eighteen ;

If there was one thing that Hyukjae had learned over the past few weeks, it was to catch on the kinds of moods that Donghae was in. It was a bit like having a small mystery to resolve every day. Or maybe owning a little puppy with temper issues.

It was like a puzzle to guess Donghae’s frame of mind. Hyukjae would observe the way that Donghae looked at him; the way he talked; the way he moved and owned the room that he stood in. There was the mood where Donghae was playful, almost mischievous, and he would spend his time teasing Hyukjae. Often, too, he would be clingy or quiet. And other times, clingy and moody. Occasionally as well, Donghae would be in an obvious bad mood.

Such as today.

Today’s mood was—for lack of better words—wrong. Hyukjae could feel it gnawing at his insides, an uneasy feeling that stirred painfully at the bottom of his stomach. If he had been any good at describing his emotions, Hyukjae would have written pages and pages on the storm of restlessness that was wreaking havoc within him. All he could tell, however, was that something was just very, very wrong.

There was no playfulness in Donghae’s behavior that day—no clinginess, not even a hint of his usual moodiness. An eerie silence had settled around him, and he seemed determined to use it as a shield. His blue eyes avoided Hyukjae’s concerned looks with a firm stubbornness. They kept dancing away, as if playing a game that felt much too dangerous to Hyukjae.

Hyukjae sighed. His throat closed up painfully, forcing him to gulp around tight knots of anxiety. Hyukjae closed his eyes for a brief second, and then glanced up again at Donghae across the bedroom. He picked up a random book on his left, just to have something to occupy his hands.

Donghae was sitting on the floor and against the wall, just below the windows. Weak sunlight was beaming around him like a halo through the half-open curtains. The contrast between morning brightness and the darker shade of the bedroom was captivating. It made Donghae look as though he was fading slowly into the foreground, like a quiet and comforting shadow. Or maybe it was the other way around, and it was the décor that wished to blend with Donghae. Sometimes, a flicker of warm light would shine right across Donghae’s face, and his tanned skin would appear almost golden in the winter light.

Behind Donghae, the windows showed the odd shapes of a few scattered clouds. The sun was struggling slightly to rise amongst them in the dusty blue sky, but it seemed bright and warm, promising better weather than the last few days. On the ground, a fresh layer of snow from the night before was glittering under the sunshine.

Such nice weather made Hyukjae feel somewhat bitter. He wasn’t sure whether to be glad, or wish that there were snow storms, to match both of his and Donghae’s moods.

And then, of course, there were the woods. After the unusual silence of a night ago, today’s agitation was nothing if striking. There were howls, and whimpers, and menacing growls. Hyukjae had even managed to catch brief glimpses of a few familiar wolves, and that—that meant that something was wrong. He just knew it did.

Hyukjae frowned, troubled. His fingers were holding onto the cover of his book in a tight grip. He forced himself to calm down before he could damage it, then brought his knees close to his chest and chanced another glance at Donghae.

For once, Donghae wasn’t bothering Hyukjae even though he had been ignoring him in favor of studying. He had been staring at several pictures of wolves that Hyukjae had left him borrow instead, frowning sternly. A weary sigh would slip through his lips every once in a while, and Hyukjae would look up concernedly. But silence remained.  

As if on cue, Donghae released a low sound caught between a growl and a hiss.

Hyukjae squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Oh, of course he knew what was wrong. It wasn’t that hard to figure out.

Donghae was sad and pained and restless. Wolves were wandering around Hyukjae’s house as if demanding the presence of their leader. The interest that Donghae held for Jungsoo’s picture was seriously edging on unhealthy at this point.

It dawned on Hyukjae like sinking in a barrel of cement. Slow, heavy, immobilizing. Bile rose up his throat as his stomach clenched and twisted painfully. Tears were already forming at the corners of his eyes, even before his thoughts had finished to form in his head.

“,” Hyukjae mumbled under his breath. His voice wavered, broke.

Donghae snapped his head up, blinking. “What?” he frowned.

“No, sorry,” Hyukjae hurried to reassure him. He took a deep breath, and it burned all the way down. “I just—… I just, I just realized something really important.”

Skeptical, Donghae gave him a searching look, and then sighed again.

.

*

One day was a ridiculously short amount of time, and yet Donghae was still wasting it like an idiot, moping. There he was, doing absolutely nothing, while he could have spent a memorable afternoon with Hyukjae instead. Today might be their last together; he did not want Hyukjae’s last memory of him to be one of sulking. Donghae should be trying to make it meaningful; make it the promise of a new, better beginning.

