Chapter Text

The First Gate: Ash

Jimin knows he’s dreaming again. There’s water all around, inky night reflected above, and a full moon in a starless sky. There’s nothing like this in the city, and that’s the first clue. But it isn’t what gives it away. It’s his body. He’s not himself.

Instead, he inhabits the form of a great, black, dire wolf.

He’s powerful, every inch covered in strong, steady muscle. His breath is vaporous heat, and it plumes from his muzzle, rising into the night.

When he runs, his paws barely touch the ground, almost as if he’s floating. And there’s the other wolf in his dream, a glimmery soft coat of pure snow white— 

***

Jimin wakes with a start, the sheets tangled around his legs, covered in sweat. He rolls out of bed, miscalculating the space, and hitting the floor with a sickening thud. He’s not at home anymore, not sleeping on his queen-sized mattress, which is three hundred kilometers away in Busan.

It’s his first day as a college kid, living in Seoul with millions of other inhabitants. He misses home, even though he’d spent every day of summer waiting to come here. The cramped spaces have put quite the damper on his dreams of making it in the city.

The boy gets up from the cool linoleum, rubbing his shoulder as he heads to the bathroom. It’s the first spritz of cold water from the showerhead that tells Jimin he’d woken up too late, and his roommates have used up all the hot water. He groans miserably and grits his teeth for seven minutes, at which time, he decides he’s clean enough.

It’s seven to eight when Jimin gets on the shuttle, which is packed with all sorts of students in different states of kemptness. The boy’s mood is sour, and he clutches himself tightly for fear of bumping into someone else. By the time he gets to campus, he’s questioning every life decision that he’s ever had, that brought him here.

Then he has his first cup of coffee from a small shop inside the student center. And it’s the best coffee he’s ever had, strong, and dark, and mean. Jimin sighs and smiles to himself. Then he heads to class with renewed resolve.

***

“Is this seat taken?”

It’s a pretty girl with long wavy, brown hair. Jimin rubs his nose. Her perfume is a bit on the strong side, though he’s always had that sensitivity—

“No,” Jimin says, wishing he could move a chair to the left without being offensive. “Go ahead.”

The girl sits down and opens her book. “Thanks.”

The lecture hall slowly fills in, and he’s surprised by the number of people attending this morning physics lecture. In fact, if he thinks about it, there might be more people in this room than there are in the entire town that he grew up in.

“So? Where are you from?” the girl asks, turning to him, resting her pen on her cheek.

“Busan,” Jimin answers, that same itch to get away scratching in his skull—

“Oh!” the girl hums. “It must be quite a change.”

It is a change. Jimin’s weirdly agitated, so many sights and sounds going on around him. He’s not used to it. Even when he lived at home, in his tiny, boring town, where nothing happened, he often found that he was overwhelmed all the same.

“Yea,” Jimin says, “It is.”

“Well, if you ever need anything, you can always call me,” the girl offers, writing her number on a card and sliding it over. “I’m Mina, by the way-”

“Jimin.”

He takes the card and places it neatly in his binder, and he wonders if this is normal behavior for people in the city to so casually give out their numbers, but his thoughts cut off suddenly—

Jimin can’t put it entirely into words. He simply senses something is amiss. The hairs on his arms stand on end. The coffee swishes around uncomfortably in his empty stomach. Then Jimin sees him.

There’s a boy sitting behind him, six seats to his left. 

At the same time, it seems the boy has noticed him as well.

He has one of those faces, the kind that the more you look at it, the more charming it becomes. And for the life of him, Jimin can’t look away. The other boy is strangely pale with soft blonde hair and a delicate chin. And Jimin concludes that this is the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on.

The boy frowns at him, an urgent expression with a pucker between his brow. Jimin’s stomach floods with fear. He doesn’t understand his own growing alarm, what could be wrong with this boy, until a fraction of second later.

He doesn’t smell the same as everyone else.

Jimin tears his eyes away, looking down at his book. He pretends to read along to the lecture, but his ears are ringing and he can hardly hear the professor. What bizarre thoughts and feelings? Jimin doesn’t understand what’s happening at all.

Yet, it’s true. This stranger is different and dangerous. Somehow, Jimin simply knows.

The other boy types away at a small laptop, seemingly unaware of Jimin’s internal crisis. Yet, every so often he casts a look in Jimin’s direction, betraying the exact opposite. He knows that Jimin knows.

That boy is different.

