Don't be afraid to show, what we're going for

Woojin woke in a cold sweat, panting heavily as he glanced around frantically for the beast that had been looming over him moments before. The reeking stench of lavender attacked his nostrils still and Woojin would have been convinced that the beast was messing with him if he hadn't realised he was in the bathroom and not the basement. His pounding heart began to slow to a steady, even beat as he began to relax.

As he dragged his gaze around the room and towards the body beside him, his eyes lingered around the shadows in the room as if the beast could be hiding in those tiny spots of darkness. Woojin's veins still trembled with the fear of the Boarus. Even in his dreams, the creature rendered him useless. If it hadn't been for Chan, he would be dead. The unsettling scent of lavender faded from his mind as Woojin's gaze settled on Chan. The faint scent of tar and almost heady scent of hibiscus flower filling his nostrils instead. Reaching out a trembling hand, Woojin touched the Myst's forehead. It was quite warm, but no where near as hot as it had been when he was in danger of dying.

Woojin suppressed a pained groan as he stood. His ankles, knees, hips, back, and even shoulders all cracked as he straightened himself. The simultaneous cracking of his bones left dull aches behind in their wake. His stomach also felt weird. He hoped he wasn't getting sick. With a wince, he bent down before scooping Chan into his arms. He carefully slipped an arm underneath the boy's knees and upper back, gently lifting him without jarring him.

Once he had Chan held comfortably against his chest, he walked slowly out of the bathroom and into the hallway. Stepping down the hallway, Woojin headed towards his bedroom. The room was the third closest room to the bathroom. It would be easier to monitor Chan from his room as it was closer to the dining room where Woojin spent most of his time. 

The door was wide open when he stepped through it, having been left ajar after he had flung it open three days ago in the ridiculous hope of confusing the Boarus while he continued racing towards the basement door. It had been a foolish move that had only slowed him down. Woojin shuddered at the memory of the uncomfortable sensation of the beast's warm, rotten lavender smelling breath almost caressing his neck, seeping through his clothes to tickle tauntingly down his back. His legs buckled as the overwhelming fear he felt while fleeing through his own house, the place he had been taught- the place he believed -was safe, from a horrifying beast that guaranteed death upon meeting it crashed through him once more. With shaky steps, Woojin reached his bed and gently lowered Chan onto it. The scent of lavender tingled at the edge of his mind. His sheets were still thrown back from when he hurriedly jumped out of bed the night after he was attacked by the Boarus, his body responding to the rush of adrenaline flooding his tensed muscles as the lingering memories of the giant rotting creature of deceit and death loped idly after him while calling out to him with his parents' voices haunted his dreams with a ruthless intensity. It had been the most terrifying part about the Boarus. The chase.

The creature was clearly enjoying itself while Woojin could do nothing but sprint away in terror. Yet, no matter how fast he ran, the beast was never more than a metre away. Woojin had been sure that it would have pounced on him before he was anywhere near his house, but the Boarus had simply walked through his door, splintering the doorway and crumbling adjoining walls effortlessly as it continued after him without so much as a stumble.

Desperation had clawed at Woojin's chest mercilessly, shredding his lungs to pieces, prohibiting him from breathing- or at least, that's how it had felt despite his haggard, panted inhales and exhales that tore through his throat. He had to get away. He had to keep running. He had to hide. He had to do something, something! In a last ditch effort to escape the beast, Woojin threw open his bedroom door before barreling down the hall to the basement door, nearly falling down those same steps that he had calmly walked up earlier that day. In his terror clogged mind, he forgot that there was even someone else in the basement, his petrified thoughts too consumed by fear and the desperation to find the silver bullets that would hopefully kill the Boarus. The Boarus was not one of the Mysts that any hunter learned about during their Awakening. It was a creature of nightmares told to children in stories by their parents to convince them to behave and keep close. It wasn't considered real. Not even by the parents. But perhaps that was because no one ever survived the Boarus. 

