"Crap," a vague voice pants. "Crap, crap, crap."

I can't really hear it—my head is swimming with an odd mixture of pain and blurriness, so everything is a streaky, black-speckled version of itself. Did I pass out? I can't remember. The whole world seems to be encased in a dream-like fuzziness.

"You're gonna be fine, Jieun," the voice echoes again "Just hold on. Almost there okay? We're gonna fix this."

It's familiar, but far away from me, swimming through the airwaves from another universe. I can't place where I've heard it before. A deep and resonating voice that wakes something gushy and giddy hidden inside me. There's warmth around me, and a slight burning in my shoulder, and something strong and tense hooked around me. A slight bounce sways me up and down, back and forth, so that my limp head bounces roughly. I can't find the strength to lift it.

It must be Jungkook.

He used to do this when we were children—pick me up and run around, refusing to put me down until I admitted some stupid phrase. He was better than me, or smarter, or prettier. He was a skinny kid, but I was smaller, so I was helpless in his arms until he decided it was time to stop playing.

Since we grew up, though, those things don't happen anymore. Jungkook is bigger and stronger than I ever thought he would be, and he doesn't need me to tell him that he's prettier or better. He already knows.

Besides, this is different.

The way I'm being cradled in the arms of the person carrying me isn't soft and carefree. The blurriness is edging out into pain, and I'm becoming conscious of the arms under my knees and shoulders, and the tightness of the grip.

They're scared.

Why? I wonder lightly. Does it have something to do with the weird burning in my stomach and shoulder?

As if activated by the focus of my thoughts, the heated places evolve into a pain so intense that it's numbing.

A gasp forces its way up my throat, followed by a cough that spatters hot liquid across the corner of my limp mouth.

Squinting my eyes open, the hurt is so bad that my vision is spotted and unclear. All I can make out is smeared blurs of color, two pretty dark eyes and cool-toned fringes of hair.

What an odd hair color. Like ice. Like snow.

"Who—" I start but another cough breaks from my mouth, bringing with it another upheaval of warm liquid.

Blood.

I'm coughing up blood.

"Am I dying?" I wheeze. Spluttering the question out takes all the energy I have. I close my eyes, struggling to keep my mind alert enough to think.

"Shh," the deep voice says. It's hoarse. "Don't try to talk, okay? We're nearly there. Just—"

We stop moving, and the arms move me up so my head and shoulders prop against a broad chest. There's the sound of a fist knocking furiously on hardwood, and the voice says, "Open up! Open the freaking door!"

I'm slipping away again. Darkness is eating at the edge of my thoughts, biting at them until they're only a sliver of awareness.

My brain can only register the smallest of details, the most generalized understanding of the babbling of voices, of the feelings of movement. In and out, sensations brush against my mind like a purring cat with soft slips of fur. There's growling, and a soft resting place, and yelling men.

The burn of my hurt is growing in a strange way, spreading like wildfire through my body. Something is growing, thrashing against the confines of my form. It's something that doesn't belong, and it wasn't there before. It's painful. My mouth opens, but I don't know if any sound comes out. The new fire is consuming me completely.

Hours are passing. Years and eons, and the pain rips a vortex into time then eats it whole.

My limbs feel like they're twisting apart, ripping asunder into a form foreign and new. My teeth grit in agony, body arching against the horrifying changes.

My mind rips apart into tiny pieces of thought, into fragments of

scent

sound

Smells familiar.

Smells safe.

Movement. Something touching my head. A big two-leg with black fur.

Don't mind it. Smells familiar. A familiar two-leg that's not a threat.

A place I've been, but not the outside. Hard ground, and closed in. Too stale in here. Smells like two-legs and my kind.

The two-leg touches me again, scratches my ear.

"You alright, Jieun?" It's making noises but I don't understand them. A strange slippery sound. Confusing. I tilt my head to hear better, but...

Outside. Want to go outside.

The two-leg rumbles, growls low in warning.

I understand that.

But ignore it. Outside is there.

I go to where outside smells strongest, but there's a something in the way. I can see the outside through it. I scratch it, but it doesn't move.

"You can't go out the window." The two-leg makes slippery noises again. I tilt my head. Still confusing. Back to the outside and the clear something between us.

A huff from the two-leg behind me. It leaves. Don't care.

I scratch the clear something again. I can smell the wind. It's so close.

One of my kind enters the stale place. It's familiar too. It smells like the two-leg but different.

It rumbles, and says to follow.

I rumble back, show teeth, but let it lead.

It goes into more stale places, bigger and smaller, with different smells. I want to stop in the place that smells good, with scents like prey, but it growls at me to move on.

It takes me to the outside.

The wind is chilly and feels good, and the dark is easy and sweet. There's prey around, moving in the dark. So many sounds. So many smells.

It's the first time outside.

The other one of my kind prances back and forth. It huffs short. Let's run.

I rumble. Show teeth. It likes to lead, but so do I.

I go into the dark outside ahead, and it follows. 

***

"Jieun," a voice whispers. It's my stupid friend. "Are you gonna wake up any time soon?"

