The screams of the woman’s labor bounced off the hospital walls. Her husband’s hand was an alarming red from her squeezing, but he didn’t flinch, letting her shriek and throw her head back in pain as the doctors watched the space between her legs for any sign of the baby. Slowly, inch by inch, the infant was pushed into the world, a pale thing that laid as still as a rock on the delivery table. His father peered over cautiously at the white little figure, covered in blood.

“Is the baby… alive?” he asked, his wife panting and sobbing as she realized what that silence could mean. The doctor reached down and lifted the baby, looking at the man with urgency as he couldn’t feel a pulse under that nearly translucent skin.

“Was the dragon breathing fire when you left the house?” the man demanded. The young mother nodded furiously, fighting for breath through her tears and trying to watch her baby even through the pain that was still tearing her body apart from the inside. He couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t. Everything had been going so well.

“Yes, yes, the dragon had been breathing fire for an hour! He’s alive, he has to be,” she begged. The doctor sighed and set the baby down on the delivery table, still gentle with the lifeless figure in case there was still life in the little body, even though the chances were very slim. He folded his hands in front of his body, prepared to tell the distraught parents that sometimes these things happen, that sometimes the dragon’s fire will fizzle away even after hours, that sometimes it just wasn’t meant to be, that—

The baby suddenly screamed out, as if awakening from a trance.

“Oh! My baby!” the mother screamed, reaching out her arms desperately. The stunned doctor scooped up the infant and hastily passed it to the woman, who was sobbing over the little body even as it cried and waved its little fists in the air. The father gently the tiny cheek, smiling at the sight of those strong lungs suddenly working better than ever, as if nothing had ever happened.

“My son,” the man murmured gently. The tiny fist closed over his finger and the wrinkled face curled up even more in distress, but the man was just grateful that the baby was crying at all. “My little son.”

The couple brought their baby home later that evening, unable to afford a full night at the hospital. Their family dragon, Hyunsik, a dragon with the shape of an instroke on parchment and the size of a small horse, had been sitting in a very regal position when they left. His four clawed legs had been politely folded beneath his stomach and his long neck arched so that his open mouth could spew fire directly at the gravel directly beneath him. Now, however, he was sprawled out across the grass-less yard beside the family’s small house, his green scales dull from exhaustion.

“Go see what it is,” the baby’s mother urged as she continued into the house. She tucked their little son into his crib, the one luxury in their otherwise sparse home. She sat on the rocking chair next to the baby, watching him with a tender love in her eyes. The chair, like Hyunsik, had been passed down from her parents.

Most family dragons were at least centuries old, passed down through lineage and the strength of each side’s family dragon. Often the fights weren’t graphic, just a lot of hissing and spitting, and the occasional ember. She still remembered the pride she’d felt on her wedding day when her in-law’s dragon had backed down with a defeated growl. Her husband’s family dragon had gone to her brother-in-law instead, and her own sister had gotten a new family dragon, born out of her dragon and her wife’s mating. It was still a small thing, but these things usually grew rapidly.

She was snapped out of her musings by her husband running up the front steps with their son’s dragon, born from dragon-fire. It was a serpentine dragon, much like Hyunsik, with an angularly square head and blue scales up and down its long body. It looked like the kind of dragon that would adorn royal tapestry, something that warmed his wife’s heart. He set the dragon next to his son’s body, watching the creature stretch out beside the infant.

“My son,” his wife whispered softly, exhausted but so incredibly happy. She reached out and rubbed the baby’s wrinkled cheek with just the crook of her finger. “My Minho.”

~

-23 Years Later-

~

Taemin sighed as he watched Tessitura scratch at the window. The dragon was the size of a small hawk, a red Medieval-looking creature who looked more suited for kidnapping princesses or something. The dragon stretched his leathery wings and hissed, first at the glass and then at Taemin.

“I know, Tessy, but we can’t. You know that. If the dorm advisor catches us again, we’re ed,” the boy pointed out, poking the dragon’s scaly tail with the tip of his pencil. The creature flicked his tail out of the way and hissed again, causing a patch of moss to grow and climb up Taemin’s eraser. The boy rolled his eyes and wiped off the moss as quickly as it grew. “Come on, a temper tantrum? Not cool.”

