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skewiie · 2 months

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aahhh my first fanfic on tumblr.. go easy on me :p

i'll love you anyways.

Despite Seungmin’s distaste for humans, Minho is still eager to know more about him. He finds himself drawn to the werewolf’s elusive nature, and fuelled by his own hubris, believes he might stand a chance in finding his way past the walls he puts up. What he doesn’t consider, however, is what it truly means to be an animal. Dogs will still bite.

Lee Know/Kim Seungmin (minor minchan + hyunsung)

General audiences, warning for somewhat graphic depictions of violence. Werewolf Au, Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

WC: 4.9k

ao3 link

“Do you want me to talk to him, then?”

Chan looks at him, eyebrows knitted together in surprise as he stares at the man behind the counter. He says it like it’s the most obvious, unsurprising statement in the world– he’s never really taken an interest in the whole werewolf thing. Why now?

“Min– Are you sure?”

Chan asks, peering over the counter, fiddling with the loose shift key on his laptop’s keyboard.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Minho turns to him languidly, placing the glass down somewhere under the counter where Chan can’t see. He watches intently as he unties the back of his apron, deft fingers working at the knot. He’d offer him some help– hell, he’d jump right over the bar if he asked him to. But, in true Minho fashion, he’s never one to bother asking. They’re the same in that regard, so Chan can’t be too upset over it– but the sudden interest stings, just a bit. Mostly because it’s not him he’s interested in.

Chan sighs, closing the lid of his laptop a little harder than intended. The sound makes him wince, and even earns an unreadable expression from Minho, looking back over his shoulder as he hangs his apron up on a hook.

“I suppose you’re right. Whenever you’re free then, yeah? There’s no rush.”

Chan murmurs, packing his laptop into his bag with a bit too much faff– as if to drag out the moment, busy himself so he can spend just a second longer with Minho.

“I’ll drop by tomorrow, if I have time. Now get out, I have to close up shop– for real this time.”

Minho has a slight bite in his tone– playful, but still enough to make him feel a little askew. It’s probably his feelings, stirring up in his chest that’s making him feel this way. He’ll be fine in a couple days, he promises. It’s just a wolf thing, he’s sure.

The restaurant’s always a cozy place after hours. Chan began frequenting the place at exactly when it would close– just to bother the handsome bartender that’d work there in the evenings. The smell of dish soap and residual alcohol paired with idle chatter about everything and nothing at all was enough to keep him coming back– the empty restaurant, a place reserved for them, and them only. Chan offers one last look at Minho, the dim lighting of the bar perfectly accentuating his features. Chan doesn’t notice he’s staring until Minho makes a face at him– something between playful annoyance and exasperation.

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving!”

Chan says, with a laugh he forces from his throat. Minho rolls his eyes, turning his back to him as he busies himself with something behind the counter again. The clack of the restaurant doors punctuate Chan’s departure. Minho doesn’t see him leave.

—

The trek up to Chan’s place– Chan’s estate, he should say– is more than a little rough, to say the least. The path up is overgrown, just barely trodden down enough to weave through the dead undergrowth, and that’s not to mention the thick snow blanketing the woods it’s surrounded by. Minho parked his car a little ways down– the driveway is long enough, (and maybe a little scary if you’re visiting in the evening) but nothing his old four by four can’t handle. Minho himself, however.. Well, he’s doing good enough against the elements, he supposes.

It’s not a long walk, really. After a couple minutes, he can finally see the ridiculous expanse of the house from beyond the thicket. According to Chan, it was his grandparents’ home before they passed away. His parents had planned to sell it, until Chan had mentioned he’d take responsibility for the place if he moved in, the reason being that it was situated relatively close to his University. They’d agreed, and Chan was granted the keys, the house now repurposed from a comfortable family home to a literal den of wolves.

Minho kicks the snow from his boots at the door, scraping his heels against the doormat before he lets himself in. He’s just about to bend down and untie his laces when he’s startled by the loud clacking of claws against the hardwood floor– and before he can even process what’s happening, he’s bombarded by a flurry of white fur and incessant panting.

“Jeongin-ah– yes, okay, yeah– hello to you too.”

