Ringing.

Incessant ringing.

Persistent ringing.

Urgent ringing.

Through the silence cut the high pitched noise. Through the silence that spread throughout the large space the origin of the noise was in. And the noise spread, reaching spaces past the room. Down the halls. Up the stairs. Behind closed doors. The ringing echoed. The ringing went unheard. The ringing of the cell phone that laid on the coffee table went unheard. The distant sound of a door slamming against a wall resonated with the ringing. The sound of a door slamming against a wall due to the gust that entered the large home from outside. This gust brought with it a cold chill, snowflakes and bits of ice stained the wooden floorboards.

And the ringing stopped. The ringing stopped as though it realized the hopelessness that was the chance of it ever being heard. The ringing stopped and the space became quiet, filled with the blood-chilling breeze that threatened the home from outside. The brutal breeze that was no longer blocked by a door. The opportunist breeze that saw this as the perfect chance to fill the lively space in which sixteen people shared their memories with it’s cold air. With its biting frost. And the room chilled, the entire house chilled, as the storm finally arrived.

The darkness was suffocating. Many hours had passed by now and he found it harder and harder to breath. He couldn’t smell a thing beyond the darkness. He couldn’t hear a thing beyond the darkness. It were as though the world beyond where he was now was dead, gone without a trace.

But, he wasn’t so weak.

He wasn’t so weak as to give into the darkness. The silent darkness that he was put into for a reason. They wanted to break him. They wanted to make him lose hope. The only thing he was losing right now was the feeling in his wrists. Other than that, his energy surged through him like a torrent. A torrent that rushed over him as he heard metal scrape against metal and a sliver of bright white light that he hadn’t seen in days blinded him. And the bright light got larger, the sound getting louder along with it.

“So it begins.” He murmured beneath his breath, knowing full well what that sound was. It was the sound of a door opening. And in that light, in the middle of it, was a figure. A woman’s figure. And he couldn’t help but feel all of his built up excitement for this moment multiply two fold. Because it was a woman, the one who had come to him after so long.

After closing of the door behind herself, the woman neared him, her footsteps clicking down onto the floor. She neared him until she stood right in front of him and he saw the slight outline of her arms as she reached upwards, up behind his head.

Now he had another reason to be excited.

As the woman backed away, flicking on the switch of the room, he was displayed in front of her, his wrists in chains as he was strung up against the wall. She didn’t expect to see a smile gracing his face. An eager smile because of what she had done.

She had blindfolded him. Blindfolded him to keep her expression hidden from his view. And thus for him, the situation he was in became much more entertaining.

She spoke first, and he listened attentively, “How many of you are there?”

He stifled a laugh at her question. The first thing she chose to say and it’s that. He decided to mess with her as he responded, his lips still forming a smile, “How many of you are there? Three? Four? Five, maybe?” She didn’t answer his question which was understandable. He was in no position to ask it. But, that didn’t mean he couldn’t figure out what the answer was. That didn’t mean that he couldn’t hear the slight palpitation of her heart and the quickening of her breath as he spoke. As he said one specific word. And it caused his laughter that he held back to come pouring from his throat, “Four then?”

He had engaged with two of them. They had caught him by surprise before running off after B-bomb, leaving him alone before he was hit by something. Something that caused him to fall over like a domino. That was why he was where he was now. Neither of those two where the woman in front of him now. The woman didn’t like how he read her so easily and got closer to him once more. She got closer and he felt something. He felt something burning him. Something burning him as it ran from the base of his jaw, tracing his jawline, before it stopped at his chin. It was her fingertips as she touched him, touched him with Wolfsbane coating her hand.

He clenched his teeth in reflex, the numbing sensation spreading to his left cheek. She pulled her hand away, satisfied with his reaction. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Unfortunately, her words fell on deaf ears. Because he wanted to make this hard. Not for him, of course. Not at all. He wasn’t making it hard for him as he leaned his head forward, feeling the proximity between himself and the woman reduce to almost nothing. He wasn’t making it hard for himself when he said his next words. His next words that made it harder for her.

“I may not be able to see you, but I can smell you. I’m sure you’ve wondered what you smell like to us.” He sniffed through his nose, taking in her scent that had been the only new smell he had known since he had been down here. She didn’t move away, she stayed there. Stayed there in front of him, not fazed by him in the least. That is, until he continued his statement, “Vanilla bean. Cinnamon. And, a hint of guilt.”