Jimin’s whole body is tense, and he wishes he could get up and leave. He decides that he’ll peak over at the other boy one more time, just to see if he’s looking back-

He is.

The pale boy curiously glances at him, cheeks flushed pink, brows knit in confusion. He mouths some words that Jimin’s too panicked to read, as he turns back towards the front, lightning quick.

When the bell rings, signaling the end of class, Jimin notices the boy making his way to him. Anxiety takes over and Jimin rushes out of the hall, through the glass doors and over the grassy lawn to the street on the other side. He looks behind him to see if he’s being followed, breathing a sigh of relief when he finds that he’s not.

Jimin can’t reconcile his thoughts though. Who was that boy? 

More importantly, what was he?

***

There’s certainly no place better than the forest, miles of trees, and the distinct feeling of being free and open. The library is a good alternative. There are trees. Though, they are dead— and processed into sheets of paper, glued and bound together. The feeling still there though, people at their own tables, minding their own business. It’s solitary.

Jimin’s at his own desk, searching up things on his heavy, dated, brick of a laptop. He feels stupid for even putting it into the search bar, but he can’t seem to rectify his experience from that morning otherwise.

‘Why do some people smell different?’

As expected, the results are unhelpful, only a plethora of hygiene-related sites, none of which would explain why that boy was the way he was.

Jimin shivers, tugging his thin sweater more tightly around his shoulders. The more he thinks about the incident, the more he believes it was some sort of stress-related breakdown. And yet, even as he tries to convince himself, he knows it’s just the opposite. It really happened.

That boy was different and Jimin just knew it with every fiber of his being.

Jimin pauses typing, feeling his space invaded. There’s a short, sweet-faced girl standing in front of him. Before Jimin can ask what she wants, she smiles and bows, placing a drink on the table.

“Good luck with your studies, Oppa,” she hums before walking off with a giggle.

This is odd, right? Surely, people aren’t simply nice enough to buy drinks for complete strangers. Jimin thinks so. Only, it happens three more times, and the bottles start lining up at the edge of the table.

“Keep working hard, Oppa!”

“I hope you do well!”

“Fighting!”

Jimin’s utterly stunned by this, sinking into his seat, hoping the people around stop looking at him. And then—

The boy appears, the pale boy from the lecture hall. He sits two tables from him, cheeks flushed, eyelashes fluttering. He pretends he doesn’t notice Jimin looking at him as he settles in his spot, unzipping his bookbag.

Jimin’s senses are put on a razor’s edge. Slowly but surely, the scent of the stranger permeates the air, swirling around Jimin in invisible clouds. It’s not bad. It’s almost nice. The more Jimin breathes it in, the more he likes it. There’s a strong, distinct musk to it, beyond that there’s the subtle hint of citrus and sweet floral notes.

The pale boy flushes pinker. His eyes flicker up as if he senses what Jimin’s doing. Jimin looks down quickly, back at his laptop. His heart is pumping thick, thunderous liquid. He’s warm, heat biting at his neck so that he has to tug at his collar.

The boy stands, slowly walking over. Jimin recoils, his hands gripping the edge of the table for support. His mouth feels like it’s wired shut so that he can’t speak.

“H-Hello,” the boy murmurs, his smell even stronger up close.

Jimin can’t even begin to explain the pleasure that shoots down his spine.

The boy fidgets, infinitely embarrassed to be standing there. He’s slim, not exactly tall, but delicately made giving the illusion of long limbs—

“Um,” he grumbles. “G-Good luck with your studies.”

As Jimin quirks an eyebrow, the boy slides a small bottle of sweetened, green tea on the desk, right next to all the other tokens of affection. Then he’s gone, slipping away before Jimin can ask his name, back to his desk, where he hides his pretty face behind a book.

When Jimin decides he should walk over and introduce himself, the other boy is already gone. His spot is replaced by a girl and her boyfriend who have no intention of using the space to study

***

It’s nightfall, a hazy peace settled on the campus. It’s a day well done, with classes gone by successfully. Jimin trots briskly to the shuttle stop, ready to go home and sleep. There’s a receptacle glowing under an orange street light. It’s a perfect place to get rid of all the empty bottles he’s accumulated today.

But Jimin finds pause, holding a mostly drained green tea bottle, and thinking of the strange boy who’d given it to him. He can’t let it go; his fingers won’t cooperate. He slips the thing back into his pack, an odd sensation rolling through him that he doesn’t understand.

