Chapter Text
It was too cold. It had been too cold for months, of course, ever since autumn had turned to winter and brought the snow with it. The white, powdery substance seemed to fall almost constantly now that it was the dead of winter, a blanket of silence broken only by fast breaths and quick footsteps. All that eerie beauty, so easily ruined by fear. The mountains were just as unforgiving as the winter. They were nothing like the simple fields and woods of the lowlands, instead defined by steep peaks and dense forests.
Yet, through it all, Jimin ran.
There was no other choice, of course. With danger at every turn and racing at his back, the only option was to run. He’d always been fast.
But it was the dead of winter.
And Jimin was cold. He was cold, and he was starving, and the mountain stood before him. Just one more. He could get over one more, then he could sleep, even if it was just for a short while. The mountain wasn’t too tall, nor steep, anyway—he could scale it quickly. It didn’t matter that his limbs were already shaking, paws numb and slipping on the snow. It was one, little hill, and it wasn’t going to break the Park Jimin.
Turning to look over his shoulder, Jimin huffed quietly and hunched down, letting his pup slide off his back. Minsoo dropped down with a soft whine that Jimin quieted with a sharp look, once again checking their surroundings. They couldn’t afford to make any noise. Sure, Jimin was being paranoid, but it didn’t matter. Making sure their only bag was still secure across his frame, Jimin collected his pup and lifted him by the scruff of his neck, the soft fluff of his fur filling his mouth.
Steeling himself for the climb, Jimin began his trek up the small mountain, keeping Minsoo steady between his jaws. Every now and then, his paws would scramble on the rock, cutting the pads and leaving streaks of blood in their wake, but he couldn’t stop for anything. With a wince, Jimin heaved himself over the mountain, struggling to catch his breath and shivering even under his mound of white fur. A month of being exposed to the perpetual winter would do that to a wolf.
Jimin skidded down the opposite side of the mountain, only getting a half-mile into the following stretch of forest before he collapsed into the snow. Minsoo struggled out of his grip, prodding at Jimin’s side with his short snout. Huffing and blowing shimmering snow into the air, Jimin struggled to stand, cursing himself for covering so much distance in a day, even when he knew he couldn’t handle it.
Still, he heaved himself upwards. His limbs trembled as he shimmied the bag off of his back, dropping it onto the snow and pawing at one of the openings. They couldn’t shift, not with this weather. Besides, Jimin didn’t even know if he’d be able to return to his wolf form if he shifted. The forest was still as he pulled out the remnants of the rabbit he’d caught the day earlier, nosing it towards his son.
Minsoo yipped, happily tearing into the rabbit as Jimin watched, content to watch his son eat. With a soft whine, Jimin pulled himself over to a tree, leaving pink footprints in his wake as he coaxed his son to follow. Minsoo brought the rabbit with him, dropping it down beside Jimin and curling up against his side as he ate. Letting his eyes close, Jimin curled himself protectively around his pup, barely cracking his eyes open when he felt Minsoo shift.
The pup nudged the rabbit closer to Jimin’s snout. Unable to truly smile, Jimin purred softly instead, shaking his head and pushing the rabbit back over, telling his son to finish. He’d catch another tomorrow if he had enough strength. Those days seemed few and far between, now. But his hunger didn’t matter, as long as his baby was safe and well-fed. Cuddling his pup closer, Jimin let himself rest, hoping his stomach wouldn’t rumble in his sleep.
It did, of course, but they slept through it, Jimin only waking once to pull the rabbit pelt over his shivering son, doing his best to conceal him from the elements. He was sure that he wasn’t much warmer, shivering as well, but it didn’t matter as long as his pup was warm. That was all that mattered, these days.
Dawn broke over the trees, rousing Jimin from his fitful sleep and making him drag himself upwards, nosing Minsoo awake. He lapped at the spot between his pup’s ears for a moment, knowing he wouldn’t be able to show much more affection while running, pleased as he watched Minsoo stretch with a ferocious yawn. It was obvious he was cold. They could never get warm, these days, and waking up under a blanket of snow never helped.
There were mountains in every direction, though the northern ones were far in the distance, covered by a thin layer of fog. Maybe they could reach them today, if Jimin pushed his pace. Resolving to make it there by the time the stars began to twinkle in the sky, he enlisted Minsoo’s help in order to get the bag back onto his slowly-shrinking frame, the rabbit pelt tucked inside. A blanket couldn’t hurt, even if it wasn’t cleaned properly. He just had to hold out a little bit longer, and then they could search for a place to make their home.
Just a little longer.
But Jimin faltered when his already-light pup scrambled onto his back, claws digging in and short fangs biting into his fur to keep himself steady. His paws burned as snow built up in his never-healing cuts, making him hiss quietly, but Jimin started off again. He had to—just a little longer.
Snow kicked up behind him as he ran, darting through trees and trying to ignore the way his stomach cried for food. Every now and then, his nose would pick up on the scent of a rabbit and he’d detour in search of a warren, but nothing was ever found. His nose was too trained by fear, now—he’d smell animals that hadn’t been there in days. All he needed was something. His pup deserved more than one meal a day. Jimin deserved more than one every three.
Shaking himself off, he continued his race toward the mountains, faltering every time he saw them coming closer. They were too tall. He’d never be able to cross them—and he’d waste a day searching for the lowest point. Still, he never rested, letting the brief moments where the setting sun broke through the pine trees and gave his skin the tiniest bit of warmth push him further. He heard Minsoo whine more than once, picking up on the scent of Jimin’s pain as he endured the screaming of his muscles as he ran for the thirty-fifth day straight.
At least his stamina would be killer once this was all over.
