Three
Wolf's Bane
It was nearly midnight when Chanyeol had gotten back to the dorm, wanting to go back through the bathroom window if it were possible. From a distance, he saw the black plastic bag covering the damage. He winced, knowing that the manager would be furious, if not already steaming; the others may have gotten the tongue lashing they didn’t deserve.
Mismatched eyes peered between the light shower, large wings moving automatically to keep him airborne. He sailed closer, careful not to make a wrong move and get caught. There were some of them who liked to shower late at night, no matter what the circumstance. Hovering near the window, he listened carefully, sniffling the air for any immediate sign of the others.
There was no one inside, thankfully. But there wasn’t a way to really emerge from the bathroom without raising questions--he never did come through the front door. Quickly rethinking his decision, he rounded the building and peered at the fire escape, groaning inwardly and quickly changing his direction to the sky.
Jongin had never been able to keep his desires in check for long. Kyungsoo, the poor boy, couldn’t stand a chance against resisting the overexcited Kim.
The rooftop was vacant, thankfully, giving a clear landing for the twenty one year old. The fur receded from pale skin and sharp teeth dulled; the beast shrunk into the form of the human that it was. The wings remained, however, when a thought occurred to him.
He had no pants.
Cursing under his breath, he loped over to the edge where another complex was nearby, scouring the clotheslines for something usable. Finding a pair of jeans that may just fit him, he swooped down and grabbed them, wasting no time in hiding himself from the biting winds. Back on the roof, the wings dissipated in a blanket of fire. Still bare-foot, Chanyeol yanked open the metal door and descended the stairs to the dorm’s floor.
It took no time getting there, the soaked jeans [which, he now found, had belonged to a woman with very thin legs] clung to his frame, his hair and limbs sprinkling the cold tiles with rainwater. He wiped, not for the first time, water away from his flattened hair that threatened to drip into his eyes. No matter how many times he swept his hair back, it always ended back up in his face somehow.
He’d gotten to the tenth floor, padding hesitantly to the two hundred twelfth door. He stood there for a few minutes, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. His fist rose, hanging in the air inches away from the metal door.
Tap-tap.
He opened on of the eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed, as if bracing for impact, noticing that no one had come to the door. Feeling a bit braver, he tried again with a bit more force.
No answer.
A light frown shadowing his features, he tried the lock. He hadn’t touched the knob properly before the door swung inward. Cautiously, he slid inside through the small opening, unable to really stretch in the rather cramped pair of jeans he’d ‘borrowed.’ The hall was quiet, the living room a shade of silence that never really suited their dorm. Slowly, he slinked into the living room, finding it eerily quiet and empty. Remembering the time, though he crept into the kitchen and couldn’t even find Min Shuo sneaking ice cream.
Frown deep-set in place, Chanyeol veered for the bedrooms, pace stilted because of the jeans. After a few more steps, he stopped and yanked them off, balling up the wad of wet clothing in his hand and making his way toward his shared bedroom. On his way, he checked all of the others’ quarters.
The place was deserted.
Opting not to look the gift horse in its mouth, he took a quick shower and donned a quick gray t-shirt and faded jeans along with a pair of white socks. He was still towel-drying his hair, getting ready to get comfortable on the couch when the door swung open and various grumblings could be heard.
“It’s been hours,” Zitao’s voice sounded over the others.
“He couldn’t have gone too far,” Suho reasoned. “I’m sure he’s--.”
Wu Fan was the first to storm into the living room, his eyes uncannily linking with that of Chanyeol’s. In the blink of an eye, a force toppled the lanky rapper and left him sprawled unceremoniously in the couch. Wide eyed and brows knitted together, Chanyeol brought into hurried focus, the face of his assailant.
Wu Fan glared hard at the raven haired rapper, small mouth drawn back into a sneer.
“Have you lost your ing mind, Chanyeol?” The Chinese roared, nostrils flaring. There was a thick silence; no one dared to move.
“If you keep shouting, it may just run out of my ears for its life,” Chanyeol retorted automatically, skin already paling in the midst of the smart remark.
Large hands fisted the gray shirt and tugged the slightly shorter man upward at an awkward angle until their faces were inches apart. “Damn it all, Chanyeol, you could have been killed out there! There are hunters everywhere in Seoul and you know that. Even stalking fans aren’t out there for fun!”
