It was that time of the week again, Monday — the day where probably every living soul above the age of three was dreading the moment their eyes would open to the first streak of sunlight of a new day, for whatever reason they had. School, work, a doctor's appointment, you get the point.

Never had two days of weekends ever seemed to cut it for anyone at all; so much to do yet so little time as one would say, even if you were a werewolf with super speed and super everything who theoratically had all the seconds in the world — well, unless of course, you were one by the name of Kim Taehyung.

See, Taehyung loved Mondays, and he definitely loved school, for the sole reason that Mondays meant char grilled chicken at the cafeteria for lunch. Guess you could say he darn loved his char grilled chicken; though, this particular Monday didn't seem to be one of his days, because where Park Jimin was ever as always concerned, the spontaneous prick sure had an impeccable sense of timing. And just Taehyung's luck the day the blonde finally decided to teach him a thing or two about their werewolf alter-egos, it had to be on char grill chicken Mondays.

This, Taehyung obviously wasn't too thrilled about (not that he had any say in the matter, Jimin had already been dragging him to their high school soccer field before he could even begin to complain and blabbered on "come on tae, the field's empty, we can't waste an opportunity like this!"), so there they were, the two of them that fateful afternoon; except, if you were really counting, it probably wouldn't be just two you'd end up with — but rather, three.

In all that time, and perhaps much, much more, there was someone who constantly lingered among them — a boy, close enough to be seen, far enough to be forgotten, yet willing enough to stick around — and who else could that be, if not a certain brunette.

"So, you little punk," said a voice dripping with sarcasm through the speaker of a phone, "When were you gonna tell me you broke my front door, or were actually planning you not to?"

It was a quarter to noon at the moment, and a dripping egg mayo sandwich was perched half-eaten in Jungkook's hand from where he sat by the bleachers of the school's soccer field, partially hidden by how low he slouched against the seats. A football was flying across the expanse, luscious and green with a mix of shadows cast from the afternoon sun, and he watched as two figures darted about after it like kitties after a runaway mouse, not at all paying attention to the continuous chatter prickling at his ear from his phone before he let out a heavy sigh.

This, he figured, was so not how he pictured his mini reunion with Namjoon.

"Seriously, I can't believe this man," rambled the alpha in a mass of crackles and words over the static, "I leave for one week, one week, and when I get back my door gets broken. I mean, I thought I was the only one supposed to be good at wrecking stuff, and you're lucky as hell Hoseok knows how to fix it or else who knows what would've happened to you?? Not to mention getting a professional would risk giving our location away and— hey, are you even listening to me?"

Eyes torn away from the field at long last, Jungkook sat up with a hushed whine, and turned towards the nearest bin to toss away the sandwich he could no longer stomach. Jeez, why was he even having egg mayo to begin with?

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here," the younger finally mumbled after a while, tone soft and reserved from the jitters teetering in him as he slumped back against the backrest. There was a snicker, one that had him flinching, and Jungkook gulped; he could practially feel Namjoon glaring at him from the other side.

"Sorry hyung I was uh, lunching. But look, about the door— I said I was sorry."

"Oh, I know you did," said the elder, to which Jungkook frowned at.

"And... you're still mad?"

"You bet your I am."

"B-But hyung, come on I wasn't even the one who broke it-"

"Right, Taehyung did. And that makes me feel so much better."

"I told you, it was just an accident. I mean, I even helped with the wood sawing for the new door and—"

"Okay maybe I'm not mad," Namjoon cut in again. "Or maybe I was and maybe I still am but back to the point, are you gonna tell me how Taehyung — skinny, fragile Taehyung — managed to get past you, Jin, Hoseok and Jimin, four of my well-trained muscle-pig werewolves all on his own and escape from the cabin?"

Jungkook paused. "I... Uh. Um, well..."

"No? Then I'm still mad."

"W-wait, hyung!"

But the line was already dead within seconds, and words halted by the chiding beeps that followed, Jungkook could only blink. Once, twice, then a third, and some eons later, he was shoving his phone into his pocket with a whiny grumble, lips impossibly frowny as he sunk back into his seat, head tilted back to rest on the surface behind him.

, why is this happening to me, he bemoaned, all but cursing childishly at the birds that happened to pass the blues and clouds above him in endless flocks of greys, as a single name slipped through in between his colorful string of swearing.

Damn Kim Seokjin, that tattle-tale traitor. He was sooooo going down.