Jeongin barks at him, yipping like a dog and spinning in circles in pure, barely contained excitement. By far Jeongin is the least skilled in controlling his wolf form, turning into a big hulking mass of white fur at even the slightest provocation– and when Jeongin pushes his head into the palm of Minho’s hand, he’s promptly reminded of how much he is insistently not a dog person.

It takes a good few minutes and a couple of scratches behind the ear until Jeongin finally loses his interest, disappearing off to god knows where. Maybe he’ll go lie in the middle of the hallway, or somewhere else mildly inconvenient, he thinks as he rolls his eyes. Minho shucks off his shoes and his coat, hanging them neatly on the hook by the door, and then bee-lines to the kitchen before he can make his rounds of the house.

Here’s the thing about werewolves– they eat like crazy. And to nobody’s surprise, when Minho opens the cupboards and checks the fridge, they’re once again near empty. He makes a mental note of things he needs to buy, filing through each drawer to see what’s missing. Vegetables, fruits, meat, snacks, the instant ramen Chan likes to buy in bulk. Minho isn’t obligated to go grocery shopping for them– it’s not his job, and it’s not like he has to. But, with the convenient excuse of “you’ve got a big kitchen, and you never use it?” Minho makes sure all the wolves (and Changbin) are at least fed when he makes the time to visit.

Once he’s done nosing about their kitchen, Minho saunters out and toward the living room, almost tripping over a sleeping Jeongin in the doorframe. He carefully steps over the comically large animal, trying his best not to wake the slumbering beast, before making his way over to the couch.

When Minho gets close enough to peer over the back of the sofa, he finds Han sprawled out over the cushions, reading some manga he’s far too absorbed in, his awestruck expression telling. From what he can make out from the head of dirty blonde hair buried into the crook of Han’s neck, Hyunjin is the one laying atop him, chest rising and falling being enough evidence that he’s asleep.

It takes a moment before Han finally notices Minho, and he smiles.

“Ah- hyung! Are you making dinner?” Han grins, but it’s shortly replaced with a look of concern as Hyunjin stirs, an irritable drawl escaping from the blonde.

“Maybe,” Minho responds, his voice just above a whisper. “I’ll have to get groceries first. But- I’m not here for that, anyways. Do you know if Seungmin’s in?”

Han blinks at him. “Seungmin? Why? I mean, he’s home.” He says, making sure to quieten his tone. “He’s in his room.”

All Minho does is nod in return, his gaze wandering past Han and toward the fireplace situated opposite. He squints, meandering his way around the couch and the cushions spilling onto the floor before crouching down in front of the fire. He chucks in a couple bits of wood, poking the charcoal around with the fireplace poker. Han’s voice breaks through the white noise of the crackling fire.

“Wait, so- why Seungmin, again?”

Minho stands, staring at the fireplace. “I said I’d talk to him.” His words are quick, nonchalant. “For Chan.”

Minho turns back to Han, who gives him a look. Something somewhat unreadable, but speaks of concern nonetheless.

“Right.. Be careful, then.” Is all Han musters, returning to the manga he was so interested in.

Minho takes this as his cue to leave, leaning over the couch to offer a flick to the back of Hyunjin’s head with his thumb and index finger, scurrying out of the room before Hyunjin can retaliate. A sly laugh escapes him as he hears Hyunjin’s whine of complaint, followed by Han’s laughter and playful bickering between them. The exchange stirs a warmth in Minho’s chest.

—

The stairs creak beneath Minho’s feet, his steps slipping into the ever so slightly dented hardwood, smoothened by time and continuous use. It’s difficult to make out in the dark, but he can see the claw marks torn through the staining as he walks his way up. At one point, they’d made him uneasy– a testament to what they were, still beasts as much as they were men. But the smaller scratches made it a bit more bearable, and oddly enough, more human. It served as proof that Chan and his siblings had lived here prior, kids who were just as unruly as puppies, crashing about this home just as the others do now. A smile tugs at his lips as he imagines a younger Chan, scurrying down the same hallway as Jeongin does now. More than fear, he feels familiarity.

Minho doesn’t bother turning the lights on in the hallway. For some reason, the wolves don’t seem to mind the dark, and so he doesn’t bother intruding on their habitual behaviour. The window from the end of the hallway pours in enough evening light for him to find his way to Seungmin’s bedroom door, and he knocks once, twice– only to be met with no response.

