyoung did, taking a shuddering breath. San’s eyes shone with all the resolve that Wooyoung could no longer find within himself.
“You will be saved,” San repeated. “We’ll find something else. We’ll try every plan possible, we’ll travel every land. We’ll even fight time itself if we have to. But we will never, never give up on you, Wooyoung. You just have to hold on until then. Can you do that for me?”
Wooyoung swallowed. “I can,” he whispered.
“Promise me.”
Wooyoung closed his eyes for a moment. He had already promised Jongho. He had already sworn to himself, long ago, that he would hold on for Seonghwa too.
But for San – his mate, his love, his kitten – it wasn’t even a question. It was already a given.
“I promise.”
—
March gave way to April. The trees burgeoned with fresh buds, birds came back to sing between the branches, the sun warming up the lands a little more each passing day.
Mingi and Jongho came back in the late afternoon, on Seonghwa’s birthday. Wooyoung wasn’t awake to greet them, his body pulling him into a deep, familiar slumber for most of the day. When he finally stirred, he found himself nestled into Mingi’s embrace, the beta's vanilla scent filling the room.
That evening, they prepared a feast to celebrate Seonghwa’s birthday, and the joy of being together once more, avoiding the real reason why their two packmates were back, for one fleeting night.
But the festivities passed, and the next morning, the weight of it all returned. Even with all their packmates home, the house felt wrong. The air carried a constant tension, the conversations were quieter – or sometimes louder, behind closed doors.
San never strayed far from Wooyoung, following him like his shadow, his presence steady and reassuring, strained with unspoken worries. Yeosang had grown even more withdrawn. Hongjoong never lingered in the common rooms anymore, always either in the village or shut away in his room. Mingi’s stress started manifesting on his skin, red and cracked, his eczema flaring.
Through the pack bond, all Wooyoung could feel was hopelessness, guilt, and fear.
It was a Thursday morning when Hongjoong gathered everyone in the living room. The couch had been left empty for Wooyoung, but he refused to lie down, choosing to lean against San instead, who wrapped a firm arm around his shoulders. Wooyoung closed his eyes, fighting against the dizziness creeping into his head. He barely caught the start of the conversation.
He felt so weak. He wondered if he would ever get better, if he would ever feel like himself again. His head was heavy, his body cold despite the thick blanket Seonghwa had carefully draped over him. His packmates’ voices rose and fell around him, but the words sounded distant. They turned into a muddled hum as he drifted in and out.
“I don’t understand why this is even up for debate,” Mingi’s voice cut sharply through the haze, rough with frustration. “We need to go. All of us. And we need to go now.”
“We don’t have enough horses,” Hongjoong countered, tone controlled but strained.
“Then we’ll walk!”
“I’m not sure Wooyoung can travel in this state” Yunho interjected. “And some days are still too cold. What if he catches a cold on top of everything?”
“I’m with you on this, Yun,” San said, unconsciously tightening his grip on Wooyoung’s shoulders. “I’d much prefer he stayed in bed, but…” He trailed off, and even with his eyes closed, Wooyoung could feel his gaze falling on him. “We don’t know when he’ll get better, and he’s bound to fall sick again. Whether we leave now or later won’t change much. We’ll just lose more time.”
The back-and-forth continued, the arguments weaving around Wooyoung’s clouded mind. His head spun, the voices colliding and echoing. He tried to focus again, but his thoughts blurred, and…
When he opened his eyes again, he was on Seonghwa’s lap, nose nestled against the beta’s scent gland. San sat beside them on the couch, a hand resting on Wooyoung’s thigh.
“–four horses now, thanks to Sangyeon’s and Chan’s packs’ generosity,” Hongjoong was saying. Wooyoung blinked lazily, trying to focus on the conversation again.
“If we’re two per horse, it’ll slow us down,” Hongjoong continued. “We’ll need to take more breaks, and I’m not sure how much the horses can take on the mountainous terrains of the West. It could add months to the journey.”
He paused, gazing at his packmates, gauging their reactions. Wooyoung had noticed him doing so before, occasionally, and he knew how to read him now – it meant he was unsure of himself, of his decisions as their head alpha.
“Or,” Hongjoong continued, “we could wait. Gather more money for horses. I’m open to suggestions.”
“Can’t we sell the house?” Yunho asked.
Seonghwa shook his head, careful not to disturb Wooyoung. “It doesn’t work like that in the East. Here, empty houses can be claimed by anyone after checking with the neighborhood to confirm they’re unoccupied. No one would agree to buy ours if they knew we’re leaving anyway.”
“My sister’s pack might sell us a horse if we explain the situation,” Jongho suggested. “I really can’t promise anything, though. They’re tight on budget with all the new pups in the pack, and they might need to keep theirs for emergencies, but it’s worth trying.”
Yeosang nodded thoughtfully. “I can sell candles. Maybe we could hunt and sell meat. Hongjoong could sell clothes. But I don’t know if it’ll bring us enough for a horse…”
Hongjoong sighed, running a hand down his face. His hair was disheveled now, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than before.
“What do you think will take longer?” he asked, voice quieter. “Traveling with fewer horses or waiting to buy more?”
That was an open question – a way for Hongjoong to admit he was stuck, that he needed them to take that decision with him. A long silence stretched across the room.
San was the only one brave enough to break it.
“I think we should leave as soon as possible. No matter what.”
A few tentative nods followed. Yunho hesitated, his eyes flickering to Wooyoung, uncertainty written across his face. He chewed on his bottom lip until, eventually, he nodded too.
Hongjoong turned to Seonghwa. “Hwa?”
Seonghwa looked as lost and concerned as Yunho. His eyes flickered downward and widened slightly widening when he realized Wooyoung was awake. His expression softened.