Before Chanyeol could utter another word, he was yanked into a fierce hug, feeling the tension bleed out of the older man’s body. Wu Fan’s arms had started to tremble, but had tightened the embrace to mask it. Discreetly, the others filed into their own rooms and the kitchen, as far away from a once-raging Wu Fan as possible without actually leaving the dorm.
Wincing, Chanyeol brought his own arms around the other, awkwardly returning the hug. “I can take care of myself, Wu Fan,” he murmured, rolling his eyes where the other couldn’t see it. “No need to overreact.”
Wu Fan jerked them both apart, holding Chanyeol at arm’s length. The older Chinese had a wild look in his eyes that had Chanyeol a bit unsettled. Then, he was hauled by his elbow to the room they shared, the taller man closing and locking it behind them in one swift motion.
“Not overreact?” Wu Fan echoed, pushing the other onto the bed and remaining at his spot standing at the foot. “Over what? A giant hole in the wall where a window used to be about ten levels from the ground? A higher water bill that has nothing to do with us?”
By then, Chanyeol was sitting up with a sheepish expression on his face. He knew he should have expected this.
Wu Fan pointing in the direction of the door. “There was blood on the glass,” he seethed vehemently. “Overreact? That would the last thing I’d do, right? You’d disappeared, Park Chanyeol. ing disappeared!”
The frustrated young man threw his hands in the air, carding his fingers through the short locks, and turning away for a moment to compose himself. He turned back toward Chanyeol, hands covering his face. With a heavy sigh, he dropped into a squat, hands dangling over his knees, gaze carefully turned away from his younger lover.
Feeling bad, Chanyeol released his own sigh, leaning over to grab the other by his wrists, tugging him toward the bed. The other didn’t resist allowing himself to be tugged toward the mattress to lie beside the twenty-one year old. Chanyeol wrapped his arms around the other, settling Wu Fan’s head near his chest.
“I’m sorry, love,” he apologized, contrite. “I just had to go out for a run. I promise not to scare you like that again, but you know how it is when the urge hits.” After not getting a response, he added, “I’ll leave a love note next time…with that little drawing of Ace that you like so much…”
“Go to hell,” he heard the other mutter into his shirt.
Chanyeol finally let loose the chuckle that was bubbling in his chest and placed a chaste kiss to Wu Fan’s forehead, lifting the other’s chin to place one squarely on his mouth.
Wu Fan settled back, using his right hand to hold Chanyeol’s face in place, fixing the slightly shorter man with a piercing gaze. “You know I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you, don’t you? Look at me,” he said when the Chanyeol had averted his gaze. At length, the rapper reconnected his gaze with his lover. “You mean the world to me; no one can tell you otherwise--not even me. Nothing is going to take you away from me while I’ve breath in my body.”
Wu Fan moved his hand from the other’s face and Chanyeol stole the opportunity to hang his head. The guilt eating at him was cancerous. It made him heavy and his heart struggle to operate. The look in his lover’s eyes was too sincere. Why couldn’t he be one of the flaky men out there who only say things to gain points with the other party? Why couldn’t Wu Fan be a playboy like the fans think? Why couldn’t he just--.
“You know it’s true, Yeolie,” Wu Fan added.
Immediately, the older Chinese found himself with an armful of a suddenly amorous Korean man.
Dear God, Chanyeol prayed fervently. Protect this man.
“Because you sent us all on a wild goose chase,” Suho declared the following morning over breakfast. “We’ll be going to Mother at midnight tonight. She’s supposed to bloom soon and we have to be there to support.”
Chanyeol fought the urge to become small where he sat. He’d been riddled with pokes and jibes since the day started about them having to look for him and become subjected to a rampaging Wu Fan for the better part of the night.
“I knew it was bad to let you go to the bathroom all by yourself,” Zitao piped up.
Chanyeol scowled. “You were dead asleep. And how many times--.”
“Stop it,” Wu Fan snapped. “Chanyeol already apologized, now drop it. Act your ages for once and eat your breakfast with dignity. Kyungsoo won’t like it if you waste his food in a meaningless food fight.”
Jongin immediately ate the egg roll he had poised to launch across the table using his fork.
Chanyeol was silent for the rest of the meal, as were the others, only this time, his mind raced, trying to figure a way out of going to meet Mother with the others. He’d managed before to skip runs with the others after he’d turned twenty after they’d debuted. He was alarmingly grateful for the reprieve when they weren’t allowed to run for so long. He had wanted to run alone at one point, and then his transformation went south.