The thing about Seungmin, from what Minho has been told, is that he’s just a little bit more difficult than the other canines. Nobody’s really sure what he was like before Chan found him, only that Chan has known him longest, and that even Chan doesn’t really know much about him, either. He’s kind, though, Minho notes, dawdling behind Seungmin’s bedroom door. He has a witty sense of humour that contrasts well with his dry nature– he could get a chuckle out of anyone. And despite his elusive nature, his eyes are kind and puppy-like, carrying demeanour somewhat softer than that of a wolf. To put it simply, Minho isn’t scared of him. Why would he be?

“Kim Seungmin,” Minho calls, rapping his knuckles against the door again. “I’m going for a walk. Come with me.”

“I don’t want to.”

Their conversations are usually like this. A gentle demand, met quickly with defiance, tumbling into bickering akin to that of a married couple’s. But Seungmin’s a homebody, and Minho knows a walk would be good for him, so he knocks, again. He can hear Seungmin groan from behind the door.

“I need to take my dog for a walk. Come on, Seungmin-ah. Let’s go”

Minho is met with a palpable silence, but before he can lift his hand to knock again, the door abruptly swings open. Seungmin’s hair is dishevelled, tufts of fluffy brown sticking out from all angles– he seems to have just woken from a nap. In an attempt to fix his unkempt hair, he shakes his head like a dog.

“I’m not your dog.” Seungmin says, which Minho thinks is a bit ironic.

“I’ll be downstairs. Come on, before it gets dark.” Minho says, wandering back down the hallway and toward the stairway.

Seungmin huffs. “Fine. Give me a minute.”

—

Fiddling with the locks on the back door, Minho finally breaks them from where they’re frozen stiff, sliding the latch free with a resounding clack. It takes a bit of a push to actually get the door open, accounting for all the snow that had piled up in front of it. A big puff of air escapes into steam as he heaves, exuding the last of his effort against the door and kicking away the residual snow, just for his own convenience.

“SEUNGMIN-AH” Minho booms, knowing that the moody wolf is probably biding his time.

He’s met with silence for the most part, and he sniffs loudly as he feels the cold begin to bite at his nose. He wants to get moving– it would warm him up, if anything. Truth be told, he doesn’t really want to go for a hike in such frosty weather, casting a glance to the expanse of woodland waiting before him. Even so, the setting sun offers at least some sliver of warmth on his skin, and the orangey glow it casts on the woods makes the whole ordeal seem a bit more appealing.

He’s just about to close the door, turn tail and head back into the warmth of the house, until a blur of mousey brown fur dashes past him quicker than he can begin to comprehend it. He watches as the figure dashes up the slope– now realising it’s Seungmin– and disappearing off into the woods before Minho can even ask him to wait. He’s left dumbfounded, his brows pulled together in shock. So much for a walk.

Still, Minho obliges. He closes the door behind him and begrudgingly makes the trek up the slope, shuffling through thick snow towards the woodland awaiting him. There isn’t a pathway through the woods, but he’s walked through enough times to somewhat know his way around. In the winter, the ferns and foliage tall enough to tickle his neck become flattened by a blanket of white, devoid of life and colour in its entirety. It’s beautifully still, quiet save for the occasional birdsong. The crunch of dead twigs and frost beneath his feet seem almost deafening in the silence.

He recalls something Chan said before, about territory and instincts, the thought prompted by Seungmin’s paw prints he’d been absent-mindedly following through the snow. Although the woodland belongs to Chan under the lease of the land owned by his grandparents, the way werewolves operate around territory is completely different. Despite being humans, and despite understanding that the territory might be Chan’s legally, there are other werewolves that still fight for the same land, like actual animals. Chan had made a point to express how stupid he knew it sounded– why would they, as people, need to dispute like animals over the idea of territory of all things? He’d laughed awkwardly, as if admitting it was embarrassing.

It took Minho a while to wrap his head around it. Despite their humanity, they, too, are still animals. It was something Minho knew he could never understand– an inhuman instinct to act solely based on an inherent force of nature. That it is something you must do, regardless of what your mind may convince you otherwise. “That's why Hyunjin’s so.. Jittery.” Chan had explained one evening, “He’s got all these desires, and no outlet.”