"We survived," Chan's gurgled, broken words echoed through Woojin's mind, snapping him out of his trance. Chan had murmured those words almost in disbelief before he had slipped into a coma state for four days. The scent of lavender retreated as his focus returned to Chan. His hands still rested against the wolf's shoulder and hip, his fingers scrunching the damp material of his clothing.

Damp. Woojin gasped and unclenched his fingers. Chan's clothes were still damp after Woojin had placed him in the ice bath for his fever. His fingers played with the hem of Chan's shirt. Should he change the Myst's clothes to dry ones? He began to lift the shirt, a sliver of pale skin exposing itself before he stopped, dropping the shirt down as if it had burned him. A strong carnal desire rampaged through Woojin suddenly and he reeled backwards. His breathing became shallow as he suddenly found himself hyper aware of the alluring scent of hibiscus flower and another unidentifiable but familiar sweet scent.

With a choked sound, Woojin stumbled out of the room, practically slamming the door closed in his hurry to escape the strange, unwelcome thoughts that began plaguing his mind without warning. There was a strange mix of primal desires that were goading Woojin into two very different scenarios. Two very different scenarios that made no sense to Woojin. The strange feeling in his stomach worsened and his insides twisted painfully as he inhaled, the scent of hibiscus flower clouding his mind with more images. Images of him and Chan. Moments that had never happened. Moments that didn't make sense and yet made perfect sense. Moments that a part of Woojin wanted to happen.

Shaking his head vigorously, he attempted to clear it of the thoughts. However, the desires refused to be dislodged and only seemed to intensify. With an aggravated groan Woojin messed up his hair as his fingers ran backwards and forwards through the brunette strands roughly. Distress leaked out from Woojin as he paced frantically outside of his bedroom door, the spearmint scent wafting into the room and around him in the hallway.

Woojin paused his aggravated pacing and stared at the closed door, the room seemed to be enticing him to enter, begging and goading him to just open the door and walk in. He shook his head violently and stomped away from his bedroom, his angry footsteps carrying him to the bathroom. He inhaled slowly, vaguely noting the faint hint of burnt cinnamon in the air before disregarding the thought. He stepped into the room cautiously, narrowly avoiding the soaked tiles as he made his way to the towel rack and tugging the foot mat off of it harshly. The grey fabric fell to the floor eagerly, immediately absorbing the water. However, the small mat was not enough to mop up all of the water. With an annoyed sigh, Woojin dumped his larger body towel onto the mess as well- it was due for a wash anyway.

After drying the floor as best as he could, Woojin pulled the plug out of the bathtub and picked up the bag of half-melted ice cubes. A heavy sigh left Woojin's lips as his frustration and confusion drained away with the freezing cold water he poured into the bath. He held the top of the bag while spinning the bottom of it to close it before returning it to the freezer. He glanced at the sink and stared at the dirty dishes and swore.

Whirling around, Woojin walked down the hall to the guest bedroom where the two plates of pancakes remained untouched. A few flies were wandering freely over the food and Woojin's nose involuntarily scrunched in disgust. He carefully slipped his hands under the tray. His fingers stalled on the smooth texture of the tray as he glanced around the room.

The bed sheets were a mess, but otherwise the room looked untouched. It sent a shiver down Woojin's spine. It was almost eerie how cold and empty the room felt. With another shudder, Woojin walked swiftly out of the room, closing the door behind him without a second glance. He balanced the food tray easily as he ambled his way back to the kitchen.

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Woojin dropped his pen onto the table with a frustrated sigh. His eyes unconsciously wandered to his closed bedroom door. Although he had put scent blockers beside the door on both sides, his mind easily remembered the alluring scents of hibiscus flower and the vaguely familiar sweet scent that was growing stronger as the days passed. The scents lingered in the air around him despite him having showered multiple times and soaked his clothes in scent neutralizers. He knew he couldn't actually smell the scents, that it was all in his head, but it still caused his insides to twist weirdly. The feeling in his gut had gotten stronger over the past three days, becoming almost unbearably painful whenever he composed himself enough to enter the room and check on Chan. 