Deep down, he knew he wasn’t being chased anymore. He knew that was over on the fifteenth day, when the scent of his pursuers began to dwindle down to nothing but a faint whisper that haunted his dreams, but still he hadn’t been able to stop. There was nothing like a mother’s protection when it came to a child—and Jimin would tear the world to shreds for Minsoo.
But he was tired. Jimin was tired, he was cold, he was starving, and there was nothing he wanted more than to just give up. He never would, but the time was coming when he wouldn’t be able to carry them any farther, and it was coming much too soon.
There were four mountains between him and the southlands he’d run from. Four mountains. No one sane would follow him that far—Jimin wasn’t completely sure he was sane anymore, either. Maybe after five, he could stop. Just one more mountain range, and he’d be safe. Maybe then he could raise Minsoo the right way, give him the time he deserved, make up for the month he’d kept his precious pup in fear.
His body had other ideas.
Jimin let out a surprised, much-too-loud bark when his right, front leg gave out on him, sending him snout-first into the snow. His body trembled as he tried to will himself upwards, unable to get his paws under him once more. Minsoo clambered off him with a soft whine, lapping at Jimin’s snout in concern. Jimin gave himself a moment before trying again, collapsing back onto the snow when his legs decided they were finished. No more running. Tears slipped from his eyes as Minsoo tried to nudge him over to a tree, unable to move the Omega more than an inch, and giving up in favor of curling up next to Jimin.
Was this it?
Was this where it all ended? The mountain range was so close—he would have made it. Night was already dawning, coming ever closer with each labored breath Jimin’s lungs heaved out of him, but he would have made it.
Jimin let his eyes close. He could rest right here for a night. Maybe longer.
Minsoo’s whine brought him back from his hazy, tired thoughts. Jimin huffed, trying to get his pup’s attention, feeling him nudging the bag on his back. Ah, that was right. He needed to feed his son.
Limbs trembling, Jimin’s trained nose picked up on a soft pine scent. Woodsy, but clean, laced with just a lick of cinnamon. Sniffing, he began to pull himself in the direction the scent was coming from, finding it to be behind a line of trees. Maybe there was an animal there. Maybe there was something. Jimin couldn’t give up until he checked, at least.
Minsoo followed nervously at his side as Jimin crawled through the snow, leaving scattered red streaks in his wake, paws still bleeding from the climb of the day before. Kicking his feet to gain hold in the snow, he wormed himself between the line of trees, twisting around to grab Minsoo by the scruff and pull him through as well. Jimin collapsed back into the snow for a moment, needing to take a minute to rest his body, feeling how it was slowly, ever-so-slowly, shutting down.
But Minsoo struggled out of his grip, yipping and pouncing on him, keeping him awake. Snapping at him, Jimin lifted his head, blinking owlishly, even in his wolf form.
There was—a cabin.
It wasn’t too large, just seemingly enough for one person, but there were flickering lights and smoke billowing out of the chimney. The front step was even cleared of snow and, if Jimin sniffed, he could smell that pine and cinnamon scent, so close he could almost taste it.
There was someone living there.
Minsoo looked ready to dart off toward the cabin, but Jimin snatched him back before he could do so, keeping his pup close as he crawled the last meters of distance to the cabin. Hauling himself onto the tiny porch, Jimin shivered violently as he finally let himself shift back into human form, trying to bask in the tiny warmth that filtered out from under the cabin door. He didn’t bother to look at himself, afraid of what he’d see if he did, digging through their bag with trembling, blue fingers and pulling out a tattered blanket to cover his naked frame. It was barely holding together—both the blanket and his body—but he wouldn’t give up the only thing he’d taken with him. It had been his mother’s.
“Shift, pup,” he rasped, surprised to hear his voice after so long, collecting Minsoo in his lap and grabbing a small fur out of the bag. It was a fox pelt, one of the first things they’d caught on the run, and Jimin wrapped Minsoo’s shivering, now-human frame in the orange fur to give him a semblance of warmth.
Dropping his nose to his son’s tiny scent gland, Jimin allowed himself only a second to scent his pup, before crawling forward an inch to rap his knuckles on the wooden door. His finely-tuned ears picked up the sound of shuffling inside the cabin, lungs heaving a breath of relief as he curled up on the doorstep. It was pathetic. He knew that. But there was no other choice at this point, and his body was quickly becoming numb.
After a minute, the door opened, warmth seeping out of the cabin. There was a fire crackling inside. Jimin could hear it. He could also smell the onslaught of pine and cinnamon that flooded into the winter air, making his Omega roil within him, unsure of what to do. Slowly, Jimin raised his head, shivering as he looked up at the man before him and murmuring a quiet, “Please.”
It was an Alpha.
Jimin couldn’t help the spike of fear that flooded his veins, warming him with adrenaline, but he had no choice. This miracle cabin was his last hope—this Alpha was his last hope. Even then, the Alpha looked down at him with wide, doe-like eyes, as though he had no idea how this was happening. He took his lower lip between his teeth, an innocent gesture that contrasted his strong build, glancing around the outside of his cabin in a nervous gesture, before sighing.
“Come on,” he huffed, and Jimin collapsed in relief, ready to crawl into the cabin. He got about an inch before the Alpha had his arms around him, mumbling something about how cold he was, visibly stiffening when he noticed Minsoo’s head pop out of the blanket. “Shit.”
Jimin hissed, barely covering one of Minsoo’s ears with a weak hand, but he was already on the verge of passing out, and the action proved just a bit too much. With a soft whine, Jimin’s head lolled to the side, eyes fluttering closed before his body even touched down onto the couch.
Even with weak arms, he never let go of his pup.