He strolls down the pathway, looking at his shoes, breathing in the cool, night air— and he’s hit with that scent again. Tentatively, he raises his head, looking around. He’s alone. The boy isn’t there, but the smell is. Jimin sniffs at the air, and he realizes that the scent is smeared over one of the street lights, right at the base, as if purposefully marking the spot.

And there’s more.

As Jimin sniffs out the area, he notices a trail. Without any thought as to why, he follows the series of random objects. It leads him away from the bus stop, to a string of old, quaint buildings. It’s the on-site housing, mostly for faculty or staff, but Jimin knows some lucky students also get to live here.

There’s a door where the scent is strongest, bright red with chipped paint. Jimin sniffs at it, stomach boiling. There’s the voice of reason now, that he shouldn’t be doing this, and that he should run home. Only, there’s an even stronger pull, urging him to open the door and find out what’s inside.

Pulse racing, Jimin turns the knob. Miraculously, it’s not locked, instead, it gives way at the slightest of pressure, opening to a dim hallway. The scent hits him full-blast, and Jimin has no choice but to walk in, closing the door behind him.

“H-Hello?” Jimin calls out, feeling stupid for doing so. “I-Is anyone here?”

The floor creaks above him, followed by soft, hesitant footsteps. There’s a staircase further out, and the pale boy appears at the top.

“Hello,” he answers, voice low and deep.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see Jimin standing there. In fact, it’s almost as if he was expecting it. He runs down the staircase, stumbling on the final step and nearly tripping. He quickly recovers, a hand shooting out and latching onto the rail.

Jimin has no time to think about what’s happening, when the boy is already upon him. He’s close, wrapping his arms tight around Jimin’s rib cage. He doesn’t kiss him like Jimin fears he might. Instead, the strange boy starts sniffing him eagerly. He noses along his chin, grazing at his neck, and then he buries himself in Jimin’s hair, taking deep lungfuls.

Jimin’s skin prickles, and he’s so warm and uncomfortable. Strange, unwanted pleasure settles in his belly, and his toes curl in his shoes.

“What are you doing?” Jimin shoves the boy away, and he falls on the floor. He looks up at Jimin in shock and confusion. It’s as if Jimin’s the one being strange.

“I-I-” the boy sputters. “I was just introducing myself. I’m sorry.”

Electric currents run up and down Jimin’s body, and he’s deeply unsettled. “I’ve never heard of that! You don’t introduce yourself by smelling people! You say your name first.”

The boy gets up off the floor, rubbing his head sheepishly. Briefly, Jimin worries if he accidentally hurt the stranger, but is relieved that he seems fine. “Is it different where you’re from? I’m Yoongi. It’s nice to meet you.”

Jimin takes a step back, and the boy follows him, almost as if panicked by the sudden increase in space. “W-Wait, don’t go. I’m sorry, Jimin—” the boy swallows thickly as if catching himself. He already knows the other’s name. “I-I heard you say it in class.”

“I-” Jimin’s so warm and he can’t seem to pin down his feelings. He has a strong, unbelievably strong, urge to sniff the boy, as if to smell him back, and greet him in the exact same way. “You’re crazy. People don’t smell other people! That’s not how things happen anywhere!”

Yoongi’s expression flickers as if Jimin’s said something odd. “But we do.”

“S-Stay away from me,” Jimin warns, taking another step towards the door. This time the boy doesn’t follow, though it seems to take a tremendous effort. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi calls out to him. “Do you— You don’t know, do you?”

It’s as if he’s missing some vital information about himself. And Jimin surmises that this must be true. Why else would he be here? Why else is he able to smell the other’s scent and follow its trail here.

“Are you adopted? Didn’t your parents tell you?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin shakes his head in shock. “I-I am adopted. How did you know that?” 

Whatever it is, it must be something hereditary. 

“Jimin,” Yoongi says. “You’re a wolf.”

***

Jimin’s curled up on Yoongi’s couch, a thick, yellow blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Yoongi keeps his distance, arm extended fully. He offers the younger a cup of hot, steamy tea. Jimin gratefully accepts.

“I always knew there was something wrong with me,” Jimin speaks, voice raspy from crying. He’d spent the last hour sobbing, relieved that things finally make sense. The tea goes down easy, soothing his nerves.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Yoongi replies, sitting a distance away. “You’re a wolf, so am I. There’s a couple of us here in the city.”

It’s so strange. The existence of mythical creatures right under human noses. If Jimin weren’t the proof himself, he would’ve never believed it.

