Chapter Text
You raised the blinds just high enough to let a sliver of pre-dawn light in, but low enough that you wouldn’t be blinded when the sun crested the buildings across the way. You peered through the sheer fabric onto the square outside. The area had seen a lot of development in the last few years. Trendy little shops now lined the street. The coffee shop you owned and operated was tucked between a couple of over-priced restaurants with laughably tiny servings.
While you weren’t thrilled with the increase in your overhead costs, you couldn’t deny the recent boost in business. There was a steady flow of customers through the whole week, not just in the early morning or on weekends. It had even become necessary to hire a couple of part-timers to keep the place open longer. Not that you minded. You were actually glad for the opportunity to give your friend, Jungkook, a job.
The rabbit hybrid was nervous by nature despite his imposing appearance; he stood at least a foot taller than you. Your brother, Namjoon was fiercely protective of him. Jungkook came into your lives in your final year of college. The police brought a battered and terrified Jungkook to Remedy shelter, which was run by your friend Jin. They hadn’t seen what happened to him, and he wouldn’t say. As far as you knew, Namjoon and Jin were the only people he ever told.
Your eyes focused on the patio before you, as the very bunny you were thinking of appeared at the door. One of the boys came in on the weekends to work alongside you and help with the rush. The square was usually packed with couples on dates, window-shopping and listening to musicians that busked along the sidewalks.
“Morning, noona!” Jungkook chirped with his wide bunny grin.
“G’morning Koo,” you said, attempting to match his energy level despite the early hour. He laughed sweetly at the nickname. You were the only one he let call him that since he turned seventeen.
“Did you have your coffee yet?” He asked. You shook your head no. “Waiting for your favorite hybrid to make it for you?”
“Don’t let Jimin hear you say that. You know he’ll take any opportunity to pout,” you said.
Jungkook chuckled at that. Jimin was the shop’s other part-timer. Many hybrids were affectionate, but the ragdoll hybrid took it to another level. He spent every possible second with his arms wrapped around his nearest friend. You were counted among his friends from pretty much your first meeting. When the chance to work at your shop had opened up, he thought it would be a great chance to have some independence.
Jimin had been rooming with Jin for years. Despite his desire for independence he simply couldn’t stand living alone. So he shared an apartment with Jin and Taehyung, a sweet tiger hybrid. Taehyung had been hard to adopt out because despite his good nature, he was an exotic breed, and a predator no less. Few wanted to risk taking responsibility for him, and those that did had less-than-good intentions for him.
Life was scary as a hybrid. Between the massive industry of underground fighting rings, sex trafficking, and abuse in even seemingly decent homes, any adoption was a gamble. Jin tried his best to vet each family, but he couldn’t catch every red flag. You and Namjoon knew better than most how that haunted him.
Several years ago, the two of you stopped by the shelter. Neither of you could reach him on the phone and you were starting to get worried. You finally found him in his office, passed out over his desk with several empty bottles of soju scattered around. Namjoon tried to rouse him, but all he could mumble was ‘dead, dead, dead’ between hiccuping sobs. The next morning you learned that a hybrid he’d helped earlier that year was found dead in a seedy part of town. The couple that adopted her were being investigated on suspicion of hybrid trafficking.
He wasn’t the same after that. He got back to his usual smiling self, but he was slower to trust, and slower to laugh. Every time a hybrid left the shelter for their new home there was a flicker of sadness and fear in his eyes.
“Noona? What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked, breaking your train of thought. You turned to look at him, blinking to stop your eyes watering at the memory.
“It’s nothing Kookie, just thinking about this sad movie I watched last night.” You and Namjoon both agreed that it was best to keep the more tragic events from the shelter quiet. Jungkook had been through enough in the past, and you didn’t want to hurt him further by bringing up old memories. Jungkook frowned at the response.
“It must’ve been really sad,” he said, sniffing lightly. His frown deepened and he searched her eyes. He seemed to debate pressing it further. You knew that his hybrid senses were telling him you were lying. But he seemed to decide it was best to let it go, instead holding out a hot cup of your favorite coffee, a soft smile returning and making his eyes scrunch.