A fire continued to flicker in the hearth even hours later, warming Jimin’s still shivering frame, the warmth fighting off the cold with needles that stung under his skin. His eyes slowly cracked open hours later, blinking into view the inside of the miracle cabin in all of its glory. His savior home was filled with homemade furniture and various furs, just like the ones that surrounded Jimin’s trembling frame. Fisting his fingers into the soft furs, he buried his face in the warmth, unable to stop himself from inhaling the scent that clung to them as he stared down at his naked frame in the darkness of his little fur-cave.
Jimin blinked. He popped his head out of the furs with a panicked glance around the cabin. Minsoo was gone. Jimin made to climb off the couch, wincing with each tiny movement, before—
“Sit back down.”
He stared up at the Alpha that stepped into the room, seemingly coming from the tiny kitchen off to the side. A bowl was in his hands, which he set down on the table in front of Jimin. It looked like soup. Jimin frowned, but perked up when he saw Minsoo toddle in behind the Alpha, all bright smiles and decked out in a shirt that must have been cut from something much larger. Minsoo climbed up onto the couch, burying himself under the furs and against Jimin’s stomach, causing him to let out a sigh of relief.
The Alpha crouched down close to Jimin’s face, and he had to hold himself back from snapping his teeth in fear. Still, he cuddled Minsoo a bit closer to his frame. Nose twitching, the Alpha seemed to easily pick up on the fear in his scent, moving back a step. “Your pup’s obsessed with me,” he said, handing Jimin the bowl. “Eat. I can count your ribs.”
Jimin eyed the food skeptically, shifting his gaze between the soup and the Alpha. It was too easy. “I don’t know you,” he settled on, tugging the furs tighter around himself.
“So? It’s food. You’re starving.” He pushed the bowl under Jimin’s nose. “Eat.”
Cringing at the tone of voice, Jimin slowly snuck his hands out of the furs to take the bowl. He brought it to his nose first, sniffing it for anything suspicious, before deciding it was alright and sipping the soup. It was good, and he couldn’t help but tip the bowl higher, trying to eat it faster. At least, until the Alpha took the bowl back with a sharp, “Not too fast. You’ll throw it up.”
Once he made sure that Jimin wasn’t going to chug it again, he handed the bowl back, unphased by Jimin’s glare as he ate once more. The Alpha rested an elbow on the small table. “What’s your name?”
Jimin eyed him, but did not speak.
A sigh. “Jeongguk,” the Alpha said, holding out a hand to shake. It was rough, weathered. Calloused, as though he worked with his hands often. It made sense, living out here, especially if he’d created everything in the cabin by himself. Still, any Alpha’s hand was a hand that could strike.
Recoiling, Jimin gripped the bowl tighter, speaking around the rim as he murmured, “Jimin.”
Jeongguk pulled his hand back. “Well, Jimin,” he began, pushing up from his crouching position and stepping away before Jimin had time to cower under his height. It was almost as though he was testing out the name, rolling it around on his tongue and deciding whether he liked it or not. “How long do you plan on making yourself at home?”
He set the now-empty bowl down on the table, once more tugging the furs around himself, more aware of his indecency with every passing moment. “Until I can run.”
A snort. “So, not anytime soon, then?”
“Give me a day.”
Jeongguk raised an eyebrow. “No way in hell you’re running again tomorrow.” He let out a low chuckle, turning away and ducking into the kitchen. Jimin did his best to prop himself up on the pillow he’d been laying on, trying to see what the other was doing, but Jeongguk was back out a moment after, continuing as though he’d never left. “Your feet are fucked. You’re starving, and I think your lips are still blue.”
Jimin frowned, but found no strength to check if the Alpha was right. “I’ll be fine.”
“If you say so,” Jeongguk hummed. Apparently, he had brought wood in from the kitchen, setting it into the burning fire and stoking it with a rod. He didn’t turn back to look at Jimin. “But that pup is going to die without a mother, and you won’t hold out more than a day with the storm that’s coming.”
Unable to keep it in, Jimin growled low in his throat, holding Minsoo tighter against his stomach, well aware that the pup was sleeping now in the little den of furs. Jeongguk glanced back at that, sighing as he stood up and grabbed another fur from the back of a wooden chair. He tossed it over Jimin’s frame, pushing his tongue into his cheek as he huffed, “You’re shivering again.”
The weight of another pelt was oddly comforting, even though this one smelled like the Alpha as well. Everything did. Jimin hated how the gentle taste of cinnamon filled his mouth, making it water for something sweet, and hated that Jeongguk was right. If there was a storm coming—and that was a heavy if—he wouldn’t be able to hold out. Not after a month of running and only a day to recuperate. Besides, there was no way he was climbing that mountain the next day, especially if it was during a storm.
But Jimin wouldn’t allow himself to remain in the comfort of a stranger, much less a strange Alpha, for longer than necessary. A day was necessary. Anything other than that was dangerous.
So Jimin only stared at Jeongguk’s back as the Alpha stalked off, jumping when the door to the room he had entered slammed shut behind him, leaving him with nothing but his screaming thoughts and the crackling fire.
Sleep was fitful as best. Even cocooned in warmth, it was fleeting and filled with nightmares, shaking Jimin awake with a racing heart and sweating palms. The cabin was always lit by the fire, the falling snow dampening the natural light outside and making it always seem as though it was night, even when he knew it couldn’t be. Yawning, he stretched his arms, wincing at the burn in his muscles and rolling over to face the back of the couch, hoping to get just a bit more rest. His eyes closed as he inhaled that warm cinnamon, hating that it was slowly starting to not bother him anymore.
“Mama. Mama!”
“Mm?” Jimin hummed, feeling Minsoo climb onto the couch and flop onto Jimin’s side. No more sleep, then. Making sure the pup wouldn’t fall, Jimin turned back over, blinking blond hair out of his eyes.
Minsoo’s bright eyes glittered, small hands smacking the furs lightly as he cocked his head to the side and said, “Play?”