That night, Chan had put the idea of being a werewolf truly into perspective for Minho. Instinct was something their body needed to act upon. To deny themselves of their nature was to deny themselves of what made them human, too, reducing all of their feelings into anxiety and pent up frustration– like the jittery, fearful mess Hyunjin was when they had first met, fuelled by his own cognitive dissonance.

Minho slows his pace, soon realising that Seungmin’s paw prints had led to a mass of shrubbery and dead foliage, disappearing beyond where he could follow. He chews his lip, furrowing his brows as he wanders ahead, finding himself in a clearing blanketed in white. The boughs of the trees part, the sky greeting him with a smattering of clouds, accompanied by an array of pink and orange hues. He sighs into the collar of his coat.

What Chan had said began to make sense, but it begged another question that Minho couldn’t bring himself to ask. What was Seungmin’s deal, then? The question that had spurred on the current situation in the first place, what kept his gaze following the brunette every time he stayed round, captivated by what he could not decipher.

Why did Seungmin lean so much into his instinct, over being human instead?

Minho stares at the ground, kicking up a lump of snow as he mulls it over in his brain. He’s not really sure what to think, but he’s broken from his trance when the sound of paws thrumming against snow calls to his attention, a blur of brown appearing in his peripheral vision. He lifts his head, and opens his mouth to speak–

“Seungm-”

Two bodies collide, one intercepting the other as they hurtle through the snow, tossing up white as they writhe against the ground, a cacophony of growls and snarls orchestrated between the two as they snap at one another’s throats. When the larger rears onto his hind legs, Minho can tell it’s Seungmin, his mottled brown fur dishevelled and matted red. As he brings down his paws, the force is so mighty that Minho can feel it reverberate through the ground, his breath suddenly catching in his throat. He doesn’t realise he’s hyperventilating until he stumbles backward, his back hitting the bark of the tree behind him and startling him from his shock.

The noise the other creature makes is terrifying, a whine so pained that it rings in his ears. He watches as the other wolf desperately tries to pull itself out from under Seungmin, gnashing its fangs in an effort to defend itself. Minho doesn’t know what scares him more– the flurry of teeth and claws and the blood spattering the snow, or the fact Seungmin is capable of holding his own and then some.

When the other wolf finally gets free, it limps away, paws skidding in the snow as it frantically makes its escape. The silence that follows only makes Minho aware of his heart clattering against his ribs. He swallows heavily, slumping down against the tree.

The wolf turns to him. The blood drips from his maw, smeared across his muzzle. Minho holds his breath.

Seungmin stalks up to him, body language cautious, as if he, too, is scared. The wolf lowers himself ever so slightly, head tilted to the side. Hesitantly, Minho reaches out a hand, finding his way to Seungmin’s jaw. The blood is wet and warm against his palm, and it makes him feel slightly sick, his stomach churning in disgust. However, when Seungmin gently presses the side of his head into Minho’s hand, he begins to feel a little less frightened. He heaves out a breath.

This was their reality. It dawns on him, shaky as he withdraws his hand. Whether Minho liked it or not, whether he wanted to believe it or not– Seungmin was still an animal. Dogs still bite.

The blood is sticky between his fingers. His gaze flits to Seungmin’s, deep brown eyes meeting his own, and it’s only then the wolf moves the help Minho to his feet, nudging him up and out of the snow with his nose.

The walk back to Chan’s home is quiet, Seungmin pressed close to Minho’s side as he guides him down through the woods. He glances up at him every now and then, but Minho doesn’t respond, his hand gently clutching at his fur instead. It offers some sort of solace between them.

Before Minho enters the house, he turns to Seungmin, drawing in a deep breath.

“For the record,” He begins, hand loitering on the door handle as if to prepare himself. “I’m not scared of you, Seungmin.”

They exchange a look. Seungmin can’t respond, but the look in his eyes is enough to know his words were understood.