Though, then again, who would've thought Namjoon would seriously be pissing over on Jungkook about a door? Yeap, hundred out of ten definitely not how he pictured that mini reunion would go.

Talk about butthurt on a whole new level.

"Oh my god, Park Jimin!!! I'm so kicking your !"

"I'd like to see you try, chicken feet!!"

"Stop it I do NOT have chicken feet!"

At the sound of what he recognised as distance chimes of laughter shrilling in his ears, Jungkook was jolting upright in his seat almost instantly on instinct, and seemingly snapping back to reality, he lifted his gaze in return to the scene before him.

There was a blinding flare of light at first, before lots and lots of green, but when his vision settled itself from the sun's rays, there it was — the familiar glow of golden, sun-kissed skin and flittering onyx hair — entities that had Jungkook's heart thumping almost instantly the moment his eyes landed on the boy they belonged to, a thumping that both felt like slow bubbles of warmth in his chest and an antsy prickle at the same time, and just like that, everything came back to Jungkook at once on the very situation he was in; him, sitting out there on the bleachers alone, separated miles away from his two friends who seemed to be having the time of their lives on the field, all while he merely watched; a situation, apparently caused by the very boy that shined brighter than the largest star itself — the one named Kim Taehyung; or in other words, the boy that Jungkook was oh-so-obviously trying to avoid, and was most definitely miserably failing at.

(Now why would that be, you ask?

Well, let's just say that may have had something to do with Jeon Jungkook being the biggest overthinker on the planet.)

Smack.

The metal of the goal post rattled in the aftermath of its umpteenth collision with the old, patchy soccer ball, and the boy situated by it trailed after the bouncing sphere in hasty steps, before sending it flying with a mindless kick.

Smack.

"Hey um, Jimin?"

"Yes, Tae?"

"Are we uh, done here yet?"

Smack.

"Uh, no?"

"Whatttttt, but you promised me fifteen more minutes!"

"...And you asked that same question five minutes ago."

"But Jiminnieeeee, we've been doing nothing but hitting balls all this time and I'm starvinggggg. I thought you said we were supposed to be training and— Hey!"

There was a swoosh of the ball moving somewhere ahead of him, and Taehyung managed to catch it just before it could knock him square in the head, remarkably sending it right back with a headbutt to the very amused blonde that threw it. Quick as the move had been, it probably shouldn't have been flying straight, but heck, when it came to werewolves and supernatural senses per say, of course it would be; since when did werewolves actually need to aim?

"Jimin!" gasped a very breathless Taehyung from where he stood exasperatedly, in a half crouch with hands on his knees and panting with an incredulous gawk. "Oh my god, that could have hit me!"

The blonde, now bouncing the ball up and over his knees, couldn't resist the laugh that rumbled through him, and halted his movements to let out another. "Okay first of all, you're being an overdramatic cub right now Tae, and second, your lack of trust in me sure is flattering. Come on, I wouldn't have thrown it if I knew you couldn't catch it." Letting the ball fall from his hands, he returned to dribbling it on his thighs. "Besides, we're just getting started."

Eyes widening incredulously, Taehyung whined, "Just getting started? We've been at it for like, forever!"

"Sheesh, you're seriously worse than Jungkook. It's only been-" He paused to look at his watch,"-ten minutes."

"Okay, fine. But I still don't see how this this gonna help me with controlling my shifts."

Moving to wedge the ball under his boot, Jimin rolled his eyes. "Patience is a virtue, young one. That part's coming right up, I just wanted you to let loose a little before anything. But since you asked so nicely, fine. Now quit acting like a kid and come over here."

Still half-whining as the pout on his lips deepened, Taehyung held his ground for a moment, but eventually made his way over anyway, feet heavy and reluctant as he trudged forth to come up beside Jimin, and at the sight of the two boys standing side by side considerably way too close for comfort, Jungkook couldn't help the frown that spread across his lips as he simply watched the events unfold before him, sinking even lower into his seat. Arms folded over his chest, he was back to sulking, in a futile effort to ignore the icky twinge that was consuming his chest.

Dammit, just what the are you doing here Jeon Jungkook? He drawled, feeling saltier than ever.

So, indeed as it seemed, it had been true, what Jungkook had come to conclude a certain two nights ago when he found himself lying in bed with an omega in his arms, snuggled up so peacefully against his side like it was the safest place in the world; it'd been two days ago, but every part of it was still clear in Jungkook's mind, vivid as every nightmare he used to have that haunted his mind, and it was driving him crazy how much it was affecting him. It jabbed at his conscience, infiltrated and clouded his judgment, affected how he acted towards those around him — and hard as he tried, he couldn't thrash the thoughts way, not when it was Taehyung practically painting every part of his mind every time he closed his eyes. Taehyung. His sweet, sweet Taehyung.