It hurt to decline. But Jimin still shook his head with a soft frown, petting Minsoo’s soft hair. “Mama is too tired to play today.” The pup pouted furiously, tears brimming in his eyes, and Jimin couldn’t help but coo, cuddling him to his stomach and bundling him under the furs. Minsoo wriggled out of his grasp, laying with his head so he could stare at Jimin’s face, blinking. Taking a moment, Jimin sniffed the air, confused when he couldn’t smell the Alpha. “Where is he?”
Minsoo beamed. “Goo outside!” Goo? Ah—Jeongguk. The pup mimed making claws and growled as best as he could, making a lick of fear spark in Jimin at the thought of Jeongguk being mean to his pup, but Minsoo continued with a happy, “Big wolf!”
Sighing in relief, Jimin pecked the top of his head. “Yeah? I bet. Come on pup,” he said, propping himself up on an elbow. “Help Mama up.” Upon being given a task, Minsoo slipped off the couch, bouncing on small toes as he did his very best to help Jimin into a sitting position, then pull him up by the hands. He didn’t do much, but the effort was adorable, and Jimin finally pushed off the couch with a little wince and a hiss of pain.
Maybe his feet were a bit fucked up.
Still, he limped a step forward, staring at the soft pile on the table, lifting it up to study the clothes. It was much nicer than going naked, that was for sure, but Jimin didn’t think he much liked wearing another Alpha’s clothes. Or any Alpha’s clothes, for that matter. Chewing on his lip, he sighed and slipped on the pants, figuring it was better than having to hold a fur around himself for a day. The pants were tighter to his skin, not stifling but definitely tailored, and there was no way they fit Jeongguk. He lifted up the cream, wool sweater next, lips parting once he saw how long it was, but tugging it on regardless, letting it fall to mid-thigh with a huff. This definitely fit the Alpha, because it didn’t fit Jimin at all. It might have fit better, once upon a time, but—as Jimin raised his hands to trace his ribs through the sweater—it was evident that his emaciated frame wasn’t doing him any favors.
Minsoo grabbed two of Jimin’s fingers in his hand, bouncing once more as he chanted, “Pretty!”
With a gentle laugh, Jimin scooped the pup into his arms, commenting on how much bigger he’d gotten as he did his best to limp around the cottage. He walked mostly on his heels, doing his best not to irritate the cuts on his feet too much as he ducked into each room. The cabin sported a quaint bathroom that was detached from the small bedroom, as well as the tiny kitchen and living room. All in all, it was small. That was it.
But it was quite obviously home to Jeongguk, and Jimin couldn’t help the jealousy that settled in his stomach as he stared at the mismatched dishes, tiny messes, and various wood statues that looked carved by the Alpha himself. Maybe—maybe Jimin could have this. At some point, once he was done running, he could have a place of his own. It could be just like this, a little cabin, with toys for Minsoo, flowers everywhere, his own scent, and a nest for himself and—
“Look!” Minsoo chirped, dashing back into the living room and leaving Jimin stranded in the kitchen, staring at the wall. But the pup was back in a moment, shoving something soft into Jimin’s hands and stomping his foot until he was acknowledged. Slowly, Jimin looked down, surprised to see both the fox pelt and the rabbit pelt in his hands. Minsoo petted their tails with his small hands. “Goo make pretty.”
Unable to help himself, Jimin blinked down at the pelts, wondering why the Alpha had done such a thing, before shaking it off. They had probably smelled, or something. Crouching down, Jimin handed the furs back to his pup, kissing his soft cheek. “They’re very pretty. Did you thank him?”
“I did!” There was a proud smile on Minsoo’s face. “But he gone.”
“He’ll be back. Thank him again when he is,” Jimin hummed, maneuvering himself back into the living room so he could sit on the couch and rest his feet. Once he was sitting again, he took the pelts from Minsoo, announcing they were going to sit safely on the couch before asking if Minsoo wanted to play. When the pup nodded furiously, Jimin said, “But I’ll just watch, okay? Mama’s too sick to play.”
With a furious pout, Minsoo shifted into his adorable puppy form, wanting to run as a wolf instead. He usually got out most of his energy that way. It had only been a year since he could pull off the transformation—much earlier than most other pups, to Jimin’s delight—and it seemed to be his favorite thing to do. That, and nipping at Jimin’s ankles when he was bored.
Jimin watched Minsoo dart around the living room, keeping away from the furniture and only bumping into the wall once, making him roll into a dazed ball of fluff for a moment, before he was off again. He was too good of a pup to get near anything that could break, but it didn’t mean that Jimin escaped his wrath, giggling as Minsoo chewed on his ear with underdeveloped fangs. The pup purred happily when Jimin cooed at him, wailing that it hurt so bad before shooing him off to continue running.
The door was pushed open not long later, and Jimin froze when Jeongguk trotted into the living room, not prepared for Minsoo to barrel into him at full speed. Jeongguk snapped at the pup, a low growl escaping the Alpha that had Minsoo cowering back in fear, tail between his legs.
Furious, Jimin whipped a pillow at Jeongguk’s head, hissing, “It was an accident, asshole!” Minsoo leaped into his lap, whimpering softly as Jimin cuddled him close, wrapping the fox fur around his fluffy frame as a form of comfort. The Alpha blinked at the pup, red eyes slowly flicking to Jimin, then the pillow that had connected with his fluffy head. He didn’t look angry, just—surprised?
Jeongguk watched as Jimin scented Minsoo thoroughly, trying to soothe the crying pup, before huffing and slipping into his room. There wasn’t even enough time for Jimin to think about how pretty Jeongguk’s coat was—black, with a smattering of white around his snout and paws, as well as a stark white tip of his tail—before he was stepping out of his room a moment later, finishing pulling on his shirt. The Alpha hesitated, but then walked over to the couch, eyeing Jimin when the Omega held his pup a bit closer.