It had taken him five hours to calm down the first day and go back into the room. He had struggled to ignore the scents once again and ended up racing out of the room the moment he had changed Chan's clothes and the bed sheets. The thoughts that had plagued him afterwards had left him unable to focus on even filling out his journal about Chan. The thoughts had even followed him into his dreams that night and unsurprisingly left him waking up ridiculously hard in the middle of the night. With no way to get the arousing images out of his head, he had resorted to having to deal with his problem and wearing a peg on his nose when he checked on Chan. However, the peg was useless. It didn't seem to stop the scents at all. 

Pushing his own journal to the side, he picked up his mother's journal and opened it up to the bookmarked page. His fingers traced his mother's handwriting reverently. He really missed her. He wished she was here right now to explain to him what was going on with Chan and tell him what to do to stop the intimate thoughts about- never mind. He never wanted anyone to know what he had been thinking about for the past two days. They were certainly not PG and not something to be shared. He sighed and switched his attention to what the writing actually said. He had been doing as much research as his restless mind would allow, trying to find out what could possibly be happening. So far, he had been unlucky in both getting much research done and in finding anything of use. 

He begins reading the page but discovers he wasn't paying attention at all when he catches his mind wandering to Chan once again. His eyes find themselves locked onto the white bedroom door for the hundredth time. Chan's temperature hadn't dropped any further since the cold bath and Woojin's brow furrowed in worry as he glanced at his journal. His messily scrawled notes about Chan's health showed a row filled with the exact same number, 76 degrees, despite the wolf's temperature having been taken every two to five hours.  Woojin wasn't sure what to do. He kept changing the washer on Chan's head whenever he checked his temperature, but it didn't seem to be helping at all. Surely that wasn't normal? 

He found himself focusing on his mother's journal as the question burned in the front of his mind. His muscles tense as he begins to comprehend what he is reading and his heart's rhythmic beating speeds up. 

I was talking with the village elder of one of the deer-folk settlements and she told me so many things I did not know. I don't even dare write some of those things down, lest they be discovered by anyone...however unlikely it would be, it's a risk I refuse to take. Everything she said will stick with me for the rest of my life. I will take these secrets to my grave. I won't let anyone know. I can't let anyone know. 

Woojin frowned at his mother's strange words. She almost sounded scared. He had rarely seen his mother scared, but he distinctly remembered the day that he had seen his mother pale and trembling with fear, he vividly remembered the tremor in her voice that gave away just how terrified she was as she tried to speak to him soothingly and promise that everything would be alright. He remembered it as clearly as if it had happened yesterday and not fifteen years ago. And yet, he cannot clearly remember what happened next, just flashes of purple, of a strange face that stared at him and his parents solemnly before disappearing, his mother crying and his father looking so lost and regretful. Just random pieces that didn't seem to fit into the puzzle properly. This seemed like a different kind of scared, her handwriting was a bit messier than usual and looked rushed, as if she was in a hurry to get all of her thoughts down before she was discovered. Just what were the things that this deer-folk elder had told his mother? 

I learned many things while we rested in their humble village. Father and Mother were too busy with the other hunters to notice me much. They had received some information that suggested that our mission would be more dangerous than they had anticipated. Mother and Father no longer want me to come with them. They were preparing to leave with the other hunters while I was to remain with the deer-folk. I didn't mind at first. I like deer-folk. I like how calm and kind they are. I like how they are so friendly and offer refuge to anyone who needs it. I like how their lands have unanimously been agreed upon to be safe zones for everyone. Even the demon-fae hybrids don't dare to meddle with the unspoken law. 

I was nervous when I saw two of them enter the village, but they greeted the deer-folk respectfully and the deer-folk welcomed them warmly. The elder, Elskier Grandeur, told me that they were the only two of their kind who regularly stopped by. They were scouts for their clan and often wound up in some form of trouble as they had a bad habit of biting off more than they could chew. She told me to be wary but that friendliness would go a long way despite what I had been told. "Not all monsters are monsters, MiMi"she told me. She often called me by a nickname in the deer-folk tongue. She told me that it meant "child of wishes". 