“Oh.”

Jimin doesn’t know what to say. He wonders if he should leave. It’s late, and he knows he’s being rude— at least he’s pretty sure he is. It’s already 1 am.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin sputters. “I should probably get out of your hair.”

“NO!” Yoongi says it so strongly, causing the other to jump. He shakes his head, calming down. He says it softer the second time. “No. You don’t have to go, Jimin. I want you to stay.”

There’s no hint of feigned politeness. Jimin can tell that the other is being honest. What’s more shocking, is how willing Jimin is, and how much he wants to be here too.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Jimin whispers.

“You can sleep upstairs,” Yoongi offers. “On my bed. I’ll sleep down here.”

“That’s okay,” Jimin squeaks, curling up further. “I’m fine like this. Give me a pillow and I’ll sleep here.”

Yoongi scratches his chin, unhappy with that response. “You won’t sleep that way. You’ll probably be up all night like that. I’m guessing you’ve never had a good night’s sleep in your entire life.”

Jimin shivers. How does this boy he’s just met know more about him than he does himself? He’s right on all three statements. Jimin knows he won’t be able to sleep. He’d only said it to be polite.

“W-What do you suggest?” Jimin finally speaks.

“Come with me,” Yoongi says, turning only once to see if Jimin’s following him. He is.

They head up together on the narrow, wooden staircase. Jimin shudders again. Through the door, it’s where Yoongi’s scent is the strongest.

It’s nothing remarkable, just a simple desk, some electronic equipment, and a small bed with dark blue sheets.

“You can shower first. I’ll lend you a pair of my pajamas,” Yoongi offers. It’s a suggestion but Jimin sees it as a method, which won’t work unless he follows each step.

“Okay,” Jimin says.

Yoongi directs him to the bathroom, setting him up before leaving. Jimin quickly cleans and scrubs himself. He finds that he enjoys the subtle aromas of Yoongi’s body wash and shampoo, cucumber melon.

When he’s done, he puts on Yoongi’s sleep clothes, breathable, dull red cotton. It smells like the other man, the scent faintly clinging to the fabric. For some reason, it makes Jimin’s skin tingle.

“All done?” Yoongi’s sitting at the desk, the lamp still on. He’s pretending to read, the tips of his ears red.

“Yes,” Jimin whispers.

“Alright, go ahead and sleep in my bed,” Yoongi points.

Jimin doesn’t understand the magic of it, but he feels it working. Already, his eyelids are heavy. When he hits the bed, curling the duvet around and over himself, he almost moans. It’s so nice, more of Yoongi’s scent flooding his senses, which he starts to register as oranges and jasmine.

“Why is this so nice?” Jimin asks as another powerful shudder runs through him. He clings to the fabric, holding onto it so that it keeps this big, billowy shape, rather than smoothing it over himself. “How come I’ve never had a good night’s sleep?”

Yoongi looks at him, pity mixed with something else. “Wolves aren’t made to be alone. It’s like we instinctively know it’s not safe. We need to be in packs.”

Jimin’s never felt so relaxed. He’s not sure how he must appear to the other, a whiny noise caught in his throat. He wants Yoongi to stay and cuddle him, but that’s frightening and confusing.

“I’ll see you in the morning, yea?” Yoongi says weakly, eyes following the curves of his body.

“Yeah,” Jimin replies, his voice high and pitchy. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Yoongi answers, flipping off the lights.

***

Morning light streams through the single mottled window. Jimin stretches and yawns, and he rubs his face in his pillow, inhaling more of that heavenly scent. He’s so well-rested, and yet he’d probably love to sleep another five minutes just like this, warm and baking in the sun.

But there’s the alluring smell of bacon, cured radishes, and rice flecked with seaweed wafting from downstairs. Jimin pulls himself out of bed, staving the cold so that he can inspect what’s happening below. There’s a pair of slippers waiting for him right at the edge of his bed.

It’s such a small gesture. He imagines the other wolf, standing there earlier in the morning, unable to wake Jimin up from peaceful rest, and then quietly leaving the slippers there.

The sound of sizzling grows stronger, and delicious smoke permeates the air. Yoongi’s wearing a black t-shirt and shorts, a bright pink apron over it. He’s cooking up the bacon, flipping it over with chopsticks.

“Good morning,” Yoongi greets him without looking. “Food will be ready soon. You can wash up first! There’s a fresh toothbrush under the sink.”