“Sorry, pup,” he murmured. A tiny smile broke through his usually stoic features when Minsoo popped his head out of the furs Jimin had swaddled him in. “I’m not used to having other wolves here.”
“You didn’t have to growl at him,” Jimin muttered, wishing he could pull his knees up to his chest without hurting his feet.
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Sure.”
Glaring at the other wolf, Jimin huffed and laid down on the couch, back aching from sitting up for so long. Minsoo cuddled into his stomach, used to the position from sleeping like that in the wild for so long, but his fluffy tail was wagging as he watched Jeongguk stand up with a similar huff. He seemed to pause just in front of the kitchen door, one of those weathered hands gripping the doorframe. “Storm’s comin’,” he said, keeping his back to Jimin, northlands accent slipping into his tone. It was refreshing in a way Jimin hated.
“Yeah?” Jimin snapped. “And how do you know that?”
“Can’t you smell it?”
Pausing, Jimin turned his nose to the air, but all he could smell was that stifling pine and cinnamon, lip curling in distaste. “No. Just you.”
Jeongguk glanced back at him, before slipping into the kitchen. Jimin frowned at the thought of the conversation just ending like that, his Omega scratching at his insides at the possibility that he’d been rejected. Once again, Jimin shoved it back down.
Was there going to be a storm? He waited in silence until Jeongguk came back, setting a cup down in front of Jimin. It was steaming, and a quick sniff proved it to be a type of tea. Eyeing it wearily, Jimin didn’t pick it up, instead asking, “What type of storm?”
“Snow,” Jeongguk murmured. He looked tired, not to mention how dim his scent was. What had he been doing all day? What time even was it? “Probably a blizzard. Won’t be here for a few days, though.”
A hum left Jimin’s lips. Maybe he’d make it out before it hit, then. He scratched behind Minsoo’s ears, smiling when the pup kicked his foot in his sleep at the action, unable to stop the feeling of protectiveness that washed over him when he caught Jeongguk watching. They stared at each other for a minute, before Jeongguk pushed his tongue into his cheek. “How old is he?”
“Three.”
“He’s far along for three.”
“I know.”
Jeongguk sighed, stepping back and running a hand through his dark waves. They fell back over his forehead a moment later. Jimin reached out to take the tea, relishing in the warmth it brought his ever-cold hands, inhaling the scent before sipping. Jeongguk watched all the while, then said, “And you?”
Jimin narrowed his eyes. “Me?”
“Yeah. How old are you?”
Sucking in his cheeks, Jimin took another sip, setting the cup back down on the table once he was done. “I don’t see how that matters.”
Jeongguk let out an exasperated huff. “Fuck, I’m just asking.”
That was the problem. “How old are you, then?”
“Twenty-five.”
Oh. Jimin glanced away, catching his lower lip between his teeth. He didn’t know what he had been expecting—but it surely wasn’t for the Alpha to be older than him. With those young features and doe-like eyes, he’d expected to be older, for once. Jimin massaged his wrist a bit, voice quiet as he murmured, “Twenty-two. I think.”
Jeongguk blinked. Twice. His lips parted, but then he shook his head, frowning. “You think?”
“Has the Winter Solstice passed yet? It has, right?” Jimin wrung his fingers together, trying not to let his leg bounce. He wasn’t comfortable talking this much, but it really might be good to make sure his timing was correct.
“Yeah,” Jeongguk said. His voice was soft as well.
Jimin knew his scent burned a bit as he whispered, “Yeah. Then I’m twenty-two.”
It was silent for a while. Jimin fidgeted under Jeongguk’s stare, hating this, hating that he’d said anything, wondering if this couch would just swallow him whole, when Jeongguk breathed, “You were—you were eighteen?” Jimin’s silence seemed to be enough, but it didn’t stop him from flinching at Jeongguk’s low growl. “What type of Alpha would—”
“Please.” Jimin shook his head, cradling Minsoo close to his body. The pup stirred, but did not wake, pushing his snout into Jimin’s stomach. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Jimin shook his head, swiping blond hair from his eye as he murmured, “I think I’d like to sleep now.”
“Jimin—”
“Don’t say anything,” he snapped, unable to contain himself. Inside, his Omega had shrunk back, and Jeongguk’s growl surely hadn’t helped. It wasn’t hard to hide it, to think about it—about how no one would want him now. He was a ruined Omega after all. He had a pup already, he was on the run, and Alphas made him sick. But the pup was the kicker. No Alpha would want to raise a pup that wasn’t their own.
Jimin didn’t care. Good riddance, he thought. Alphas were good-for-nothing fucks.
But he wanted one.
Deep down, Jimin wanted nothing more. He knew it was his Omega, the cursed thing, craving the affection of an Alpha, or at least anyone else. It made him sick that he still reacted to them, that he still craved a knot—sometimes even when he wasn’t in heat. It made him sick that he’d been ruined, because he used to be so pretty. He used to be perfect. Everything had been perfect.
Until it wasn’t.
“Yeah,” he whispered, well aware that it came out as more of a whimper. “I think I’d like to sleep now.”
Jeongguk didn’t say anything. He just watched, a fire blazing behind his amber eyes, as Jimin sniffed once and laid down on the couch, dragging a few furs over his trembling frame. He wasn’t sure if he was shivering because of the cold, this time. Shutting his eyes, even though he knew he wouldn’t sleep anytime soon, Jimin tried to forget about all of it. It was always easier that way.
Still, he held Minsoo close, cuddling his pup—the only perfect thing left.