Woojin found himself entranced by his mother's words. Even the demon-fae respected the deer-folk? It made no sense to Woojin. The demon-fae were disgusting hybrids with no consciences or respect for anyone. They were indiscriminate murderers who killed simply because they could. They were torturers without mercy or pity and did it for sport, often challenging each other to see who could keep their captive alive the longest while inflicting the worst agony onto their undeserving victim. His confusion disappeared as he read the next paragraph. Elskier's words rang clearly in his mind; not all monsters are monsters. 

Two nights later, I found myself behind the demon-fae as the deer-folk village erupted into flames. What had started as a night of celebration ended in screaming and death. I had been talking with the demon-fae despite their limited knowledge of English and found out their names. They laughed at my attempts to say their demonic names before giving me an English name to call them by. Callan and Alessia. Alessia was usually in charge of  looking after the demon-fae infants that were abandoned by their parents and Callan was Alessia's lover and often took scouting jobs so he could explore the world. He's been restless since his last battle and doesn't like the boring domesticity of staying with the clan. They both seemed so human with their glamours and their words. I forgot that they were monsters in that moment. They were just living beings who were rejected by both of their parents and marked as abominations by the entire world. I felt sympathy for them. I still do. Even if they sided with their kind in the end, they still saved me. They saved me and the other children when they could have just let us burn. 

Alessia helped us escape while Callan kept the attackers distracted by helping them destroy the village. As we ran, I am glad I looked back. I got to see Callan burning some of his kind. He burned them with the village. A silent act of revenge for destroying everything. But I regret stopping to continue watching as Elskier just stood in the flames and allowed them to consume her as her people died. Demon-fae around her jeered and laughed, cackling evilly as she burned to death, growing increasingly agitated as she did not give them the satisfaction of screaming. 

Alessia had dragged me away and it wasn't until many days later that I remembered what she had said. Elskier was a strong woman whom she would honour and respect for the rest of her life. She teleported us to somewhere. She said it was safe and that this was all she could do for us and that she hoped we never crossed paths again. 

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That was the last time I saw Alessia and Callan and even a year later, I can't work out if it makes me happy or sad. They weren't bad and yet they were... If there was a question I could ask Elskier now, It would be this

Is being bad to survive forgivable? 

Woojin stared at the question silently. Is being bad to survive forgivable? He didn't know. It was a heavy question. A question with too many possible answers. 

He continued to read his mother's journal, flicking through page after page, learning more and more about his mother's past. He smiled as he read his mother's entries about meeting his father and how sweet he was to her. He cried as he read about her human friend losing her battle to cancer. He fumed as he read her furious words about his father cheating on her with someone else. He grinned as he read her abashed words about discovering that his father was enlisting the help of his friends to throw her a surprise birthday party, not cheating on her. 

Woojin lost a sense of reality and time as he read through his mother's memories. However, just as his eyelids grew heavy and his mind fogged over with the thoughts of sleep he flipped the page sat up straight. Old blood stains smeared these pages and obscured some of the words. With his mind shocked into high gear, he swiftly begins to read the pages. 

He can feel the colour draining from his skin as he inhales shakily and glances up at the closed white door that hid the inside of his room from view. A new concern reared it's ugly head as words clanged around loudly in his head. 

I don't know how I convince Jongho to help me try to save the injured wolf. I'm just glad he tried to help despite his hate for their kind. The wolf had been attacked by demon-fae and been left alive to slowly die in agony. The stench of blood and wolfbane was so thick I don't know how I was even able to breathe in oxygen, it just didn't seem possible. Jongho helped me carry the wolf to a nearby pack. The pack didn't know him and was wary of us but they barely hesitated to take him into their infirmary.  

We both learned something new that day. The wolf pack offered us aid should we ever need it for helping the wolf they discovered to be the heir of an ally pack they hadn't been able to get in contact with for several months. We both learned that maybe these creatures that we hunt aren't all as bad as we are taught. 

We also learned that injured wolves must never, under any circumstance, shift into their other form. If a wolf is injured in its wolf form, shifting back into their human form before the wounds have healed can worsen their injuries as the anatomy is completely different. The shifting process, especially from wolf to human is particularly dangerous as what looks like a small wound on the wolf is life-threatening on a human. The shifting process can also cause more damage as the bone structures are changing and the skin realigning. 