What good would brooding bring him, anyway? Donghae wasn’t one to usually regret his behavior, but the helplessness that he was feeling at that moment was too strong to ignore. It ached and burned, as if trying to hurt him into action. The urge to make the most of what he had left with Hyukjae was so great, that he was left unsure about what to do. Procrastination had never felt as toxic. Donghae wanted to do everything and anything, but those had no names, so it simply became nothing.

Should they go on a date? he wondered. Or stay at home? Perhaps just watch a movie and cuddle until the very last second?

Donghae—Donghae didn’t know.

“You’re such an idiot,” Donghae grumbled to himself, just in case his brain hadn’t fully grasped it yet. He wanted to jump onto his feet, rush into action and just do something. But he couldn’t find it in himself to stand up—couldn’t even seem to be able to make himself move. “Such a ing—”

“Language,” Hyukjae chided him distractedly. He sounded light and relaxed, which contrasted violently with Donghae’s own restlessness.

Donghae grimaced. And then looked up tentatively. The sight of Hyukjae, standing there so close and yet so far, was like a punch in the stomach. Trembling slightly, Donghae sent him a half-longing, half-accusing stare. The corners of Hyukjae’s lips twitched up in amusement, clear sign that he had seen everything, even though his eyes never left his book for even one second.

Look at me, Donghae wanted to beg. Please, please, just please look at me.

“And don’t stare at me like that either,” Hyukjae added with a snicker. He glanced up, grinning mischievously. “You started it.”

“Someday soon,” Donghae declared seriously, “I’ll make you spit out something even worse than the stuff I say.”

Hyukjae’s soft chuckles turned into a full-blown laugh. Donghae could feel it spread and echo around the bedroom, around him, and he had to close his eyes for a second. Tight little knots of anxiety fell down his throat like pebbles thrown into a puddle of dirty water. What if I never get to hear this again? What if it’s the last time I ever get to be like this with him? The last sounds of Hyukjae’s laugh died out, and pebbles transformed into heavy rocks.

Donghae wished fervently that it wasn’t some kind of premonition of his future.

Hyukjae didn’t even bother dignifying Donghae’s sulky words with a proper answer. Instead, he dropped his book on the bed next to him and straightened up. A soft smile was playing on his plump lips when their eyes finally met.

. Donghae’s heartbeat sped up within his chest. He had to bite his lips to stop himself from devouring Hyukjae alive. The urgency of their last day together was burning up through him once again, tight and eager and spreading like wildfire.

There was something slightly ironic about having to tame down animal urges when one was, in fact, a shapeshifting wolf.

“What?” Donghae demanded. He meant for it to be defensive, or maybe enticing, but it sounded quiet and almost desperate even to his own ears. “What do you want?”

Hyukjae cocked his head to the side. He slid a little closer, but not nearly enough. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Hyukjae glanced outside the windows and frowned for a fraction of second, before he was already looking at Donghae again. His smile widened ever so slightly, soft and somewhat bittersweet.

Donghae felt his heart tug painfully. He stayed quiet. Something unsaid was shared in the silence between the two of them, like a jinx that neither of them was willing to say out loud. Maybe it would disappear if they tried to forget about it completely.

Maybe it was just a bad dream.

“That’s a good question, isn’t it?” Hyukjae paused. His voice seemed to waver, seemed to break a little. “And you, what do you want?”

Does he know? Panic seemed to punch Donghae in the throat. There was something in the way Hyukjae had spoken, a slight quiver in the sounds of his level voice, an odd glint that had flashed across his eyes when he had looked at him, that made Donghae feel cold inside. Does he know? Donghae wondered again as he looked away hastily.

“What do you mean?” Donghae asked harshly.

Hyukjae shrugged. His confidence deflated as fast as it had appeared. “I don’t know,” he replied uncomfortably. His fingers wrung themselves together in a painful pattern, until he firmly squeezed them between his thighs. “I—… I really don’t… know.”

They fell silent again. Maybe Hyukjae wanted to make the most of what they had left, too. But just like Donghae, he had no idea how.

The silence went on for a long, long time.

