Chapter Text
He was running through the forest without a care in the world. Maybe that was his problem.
He should have been paying attention. In fact, as one of the three leaders of his pack- the other two being his brothers- he should have been doing his duties and staying put. But today he just had the urge to run. The urge overwhelmed him until he found himself shifting and heading in any direction he could, the moon being the only light illuminating his surroundings. He wanted to feel the damp ground beneath his paws. He wanted to see the trees blurring in his vision as he buzzed past them. The only thought on his mind was to run.
He wasn’t paying enough attention to his surroundings. If he had been, he would have noticed that he was entering the ground of the hunters. He would have known to turn around immediately, the danger of the area being well known to all. He wouldn’t be helplessly trapped unable to even move as the pain was eating him alive.
The impact of the sharp metal teeth clamping down on his two hind legs was okay. Entirely painful as it was, it was something that he knew he could heal from. However, the hunters had been getting smarter, somehow figuring out which substances could be lethal to his kind. Things that they themselves hadn’t been able to figure out completely. They had some medicines that they had developed to lessen the pain, but they had yet to figure out how to completely cure it.
He was going to die out there. Alone and afraid. He let out one last howl, pouring his whole heart and soul into it, knowing that his brothers would hear it and know. Know that he was breathing his last breath. Know that he was sorry for being so careless. Know that he loved them with his whole heart. A few moments later, he felt his eyes drooping closed as he slowly gave in to the poison, the last thing his eyes captured being a single figure approaching him before his world went black.
He was floating in between two planes. The place that the poison created, luring him to the release of death, and the place that was created by his hope, by the fight in him to stay in the realm of the living. It was much easier to give into the warmth then to suffer through the pain, but as he had been told many times before, he was a very stubborn and determined man. Still, he found himself drifting toward the calm and peaceful darkness when the pain of the poison’s making increased tenfold all of a sudden.
He felt every single inch of his body being coated in the agonizing torture that had once been limited to the point of impact. It was traveling into every crevice in his body and he was sure that it was going to be the end.
Until it wasn’t. Until he fought just long enough that it all seemed to be dying down. Until he couldn’t help but feel the soothing rush of something traveling through his system.
It didn’t last long, before the pain was back at it’s original intensity, immensely easier to handle than whatever he just went through, but still torment at it’s finest.
As his body was internally torturing him, there would be some moments that gave him complete solace. Those were the moments he craved and couldn’t help but want more of. In those moments, the pain would be unbearable inside him. Those were the moments where he would feel himself getting closer and closer to consciousness. And, even though he felt exponentially worse in those moments, he felt something different. Something soothing beyond the pain.
It was so faint that, if he wouldn’t have been paying attention, he would have missed. But every time, without fail, he would feel it. It made him feel as if he wasn’t alone. As if someone was there with him. He couldn’t place what he was feeling exactly, with it being so far from reach, but the closest word he could use to explain it was warmth. And every time he felt it, he would try to reach it, getting closer and closer each time, only to be catapulted back into his limbo, feeling weaker than before.
After trying time after time to just reach the feeling, to discern what it was, he was able to push fully through the agony and, with more determination than ever before, he opened his eyes. It was only for a moment, just long enough for him to see the face sitting next to him before succumbing to the recesses of his mind once again, feeling lighter as he realized he wasn’t alone.
After the first time, he found it to be easier to open his eyes, even if he could only hold it for a few seconds. He was starting to notice small things. Not enough, as the fog in his mind still clouded everything to him, but he always noticed the person.
He was fairly certain that it was the same person every time, given the fact that he always saw white hair, the only detail he could actually pick out. He had no clue what their face looked like despite having seen it multiple times by now, but he could imagine that, given the hair, they were probably pretty old. The person was always within eyesight, though, obviously keeping a close eye on him. But why? Why were they helping him? But more importantly, how? The poison was supposed to kill him, and it very well would have even if he somehow managed to make it back to his house. So why didn’t it?
These were questions that he couldn’t wait to ask, wondering if he would get the chance to, but with his consciousness now within reach, he couldn’t help but feel hopeful.
After what felt like a million attempts to reclaim his consciousness, he was finally able to fight his way through the haze clouding his mind. The feeling of relief that came with it was absolutely incredible and if he was aware and awake enough, he probably would have cried from the relief of finally being released from the imprisonment of his own mind.
His eyes were still closed, but that didn’t stop him from taking in as much as he could around him. He listened to the subtle sound of wind blowing outside of this place he had been taken. He smelled something that reminded him of his home, when his eldest brother would go to the kitchen and cook for whomever was around. He still felt the intense pain radiating from his legs, but he was relieved that it wasn’t the only thing he was feeling anymore, noticing a plush pillow cradling his head and the soft texture of a blanket encasing his body. He was alive.
After a few moments of basking in his consciousness, he gathered his strength and opened his eyes. Finally, as if it was the first-time laying eyes on it, he took in his surroundings, seeing clearly as the fog had dissipated from his vision. He looked around, slowly taking in the homey atmosphere that surrounded him. Everything was beautiful, from the way that the wooden walls were made of both medium and dark shades, mingling perfectly with eachother, to the way that the paintings were hanging gracefully around him, adding a color and soul to the room. It may not seem like much to others, but to him, it was absolutely breathtaking.