It'd been two days. Two days of ignoring, two days of excuses, two days of 'Sorry, I'm a little busy right now', two days of lies that he definitely hadn't meant to say, and he sure felt like the biggest in the world, despite the circumstances that led to this turnabout of events.

In what came after that night, it was just like Jungkook had expected - there'd been no smiles, no friendly 'Hey's or 'Did you sleep well's, but it was regret that had waited for him on the other side, the mind-gnawing kind of regret that came with the realisation that you'd done something you really shouldn't have done — and ever since that very morning Jungkook woke up next to Taehyung following their little night, limbs somehow ended up wrapped around each other in a tangled mess, he was definitely having the crisis of his life. Because Jungkook knew he shouldn't have liked how closely Taehyung was huddled up against him; shouldn't have adored the way the boy's face was nuzzled so cozily into the crook of his neck; or spent moments too long staring over how pretty his lashes were; and he definitely shouldn't have been okay with how fast his heart had been racing, every time their legs brushed under the sheets.

Needless to say, there was no excuse. Of course it shouldn't feel right; you couldn't, absolutely shouldn't feel that way about a friend, right? Maybe, a voice had whispered from somewhere inside him, leaving him at the peak of his dilemma, and not knowing what else to do, Jungkook had panicked; panicked over the weird things going around in his head, panicked over the freaking butterflies in his belly, and instead of dealing with it like a man, he'd chosen to run, to run away from all these feelings he couldn't put words to, for which he was still running — yet, not that Taehyung (or Jimin) ever noticed. Despite how Jungkook had been pretty much going AWOL on them, the two had been spending the past couple of days together, chatting over lame tv serials, fighting in video games, and doing every other thing Jungkook used to do with him — just like now, what with them messing around on the field trying to chase a damn soccer ball.

Seeing how smiley Taehyung still was, Jungkook secretly hoped all this wouldn't end up coming back to bite him in the ; in other words, Jimin replacing him when it came to being Taehyung's favorite, something he didn't even want to begin imagining ever happening. That very thought ignited something rather brutal in him, something he just couldn't describe but knew it existed, and it was for that very reason he decided he just had to stay away. This just wasn't normal, and yet, Jungkook's own heart didn't seem to be on board with that choice he'd made not one bit. Certainly it was ridiculous, how ironic this whole thing was since he was the one avoiding Taehyung in the first place, but from the looks of things, it seemed like his premenitions were already coming to be, and Jungkook couldn't help the ugly twinge of jealousy prickling at him as he sat there, watching them from afar.

(Remind him again why he was even feeling jealous to begin with?

Oh right, he was a sour wolf in denial, one that loved to suffer in silence.)

Taehyung was hovering past the curve of Jimin's shoulder when Jungkook had his attention focused back on the field, momentarily rid of the storm in his head, just as the blonde was fishing something out of his back pocket. Brows raised in question, Taehyung straightened at sight of the black, odd-looking device emerging from Jimin's pants, and stared at the object that reminded him very much of a watch strap.

"Woah, what is that?" He asked, eyes wide and curious as a cat's.

"This, lo and behold, is a heart-rate monitor," said Jimin with an excited grin on his face, as he proudly presented the device on his palm. 

"Okay... What's a heart-rate monitor?" asked Taehyung in genuine awe with a blink. Reaching for Taehyung's wrist, Jimin proceeded to strap it on, and Taehyung watched the other's fingers moving to fasten the foreign material around his skin.

"Well, you know how your heart beats at different speeds, depending on what you do?" said Jimin. "This actually tracks it, your heart rate, and shows us with numbers. See?" With the tap of a button on the side, the flat portion of the device lit up to display two sets of digits — one, Taehyung could recognise as the time, and the other, simply as the number 88.

"That number there in the middle, that's your heart rate. For our age a normal heart-rate when we're resting, like when we're not doing any exercise and stuff, would be about a 60 to 100. Of course, it can get higher, for example when you feel intense emotions, like anger, fear or panic, it can go up pretty high, and this little device tracks it all."

"...Okay," Taehyung nodded slowly, trying hard to keep up with Jimin's explanation, "So how is this going to help me control my...wolfing out?"