Still, it was stupid that he had to stay in for his 18^th birthday. Just because it wasn’t a weekend or an “allotted vacation day.” His eyes flicked to the dorm advisor’s dragon, which had been perched on his dresser since Taemin’s last escape attempt. The grey creature’s wings were folded behind its back, and it tilted its head intelligently from side to side. One wrong move, and it would let out a shrill cry that would alert half the campus.

“Yeah, yeah, just keep watching, Jiao,” Taemin sneered at the creature. Jiao’s tail thumped grumpily against the wood of the dresser. Tessy hissed at the dragon and flew up onto the surface, his body coiled against itself in anger, and swiped a claw at the other creature. Taemin rolled his eyes. These two always got at it at the worst possible times, and ever since they’d broken the other desk in the room, Taemin knew that they couldn’t afford to keep ing up the furniture.

“Tessy, come on, calm down,” he scolded, but he knew the stubborn thing wouldn’t listen to him. He turned back to calculus homework as he heard Tessy wrapping small vines around his adversary. He couldn’t do much yet, since Taemin had never gotten a chance to train him, but they didn’t train dragons anymore, at least not since his dad became district manager of his company.

“Who’s going to fight your dragon, anyway? What kind of street gang do you think you’ll be joining?” the man had demanded when he’d caught Taemin the first time, and his tone had told Taemin that there better not be a second time. So, there they were now, Taemin and Tessy, trapped in the walls of this boarding school and trying to deal with the boredom of it all.

“Hey, what’s going on in here?” Joonmyun demanded. The dorm advisor’s ears were irresponsibly good, in Taemin’s opinion. Why’d he need to have such great hearing when his dragon was a living police siren?

“Nothing,” Taemin lied listlessly as his door opened. He turned away from the room to look at the intruder. In his opinion, Joonmyun and Jiao looked alike. They were both dull, shrill, and boring as hell. Joonmyun gasped out at the sight of his dragon struggling against Tessy’s wiry vines, rushing over and rescuing his dragon as Tessy hissed at both of them.

“If you don’t control your dragon, Taemin, I swear to God…” the older boy muttered. He didn’t finish the threat, and Taemin suspected that he didn’t actually have one. Still, he opened his hands, and Tessy came to him obediently, even though he was still glaring daggers at Jiao.

“Tae! Guess w…hat the are you doing here?” Jongin interjected, running into the room only to change his words mid-sentence out of disgust at the sight of Joonmyun standing there like he owned the place. Well, technically, his dad did. Joonmyun crinkled his nose and set Jiao on Jongin’s dragon, Monggu, out of spite. The magenta dragon, with its long body, dove from his place around Jongin’s neck and glided through the air. He let out a sharp jet of water into Jiao’s face, sending the dragon tumbling out of the air onto Taemin’s bed.

“Ha!” the boy couldn’t help but laugh out at the way the dragon squirmed and whined against his mattress. Joonmyun rushed to rescue it, scooping his dragon into his arms as if it were a wounded dog instead of a ing nuisance. He glared at Jongin first, then at Taemin, before rushing out, thoroughly humiliated. Taemin rolled his eyes.

“So, anyway, I figured out a way out of this place,” Jongin said, sitting on his own bed. Taemin rolled his eyes at his roommate, turning away to keep doing homework. He felt a jet of water hit the back of his head.

“Hey!” he snapped, turning, but Jongin’s satisfied smile made him smile just a bit as well. “Okay, I give up. What’s your plan?”

“You know that teacher you’re really close with? Jonghyun?” he said, wiggling a bit in self-satisfaction. Taemin raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, nodding slowly, as he put down his pencil. He heard Tessy starting to chew on it behind him, but he was completely consumed by Jongin’s plot.

“Yeah, but he only likes me because I’ve been doing well on his essays. What do you expect me to do? Write him an essay about why I should be allowed to go on a bender for my birthday?” he scoffed, hating that in the back of his head, he’d already started planning out that essay. Jongin scoffed and pushed Taemin’s arm.

“Shut up,” he laughed before folding his arms behind his head. “I heard he was planning on heading out for the Summer Shots event. Maybe if you’re really cool about it, he’ll understand and let you tag along? Joonmyun can’t tell you no if you’re with a professor, can he?” Taemin thought about it quietly, leaning back in his seat.

“Alright… I’ll go talk to him, but if he says no, it’s all your fault,” Taemin cautioned. Jongin rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue.