He expected a reaction. He was anticipating what it would be. And, he felt he was not let down in the slightest as her fingers curled behind him, weaving into his hair as she tugged back on it. Her strength was greater than he had originally thought and he heaved another laugh.

“What? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He spoke through clenched teeth as his head remained tilted back, her hand gripping down harder onto his hair, “It just means this wasn’t your idea. I do thank you greatly for that. The sentiment in itself means so much to me.”

She didn’t like it. She didn’t like his sarcastic speech. The way he seemed to take whatever she said and did with a grain of salt. She didn’t like it but she took a deep breath, calming herself. And with that, her fingers left his hair, allowing his head to return to a more comfortable position. A more comfortable position that he deemed to be one in which he was leaning forward again, his lips grazing her earlobe as he whispered. As he whispered a knowing phrase. A phrase that showed he had already assessed what her position was among the four of them who had him trapped down here, in the darkness, “Why don’t you go get your leader to come and interrogate me instead, Ms. Vanilla?”

“It’s started.”

She had shown up unannounced. It wasn’t the first time she had. But, it was the first time she had without a smile on her face. The first time she seemed as though she would be unreceptive to even a single joking statement either of them would say.

“What are you two going to do?”

There was silence in the room. There was silence as the two she had directed her question towards stared straight forward at nothing in particular. The question of where they would go from here had been on their minds for a long while now. It had plagued one of them much more than it had the other but still, it remained as a conflicting question for both.

They knew where she stood on the issue. She had made her intention clear. They knew the answer she wanted to hear. The one they should respond with. The most natural answer that was supposed to come to them in an instant. It was supposed to, but it didn’t. It didn’t come as naturally to them as it would have in the past. But, they were being pushed. They were being pushed by her to answer. They were being pushed back. Back into their line. Back into their path. The path they should be walking down. That’s what she was here to do. They both knew that. That’s what this petite woman with newly purple highlighted, short, blonde hair had come to Springfield to do.

“We’re going to do what we always do.” One of them responded as he returned his attention to the book he was reading. “Let nature take its course, whatever it may be.”

She turned her attention to the other male. The other male who had yet to give her an answer. He sighed and his eyes fell to the coffee table. To the coffee table where his phone lay. His phone where the last recently called number was “Snow White ♥.” And he hesitated. It didn’t go unnoticed by her, who raised her eyebrows as she leaned forward, posing to him the same question, “Daeryong, what are you going to do?”

He looked up, meeting her eyes that were coaxing from him the answer she wanted to hear. Her eyes that were silently threatening him with the consequences of what would happen if he didn’t give her the answer she wanted.

So, he gave it to her. He gave her what she wanted. Even though he had no idea what his own answer to her question was.

“Come on Sunny, you know me. The messier it gets, the more fun it is.”

The woman named Sunny, the same one who had visited Tiffany with them, nodded, satisfied with his answer as her smile returned to her face and she started up a conversation about what the three of them would eat tonight. And while the two spoke animatedly as though the previous conversation were miles away, Soryong beside him glanced at him for a moment, seeing through him easily, before returning his eyes to his book.

He was unresponsive. He was unresponsive as the water sprinkled down onto his face. He was unmoving as water collected onto each strand of his hair, gathering at the end in droplets before slipping down onto his face where they trailed down his cheeks as though they were his own tears. His eyelids remained heavy, not fluttering open so as to reveal his dark brown eyes. He seemed lifeless. It was frightening. It was frightening for you, as you kneeled down beside the tub. As you kneeled down beside him, your fingers sliding under his fringe and grazing his hairline before you smoothed back his hair, pushing it out from his face.

It was frightening but you bit back your fears. Because it was too early to count him out yet. Much too early. Because he was still breathing. His chest heaved up and down weakly and slowly but was still doing so nevertheless. You laid your hands on his face, feeling his heated skin underneath your palms as the water continued to fall down onto him. And you hit him, a small smack to his cheek once. Then twice. Then a third time. And you continued until you got him to react. Until you saw his eyes twitch in annoyance.