—

Commotion stirs up almost instantaneously as the two enter the house. Seungmin had already dashed up the stairs, but the trail of blood he leaves in his wake doesn’t go unnoticed. Jeongin —now human— was the first to catch the scent, just barely missing his bloodied housemate as he approached Minho, clearly panicking. It wasn’t long until his flustered voice had caught the attention of Han and Hyunjin from the living room, and all of a sudden it seemed the whole house had begun demanding what happened.

The biggest surprise however, was Chan, who came hurtling down the stairs at the news. Chan was usually so composed– things like this didn’t seem to phase him. They had gotten into scuffles with other wolves before, which Chan had usually confronted with utmost responsibility, solving the problems he’d been presented with without any more strife than necessary. However, in spite of what Minho had assumed, Chan had fixed him with a look he’d never been faced with before. His eyebrows were upturned with an intense worry, the ears atop his head pulled back with obvious unease. He’d practically trembled as he took Minho’s bloodied hands into his own.

It took a bit of reasoning to finally get it through to Chan that he was okay. He’d come out unscathed, fortunately, unlike the conclusion Chan had jumped to in his fretful state. Minho promises Chan he’s fine, even if he’s not entirely sure it’s true. His response is returned by a frown and a nod. Chan knows Minho isn't the kind of person who likes to be pressed for information, but the fur that stands on end at the back of his ears tells Minho that he’s still not convinced. He takes a mental note to reassure him later.

Minho takes a step back from the group, lifting his hands defensively.

“I’d rather just go wash this off– I promise I’m fine, alright?”

His words are taken reluctantly but still taken, and Minho uses that as his opportunity to slip away. He can still hear the others quietly discuss as he slinks through the hallway, but his mind is too exhausted to care about speculation right now. His biggest concern is washing the mess off his hands, and – Seungmin.

Minho is surprised to see him when he enters the kitchen, mostly because of the giant gash stretching from his shoulder to his upper back, dripping red down the divot of his spine. He’s not sure why he didn’t think wounds would stay consistent throughout their human and animal forms, but Minho hadn’t even noticed Seungmin had gotten hurt in the first place, the wound obscured by thick layers of fur at the time. His stomach knots up with guilt, and he chews at the inside of his cheek.

The ears atop Seungmin’s head swivel toward Minho’s place in the doorway before Seungmin himself looks over, his body turned halfway towards him. He’s holding disinfectant and a cloth in his hands, the first aid kit laying unpacked in front of him on the counter. He doesn’t say anything, and the two hold awkward eye contact for a good couple of seconds. Minho blinks, as if it’ll break the silence.

“What?”

Minho doesn’t respond to Seungmin’s blunt inquiry, instead making his way to the sink to wash the blood from his hands. He can hear Seungmin sigh behind him, and Minho takes a peek over his shoulder, watching the younger gently pat the disinfectant soaked cloth against his outer clavicle where the wound begins. Seungmin hisses through his teeth, pained by the sting of the alcohol– but all Minho can think about is how Seungmin is going to deal with the rest of the gash on his back.

With a roll of his eyes, Minho dries his hands, before standing directly behind Seungmin and slinking his hands around his front, gently taking the cloth and disinfectant from his hands. Seungmin opens his mouth to protest, but as he goes to take the cloth back, he winces in pain from the sudden movement. Minho raises an eyebrow at him.

“Here, I'll do it. You won’t be able to reach, anyways.” He murmurs, wetting the cloth with more disinfectant.

Seungmin huffs, but doesn’t argue, instead turning his back to Minho. They fall into silence once again, Minho gently working at his wounds with utmost care. He’s not usually this gentle with him– with anyone, really, as long as you’re not counting his cats. Even so, when Seungmin groans through gritted teeth, shoulders stiffening at the pain, Minho pulls away until the ache subsides enough for him to continue.

“Seungmin-ah,” Minho begins, cutting through the heavy silence settled between them. “I’m sorry. For not being more careful.”

Seungmin doesn’t respond immediately, only gently tipping his head down. Although he’s quiet, Minho notices his knuckles flex from where his hand grips the counter. Minho continues.

“I meant what I said, at the door.” He murmurs, voice lowered as if it’s something only Seungmin should hear. “My opinion of you hasn’t changed.”

Seungmin sharply draws in a breath.

“Does it matter?”

Minho’s surprised at the answer. A beat.

“Whether or not it does, I thought I should tell you.”