I groan. Sleep was being so good to me. "Go away, Jungkook. I'm happy without you."

He laughs. It sounds a little strange, like he's relieved, so I open my eyes to look at him.

Jungkook looks like he had a rough night. His black hair is tangled and matted with sweat, and his eyes are red rimmed. He stares hard at me, anxious, obviously waiting for something.

"What is it?" I yawn. "Are we at your house? I can't see around your big head. Did I spend the night here after the party last night?"

"Yeah," he replies cautiously. "My house. You, um... crashed here last night."

That's so weird. I never do that unless I was drinking, and I don't remember drinking.

Frowning, I realize that I don't remember much of anything. Why are all my memories so strange and blurry? Like I put them through a mental shredder, and I can't put the scraps back together properly.

All I can remember is being out in the woods, and how good the dark and the wind felt.

And something was hurting.

I push Jungkook away so I can sit up, cataloguing my body. All limbs are accounted for. I feel fine, if a little sore. I don't even feel any hangover symptoms, crossing out alcohol as a suspect for why my memories are in a jumble.

Satisfied with my physical self-checkup, I finally look around.

We're in Jungkook's room, and I'm in his bed, wearing a set of his pajamas. It's normal, all hardwood floors and navy blankets and a big window on one wall. Through the window I can see that the sun is pretty high in the sky already, so it must be mid-afternoon. Some deep scratches grooved into the glass catch my attention.

Why does that tug at my memory so hard?

"Wow," I say to my friend, who's finally backing up to give me some space. "What happened last night? I can't remember anything. Did I trip in the woods or something? And what happened to your window?"

Jungkook stays squatted on the floor in front of the bed. He stares at me intently. "You don't remember anything? How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I say. I push to my feet and stretch my arms over my head, twisting this way and that. My spine pops, and I hiss out a breath. "Did you hear that crack? I think my whole freaking spine just shifted into place."

"Back into place, probably," he mumbles.

"Huh?" I send him a glance, lips pursed. "You okay? You're acting kinda weird."

Jungkook stands, too, unfolding to his height and broadness that makes me feel like a toddler in front of him. "Not really," he says quietly. He's very serious, which is a rarity. "We need to talk about something."

"Okay. I'm listening."

Jungkook spreads his hands out in front of him. He folds them back into fists. He spreads them back out.

"Having trouble?" I ask dryly.

My friend sighs and pinches his nose. "How do I even say this?"

"With words, preferably," I tease.

"Okay. Yeah. Words." Jungkook looks me in the eye, frowning, and says, "Jieun, last night you were bitten by a werewolf."

I blink.

Totally not what I was expecting.

"Right," I say. "And how much pot did you smoke, exactly?"

"I'm serious," Jungkook says. "You were bitten by a werewolf, and now you're a werewolf too. Feel your shoulder."

Furrowing my brows at the odd request, I reach a hand into the collar of my borrowed shirt and feel along the crook of my shoulder.

Ouch.

"What the heck?" Wrenching my shirt aside, the fabric reveals a deep bite mark sunk into the skin of my shoulder. It's still tender to the touch. "What the heck? Did I sleep with someone? Who bites this deep?!"

"A werewolf." Jungkook's eyes are so serious, but I want to punch him in the face. This isn't funny.

"Honestly, Kook, quit it with the werewolf delusion, okay? For real, what happened last night?" I can't stop the irritation from leaking into my voice.

He grimaces, and throws his head back with his hands buried in his hair. Then he straightens and looks at me. "Okay. Fine. I'll just have to show you."

"Show me what?" I grouse.

Jungkook holds out his hands. "I know you won't believe me, but I, too, am a werewolf."

Has he always been this much of an idiot?

"Of course you are. I'm a werewolf. You're a werewolf. Your mother is a werewolf. Let's just call her and see if she'll fetch a stick I throw, huh?" I don't hide the sarcasm in my voice. "Mrs. Jeon!"

"Hush!" Jungkook takes me by the shoulders and pushes me to sit on the bed. "Just watch, okay? I'm going to shift for you."

"Okay, yeah. Go ahead and change into a freaking wolf—Jungkook, stop stripping!" I gape at him as he peels off his shirt, revealing his lean upper body, and then goes for the button on his jeans.

"I don't want my clothes to get torn up! Besides, it's not like you haven't seen me naked before."

"Bathing together as children doesn't count," I hiss. "I haven't seen you naked since you hit puberty!" 

He ignores my protests.

I'm speechless as he steps out of his jeans, standing in front of me with his hands on his hips, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs.

"What about your undies?" I ask blankly.

"They'll have to tear," Jungkook replies solemnly. "Don't scream, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," I sigh back. Might as well play along with this maniac. "Howl away, wolf boy."

I sit back, bemused, waiting for him to act out some elaborate charade.

My bemusement only lasts up until the moment that Jungkook's bones start to crack.

[A/N]
I hope y'all enjoyed! Sorry for the wait! Blood Ink update hopefully sometime tonight or tomorrow!

❤️PB