He remembered the look of absolute horror when he looked at himself in the mirror in one of the larger changing rooms. He’d never reverted so quickly in his entire life. Since then, he’d spent late nights even after harsh training to research his condition and even contacted his parents for information. It was then that his mother had given him a letter and the Black Pearl.
Ever since then, he’d been afraid. The fear back then, however, couldn’t even begin to measure with the despair he’d been feeling lately. From the day of revelation to now, he’d kept that Pearl close to his heart.
Literally.
“Chanyeol.”
“Huh?” Chanyeol blinked, looking around at expectant gazes.
“You’ve been staring at your food for the past ten minutes, Yeolie,” Min Shuo pointed out. “Something on your mind?”
Chanyeol opened his mouth, quickly trying to think of something to cover himself and blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I was thinking about birds with wings.”
He was immediately met with a sharp kick from beneath the table from Baekhyun. He gave a shout of surprise and pain, glaring at his attacker.
“Only you, Chanyeol,” Sehun commented, shaking his head.
“That, Chanyeol,” Jongin said, “has to be single-handedly one of the stupidest things you’ve ever said to us.”
Chanyeol made a face. “Only if I told them you were actually responsible.”
Instant chaos.
Crisis averted, he thought with an inward sigh of relief.
“Come on, let’s go, guys!” Jongin vaulted over the sofa, already charging for the door. It was nearly midnight, the boys dressed lightly in tanks and shorts to make the transformation easier on them all. Chanyeol entered the living room last, considerably more sedately than the others, donning his own black tank and dark gray shorts.
“Calm down,” Kyungsoo admonished. “Mother’s not going to run away, you know.”
“Let him be excited,” Jongdae chuckled, ruffling Jongin’s hair as he opened the door. They spilled out into the hallway, skates in hand as they raced, sock-footed to the elevator. Jongin whispered harshly over his shoulder for Kyungsoo to hurry up, and Lu Han carried two pairs of skates, one of them being Sehun’s. Jongdae and Tao raced for first place while Wu Fan just dragged Chanyeol behind him by the wrist.
When they were set free on the ground floor, they slipped and slid and tumbled their way over to the outer steps of the complex.
“I say we race,” Jongin piped up again, casting the others a challenging look.
“Then we go in threes,” Suho agreed. “All neutral teams. Wu Fan, Tao and Yixing. Jongin, Jongdae and Baekhyun. Me, Chanyeol and Min Shuo. Sehun, Kyungsoo and Lu Han. Let’s see which of Mother’s children are the best.”
Chanyeol had ditched Min Shuo and Suho fifteen minutes into the run, making sure that he would neither be heard nor seen as he veered off course. The Korean rapper nearly abandoned the skates halfway to the park, opting to shift and fly to his destination with the things in his jowls along with his clothes. He couldn’t allow them to see his eyes. The Pearl did many things, but it didn’t mask his entire being.
Above, he glimpsed the other eleven, twisting and turning through the city blocks as they raced to the finish. Tearing his mismatched gaze away, he gave his wings a mighty flap and hurried to get to the lake. Feeling he was a safe distance away from the others, he touched down and ran full speed to the west, almost ecstatic at the feel of the ground beneath his paws. Once at the gate, hopped over and flew low, abandoning his clothes at the edge of the lake and diving in, reverting save for the wings on his back.
Breaking the barrier, Chanyeol, unprepared, fell to the hard stone ground in a heap. Coughing from the sudden pressure lifting from his lungs and the little bit of air left in them being forced out from the impact, he got to his feet. Looking ahead to where Mother was supposed to be, his eyes widened at the half grown tree. It was almost as tall as an orange tree, its branches barren. There were no leaves, just like it was portrayed in their many promotions. It had a striking resemblance to a dead oak tree.
His hand automatically traveled to his chest, the urge to check the tiny flame strong; he resisted, however, not knowing what effect it would have on Mother.
The very one to destroy his life as he knew it.
It wasn’t long before the others also broke the barrier, meeting Chanyeol staring at the tree, eyes back to their usual chocolate brown.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to meet the smug expression of his lover. “Good job, Chanyeol,” he said, brushing his lips across the slightly shorter man’s forehead.
“Cheat,” Jongin accused with a pout.
“Don’t pout,” Kyungsoo lectured. “You’ll age badly.”