“Yeah, yeah, and when you’re out on the town drinking it up and having the time of your life, you can thank me,” he scoffed. Taemin got up and headed to the door, whistling to Tessy. The dragon flew to him and perched on his shoulder, nipping at the boy’s ear playfully as he sensed Taemin’s excitement. They were linked by the souls, having been this way since both their births. Taemin offered Tessitura a treat before walking down the hall, hoping that this went well.

Truthfully, he wanted to be out of this school altogether. He felt bored, he felt trapped, he felt suffocated, but what could he do? Just one night out drinking, having fun, forgetting where he was, would be enough for him, for now.

But only for now.

~

Minho sighed as he held up his cigarette to Cadenza for the third time, but the dragon kept refusing, turning his head away. Minho set down the ruler he’d been using with his other hand and smirked as he brought out a lighter, which made Cadenza huff with excessive jealousy. The man laughed at the sight of his grumpy dragon. The creature, with the length and temper of a large cat, seemed almost as if it was pouting.

“Well, then will you light it or not, Denz?” he demanded, holding the cigarette up to his dragon again. With a soft snarl, the dragon opened his mouth and blew out a small stream. Satisfied, Minho tucked the lighter away and kept measuring out the sheet of metal in front of him. He stood back and picked up a pair of grip pliers. Denz, who had been draped around Minho’s neck like a scarf, flew off and floated in the air, setting out a sharp stream of fire to bore holes in the metal where Minho had drawn crosses with his pencil.

Some people—most people—viewed using a dragon so frequently during work as some kind of stain on Minho’s social reputation, but he couldn’t imagine it any other way. The cigarette dangled from his lips as he measured out the holes, but he knew that Denz had done a great job. They’d been at this since he was 14, after all.

Without waiting for a review, Denz dove into Minho’s back pocket for a treat of charred jerky. Minho laughed at his mischievous dragon’s playfulness, but didn’t stop him. He used some sandpaper to smooth out the edges of the holes, some of the fine dust settling on his skin, but it wasn’t anything unusual for him. His workbench was covered in it, and he smoked through it all anyway. He held the metal up to the light.

“Minho, are you done with that order yet?” his father called out from the front desk. Making his way to the front, Minho gave the customer a pleasing smile, causing the young woman to blush as he laid the panel on the table.

“Sorry it took so long,” he murmured. The woman laughed softly, paying his father for the metal door which would be adorning her little dragon house. Some people had little additions to their home like that, a little house that their dragons could sleep in, but Minho had never seen the point. Still, the woman left the store happy with her purchase, which was all that mattered. His father hit him in the arm playfully.

“Stop smoking in the shop, you’ll set yourself on fire,” he joked. Minho laughed and took a particularly long drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke as he went back to his work. He felt Denz snatch the smoked-out of the cigarette from his teeth and toss it in the trash. The dragon hated the smell more than anything, but he’d be damned if he let Minho use any other fire source.

“Denz, come on, the next order’s a molding one,” Minho urged. The dragon let out a trill of delight, twisting in midair before flying over to Minho’s side. Minho rubbed under his dragon’s chin before going to the pile of pure ore that was waiting to be melted down. He put a generous handful into a cast-iron bowl before stepping away to let Cadenza hover over the pile. He watched the dragon’s jaws open wide, and a wave of fire spewed from its indigo body.

He picked up the bowl with a pair of thick, heat-resistant gloves over his hands, pouring the molten liquid slowly into the mold as he felt Cadenza snatch away another treat. To be honest, the dragon didn’t need a treat as motivation, but he wasn’t about to turn it away either. Minho covered the mold and let it sit, allowing the mold to set.

“After work today, do you want to visit Kibum? It’s Summer Shots tonight,” he told Denz, who trilled and climbed over Minho’s shoulders to drape on them happily. He and Kibum’s dragon, Comme Des, got along famously, since they used to see each other during that one summer when Minho spent a majority of his days between Kibum’s legs.

“If you’re going out drinking again, tell Kibum I said hi,” Minho’s father shouted from the front of the store. Minho scoffed as he started on the next order on the waiting list while waiting for the metal to cool completely. He picked up another sheet of metal and watched as Denz perked up a bit.

Back to the daily grind, practically bathing in fire day in and day out. Somehow, Minho didn’t mind it at all. He thrived in the heat, in the fire, just waiting for the day he’d own this shop. That was the only ambition he dared to have anymore.

~

A/N—Thanks for reading, I hope you stick around! This should be fun for all of us!