"Well my dear, fluffy friend, in case you haven't realised, those intense emotions are exactly what make you shift," enlightened Jimin, as he pulled out his phone. On its screen was an app launched, flashing the exact numbers that matched the ones on the monitor. "Which means that right now, we're gonna work on you controlling your heart rate, which also means that I need to get you really, really angry."

Taehyung shifted his his eyes to the side, then back on Jimin as if he were missing something. "O-Okay, and just how... are you going to do that?"

"Do you trust me, Tae?"

"O-Of course."

"Awesome, so you'll be okay if I tell you I'm gonna be kicking this soccer ball at you over and over again, right?"

It had taken a moment too late for Taehyung to fully register it, before he was gawking again. "Wait, what?"

"Okay first up, I swear it's not what it sounds like," said Jimin, hands held up in innocence, "Back when Jungkook first turned, we came up with this little training tactic to control his changing too. Apparently it worked for him, and considering he's so much more easily pissy than you, this might work on you too. It's just a few hits, and I promise I'll be careful— though...you don't have to do it if you don't want to."

Taehyung could only gape at him as he stood there, contemplating. "Uh, do I really have a choice in this?"

"Well technically you do," Jimin shrugged, "but right now this is all I got. Or, you could just tell me about things that really piss you off, and I'll make my choice from one of them?"

"...Okay no. Definitely not."

"So does that mean you're going with plan A?"

"Well..." Perhaps Taehyung shouldn't have agreed. Perhaps he shouldn't have even considered it, but for what's worth, it had been a tough choice to make; this was Jimin here that we're talking about. The angelic, thoughtful Park Jimin, someone who'd been there for him countless of occasions since the day they'd met, all the more reason to believe he wouldn't ever think of pulling tricks that would end up hurting Taehyung on purpose. This much, he knew, so though hesitant as he was, he said, "You pinky promise that you'll be... careful?"

"Of course. Cross my heart and hope to die."

"...Fine. Where do you want me to go?"

And despite the skepticism that evidently remained prodding at his mind, Taehyung somehow found himself heeding to Jimin's shady request anyway, though taking a little longer than necessary to position himself where the blonde had instructed him to, the spot right in front of the goal post.

"Alright, remember that you can't get angry," Jimin spoke when Taehyung had deemed himself ready, and swiftly manouvered the soccer ball back into his hands with a kick. "Just think about something that makes you happy, kay? If you feel yourself getting mad."

"Right, happy thoughts," mumbled Taehyung as he stood there, in a slight cower and hands restless along his sides, bracing himself for whatever Jimin was about to do.

In all honesty he was a little doubtful, certainly not knowing what to expect. It was slightly nerve-wracking so to say, in the tiniest of seconds it took Jimin to get ready on his side, but when he was tossing the ball up high with the flick of his wrist and leaning a foot back in preparation for what undoubtlessly was a kick, the last thing Taehyung anticipated was to receive a shot aimed right at him, ball moving so fast it slammed into him straight in the chest and sent him sliding backwards over the ground, landing so hard on his it felt like he'd broken it.

"Jimin!!!" yelled Taehyung for the millionth time that day, as he scrambled to pick himself up. "Oh my god, what the hell? You said you'd be careful with me!"

Chuckling a little too amusedly for the situation, Jimin simply motioned towards the screen of his phone, which now displayed the numbers 95. "Now now Tae, you can't get angry. And for the record, that was me being careful. Come on, toss back the ball."

Muttering incoherent whines under his breath, Taehyung flung the sphere back to the blonde seemingly obliging on instinct, before he got into a proper defense position, now knowing exactly what Jimin was trying to pull. "I can't believe I chose this over char grilled chicken!!"

"Oh Tae Tae, just you wait. You'll soooo be thanking me for this some day," was Jimin's smug reply as he set the ball back down on the ground before him, drawing his feet back to make the next shot.

And he fired away.

Smack.

The strike that came this time was slower, softer when it met with Taehyung's right shoulder, yet in spite of the boy's effort in forseeing it, the impact still hurt like as it tipped the boy off balance. The monitor on his wrist beeped faster than it had been as he plunged face-first into the ground, grunting, and the numbers on the screen now read 104.

"Come on Taehyung," Jimin encouraged. "Get up."