Jimin excuses himself to do a quick clean up, and change back into his street clothes. He rushes through, eager to be with Yoongi again. When he comes back, food is on the table, and two strong cups of tea. The other wolf waits from him, hands folded.

“How did you sleep?” Yoongi asks.

“Good,” Jimin confirms. “Like you said I would.”

Yoongi smirks, almost as if he’s pleased with himself. “Help yourself.”

Jimin puts a few pieces of bacon in his bowl, and one scoop of rice. There’s plenty left and Jimin wonders if Yoongi’s made so much so he can refrigerate the extra, but the other man makes a noise. “That’s no good. You need to eat more than that. You can’t eat like a human and expect to be healthy.”

The truth is Jimin’s starving, and he piles on the food at the simple thought that it might be okay. “Thank you.” He starts eating enthusiastically. “You’ve been so nice already.”

Yoongi flushes, scratching at the back of his head. “It never occurred to me that there might be other wolves out there. This is such a unique case. You’re a wolf that’s been raised by humans-” the man pauses as if dawning on some realization. “That means you never passed through the first gate!”

Jimin doesn’t understand, feeling suddenly so small. “What’s the first gate?”

Yoongi chews on his lower lip as if on the precipice of a long story. “Do you have class today?”

Jimin nods and he checks the clock on the microwave, sitting in the background. “I have an English lecture at twelve.”

Yoongi rubs his face nervously, “I-I have to— there’s a lot, and I can’t just rush through and give you bits and pieces, Jimin. That wouldn’t be right.” The man nervously checks the clock. “I have a meeting in an hour and—”

Jimin shrinks, realizing that he might be a burden on the other. It’s not Yoongi’s business if the younger understands what being a wolf means, and it’s not right to put the responsibility on a near stranger. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me everything. It was— it was just kind of you to take me in yesterday. I should probably go.”

Jimin stands and bows. “Thank you so much.”

It takes everything in him to leave. All his instincts scream at him as he grabs his bag and rushes out. His mind is on fire. He should at least take something of Yoongi’s, some small item with his scent, to make the separation easier.

But Jimin leaves with nothing.

***

By the time his English lecture is over, Jimin’s jittery. He can’t stop shaking. The freshman can barely function as he packs up his bag, and in the back of his head, his recurring nightmare plays. He’s late to the next class, and he can’t seem to jam all his belongings into that small space, and also his things seem to multiply—

Yoongi’s words echo in his head. Wolves aren’t made to be alone. Jimin’s feeling it now, strong and fierce. It’s horrible. He’d never known if he hadn’t met Yoongi, how lonely he is.

“Hey?” a concerned girl pauses, peering at him curiously. “Are you alright? You look like you’re about to faint!”

Jimin tries his best to remain calm. “I’m fine. I think that the lecture just went over my head.”

She smiles at him. “Well if you ever want to study together, give me a call—”

Jimin graciously accepts a post-it-note from her, knowing that he’ll never dial the number. He’s not interested in companionship from her.

It’s because she’s human.

It’s not what he needs or wants.

It sheds such a powerful light on his woes that he almost breaks out in tears. He always wondered why he didn’t fit in with others, why every social interaction left him confused and drained. He’s not one of them. He’s a wolf.

Jimin quickly exits the small classroom, his nose registering before he visually confirms. His body reacts, flooding with relief.

It’s Yoongi. The older boy is sitting on a bench and waiting for him, hands folding neatly in his lap, rubbing the skin raw.

“H-Hey,” Yoongi calls out.

Jimin pauses where he is, though it hits him like a bulldozer, the feeling. He wants to run into Yoongi’s arms and bury himself there.

“I know we have class together tomorrow,” Yoongi says weakly. “But I didn’t like how we left things this morning. I couldn’t wait to see you—” The blonde stops there, mortified by his own words. He swallows thickly and blushes so furiously that his nose, cheeks, and ears all turn creamy pink.

Jimin comes closer, his hands clasped tightly together. He’s in such a state of agitation, forces pulling at him from all directions. It’s tearing him to shreds. “I dunno what’s happening to me.”

Yoongi takes the cue, the state of emergency. He offers his hand, eyes flickering with desperation. “Let’s go somewhere quiet and talk.”

Jimin grabs hold at once, keen to move away from curious eyes, to a place where only the two of them exist. Initially, he thinks Yoongi might be walking back to the housing unit, but the boy shuffles past it until they reach a small, secluded park.