They didn’t talk much after that. They didn’t talk at all, really. Maybe it was because Jimin was getting worse with each passing day, even though his body was beginning to recover, or maybe it was because the two of them just didn’t work. Jeongguk tried sometimes, a few words here and there, maybe a small smile, but he seemed to falter when he didn’t get more than a clipped response. It was an effort, and Jimin guessed he should be grateful, but he just—wasn’t. He wasn’t much of anything, really.
At least his feet had healed. He’d been able to walk normally after the fifth day, and was more than happy that he could actually walk to the bathroom, instead of hobbling and gripping the furniture like a lifeline. Still, Jimin was quiet. He liked to attribute it to the fact that he’d been mostly silent for an entire month, but it could very well have been him punishing himself for speaking up the last time. There was no reason to explain himself to the Alpha but—a part of him wanted to. A part of him wanted to make sure that Jeongguk didn’t think he was ruined, that he was a lost cause.
Jimin thought he kind of was.
But Minsoo was happy. Minsoo had never been better, actually. Much to Jeongguk’s apparent dismay, the pup followed him almost everywhere, mimicking his movements and facial expressions the best that he could, always looking up at the Alpha with sparkling eyes once he was finished to see if he would receive some praise for the actions. He rarely did, but it didn’t stop him much, if at all.
A part of Jimin felt bad. Truly. But Jeongguk was the only vaguely-good Alpha influence Minsoo had ever had, and Jimin wasn’t too upset that he was learning something other than how to run and be quiet. He kept a close eye on the two of them, though, never letting Minsoo follow Jeongguk outside of the cabin where he couldn’t see them. So what—he was protective. He had every reason to be.
“One day,” however, became “one week,” and Jimin didn’t make it out before the storm hit. It started off small, a few flakes falling here and there on the fourth day, but Jeongguk was on edge, always muttering something about how it was coming. He’d been back inside late that night. Jimin hadn’t asked why.
By the night of the sixth day, it was a full-fledged blizzard.
Jimin woke on the seventh day, slowly popping his head out of the furs that had kept him warm to the sound of Jeongguk’s soft curse. “Mm?” He hummed sleepily, never realizing he’d even made a sound.
Jeongguk turned away from the window, rolling his neck with a huff. “Snow’s too high to do anything.”
He blinked awake at that. “How high?”
“Four feet, at least.”
Jimin gaped, throwing the furs off to rush to the window, only gentle pangs of pain shooting up through the soles of his feet. They were mostly fine, now. Thank fuck. But it was true—the snow was easily up the side of the cabin, creeping ever higher as wind whipped outside. It was the most snow he’d ever seen. “Holy fuck.”
Jeongguk chuckled, moving into the kitchen to make something for breakfast. He usually ate quickly before starting on whatever work he did during the day, sometimes leaving food out for Jimin and sometimes leaving him to figure it out on his own. It seemed as though it would be different that day. “Where you from, again?”
He couldn’t stop staring out the window. Snow was fascinating. “Southlands.”
“Thought so. Sound like it.”
“Your northern accent isn’t much better.”
“Never said it was.”
Jimin turned to glare at him over his shoulder, watching as Jeongguk made up a little fire at the stove, putting a cast-iron pan on top and digging out some meat to cook. His eyes flicked to Jimin, and then he added some more. At the gesture, Jimin sighed, turning from the window to collect Minsoo from the couch, stretching out his aching back as he roused the pup. “Look, pup. Come look at all the snow.”
Minsoo rubbed at his eyes with his fists, raising his arms to be picked up with a wide yawn. Giggling, Jimin pecked his nose, taking the pup in his arms and scenting him as they walked to the window. Minsoo squirmed in his grasp as he caught sight of all the snow, small hands pressing against the window to get a better look. Making sure the pup could watch, Jimin set Minsoo on his hip, closing his eyes for a brief moment before he said, “When will it be over?”
At the stove, Jeongguk hummed in thought, scraping the meat off the pan and onto a plate. “Few hours. Then the snow has to melt, so—few days?”
Jimin’s shoulders slumped. He twisted his foot on the floor, eyed Minsoo for a moment, then murmured, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Letting us stay.”
Jeongguk glanced at him. “It’s fine.”
Jimin still didn’t feel right about it. “Don’t worry. We’ll be out once the snow melts enough.”
A plate clattered a bit hard against the table as Jeongguk set it down. It made Jimin flinch a bit, Omega whining at the thought that the Alpha was upset with him, but Jeongguk didn’t even glance over as he jerked his chin at the table and said, “Eat.”
Sucking in his cheeks, Jimin pulled Minsoo from the window—much to the pup’s dismay—moving over to the table and settling down in the chair across from the Alpha. They’d never eaten like this. Tentatively, Jimin watched Jeongguk begin to eat, only allowing himself to take a bite once Jeongguk had finished half his plate. He chewed slowly, giving a few pieces to Minsoo, but kept track of the amount of food on each of their plates.
After a while, Jeongguk sighed. “Stop it.”
Jimin stopped eating. “What?”
“Watching me. And your scent’s burning again. Cut it out.” Jeongguk finished everything on his plate, leaning back in his chair as he studied the Omega. “What’s up? You smell nervous.”
He hated eating like this. It made him more than uncomfortable. Still, he swallowed, holding Minsoo a bit closer as he ducked his chin in submission. “You’re finished?”
The Alpha looked confused. “Yeah? So?”
“Are you still hungry?”
“I’m fine. Why?”
Licking his lips, Jimin pushed his plate over. “You can have mine, if you’d like.”
Jeongguk was taken aback. Frowning, he pushed the plate back. “It’s yours. You need it, anyway.”
“But—” Jimin faltered. This was weird. This wasn’t normal for him. Alphas deserved more food—right? That’s how it had always been. “But you might still be hungry. And I still have food left, so you should just—have it.”
