Golden eyes scanned the crowd, satisfied to find the lingering figure outside of the coffee shop, staring in the direction in he had retreated in. The weather was cold, something he always loved to dwell in, a contrast to the rain he loathed so much—it’d make a mess of his hair and sometimes, if he showed his true nature, his fur. His mother always taught him to never play with his food, but he couldn’t help fiddling into the boy’s life, bringing a slight distraction. His mother also taught him to always act two-faced, she said it was the only way to survive the human world when you have nine tails and sharp canines. Satisfied with his findings, the gumiho smiled, running a hand through his chocolate brown hair. 

Everybody had their own problems, but even among the most troubled, Hakyeon was the most dysfunctional. His family never liked him going around the human town and wanted him to remain living in the cave near the mountains with them, but to feed his curiosity, Hakyeon had run from home just for a few minutes. Minutes turned into hours, which turned into days, which turned into months and years. Hakyeon couldn’t bring himself to go back home to his crowded family and disgusting dinner meals. 

Once every month, a special dish was plated, the perfectly white ceramic was flooded with a crimson red which held the aftertaste of iron. Hakyeon was oblivious the first few times he ate it and only told his mother he depised it. But every month for the past twelve years, the same dish was given to him as a treat. Hakyeon wasn’t too shocked to find out that the traditional dish was a human heart with a side dish of liver. However, he was disgusted. 

Hakyeon tore his gaze away from the male and his lips, hearing the barely audible growling that came from his stomach. He was hungry, but not for human blood. Wonshik stood next to him, his eyebrows knitted into a deep furrow, wrinkling his forehead. They were at the coffee shop for some reason, and Hakyeon was completely sure that it was for his excessive human-dessert cravings that Wonshik couldn’t even control by himself. So, the younger boy always spoiled Hakyeon rather than kept him from drowning himself with different varieties of human food.

Wonshik has been with him ever since he ran from home. The younger boy’s mother found Hakyeon curled up in a vulnerable ball in the streets, his mind at that time was lost and so were his sense of directions. Wonshik grew up with a younger sister, making Hakyeon the oldest of the house. At first, Wonshik wasn’t so happy with that and always tend to avoid Hakyeon and at the dinner table, he always talked with everyone except for Hakyeon. At the time, the gumiho didn’t understand why Wonshik was so uncouth towards him. He never touched any of the human’s stuff or even annoyed him since he never got the chance to do so, anyways. 

At the age of sixteen, Wonshik finally brought himself to talk and interact with Hakyeon after the gumiho was spotted bruised and beat up behind the school building. From then, Wonshik became his best friend rather than a stranger who lived with him and refused to talk. And Hakyeon was grateful that, he still is, even when the human was a stubborn mule and wouldn’t give Hakyeon his space when he was depressed—which always helped cheer the gumiho up despite the fact that Hakyeon wanted to be alone. 

“What would you like, Hakyeon?” Wonshik’s gruff and deep voice cut his thoughts in half, leaving him slightly shocked. Hakyeon tilted his head to the side in question, a habit he’s developed ever since he was born. Hakyeon kept his gaze soft until a torn piece of paper caught his eye. The gumiho forced a smile and asked the younger to repeat the question, trying to keep his anger buried under amounts of happiness. “I asked you what you wanted for lunch, i