‘Private property’

He sits Jimin down on the grass, and the boy feels like he can breathe again.

“I shouldn’t have let you go like that,” Yoongi says, blaming himself. “I didn’t think you would leave. It took me ten minutes to go after you and by then you were already gone.”

Jimin’s just glad they’re together again. He’d left without anything, not even a number to call. “H-How did you find me?”

Yoongi sits down, keeping his distance. His knees are tucked into his chest as he regards Jimin almost warily. “I… I could smell you.”

It’s such a strange thing to say, and Jimin doesn't know why he’s suddenly so warm. “Oh.”

“I don’t know what happened this morning,” Yoongi continues, wiping his face. “I’m not good with words. I know I said something that made you walk, so I’m sorry.”

Jimin shakes his head. “No! I just— You seem like a nice guy. I just didn’t want to be a burden or anything. I can figure things out on my own.”

“No,” Yoongi says softly. “You can’t.”

It’s like a knife’s been twisted in his gut. Jimin can’t comprehend the pain of it. He’s relied on himself for so long that he can’t ask for help. Yet, at the same time, he knows Yoongi’s telling him the truth. There’s no way he can survive by himself anymore, now that he’s learned what he is.

“W-What was that thing before?” Jimin changes the subject. “I want to learn how wolves greet each other. I want to know that much at least.”

Yoongi’s eyes flicker with surprise, and for a fraction of a second, they seem to glitter blue, before turning back to brown. “Yeah, I can explain it.” The pale boy swallows nervously. “You’ll have to come a bit closer. I hope that’s okay.”

Jimin moves over so that they’re touching side to side. And oh, does it feel good. Yoongi swallows against the rising flush on his face. “Wolves have very highly developed senses, even before you pass through any gates, your sense of smell is really strong.”

Jimin filters out what he understands and nods. “Alright.”

“Wolves smell each other as a hello,” Yoongi continues. “Especially when they’re meeting for the first time, that’s when the interaction is the longest. It’s how we get to know each other. The instinct is always there, but we usually wait until there are no humans around to do it.”

That sheds understanding on what happened when he’d met Yoongi at the house, how the boy’d shoved his nose right into Jimin’s hair. “Oh, well, yeah, that makes sense.”

“I already have a pretty good imprint of you,” Yoongi says, as if reading his mind. “If you want, you can smell me too.” 

“Are you sure that’s okay?” Jimin scoots a bit closer. “You’re alright with that?”

Yoongi swallows thickly. “Jimin, not only is it okay. I actually really fucking want you to.”

Jimin goes for it, sniffing tentatively. It’s easy to guess where the scent is strongest, right under his chin and in his hair. He’s hit with those sweet notes of orange again, and the jasmine too, then something smooth and nice, vanilla. There’s also something distinctly pungent, though not unpleasant. The closer Jimin gets, the stronger this afterbite becomes.

Arousal.

Yoongi’s still as a statue, his hands in the grass, pulling up fistfuls of roots and dirt.

“Don’t stop,” Yoongi urges with a nervous laugh. “It’s fine.”

Jimin flushes, his own body reacting. He didn’t think he could smell something like that, the heat and desire radiating off the other. There are two choices, and Jimin picks the hair rather than under the chin, finding it to be the less intimate of the two.

The scent is so strong and intoxicating, Jimin could do this for days— and mingled with Yoongi’s scent, there’s five others.

“There’s you,” Jimin whispers. “But there’s other people too, five different wolves.”

Yoongi talks through a clenched jaw. “That’s my pack. Nice job picking that out.”

Jimin moves away, feeling that the moment’s at its end. He lays back down on the grass. “That was interesting. Did I do it right?”

Yoongi smiles and nods. “There’s no wrong or right, but I think that went pretty well as greetings go.” Then he lays down in the grass as well, further off. “I just wish my hormones didn’t fire off like that, like some teenager that just hit puberty. That was embarrassing.”

Jimin’s stomach floods with heat, not entirely unwelcome. “Ah, it’s normal.” He smirks, meaning to tease the other. “I’m a pretty attractive guy. I don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” Yoongi answers without skipping a beat, and so seriously that Jimin’s belly takes another hit of warmth.

“Thanks,” Jimin answers, and he wants to tell the other man exactly how gorgeous he is, but he loses his nerve, finding it too embarrassing.

“Jimin?” Yoongi hums, sitting back up. “I want to ask you something.”