“Listen.” By the tone of his voice, Jeongguk wasn’t playing around. And Jimin, cursed by the Omega inside him, listened, ears tuning in to Jeongguk’s soft, serious voice. “I don’t know what shit happened down there where you came from. I don’t really care. But it’s fucked. I don’t care how long you stay as long as you’re healthy, because I’d be a terrible Alpha if I kicked you out and left you to die in the cold. But you’re a wolf—an Omega—not a slave. Not less. Got it?”
Seemingly furious, Jeongguk shoved away from the table, rotting pine filling the quaint kitchen. “And,” he spat, snatching his own plate and moving to wash it off. “I can feed myself, thank you very much.”
Jimin blinked, Omega cowering. Both of them flinched when Jeongguk slammed his bedroom door behind him. It was obvious that the Alpha wasn’t angry with him, but he couldn’t help but believe that he’d done something wrong, lips trembling as he brought the plate back towards him and slowly took another bite. He was just doing his best to survive in this new house. That was all. He wasn’t trying to do anything wrong.
Wiping at his eyes, Jimin blew out a shaking breath, lifting Minsoo by the underarms and turning the pup so he could make sure he was alright. Minsoo looked fine, barely shaken, adorable face pouting as he wriggled in order to look at Jeongguk’s door. He seemed to want to go follow the Alpha. Shaking his head, Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to the pup’s forehead and murmured, “He doesn’t want to see us right now.”
“Goo?” Minsoo said, voice watery.
“Jeongguk will come out in a bit, I promise,” Jimin said, forcing a smile. Minsoo wrinkled his nose, as though he could tell by Jimin’s scent that he was still upset, but sat back down in Jimin’s lap with a huff, letting the Omega feed him some more.
It got to a point where Jimin was actually nervous that Jeongguk wouldn’t come out. Hours passed, each one ticking by and marked by Minsoo’s growing impatience. It took everything in Jimin to keep him away from the Alpha’s door, trying every trick in the book to keep him occupied, but Minsoo wasn’t having it. He wanted the Alpha and, although he was quiet about it, he wasn’t going to be happy until he got what he wanted.
Jimin gave up when Minsoo sat in the corner of the cabin, all pouty lips and watering eyes, not throwing a fit but definitely not playing anymore. Running his hands over his face, Jimin gave himself a minute to shake himself off, before shoving off the couch and striding over to knock at Jeongguk’s door.
“Yeah?”
Without even asking, Jimin pushed the door open, stepping inside the room and letting it shut behind him. It was an invasion of privacy, that he knew, but he couldn’t be bothered when it came to his pup. Still, he probably shouldn’t have let his eyes wander the space, staring at the fur-covered bed that looked very comfortable, the little details that proved how long the Alpha had been living here, the clothes that spilled out of a wardrobe, the unfinished projects on the desk. Glancing away when Jeongguk caught him staring, Jimin murmured, “Minsoo’s sulking.”
“Why?” Jeongguk turned back to what he was working on at his desk.
“He wants to play with you.”
The Alpha stiffened slightly. “I’d rather not.”
A shock of anger ran up his spine, making Jimin stride over and pull Jeongguk away from his desk. Jeongguk stared up at him with those wide eyes, not expecting Jimin’s hissed words. “Listen. You can be an asshole to me all you want, but not to my pup. Understand? He wants to play with you. You can spare a few fucking minutes.”
Jeongguk rose from his seat. Jimin let go in a heartbeat, taking a step back, glancing at the Alpha’s arm and maneuvering neatly out of strike range. It didn’t matter if Jeongguk noticed—but he did. “You’d let me? Really? You’d really let me go play with him?” Jeongguk didn’t step closer, but Jimin knew he wanted to. He could smell the way their scents spiked and intertwined in the air, a forest full of delectable sweets. His Omega wanted to melt into a puddle at the combination, but Jimin forced himself to stay standing as Jeongguk growled, “You won’t let him out of your sight, let alone with me. And now you’re asking me to play with him?”
“Do you not want to?” Jimin fired back. “He’s a pup. Let him play with you. Let him sit with you, at least, if you’re so fucking busy!”
“And what if he falls?” Jeongguk finally snapped, words making Jimin’s lips part. “What if it gets too rough? What if he runs off? What if he gets hurt somehow? What am I supposed to do then?”
Oh. It made sense, now. Jeongguk was afraid of hurting Minsoo. And, sure, Jimin was afraid of the same, but he was just being a protective mother. Jeongguk—Jeongguk was terrified of being with the pup.
Deflating, Jimin managed a faint smile, some of the sugar coming back to sweeten his scent. “Come on,” he murmured, keeping his voice soft. Just knowing that Jeongguk was afraid of himself when it came to interacting with the pup allowed Jimin to relax, hackles no longer raised. “Let’s go play. I’ll sit with you.”
Jeongguk pushed his tongue into his cheek, glancing over his shoulder for a moment. “You’ll stay while the snow melts?”
“I guess? Can’t run anywhere in four feet of snow,” he said, confused.
A beat passed, but then Jeongguk moved over to the bed, a single knee touching the floor as he slid something out from underneath the bed and presented it to Jimin. He seemed a bit—shy about it. And it was heartwarming, of course, but Jimin had no idea what he was looking at. “What is it?”
Jeongguk looked at him, then at the wooden object, then back at Jimin again, before recognition flashed in his eyes. He let out a soft chuckle. “Forgot you’re from the south. It’s a sled.”
“A—sled.”
“Yeah. A sled. You push it in the snow and you can ride it.”
Jimin stared at the object, and it took a moment for the information to click. Then, a burst of gardenia and sugar was filling the room, his eyes sparkling as he stared up at the Alpha. “You built this for Minsoo?”
Jeongguk looked as though he was absolutely enamored by the show of emotion. “Yeah, I thought—it might be fun. For once the storm is over. And—” He hesitated. “If you leave, then you could use it to pull the pup behind you. Yeah.”