“What do you want?” he whispered.
Wooyoung slightly shook his head, his gaze never leaving Seonghwa’s. “I don’t care. Wherever you go, I’ll go.”
Seonghwa’s breath hitched. His throat bobbed as he visibly swallowed, his grip on Wooyoung tightening just slightly. He looked at Wooyoung for a long moment, searching his face.
Then, he turned to Hongjoong again, and nodded.
Hongjoong’s jaw tightened. He looked at each of them in turn, his expression grave.
“That’s settled then,” he said, voice steady despite the tension in the room. “We leave tomorrow at dawn.”
—
Wooyoung sighed, leaning over the basin as he splashed cold water onto his face. The droplets clung to his cheeks before dripping into the water below as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked pale, dark circles shadowing his eyes, his lips cracked.
Today had been busy for the pack, though Wooyoung had barely contributed. Some of his packmates had gone to the village to pick up medicine and supplies they would need for their journey, others had been tasked to inform Miyoung, Chan, and Sangyeon of their new plans, while the rest of the pack stayed behind, sorting through clothes and provisions to decide what was worth bringing on the trip.
Wooyoung had tried to help, folding shirts and packing small pouches of herbs for a little while, but the effort left him nauseous and shaking. Seonghwa had forced him to lie down and, for once, Wooyoung didn’t argue.
By late afternoon, their friends had stopped by to say their goodbyes. Tears had burned in Wooyoung’s eyes as he hugged Chanhee, Jisung, and Felix. Watching San embrace Changbin tightly, Eric saying goodbye to Jongho for the second time, or Yunho clasping Juyeon’s shoulder with a bittersweet smile made it all hard to swallow the lump in his throat.
It felt strange, knowing he would probably never see them again. Passing friendships, like Yeonjun and Soobin – ones he would always hold close in his heart.
“We’ll meet again, I’m sure.” Felix had said with his usual bright, reassuring smile, although for the first time, it wavered. Wooyoung had only managed a weak smile in return.
Dinner had been miserable, the air thick with the weight of knowing it was their last meal here, together, under this roof. It made it hard to breathe, let alone eat. Yeosang sniffled beside him the whole time. Wooyoung could only imagine his pain. For him, the new plan was sudden and difficult, but for the others, this had been their home for much longer. They had built the pack here, created their happiest memories between these walls. And now they were leaving it all behind. Because of him.
Wooyoung splashed water on his face again when his eyes started to burn. He hated feeling like this – guilty, powerless, a burden. He knew his packmates wanted to do this, knew it was all because they loved him. But a part of him wished, sometimes, for fleeting moments, that he had just died already. Maybe then they wouldn’t have shed so many tears over the past months, or be burdened with a constant concern. They wouldn’t have to give up everything and endanger themselves just for him.
But Wooyoung didn’t want to die. No matter how selfish that made him. He wanted to stay with them.
Downstairs, as Hongjoong had requested, Wooyoung worked on making a nest while Yunho and San pushed the heavy furniture aside, clearing a space for him to arrange the blankets and pillows. Most of the bags were already packed and waiting in the hallway but there were still plenty of clothes they would leave behind that he could now use for the nest.
He moved slowly and took several breaks, his limbs aching and trembling with the effort of simply moving around, but he managed to finish, eventually, with San’s help.
One by one, the others joined them. San tugged Wooyoung close and Mingi tucked himself against Wooyoung’s other side, their packmates filling in the remaining gaps. Someone snuffed out the lamp, plunging the room into darkness, but for a while, no one slept – except Jongho, maybe, his soft snores occasionally breaking the silence. Wooyoung thought about how, in a way, he and Mingi had already mourned their home the first time they left.
“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung whispered.
The reaction was immediate, a chorus of “No!” and “Don’t say that!” shattering the quiet. Jongho let out a sleepy snort, startled awake by the sudden noise. Despite the bittersweet ache in his chest, Wooyoung couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction.
“I’ve been wanting to go on an adventure with everyone for a while, actually,” Yeosang said softly once the commotion settled.
Yunho hummed in agreement. “It’ll be like our spring trip, just longer, and with everyone this time. Maybe a bit colder sometimes.”
“Imagine all the beautiful landscapes we’re going to see,” Seonghwa murmured, voice laced with wonder.
“And the food!” San added eagerly. “We’ll have enough to stay at inns sometimes, right, Hongjoong?”
“Mmh. I sold some clothes and jewelry to a merchant earlier,” Hongjoong replied. “Yeosang sold candles too. It wasn’t enough for a horse but it’ll keep us fed and give us a roof when we need it. At least for the first months.”
Wooyoung let himself relax as the conversation continued naturally from there, growing lighter as everyone chimed in. He closed his eyes, a small smile on his lips and heart lighter while he listened to his packmates’ voices and soft laughter.
“We’ll be fine,” San murmured, his breath brushing against Wooyoung’s cheek.
Wooyoung smiled a little wider. San’s hand found his cheek, his lips brushing against Wooyoung’s into a soft, comforting kiss.
“Not in the pack nest!” Mingi whined, while Jongho groggily tossed a pillow at San’s head.
San tried to fight Jongho, which ended with Hongjoong scolding him, Jongho snickering, and San sulking. Laughter filled the room, warm and familiar. San stopped pouting once the conversation went back to their upcoming journey, blankets being passed around as most of them sat up.
Wooyoung listened as they spoke about the things they wanted to see and do. The tension that had gripped them earlier was gone, replaced by excitement and anticipation.
Huddled against San, with his pack around him, Wooyoung wanted to believe that they truly would be fine.
Home didn’t have to be a house.
Home was his pack.