Minho is used to being reassuring. Han is someone who needs it, Hyunjin is someone who thrives off of it– Chan desires it, even if it is unspoken. But the unfortunate truth of the matter is that Seungmin is harder to read, more than anyone Minho happens to be close to. He might know him vaguely, in little snippets he’s able to concoct into a person in his mind– He’s got a witty sense of humour and a dry nature, and his eyes still remain kind despite everything. But the person beyond that is always out of reach, standing across the threshold of what Minho is granted the privilege to know.

Minho lets out a sigh. Gently, he rests his forehead against the back of Seungmin’s unwounded shoulder. Seungmin seems startled at the contact, but doesn’t move.

“It might not matter to you,” He whispers. “But it matters to me that you know.”

“Even if I’m still violent? Even if I hurt you?” Seungmin retaliates.

He pulls away, moving to turn to Minho– fully this time. There’s a sort of malice veiling his gaze, as if to challenge Minho’s words. The side of his mouth is smeared with blood.

Minho moves to wipe it away with his thumb, delicately cradling Seungmin’s cheek.

“Even if you hurt me” He promises.

Seungmin’s gaze holds Minho’s, the crease in his brow slightly softening. Minho watches as Seungmin’s adam's apple bobs, averting his eyes as if he’s suddenly conscious of Minho’s stare, ears lowering in a gentle act of submission. Minho swears he can feel Seungmin lean his cheek into his hand, until–

“YAH! WHY IS THERE BLOOD IN THE HALLWAY?”

The sudden yell breaks the two away from each other instantly, Seungmin jolting away and stumbling back into the counter. He hisses in pain as his lower back collides with the marble, and Minho pinches his nose bridge with annoyance, the two turning their attention to the voice now appearing in the doorway.

“Hyung, I didn’t know you were- SEUNGMIN-AH?” Changbin’s hands are full, one with his rucksack and his laptop and the other with a bag full of groceries, which he practically throws onto the kitchen island when he catches sight of the state Seungmin is in. He frets, pushing past a Minho who’s slowly backing away from the two of them. Changbin begins to ask a million questions a minute, and it’s clear Seungmin is struggling to keep up, every sentence ending with an “I’m fine,” and “It’s not a big deal.” Changbin whines, turning to Minho as if he’ll back him up.

“It’s getting late,” Minho says with an awkward laugh. “I think I should get going. I’ll come by tomorrow or something?”

“But, wait- what happened to-”

Changbin tries to get his sentence out, but Minho is already slowly shuffling backwards out of the kitchen door. Seungmin fixes him with a look, but this time it’s something understanding. Minho discreetly nods back, and Changbin nearly misses the exchange. “Hey- what’s going on between you two-” He says, frantically glancing between them. “wait, MINHO-YAH, COME BACK-”

Minho’s already out the door before Changbin can catch him.

—

His apartment is cold when he finally makes it home. He slips off his boots at the door, pleasantly greeted with a happy (and hungry) Soonie. The tabby meows at Minho demandingly, and so Minho crouches down, letting the orange tabby sniff at his hands. He's somewhat displeased by the dog smell– but nonetheless rubs his cheek against Minho's fingers. Minho smiles, gently scooping the cat up into his arms, to which the other two finally make themselves known, Doongie and Dori appearing at his feet as he makes his way further into his apartment.

Once the cats are fed and he finally turns the heating on, Minho returns to his bedroom. He’s about to grab a fresh pair of pyjamas and take a shower when he hears his phone buzz in his pocket, startling him. He pats around at the jeans he’s wearing, forgetting which pocket he’d put his phone in, only to find it in the pouch of his hoodie. When the screen lights up, he’s surprised to see a text from Seungmin.

Thanks for your help earlier. I appreciate it. Is all it says, followed by a dog emoji. Minho finds himself smiling at his phone, amused by Seungmin’s stiff text. It almost makes him laugh. Almost.

No problem. He responds, with a cat emoji at the end.

He throws his phone down on his bed, running his hands through his hair. His cheeks go hot, embarrassed at how giddy this makes him.

Goodnight, Hyung. Seungmin’s text lights up on Minho’s screen.

Minho’s heart thrums in his chest. He swears he’s going insane.

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