“Oh,” Jimin murmured, unable to take his eyes off the sled. “A sled.”
“Do you—do you like it?”
Slowly, he raised his head once more to look at Jeongguk. “It’s perfect. Really. But—” Jeongguk’s shoulders fell, but Jimin only let out a gentle, tinkling laugh. “I kind of wish you had one big enough for me.”
Jeongguk’s eyes snapped up. Then, his hand came up to rub the back of his neck as he mumbled, “I do? It’s mine, but—yeah. I do.”
A sled big enough for him. Jimin couldn’t imagine what it would be like. Sliding on the snow? It sounded like fun—and he hadn’t had fun in so long. Beaming, Jimin’s eyes crinkled as he bounced once on his toes and said, “I can’t wait!” He left the Alpha standing there in awestruck silence as he left the room in a whirlwind of sweet flowers. Minsoo was going to absolutely love it.
The pup looked up as Jimin flounced into the room, scooping Minsoo up in his arms and twirling him around, voice bright. “Jeongguk’s coming to play!”
Minsoo squealed in delight, squirming to get down and running off to meet the Alpha as he stepped out of his room. Jeongguk’s eyes flicked to Jimin in alarm when Minsoo got close, but the Omega merely waved at him with a dismissive, “Watch out if he shifts. He’s an ankle biter.”
Jeongguk’s look of utter horror was priceless, and Jimin thought that maybe—just this once—he could ease up a bit. Not let his guard down, of course, but it wasn’t the end of the world to let Jeongguk play around with Minsoo. So he sat back, still wrapped in furs since he was almost perpetually cold now, and watched the pup bounce and play around with Jeongguk. It was sweet, how the Alpha tried his best, panicked eyes flicking to Jimin whenever Minsoo even slightly bumped into something.
Eventually—because Minsoo never got tired these days—Jimin stood up with a stretch, smiling softly as he tiptoed into the kitchen. Hands on his hips, he decided to tackle dinner, a gesture of good faith after Jeongguk had played with the pup all day. The snow continued to fall, merely gentle flakes now, as Jimin cooked some meat on the stove, adding various seasonings that the Alpha had resting on the windowsill and finding some other bits and pieces to add in as well. Jeongguk didn’t seem to live on much, but it made sense—it wasn’t like there were any markets way out here. Still, Jimin hummed quietly as he cooked, remembering how he used to do it every day and, somehow, finding none of the resentment he’d once held so dear.
“What are you doin’?”
Jimin jumped with a startled gasp, placing a hand on his chest as he turned to face the Alpha. Jeongguk apologized with a sheepish grimace, but Jimin was more focused on the fact that Minsoo was clinging to the Alpha, small arms wrapped around Jeongguk’s neck, looking as happy as ever as he peeked over the Alpha’s shoulder at Jimin. “Cooking,” Jimin mumbled, unable to stop staring at his pup.
He’d understood the desire to play. Jimin couldn’t, so Jeongguk was the next best option. He was an Alpha with lots of energy and strength, and he was at least vaguely kind. It made sense. But Minsoo had never been affectionate with anyone other than Jimin. The pup had always been unnaturally good at judging a wolf’s character—and they hadn’t been around the best wolves, back then.
Jeongguk faltered at Jimin’s look, hands slowly rising as though he was going to pry the pup off, but stopped when Jimin reached out and gently pushed those calloused hands back down with a soft smile. “It’s okay,” he said, turning back to the now-completed meal he’d been preparing. “Hungry?”
“Yes!” Minsoo chirped, echoing Jeongguk’s subtle nod. Jimin waved for them to go sit down, surprised by how the pup didn’t fuss when Jeongguk gently pulled him off and sat him down in Jimin’s chair to wait for the Omega.
The Alpha watched as Jimin served up two plates, setting Jeongguk’s down first, then his own, making sure they had something to drink before he sat and pulled the pup onto his lap. Bouncing his knee lightly, he made Minsoo giggle, lightly rubbing his cheek against the pup’s own to scent him and watching him nibble on a piece of meat. Jeongguk stared all the while, chewing slowly with a thoughtful frown on his features. Finally, Jimin had enough, huffing a, “What? Do you not like it?”
“No! No, I do!” Jeongguk emphasized this by taking another large bite. “But—is this another one of those things you shouldn’t be doing? ‘Cause it seems like it is.”
Jimin’s Omega whined at the thought of his ‘gift’ not being appreciated. He tried not to let it show, but Minsoo still turned at the dimming of his scent. “Just trying to be nice,” he murmured, staring down at his own plate. Why did it even matter? But it did, and Jimin hated the feeling of his Omega whining and curling up as a result of the apparent rejection. He really did his best. Maybe he could have done better if he’d had a few more ingredients, he’d really always been able to make the best sweets, really—
“Hey,” Jeongguk said, lips curving into a soft, reassuring smile. “I’m sorry. It’s really good. It’s been forever since someone cooked for me, I think I’m just out of practice.” He dipped his chin in a firm nod, as though assuring Jimin that what he’d said was true. “Thank you. Yeah.”
Omega peeking out from its little hiding spot, Jimin stared at Jeongguk, looking for any hint that he could be lying. Finding none, he deflated a bit, nodding as they finished the rest of their meal in silence. Minsoo began babbling once they were almost done, telling Jimin all the games he and Jeongguk had played and what they’d done while he’d been cooking, mind spinning fantastical stories that made him giggle. He was glad that Minsoo’s imagination could run free here, even if it was only for a short while. Just until the snow melted, then they’d find a place of their own.
Maybe—maybe they could stay relatively close to the miracle cabin. Just close enough.
For Minsoo’s sake, of course.