The wolf died an hour later. The shift into his human form while we were taking him to the pack had made his wounds worse and caused the wolfsbane to spread through his bloodstream quicker. No one seemed surprised except us. When we left, they told us that if a wolf changes into its more vulnerable human form after being injured, it's usually a sign that they have resigned themselves to dying. 

Woojin stared at the words, rereading them again and again. He stood from his chair with a shaky breath. The moment the Boarus had died, Chan had collapsed and shifted into his human form. Woojin had thought nothing of it, not knowing the dangers of that shift, not realising the significance behind Chan's shift. Was this why his temperature wasn't going down to the normal 56 degrees? Was that why he had spent so long unconscious? Was that why he refused to eat? Did Chan want to give in to death? 

Anger flooded Woojin suddenly and violently and he kicked one of the chairs as hard as he could with a frustrated shout. The chair scraped across the ground for a second before becoming airborne and splintering against the wall, leaving a dent in it. He grit his teeth and glared at the closed bedroom door. Who was Chan to just decide to die? How was it fair for Chan to not bother fighting? Why does everyone always want to leave Woojin? 

The rage left Woojin just as suddenly as it came, except it stole any remnants of his energy with it. He collapsed heavily onto his chair and stared blankly out the hole where his front door used to be. He couldn't comprehend where that anger or those thoughts came from. Nor could he comprehend why he suddenly cared so much about Chan's well-being when he had been torturing him for five days straight without even blinking. What had changed? Was it some kind of weird psychological issue that arose from Chan saving him from the Boarus? Should he see a psychologist? He laughed humorlessly, the sound empty and rough. Who was he kidding? What kind of psychologist could he talk to about his hunter life? He'd end up in a psych ward for sure. And then no one would be around to care for Chan. 

His heart twinged painfully at that thought and he sighed defeatedly. He really needed to get more sleep. The lack of sleep really was beginning to mess with his head. He crossed his arms on the table and lay his head on it tiredly. Exhaustion practically bounded up to him and knocked him over in its excitement to greet him. The emotion exertion left him feeling numb and emptied his mind of any thoughts. Unable to fight off the sleep that tugged at his consciousness, Woojin slipped into the freezing clutches of sleep that beckoned him enticingly into its web of nightmares.

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Early morning rays of sunlight streamed into the house through the broken doorway and onto Woojin's hunched form. His pen moved swiftly over the paper of his journal while his eyes trailed over his words. Woojin had awoken from a string of horrifying nightmares about the Boarus and Chan dying a few minutes ago. He wanted to rush to check on Chan but stopped himself long enough to write down the weird symbol that had appeared in his nightmares and when it showed up in each nightmare before he couldn't remember them. As it was, the nightmares were already slipping away from him, only leaving behind the residual terror and sorrow they induced.  

He placed his pen on the table and looked over what he had written, hoping he hadn't missed anything. He nodded to himself, it all looked about right. He would consult some hunter books later to see if he could find anything about the strange symbol. It was the only thing that didn't seem to be leaving his mind in relation to the nightmares. He brushed off the oddness of it and cautiously made his way to the bathroom to shower. He was putting off checking on Chan because a small, scared part of himself was terrified of the finality of it if he did check. 

The warm water washed over his skin soothingly, helping relax his sore and tense muscles from the awkward positions it had been in for long periods of time. Focusing on the sound of the water, Woojin refused to allow his thoughts to wander. Too often he had found himself thinking about all the intimate scenes that overwhelmed him whenever he went near Chan recently, and that vaguely familiar, enticingly sweet scent that was growing stronger and stronger everyday. 

Woojin sighed in exasperation. In his attempt to not think about anything, he had ended up thinking about the things he had least wanted to think about. Trying to drown out the thoughts, he focused on consciously thinking about the motions of brushing his teeth. 