*

Hyukjae couldn’t hold any of his thoughts together. Millions of them were invading his mind, each as wrecked as the last. They kept tumbling messily one upon another, as though the tread that was meant to keep them in line had been entirely broken. It was a constant threat to Hyukjae’s sanity. Hyukjae had tried to understand, but failed to make any sense out of his nonsensical reflections. He was torn between falling into restlessness, or some kind of deep, deep apathy. Everything that Hyukjae had tried to do that day, it had shattered into nothing, along with his fragile focus.

But not only his mind, Hyukjae was also strongly tempted to believe that time itself had been fractured. One moment he would be relatively engrossed in something, and the next, it would be an entirely different hour and place. Hyukjae would be at home, and in the next blink he was suddenly in class, or in the cafeteria for lunchbreak. He would catch himself staring into space, distracted by a heavy burden that was weighting down on his shoulders. It felt like something made of sadness and anger and dread, and Hyukjae wished to run the farthest away from it possible.

Donghae didn’t seem to fare any better either. He hadn’t said anything about leaving Hyukjae yet—because, well, that was what it was all about, wasn’t it? But then again, they hadn’t talked much about anything since earlier that morning.

Neither seemed willing to break their unspoken compromise of avoiding the truth as fiercely as they could.

Hyukjae had never needed to run away from reality as much as he did that day. He was half-tempted to squeeze his eyes shut and cover his ears, then shake his head to deny everything. Nothing definite had been said, but Hyukjae knew. He knew that Donghae was bound to leave him any day now. Or maybe even sooner. Because, if his suspicions were correct, then Jungsoo had indeed passed away, and Donghae—

Donghae had—he had responsibilities.

“Hyukjae?” Donghae called him in a soft voice.

Hyukjae blinked, and suddenly, he found himself sitting in the passenger seat of his car. He blinked again, staring outside the window in wonder. It was snowing, as seemed to be the norm these days. A few people were trying to make their way down the sidewalks without falling.

“Hyukjae.” Donghae’s tone was quiet. “Do you really need to study more? Can you take a break, just for the rest of the day?”

It was then that Hyukjae finally realized that they hadn’t taken the usual road back home. They were heading out of town, in the opposite direction of the woods. Hyukjae felt spikes of both thrill and apprehension. He stayed silent for a bit longer, until curiosity won over the rest of his conflicted feelings.

“Why?” Hyukjae asked. “Where are we going?” He turned around and smiled a little playfully. “Kidnapping me again? I see a pattern here, Mr. Lee.”

Hyukjae thought he saw a hint of relief flash across Donghae’s face. He bit hard onto his lower lip, quelling down the rush of guilt-anger-frustration that was threatening to surge up. The corners of his eyes were already starting to prickle slightly, and that was just not done.

“Yeah,” Donghae said, “I suppose I am, aren’t I?”

Tucking his hands under his thighs, Hyukjae nodded and smiled a tight smile. “Sounds fun.” He was somewhat amazed that pretending to be fine was almost as painful—if not more—as letting it all out. “Where are we going?” Hyukjae asked again.

Donghae glanced at him long enough to meet his eyes before he focused his attention back on the road. He looked mostly calm, but Hyukjae could tell from his hard stare and the tight grip that he had around the steering wheel that it was only in appearance.

It struck Hyukjae then that a good part of their relationship had been built right there, in the middle of his mother’s rusty car, while they had been on the road between places that forced them to hide. And today—today might be their last drive together for a very, very long time.

Another wave of sadness and anger washed violently over Hyukjae. He gritted his teeth, cursing the whole world and more for everything that was happening to him, to them, and closed his eyes for a brief instant.

Hyukjae wasn’t so sure against whom he felt the angriest—against Donghae, and it would feel like a betrayal, or against the situation itself. He wanted to shout, yell, scream his lungs out. But his frustration could find no focus, as his thoughts kept tormenting him relentlessly.

When will he leave? he died to know. Is the pack doing fine? Is Jungsoo-hyung really gone? But, most of all, will Donghae ever come back?

A warm hand brushed against the back of his own. Hyukjae startled slightly, snapped out of his thoughts. For a moment, it felt like he had just been pulled out from under water. Oxygen hit him like a punch in the stomach. It burned all the way down to his lungs to breathe.

“Do you trust me?” Donghae asked.

His simple question was loaded with thousands of meaning. Hyukjae knew that his answer would be, too.

“Yes.” And yet, there was no need to even think about it. “Against my better judgment, I’m sure,” Hyukjae then added with a breathy chuckle.

Donghae gave him