You breathed a sigh of relief at the sight. His eyelids opened, his eyes lazily drooping as he caught sight of you. His lips parted and drops of water gathered there as it continued to fall down on him. He whispered something. He whispered something silently, his throat unable to produce from it his voice. But, you knew what he had said. The shape of his lips gave it away. He had whimpered your name as his eyes gazed at you, struggling to hold onto the energy that was fading from his body by the second.

His eyelids got heavier, looking as though they would close again any second and you delivered another light smack to his cheek. “Don’t you dare pass out on me, Jang Dongwoo.” 

Jang Dongwoo. That was who was lying limply in the bathtub on the second floor of your house at this very moment. That was whose blood was running off of his body and down the drain at this very moment. That was who if he fell asleep now, you would be left in the dark as to why he was so weak.

You had lugged him up the stairs with much difficulty, having to drag him step by step slowly, quite the tiring task, because you couldn’t have him bleeding out on the floor. As to why he was bleeding out and his body was showing no signs of regeneration, you knew the cause must have been what occurred with Myungsoo when the previous Mayor had shot him with a Wolfsbane bullet. It had hindered his ability to heal himself and judging from the blood that seemed to drain from Dongwoo’s face and from his body by the minute, you knew that a Wolfsbane related wound had to be the reason.

But who injured him then? That was a question that would have to be answered at a later time.

“Where are you hurt?” You asked as your eyes glazed over his body, not visibly able to see any large wound that stuck out among the various scratches and gashes here and there.

Right now, you needed Dongwoo to be awake and responsive because you couldn’t get a hold of anyone else via cell. The only one’s whose new numbers you had after the werewolves returned were Hoya’s and Sunggyu’s and neither of them were picking up. So, you would have to deal with this for now and hope that they would get your voicemails and read the text messages you had left them soon.

You focused back on Dongwoo as his head inclined towards you, his left hand reaching over the tub’s rim and grabbing onto a piece of your hair that laid over your shoulder. He tugged on it, gently, gesturing for you to come closer. A gesture you understood immediately as you scooted closer to the tub. And then, his arm slowly wrapped itself around your shoulders, using you for balance as he sat himself up all the way in the tub.

Your skin tingled where his cheek brushed against yours as he did so, him being much too delirious to realize how close he was to you. His other hand lifted up and before you could protest to him trying to stand up, what you thought he was doing, he did something completely different. He pointed. He pointed down to his abdomen beneath his clothes.

From his lips came a strained word, his voice roughly stuttering to speak it, “Here.”

“Here?” You asked, your hand reaching over into the tub and pointing at his stomach, making sure he was thinking clearly.

He leaned towards you even more, the shifting of more of his weight on your shoulders causing you to cringe and your body to lower slightly. He breathed out as his damp haired head rested itself on top of yours and he nodded. His cheek rubbed against the top of your head in the process, as though he were nuzzling against you. You felt him scowl as your fingers pressed down onto the fabric of his sweater. You were trying to feel what type of wound it was and unfortunately, you didn’t like what you felt. You prayed it wasn’t what it felt like as you leaned back, holding him up as you laid him back into the tub.

“Lift up your arms.” You whispered to him and he obliged, his arms lifting up slowly as his head titled back. His teeth bit down onto his bottom lip as he beared with the pain. His eyes stayed squinted, not opening as he let you freely do as you wanted; what you wanted being his shirt off. Since he was cooperating, you were able to wrap your fingers around the fabric at the hem of his sweater and lift it up and over his head with ease, discarding it beside the tub on the tile floor before returning your attention back to him.

There were two things that shocked you. One, he wasn’t wearing a tank top or any item of clothing underneath his sweater. That fact almost diverted you from the most important second thing that shocked you. That second thing being that the wound was exactly what it felt like. It was a gunshot wound. A gunshot wound that once exposed, smelt of burning meat. Burning flesh. It was the worst thing it could have been. A Wolfsbane bullet.

How were you supposed to handle this? How were you supposed to deal with a gunshot wound? If it was a simple knife wound then you could let the water wash the Wolfsbane out and he would heal on his own after that. But, this was a bullet. A bullet you would have to take out before his body would be able to heal itself. But how? With what? Just reach in and get it out? That wasn’t exactly the best plan.