Once done, he left the bathroom and retrieved some clothes from his indoor clothes hanger. Choosing a simple T-shirt and shorts, he got dressed and decided he had stalled for long enough. Chan needed to be checked on. Whether he was dead or alive, he couldn't just be ignored. 

Woojin warily walks towards his bedroom. The twisting of his insides has been growing gradually worse and worse the more times he checks on Chan, but he has no idea what it means or how to make it go away. But it's becoming impossible to ignore. He inhales shakily as he opens the door handle, preparing himself for the overwhelmingly alluring scents. 

He is unprepared, however, when he opens the door and everything hits him full force. A sickly sweet grapefruit scent washes over him, filling him with a strange anxiety that he doesn't understand. The familiar sweet scent that he couldn't name lingered on the tip of his tongue, meek in the presence of the strong grapefruit scent. 

Woojin's eyes meet Chan's eyes. The relief at seeing Chan awake is swept away in a tide of anxiety as the grapefruit scent intensifies suddenly. Something was wrong. The moment their eyes met, Woojin knew something was wrong. 

"How long have I been here?" Chan asked with a trembling voice. Woojin hesitated as he quickly tried to focus long enough to work out how long Chan had been here, his mind struggling to focus as the familiar sweet scent began to grow stronger. 

"Uhh...Nearly two weeks, I think," Woojin responded uncertainly. Chan fell back against the pillows with a frustrated groan.  

"Fuck!" Woojin jumped, startled by the loud curse. He began to walk closer to the bed, concerned about what had Chan so obviously distressed. 

"What? What's wro-" 

"Stop! Don't walk any closer! You need to leave. You need to leave this room and lock that door," Chan interrupted him, his expression anxious and terrified.. His eyes were glossy with an emotion Woojin couldn't understand and his voice carried a wildness to it that Woojin didn't know how to interpret. 

"Get out!" Chan growled, sitting up suddenly, expression dark. Woojin flinched but didn't leave the room. The vague enticing scent was even stronger now, stronger than before. He could almost tell what it was. He was so close to working out what the scent was. 

Chocolate! 

Woojin took and involuntary step forward as the word flashed through his mind. Chocolate. Chan smelled of chocolate. Woojin liked that. The stronger the scent got, the more intimate moments between him and Chan that had not happened circulated through his head. 

He held eye contact with Chan and the world seemed to slow down and speed up all at once. The world seemed to boil down to a single point, that point being Chan. Chan. The answer was Chan. The answer to a question he didn't even know he had was Chan. The symbol shone brightly in his mind, glowing brighter and brighter the closer he stepped to Chan. The twisting in his gut both grew unbearable and disappeared. His life made no sense and yet made perfect sense. 

"Get out," Chan weakly whispered, his gaze unwavering as he stared straight back into Woojin's eyes. Woojin shook his head slightly. No. He wouldn't leave. He felt as if he was in a dream or possessed. His movements didn't feel like his own. His thoughts didn't seem like his own. His life didn't feel real anymore. He paused when Chan inhaled sharply, his chest inflating quickly as he sucked in a quick breath. Chan's eyes dropped down slightly before glancing back up. It was Woojin's turn to inhale sharply. Chan's eyes were dilated and the scent of chocolate had grown so strong it could be considered suffocating- but not to Woojin. Woojin was intoxicated- drunk on the rich chocolate scent. 

Before he could step forward, Chan launched himself at Woojin. Woojin caught Chan with surprising ease, as if he had been prepared for the sudden attack. The carnal desires from the other day rushed back into Woojin as he felt Chan's hands gripping his hips tightly while he kissed him passionately. 

Lips dragged delicately over his skin and down his neck, pausing here and there to offer light pecks. The light pecks turned into rough sucking as Chan explored Woojin's collarbones and moved back up his neck and returned to his lips. Chan grinded against Woojin without warning and Woojin gasped in surprise. He continued to grind against Woojin, his grip on Woojin's hips unfaltering and unforgiving. 

Intoxicated by the strong smell of chocolate now mixing with the sweet scent of vanilla, Woojin met Chan's desperation with his own. He pushed Chan onto the bed and climbed on top of him.