Suddenly, the door to the room flew open, unable to be seen at the angle he was sitting, but the loud bang that accompanied startled him into jumping slightly. In walked the person who had been taking care of him and to say that he was shocked would likely be a complete understatement.
The man, as he could see now, seemed to be around his age, his white hair being the only thing that would even be remotely considered elderly. The truth is that he had never met anyone with white hair before. In fact, he had never even heard of such a thing in someone so young. It was incredibly beautiful though, the light waves shaping the man’s face in just the right way, and at just the right length so that he could see the man’s chocolate eyes looking back at him.
“Oh, you’re awake,” the man said, slight surprise in his deep tone.
He looked at him with a weary expression, not quite trusting this beautiful man in front of him. The man did save his life, but obviously he had to know what he was. There is no way he could have saved him if he didn’t, which is why the fear was starting to bubble inside of him, only growing as he slowly approached the bed.
The man obviously took notice of this and stopped in his path.
“I’m not going to hurt you. If I wanted to, I could have left you in that trap.”
He eased up at the words, but not enough to shake the fear off completely. The man continued to his bed and grabbed the chair that sat next to it. He adjusted it so that he could face him before sitting down in it and looking at him with a reassuring gaze.
“I promise, I won’t hurt you. I brought you here so that I can help you, but I need you to trust me. I know that we just met, and you have no reason to, but the stuff that they got you with is very strong and it’s going to take a lot of healing to get you back to normal. You just have to be willing to listen and let me help. Okay?”
He was still nervous and not totally trusting of what this man said, but he couldn’t help but feel reassured. After a few tense moments, he nodded his head, eyes never leaving those of the man in front of him.
“Good,” the man said as he stood back up, walking over to the corner of the room, where some pillows were laying in a pile. He grabbed a few of them before returning to the side of the bed, setting them all down on the chair he was once sitting in.
“Alright, I’m going to lift up your back and put some pillows under you, so you can sit up. Whatever you do, don’t try and move your legs, okay?”
He wasn’t very fond of others helping him, especially strangers, but he knew that there was no use in fighting, considering that he was much too weak to be able to do anything by himself, so he nodded his head in reply.
Very gently, the man worked his arms around him until he got a good grip on his back, slowly lifting him and placing pillows as he lifted a little more, making sure to handle him with the utmost care the whole time. As the man was lifting him, he couldn’t help but stare, noticing the little things now that he was in such close proximity. The way his fair skin complimented his dark eyes, making them even more entrancing. The way his peculiar white hair didn’t extend to his hidden eyebrows, which were almost black in color, giving an expressiveness to his features. The way his deceivingly strong arms held him so carefully, he couldn’t help the rosy tint covering his cheeks. But the most interesting part of him was his scent, or lack of one. Everything had a scent, so he wondered why this man was so different.
It didn’t take long for the pillows to be fully situated behind him, feeling much more comfortable than he anticipated.
“Does it feel okay?” the man asked, looking at him with a concerned gaze.
He tried to say yes, but when only a squeak was let out, due to his dry throat and apparent disuse of his voice, he quickly closed his mouth and nodded. At that, the man left the room, making him feel slightly embarrassed and worried that the man wouldn’t come back.
Luckily, a few minutes later, the door opened, and the man came in with two cups in his hand, the clear drinking glass filled with water and a mug, with steam coming out of it, making him slightly curious as to it’s contents. He walked over to the bed and set down the mug on the nightstand, holding the clear cup in his hand, before holding it out toward him and bringing his free hand to cradle the back of his head.
“I don’t want you spilling all of this water on yourself, so…” the man trailed off, but he nodded in understanding. The man brought the glass to his lips and slowly tilted it, the cool sensation soothing his throat. Before he even noticed, he had downed the whole glass and the man pulled away setting it down next to the still steaming mug.
“Feel better?”
He nodded before testing his voice out now that it wasn’t so dry, “Who-” he coughed at the soreness in his throat. “Who- a-re- you?” he finally seemed to choke out, the scratchiness and crack of his voice irritating him slightly.
“I’m Yoongi,” the man- Yoongi said, reaching for the mug.
“Wh-at’s th-at?”
“It’s tea. It has some honey and lemon to help with your throat and a few herbs to help you sleep.”
He nodded, and Yoongi brought this mug up to his lips as well, helping him drink the warm liquid which was a relief to feel traveling down his raw throat. The mug was soon emptied of its contents and set back in it’s original place, as Yoongi took his seat once again.
“How lo-ng have I bee-n here?” he said, stammering less, but still struggling slightly to get the words out.
“You’ve been here about a week.”
He wasn’t extremely surprised by that, feeling like it had been an eternity that he was trapped in his never-ending prison.
“How am I- alive?”
“I feel like that’s a question for tomorrow. I have a couple of questions myself, but you really do need the rest and that tea should start kicking in soon.”
He nodded his head, already feeling some of those herbs that Yoongi was talking about. “Taehyung.”
Yoongi looked at him with a questioning expression, prompting him to explain what he meant. “My name- it’s Taehy-ung.”
Yoongi’s expression turned into one of understanding, “Hi Taehyung.”
“Hi Yoon-gi.”
It only took about another minute for the herbs to fully take effect, gently luring him into sleep as he thanked everything that he was still alive, and that he wasn’t alone.