But, what else could you do? You stood up from beside the tub, deciding to grab the first aid kit from underneath the bathroom sink, when you were stopped. You were stopped as Dongwoo gripped onto your wrist, grabbing your attention once more. When you looked down at him, he was looking at you. He was looking at you with much clearer eyes than before. He was looking at you as his full lips formed a tight line on his face. He was looking at you, his eyes asking you all of the questions you were asking yourself.

He was looking at you helplessly and you wanted to yell at him to stop. To stop looking as though the world was going to end. As though he was going to die right there in that bathtub. And at that thought, at the thought that he was thinking that way, you frowned, shaking your head no as you spoke to him.

“You’re not going to die, Dongwoo. You’re not.”

You were sure of your words. You were sure of your words and his lips curved upwards as you said them, his eyes forming crescents as his cheeks lifted upwards as much as he could manage at the moment. You felt tears begin to brim over your eyes because of the way his eyes looked at you now, a different emotion spreading across them. As though he trusted you completely. And with tears clouding your eyes, you turned away from the tub, about to seek out the first aid kit so that you could get that poisonous bullet out of him.

You were about to. And, you would have. If not for the person who stepped into the doorway of the bathroom, her eyes narrowed at you as she looked on at the scene in front of her. As she saw the sight of a shirtless, bleeding Dongwoo and a wet and bloody you.

As your mother stood there, what her next action would be seemingly unpredictable.

The rough wind hit the window, causing the glass to vibrate against the window frame. The sound was enough to rouse him awake. His eyes opened slowly, a sigh coming out of his mouth as he lifted his hands, moving his hair out of his eyes. He turned in his bed before reaching out and grabbing his cell phone from his nightstand. The time was two in the morning. He sighed again as he laid back down on his back, his half lidded eyes staring upwards at the ceiling. However, something caused his eyes to snap open fully. The slithering of something cold by his feet. His legs jerked in reflex as it brushed against his leg. He tried to sit up and would have succeeded if not for the sudden weight on his stomach that pushed him to lay back down.

Now he knew why he felt something cold on his feet. It was someone else’s feet. The feet of his black haired friend no less. The cold feet of Ricky who had stayed over due to the bad weather. Ricky rolled his eyes at the sight of Ricky sprawled out beside him on his bed. Then, he promptly grabbed Ricky’s arm that lay across his stomach and tugged on it, pulling the dreaming Ricky over his own body before sending him falling onto the floor. Ricky woke up with a start, sitting up immediately as he looked around, his hair a bird’s nest on his head.

“What happened?” He asked, one of his eyes open while the other was only half so, “What? What’s going on?” He caught sight of Niel who was sitting up on the bed, looking at him with a serious look on his face, “Are you okay?” Ricky asked as he moved to a kneel, about to stand up if not for Niel who swung his leg over the side of the bed and kicked Ricky’s shoulder, sending him falling back down. Ricky was surprised, something Niel found laughable. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Whenever his short friend decided to stay over, Ricky would always find some kind of way to slip into Niel’s bed despite all the time Niel would put into making his pseudo-bed on the floor as comfortable as possible.

“Would you stop doing that?” Niel snarled at him, “My mom already has the idea that we’re going to get married once we graduate.”

Ricky caught onto what he did wrong now and without a hint of remorse in his voice, he spoke with a coy grin on his face, “We’re not?”

Niel threw his hands into the air, giving up on trying to reason with him, before slumping back down into bed, turning his back to his friend before half yelling just in case his mother was listening, “Sorry to say, you’re not my type.”

Ricky’s lips parted in understanding as his eyes downcast onto his legs. He nodded his head before replying casually, “Right, I forgot that you only like girls named Yura.”

Ricky laughed maniacally as Niel sprung up again. He knew about Niel’s secret crush. His secret crush he’s had since middle school when he sat next to the sensible girl named Yura. The girl who so happened to be best friends with the person Niel and Ricky both found intolerable at the time, Bang Minah. Niel says he’s over her but from the way he reacted so quickly, grabbing onto one of the pillows on his bed and chucking it right at Ricky’s head, which he dodged, Ricky knew he wasn’t. 

Niel immediately curled back under his blanket, facing his back to Ricky again as he muttered under his breath, “Shut up and go to sleep.”