Not knowing what part of him was compelled to obey the blonde, Taehyung stood with legs slightly shaking from the fall he'd taken, sensing his body starting to heat up a little, but just as he did so, the ball had already found its way back to Jimin's hold in its rolling, and was launching straight at him all over again. Having not seen it coming, Taehyung took a head-shot that knocked him off his feet once more, and when he went down with another groan, the beeping spiked on, digits increasing to 113.

"J-Jimin, I don't think this is working," Taehyung said, struggling to get up. Is it supposed to feel like this? Damn, his body was definitely hurting now, and he could hear his heart palpitating like crazy in his ears, beats in tune with the pace of the monitor. 120. An odd churning had begun to swirl just outside his lungs; why was his chest burning?

"You're doing fine Tae. Remember, happy thoughts. You just gotta calm yourself down."

"I'm trying to, but- Oof!"

A slam to his hip cut him off, before Taehyung was tumbling down yet again, braced by his hands and knees. The burning was worse now, no longer nesting just in the walls of his ribcage, but all too suddenly advancing to his skull, and spreading all over his veins. His fingers dug into the grass beneath his palms for purchase, as blurred lines started to cloud his vision.

"Come on, happy thoughts Tae," repeated Jimin, halting his movements when he'd stolen a glance at his phone. 128; it was getting pretty high now, the blonde had realised — a little too high for a trial run — to which he decided to stop completely, allowing Taehyung room to recover. "Believe in yourself man, you can do this. Think of your favorite frappucinos, your favorite line from that stupid chic-flick comedy we saw last night, or how much you love that one-eyed green monster tsum tsum."

"J-Jimin..." warned Taehyung. "It's... not working."

"Alright uh, just take it easy. You can do it just — holy , Taehyung?"

At the alarmingly paced beeps buzzing away from his phone, Jimin straightened to make a double take at the numbers on his screen, and upon catching the digits that were now significantly flashing in red, he froze with eyes wide. For the moment that it was 134, Jimin knew it was a bad sign, the crazy beeping already telltale enough that he'd gone too far and something bad was going to happen, but then just a second later, it was up to 140. 141, 142, 143... And it was still going up.

"Tae?? Hey, Taehyung." Within a heartbeat Jimin was beside the boy, all hands and too many worried curses as he crouched down next to his cowering figure, instantly reaching for his shoulders. The air around him was buzzing and thick with Taehyung's mess of emotions — confusion, shock, fear — and taken aback by how heavy the latter's breathing had become, Jimin felt himself starting to panic, all coherent trains of thoughts leaving his brain in his frenzy; , how did he let it get this far? How did he not sense Taehyung's struggle? But wait, he had a back-up plan for this. What the was his back-up plan?

"Okay Taehyung breathe. Come on, it's okay. Just breathe. Breathe with me."

"I-I'm... trying-" The whimper that slipped from Taehyung's lips was tight and shaky, and all but calmed the blonde at his side as the pulsing sounds just kept getting faster, numbers getting higher. Torn by the scorching heat that churned in his head, Taehyung crumpled to the ground, arms giving out under him to clutch at his hair, hard enough it was like he could've ripped them right out his scalp.

" Taehyung stay with me. I'm so sorry but don't give up. Stay with me, come on! Breathe."

But his words seemed to prove useless at this point, as Taehyung's vision was faltering with every slam of his heartbeat ringing in his ears that he could barely focus anymore, and with a last agonizing grunt forcing its way through his throat, he collapsed, falling into a space that surely wasn't just the grass or mud beneath him.

///

There were two of them.

Three? No, four now.

Shadows. Large, almost pitch black shadows, ones that were approaching him with sinister cackles, and he could feel them watching.

Watching, waiting... silent except for the chilling scrape of footsteps against the wooden floor, coming closer, and closer.

Maybe it'd been a minute that they stood there. Maybe it'd been ten, or maybe even more; he couldn't seem to tell at this point, not when time had already become a concept long forgotten to him from how hazy his mind was, numb and hastily slipping in and out of consciousness, but then it was back. The burning, the screaming, the struggling, all of it; just like the monstrous hand that was wound around his throat, squeezing, crushing.

A coldness came after, in the form of five, pointed tips pressing deeper into his skin, before they were plunging, breaking, searing.

He couldn't breathe. Couldn't see. Couldn't move from how tightly binded his arms are above him, and all he could do was cry, struggling helplessly, powerlessly.

"That's right, little one. Scream," said someone in the periphery, male, and daunting. "Come on, scream for me."

And scream he did, with every last breath he had, until there was nothing left.

///

The first thing Taehyung heard the second the darkness was gone was the call of