“They put gallons of makeup on me, babe,” Jongin reminded drolly. “If I age any worse, I’ll be dust by the time I hit thirty-five.”
“Smartass.”
“Watch your tongue,” Suho scolded. Everyone hushed, grouping into their staggered form, walking toward the tree.
The markings scaled their skin.
Chanyeol struggled to breathe, keeping his anxiety under control before the others could call him out on it. He watched the others’ backs, mimicking them as they dropped to their knees and laid their foreheads on clasped fists.
Chanyeol raised his head marginally, watching the others warily, and keeping an eye on Mother.
Don’t go wrong; don’t go wrong; don’t go wrong…
The earth warmed beneath them and strobes of orange light slithered from them and the Tree of Life, conjoining midway between both parties. They flickered, and the ones from the group’s had died, the other halves retreating into the giant roots of the tree. They spiraled upward and spread into twelve different branches.
“Hello,” they chorused. “Mother.”
Chanyeol stood along with the others, gazing at the tree intently, struggling to swallow the lump in his throat, tottering between relief and strain.
The others watched, in awe, as twelve orange fruits blossomed, bloomed, filled up and ripened like inflating balloons, each dropping to the ground and rolling to their feet.
They promptly rotted and withered away with an ashen hiss.
Confused, all turned their gaze toward the cracking sound coming from the tree. They stared, horror struck, as thorns broke through the trunk of the oak tree, slithering and winding around it.
“That’s not supposed to be happening,” Baekhyun swallowed. He looked to Min Shuo. “Is that supposed to be happening?” His gaze darted back to the tree. “I don’t think that’s supposed to be happening.”
“I highly doubt the fruits are supposed to rot,” the eldest responded, moving toward the tree. The thorns seemed to bite into the bark, a sickly dark fluid running from the puncture wounds.
“What the hell happened?” Zitao questioned, also breaking formation and standing just behind the eldest member.
“Who cares what happened,” Jongin said. “Just fix it. Yixing, you’re a healer. Do that healing thing you do.”
“But you don’t know--,” Kyungsoo interjected.
“We’re Mother’s children,” Jongdae placated the doe-eyed one. “I’m sure he can do something.” He looked over to the man in question. “Yixing?”
Without missing a beat, the markings on Yixing glowed a hard orange and he put his hands against the tree. He was hardly there for more than twenty seconds or so before he was thrown back by an invisible force. He flew back with a surprised cry, landing hard with a breathless grunt.
“Holy crap!” Came the surprised shout from Jongin. “What the hell was that?”
Chanyeol swallowed hard, wide-eyed as the others, left hand itching to check the Pearl.
Sehun moved toward the tree and ran a finger over the vine, the object undulating under his touch. He pulled his hand away with a disturbed expression. “What in the…”
“We need to tell the Manager about this,” Suho declared, helping the fallen man to his feet. “This doesn’t seem right at all.”
“Good idea,” Wu Fan agreed.
Chanyeol stood a ways off, heart hammering in his chest as he looked on. His widened eyes were tugged helplessly back to the now thorn-choked, dead oak tree. He felt the nerves in his fingers tingle, wanting so badly to fall to his knees and tear his hair out; smash the Pearl; kick and scream at the unfairness of it all.
He didn’t do anything to deserve what he knew was coming.
“Love,” Wu Fan’s voice came from right beside him, making him start. Wu Fan looked at him quizzically. “Are you alright?“
Chanyeol hesitated for a second before nodding. “I’m fine.“
“Then let’s go. The others may just be halfway to the surface by now.“
With that, they both went back into the watery clutches of the lake, Chanyeol a good distance behind, an acute chill near his heart and a tiny voice at the back of his mind:
Dear Chanyeol,
When you open this, you’d have long ago forgotten me. But I’ve written this to tell you things you should never forget…
A/N: Oh dear God, I screwed that up, I think. But this is your third chapter in as many days. Please forgive me for any mistakes you may have seen.
As for their abilities, they’ll be explained in later chapters. So please don’t hate me. I hope you’ve enjoyed because I managed to cut down the eight-page estimation by one.
Dear Lord, I’m such a fail.
COMMENT PLEASE. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT MIRACLES THOSE COMMENTS CAN PERFORM.
So for those lovely people who are still around. I'm going to reread this and do my best to complete it. Thanks a bunch for not giving up lol, even if you prolly forgot this thing.
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