Ricky rubbed his sore face with a pout forming on his lips, “Makes you wonder what’s so special about Kim Sunggyu, doesn’t it?” Niel didn’t answer, causing Ricky to continue without thinking about the next words that came out of his mouth, “But, it doesn’t make me wonder what’s so special about Song Hyunjoo that he chose to date her.”

There was a brief moment in which neither said a word. Neither said a word because it was too complicated. What was too complicated?

“Shut up and go to sleep.” Niel said again, his body as still as a rock. Ricky looked down at the pillow in his hands, a weary smile on his face as he curled up into the bed prepared with blankets and sheets that Niel had made for him. His eyelids were a single centimeter away from giving into sleep when Niel spoke again. “Everything surrounding Hyunjoo is complicated. For now, let’s not try to push her to involve us in it. Not until she’s ready to reveal it herself.”

Niel knew you were hiding something from them. Many somethings in fact. But, he and Ricky never said a word. Because they were waiting until you told them. Until you decided to let them in on whatever situation you were in. Niel was willing to wait but Ricky, Ricky had always been impatient.

And now wasn’t any different from any other time in which this topic was brought up as Ricky stared off into space, “When will that be?”

He had pinned her down. It was difficult to do but he did it. She wasn’t getting away, he would see to that. His hands gripped down onto , keeping her in place. He didn’t want to kill her. As the snow fell down onto his face, blurring his vision, as he spotted the goose bumps on her neck, and as he held her there, feeling her heartbeat through her carotid artery, he didn’t want to kill her. But, if he didn’t, she would come after him again. She would come after him again as soon as he let her go. As soon as he gave her even the slightest chance.

Because that was what she did. She hunted their kind. She killed their kind. She killed werewolves. Because she was a hunter. A real one.

She realized this. She realized that his grip remained the same on her neck, holding her as though she were glass. And she took advantage of it, letting her hands come reaching up before brushing away the snow that had stuck to his hair, her lips tantalizing him with the way they curved into a slight smile. And her voice, her gruff voice that only added to her innate attractiveness, whispered to him, “You’re the gentle type.”

He didn’t respond. He remained there, simply a paperweight to her. A paperweight that held down what it needed to without damaging what was beneath. He was gentle in that sense. And, she wanted to toy with him. With that kind look in his eyes.

“But, I’m not so gentle, you know?” Her lips faltered into a frown, her eyes looking down, her eyelashes fluttering, sending him into a trance as he watched her. As he studied his prey, still unsure of what he should do. However, he didn’t know that she had been studying him, even now, as her own prey.

Her hands left his hair and trailed down his stomach. She didn’t expect him to react to it, and he didn’t. He did react, however, as she let her hands slip down, gripping onto the hem of her long sweater and pulling it upwards. Pulling it upwards to reveal her bare stomach. And the sight caused him to retreat. Not the sight of her stripping, because that’s not what she was doing.  What caused him to back away from her was the sight of what was strapped around her thigh. The thing her fingers tugged on and produced from beneath the hem of her sweater. That’s what made him back away.

The sight of the gun she had hidden there.

He had seen what happened to Dongwoo. He had been witness to the storm of bullets that headed towards Dongwoo and sent him falling to the ground until Zico told him to do what he was best at. To divide and conquer. He was thus forced to flee to draw them away from each other. To draw away the two hunters who had ambushed them this morning as he, Dongwoo, and Zico entered Springfield after the others through the low mountains in the north, heading to their home. To where the other werewolves were at at this current point in time, Zico’s pack’s home. They hadn’t gone ahead with Sungyeol, Sungjong, P.O., and U-kwon so that they could scout the area for trailing hunters. And that’s exactly what they found in the form of a woman with short brown hair and a woman with long maroon colored hair.

Two female hunters. But, these two were smart. Much smarter than the scouts who had been attempting to follow their trail all this time. They were smart enough to know that they had the element of surprise when they first showed up. And they made use of it, eliminating one of them as quickly as possible. And they chose the second strongest one among them. They chose Dongwoo. Zico stayed with him while B-bomb led them away, and where Zico is now, he had no idea. B-bomb had no idea.