Jimin sits up as well, alert now. Whatever it is? Jimin’s primed to say yes. He hopes it’s sex, but he’s not averse to a date either.

“I’d like you to meet my pack,” Yoongi says.

Oh well. Jimin makes a face. It seems like it’s rather important, especially with the way Yoongi’s staring at him.

“I guess there’s no harm in that,” Jimin answers.

They set a date for early next week.

***

It’s another brisk, gray morning. Jimin wonders if he should call his parents with an update of how things are going. But he’s scared of how much he’ll have to omit. He’s not allowed to tell his parents about being a wolf. Yoongi had made that irrevocably clear. It’s for the safety of all wolves everywhere.

Jimin wonders if he could at least tell his parents that he’s met a boy, that he kinda likes. Would that be okay? But he can’t ask Yoongi that, because then he’d have to admit his budding crush.

“Hey, is this seat taken?” It’s the girl from Monday. Mina. She smiles at him—

He can smell it on her, now that he knows what to look for. It’s the faintest hint of arousal, a desire that hovers right above her skin.

Yoongi appears from nowhere, jamming his body into the empty chair. “Sorry, it’s taken. I’m sitting here.”

The girl’s affronted by this action. “I— How rude!”

Yoongi doesn’t answer her, instead, he kicks up his feet on the table with a wide grin. “Too slow.”

She marches off with a huff and a roll of her eyes. Jimin’s secretly glad that she’s gone, though he’s also a bit taken aback by Yoongi’s behavior. He’s not like this usually, softer, and shy, and reserved.

“That was rude!” Jimin says.

Yoongi seems shocked for a moment before he pulls his feet off the table, sitting more properly now. He’s thoroughly admonished by that, sinking in his chair. And Jimin sees that his words have power over the other boy.

“Sorry,” Yoongi whispers. “I just— I could tell she made you uncomfortable. That’s why I scared her off. I-If you want to sit next to her, I’ll move.”

Jimin shakes his head and smiles. “Sometimes you have to be rude.”

They greet each other as secretly as possible with so many human eyes around. Jimin comes in for a hug, inhaling Yoongi’s scent. The other boy does the same, taking note of all the little nuances. Jimin smells the layers of food on him: rice, eggs, kimchi, sauteed scallions. Yoongi’s probably had a nice big breakfast.

In the same vein, Yoongi frowns, his displeasure written all over his face. “Did you eat this morning?”

Jimin shakes his head. “I woke up late.”

It’s as if Jimin’s committed some sort of unspeakable crime, the way Yoongi stares at him. “You need to eat.”

Jimin shrugs. “I’ll grab something on the way to the library.”

Yoongi reaches into his bag, bothered by this. He fishes out a granola bar, an apple, and half a sandwich. “Here.”

“What?” Jimin manages, looking at the cobbled-together meal.

“Eat it,” Yoongi says. “We’ll get you some real food after class.”

Jimin’s hungry, and the only reason he’s pausing at all, is because of how freaking cliche it is. Yoongi rolls his eyes at this, almost as if reading his mind yet again. “Eat it anyway.”

The sandwich is a bit dry, but chased with bites of the apple, it’s the perfect combination. “Thanks. I owe you one. Lunch is my treat.”

Yoongi grumbles something happily, a half-smile on his lips as the lecture begins. He jots down notes for the both of them, until Jimin finishes eating.

After class, they grab a couple of sushi boxes from the student center and retire to the private grounds behind the school. Jimin wonders if they’re allowed to be there, but the way Yoongi holds himself, says that they’re probably the only ones that are.

It’s entirely relaxing, sunshine cast over them in the small green, circular meadow.

“Are you nervous about introducing me to your pack?” Jimin asks. The scheduled date is looming closer.

“Yes,” Yoongi answers, picking up little of the jest and almost all the worry.

Jimin senses the other’s agitation, reaching out for him instinctively. He catches himself at the last second, his arm snapping back. Yoongi fixes upon him, eyes narrowing. He swallows thickly. “Y-You can touch me.”

The tension is suddenly so heavy, it’s palpable, a weight resting on his tongue. Jimin reaches out again, cursing internally. He’s so nervous and he is shaking noticeably. He cards a hand through Yoongi’s hair. The older boy sighs softly, his eyes fluttering shut. When Jimin runs through again, Yoongi leans harder into the touch.

There’s a subtle shift in his scent, Jimin notices, the hints of agitation and anxiety replaced with calm and comfort.