The woman in front of him now was tenacious. She had been after him for a long while now, even after he sent her maroon haired friend packing, effectively knocking her unconscious by bashing her into a tree. He knew it wouldn’t kill her, he just wanted to be rid of her. And then, a third one showed up. A woman with long flaming red hair showed up and the two had been after him since, both going out on their own as they attempted to corner them. The woman with flaming red hair wasn’t here now but she could be any second.

He was getting annoyed with this whole situation. Only now did he understand the frustrations Hoya must have felt when they chased him through the forest day after day back in August.

The woman with short brown hair remained unaffected by the cold wind that struck her bare face as she held her gun steady on him. B-bomb wasn’t Sungjong. He wasn’t able to react fast enough to have the hope of avoiding a bullet. The woman’s smile was still on her lips, mocking him and making him wish he had ended her when he had the chance, “You should be more careful next time. You can never tell what a woman has beneath her clothes.”

What happened next was a blur. It was a blur as the woman’s gun was knocked from her hand and in front of B-bomb appeared a familiar back with long black hair trailing down it.

“Jiyeon, what the hell are you doing here?” He growled at her who tsked in response before answering. 

“You brought some friends back from London. You don’t have time to be playing games, little bro.” Jiyeon didn’t take her eyes off of the woman in front of her, a glare in her eye on instinct as another female, albeit not werewolf, presented herself. It didn’t take a single second for B-bomb to go running off, disappearing with the wind that continued to bat at Jiyeon’s face, flipping her ponytail this way and that.

“A brother and sister pair?” The woman was intrigued by it as she inspected Jiyeon, finding the two looked stunningly alike. “Yet, not in the same pack. Interesting.”

Jiyeon ignored her words and instead made her own deduction, “You’re the type that goes soft on men, right?” That caught the woman’s attention who proceeded to lock eyes with Jiyeon as her smile returned. Jiyeon flexed her fingers, preparing her body for a fight after having not been in one of so long. So long that she ached to be in one, “Let’s not hold back, shall we?”

She was washing her hands in the sink, her expression livid. To anyone else, it would have looked as though she were simply going about her day, a natural expression. But, you saw it. You saw her expression for what it was. Anger filled. Furious. She was seething in her rage, she was simply holding back as she washed her hands. The thick red blood that stained them moments ago went swirling down the drain.

She had helped Dongwoo, your mother. When she showed up as she did and saw his condition, she didn’t hesitate to take lead of the situation. She tended to him.

You were thankful she did. The bullet in his stomach was restricting his breathing, hindering him much more than the others. What others? As he sat up in the tub, allowing her to pull him onto the floor where she could get a better look at him, you saw his back. His back that had at least five bullet wounds. The reason he was coated with blood when he first arrived. You wouldn’t have been able to deal with that alone. So, you were thankful.

But, you knew she didn’t like him. She had told you as such multiple times. Yet, that only made the fact that she helped him now something you should be grateful for all the more. She didn’t even ask a single question as to why he had the wounds he did. She simply treated him. She disinfected the wounds after pulling the bullets out, refusing to let you get close to him while she worked, before she bandaged him up. You could only watch from afar, peeking into the living room from the doorway despite her glaring at you every time she caught you doing so. And so now laid Dongwoo on the couch in the living room, his bare upper body wrapped up in fresh bandages as he breathed peacefully.

You exhaled in relief that he was alright and your mind briefly thought about getting your phone and trying to call Sunggyu and Hoya again before your mother’s next words stopped them.

 “He asked to see you.” She voiced, her tone one of indifference as she leaned back onto the counter and crossed her arms against her chest. You pivoted, about to go to him when she continued, “I told him no.”

She did what? She told him no? That he couldn’t see you? You knew she didn’t like him but you couldn’t at the very least see him? You were about to question her when she spoke first.

“But, you’re going to do it anyway.” Her tone had changed. There was and underlying message that you caught. An underlying message that said, “even though I don’t want you to, you’ll always do it.” The meaning was obvious but it alluded to something. It were as though she knew everything. About those bullet wounds in Dongwoo’s back. About who Dongwoo was. About what his friends were. About what had happened here in Springfield. And again, before you could question her further, she dismissed you, “I’m going to sleep. The roads are dangerous so even if he tries to leave, make him stay.” The roads are dangerous, yes, but again there was something else beneath the meaning of her words. But, she passed by you and disappeared up the stairs before you could formulate a way to respond.

You decided to let it go for now. To let it go and instead walk into the living room and do the thing she didn’t want you to do. See Dongwoo.

And you did. He was lying there, his lips parted as his chest heaved up and down slowly. You came to halt at his side before sitting there, your legs crossed as you watched him. A single question flittered into your mind. A question you voiced out loud, whispering so as not to wake him, “What happened to you, Dongwoo?”

Fear gripped you, squeezing down onto your lungs. You felt your breaths go rough. Your chest felt as though a stack of books laid on top of it. If this happened to Dongwoo, where the others okay? You were seized by your thoughts, the dream you had so long ago of Woohyun lying limp on the ground coming back to you. The sight of Jaehyo bleeding out by the trunk of a tree came back to you.

You were pulled out of your daze as you felt a slight tingle run down your spine. Someone was watching you. The person who was lying in front of you right at this very moment was watching you. Dongwoo had woken up at the sound of you calling his name and had been watching you as you stared at him with clouded over eyes. Only when he saw the look in your irises change, your eyes finally seeing him, did his lips come together and hitch upwards.

He smiled at you as he laid there, “There you are.” He was looking for you. He was looking for you when he came to multiple times. And each time, to the woman who looked like you, who had your eyes, your lips, who even had your usual, natural expression, he asked if he could see you. He asked the woman he knew to be your mother despite never meeting her if he could see you. And she would say no. She would refuse him, rejecting his pleas. Yet, here you were beside him. Which meant that she must have allowed it in the end. For that and for mending his body, he was grateful to her.

“Here I am.” You smiled back at him, your elbows resting on the edge of the couch. He laughed once, lightly, because right after he felt his stomach tug and slight pain return to him. He lifted up his arm as much as he could manage in his condition and held his hand out towards you. He wanted you to hold his hand. To feel your skin against his before he fell back asleep. To keep you with him even in his slumber.

Fortunately, you understood the action and laid your hand in his. His fingers spread out, forcing their way through your own, locking your hand in his. A small gasp came out of your mouth in response. You hadn’t expected that. You had never been so close to him before. Sure, he saved you from falling over twice but other than that, skin to skin contact with Dongwoo was unknown territory. And the forces on your side were losing the battle to claim it. You were losing to the warmth that started at the tips of your fingers and spread up your arm, slowly overtaking you. You were losing, and you were okay with that.

You inspected his face, noticing he was more toned as well. His fuchsia colored hair was fluffy, freshly dried. The effects of having just been taken out of the shower.

Hoya was right. Completely right.

You had to see Dongwoo. And now that you had, you couldn’t help but feel as though Hoya undersold exactly how good he looked with that wild hair of his. The kind of hair only he could pull off. The color of which matched the tint of his lips. His lips that took slow breaths as he looked at you, his eyes on you until the moment in which they closed and he fell asleep with your hand locked in his.

A/N:

So, whilst writing I watched Japanese music videos (Kyary Pamyu Pamyu anyone? Pon Pon Way Way Way? No? Okay...). Oh, and VIXX with "On and On." Whoa, that video man. The eyes and the eyemakeup and the suits. What, plot line? Who can pay attention to that when six men walk in with blindfolds on? What's with all the chains and blindfolds and y music coming out lately? (I'm looking at you Jaejoong, CNBLUE, and VIXX.) Not that I mind. Keep it coming. (VIXX, I need therapy for becoming addicted to this song. Oh, I ain't playing around!)

Ahem, back to this chapter. There was a Dongwoo scene that I appreciated despite it being oh-so-subtle. Another scene with the man in chains! Have you figured out who it is yet? You should have an idea by now. Jiyeon shows up and a real fight begins? Oh, so exciting! So many things happened that I can't even name them all! Did you like it? It didn't end on a cliffhanger this time, though I'm sure you guys are still just as curious as I am about what's going to happen next. 

Oh, there's also a new poster for this chapter that I experimented with because I have nothing better to do~

Another Dongwoo scene in the next chapter.

For plot's sake. Not because I'm getting overly zealous about all the Dongwoo scenes. Promise~ 

EDIT: For a moment, before you start awing over how many times Dongwoo got shot, think about it. You can't take down a powerhouse werewolf like Dongwoo easily. Is one bullet enough? No. Six? Yes.