“T-Thank you,” Yoongi sighs, eyes still shut. He takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I am nervous. This is my pack, my family. I want— I really want you to join my pack, Jimin. I hope they accept you.”

It’s much more serious than Jimin thought. He figured he was only meeting them. This is different. The way the other wolf is, Jimin can tell, he’s been turning these words in his head for a while.

Yoongi opens his eyes, they’re glossy and nervous. “Jimin… I should probably ask you first, right? Before I bring you to see them. Do you want to be in my pack?”

It’s too soon. It’s much too soon to answer something like that. But Jimin can’t deny his connection with the other boy. If he refuses, it’d only be fighting the inevitable. Maybe he could live without a pack, but he knows he can’t be without Yoongi.

“Yes,” Jimin answers. “I do.”

***

He has fifteen short minutes to prepare himself, twenty if there’s traffic. Jimin’s almost relieved when they come to a stop at the red light.

“Don’t worry,” Yoongi hums, sensing the other’s alarm. “It’ll be fine. You’ll only be meeting one person today.”

Right, Jimin exhales. He’s meeting the leader, who will decide if he’s worthy or not to join the pack.

“No matter what happens,” Yoongi continues, speaking more to himself now. “It’ll be alright. I promise.”

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Jimin asks.

Yoongi smiles. “Well, we’ll see. He doesn’t know you’re coming. I only told him to be at the house alone.”

Jimin’s heart races, and he folds his arms. “You better turn this car around, hyung”

Yoongi shakes his head, a small smile blooming on his face. “It’s better this way, more natural. Either he’ll accept you or he won’t. It doesn’t change anything between us.”

Jimin’s soothed by this fact. He’s not entirely sure what Yoongi means though, but it’s clear they’ll still be friends afterward.

“Thank you, hyung,” Jimin whispers. Yoongi smiles back, but his eyes remain on the road.

An unassuming house comes into view, looking identical to the ones around it. There’s a small silver Prius sitting in the driveway, and Yoongi parks next to it.

“Stay behind me,” Yoongi says. “It’ll be alright.”

He guides Jimin out, and up the steps. He jams a key in the lock and it clicks open. It’s a nice house, opening out to a wide living area. Plants are sitting at the windowsill and a decked-out entertainment system on the opposite wall.

“I didn’t think you’d come back this soon,” a voice sounds, thick and deep as chocolate. “It was a lot of effort keeping Jungkook out of your bed, you know?”

There’s a tall man by a doorway in the back. He fills up the entire frame, wide shoulders and long limbs. He notices Jimin about the same time that Jimin sees him.

“Joon, this is Jimin,” Yoongi says steadily, maintaining eye contact. “Jimin, this is our leader, Kim Namjoon.”

He’s handsome, tan skin, and dark brown hair. There’s something strangely imposing about him as well, and Jimin’s glad to be tucked safely behind Yoongi.

They can smell each other, even at this distance. Namjoon’s musk is powerful, rich, and earthy, conveying his status and health. He takes a careful step forward, at the same time, Yoongi’s arms shoot to the side protectively.

“I really like him, Joonie. He’s important to me,” Yoongi says, causing Jimin to flush. “If he stays, then I stay. If he goes, then I do too.”

“W-What?” Jimin squeaks, surprised by Yoongi’s bold statement, what he’s willing to give up.

“You need a pack Jimin,” Yoongi whispers .”It can be all of us, or just me. Either way, we’ll find out right now.”

Jimin’s chest hurts. He doesn’t know the exact gravity of the situation, but he knows Yoongi’s giving up a lot. “You don’t have to do this.”

Yoongi shakes his head, lips spread out thin. He’s determined. And Jimin wonders why the other boy cares so much about him anyway.

Namjoon approaches slowly, unblinking. “Alright, let me greet the newcomer. I’ll make my judgment after.”

The regal, proper nature of the whole affair makes Jimin nervous. He stands as still as possible as the stranger sniffs him. He doesn’t even get close, reeling back in disgust after a mere second.

“What’s wrong with him?” Namjoon spits.

“It-It’s not his fault, Joonie,” Yoongi says. “Jimin was raised by humans. He just found out what he is. We can help him—”

“No,” Namjoon says, staring at Jimin harshly. “No way. He hasn’t passed the first gate.”

“Please,” Yoongi implores.

“He’s not fit to be in my pack,” Namjoon shouts, folding his arms. “He’s not fit to be in any pack! Send him away.”

“Joon!”

“Send him away!”