You took it, grateful for the coffee and his letting you evade the question. You set about your morning tasks, laying out chairs, brewing coffee for the self-serve station, and checking that there was creamer chilled and ready. Sunlight sparkled in the air, reflecting off the morning frost.
It was supposed to snow that night. You shuddered. You hated winter for forcing you to pay for heating, if nothing else. Whenever your friends got together at your house—a tiny one-bedroom apartment above the cafe—Jimin whined about the cold temperature. But you refused to pay for anything beyond what would keep your pipes from freezing. It was expensive enough to own a building in your area already. Instead you wore layers and piled blankets on your bed. Jimin wasn’t really upset anyway, he loved any excuse to cuddle. Movie night usually ended with him and Taehyung asleep on either side of you.
“You actually going to turn on the radiator tonight?” Jungkook teased.
“I have my radiator on! It’s just… turned down,” you said.
He chuckled, knowing you were too stubborn to waste money on ‘luxuries.’ He turned away at the jingle of the door bell. The first customer of the day came as no surprise. A familiar, slouching form appeared, dropped a couple of equipment cases off at the side of the door, and shuffled up to the counter. The young man had black hair that hung down and nearly covered his eyes, which flicked up to meet hers. His lips twitched in a hint of a smile.
“Good morning, Yoongi” You said with more than your usual morning cheer. Jungkook scoffed and you threw him a dirty look. The young man in front of the counter didn’t seem to pay attention, his eyes determinedly focused on his beat-up boots.
“Morning,” he mumbled, glancing up to briefly meet your eyes.
“The usual?” you asked, trying to hold his gaze.
“Yeah,” he said. This time offering you a genuine smile before he looked away again. He busied himself looking through a well-worn notebook while you relayed his usual order to Jungkook: cheese toast and a small hot americano. You returned to the counter and accepted his punch card. He practically filled one every other week, since he was in nearly every day.
“Performing in the square again today?” you asked. He was one of the buskers that was a regular in the area. He nodded. “You should put on a coat. It’s supposed to snow later. You’re going to freeze if you’re out there all day like that.”
You looked over his clothes. The hoodie he wore was ragged at the sleeves. He had the hood up, cinched a bit against the biting wind. His signature beanie was just peeking out from under it. He scuffed his feet, uncomfortable under your appraisal.
“I’ll be fine,” he answered shortly. He looked up at you, eyes wide as he realized how curt he sounded. “I stay warm when I’m performing.”
You weren’t sure how standing behind a keyboard and laptop could keep you warm, but you didn’t press the issue. You handed back the punch card and gave him his total. He rummaged in his pockets before frowning and looking up at the menu.
“That’s wrong,” he said.
“Hm?” you asked, though you already knew what he meant. He pointed to the menu over your shoulder.
“Your prices went up, but this is what it always costs.” He pulled a jumble of crumpled bills and coins from the pocket of his hoodie, counting through them. A couple of coins fell and clattered across the counter.
“I gave you the regular customer discount,” you said. Jungkook chuckled as he joined you at the register with the completed order.
“That’s not a thing,” Yoongi said as he finished counting out his change and handed you the total with the new prices.
“It’s my shop. I’m making it a thing,” you argued, pushing the money back toward him.
“Please, Yeoji-ssi. I don’t need a hand out.”
“I didn’t mean that you need it, I just wanted to,” you finally stammered after an awkward pause. Now you were embarrassed, and you felt bad for unintentionally insulting him. Yoongi cursed quietly under his breath. Beside you Jungkook’s ears twitched, and he sniffed curiously; no doubt sensing something you couldn’t.
“I know, I’m sorry. That’s very generous of you,” he said as he gently pushed the money back toward you. Tucking his toast into the backpack and taking his coffee he hurried back toward the door. He fumbled for a minute, trying to carry his equipment and the hot beverage. As he finally got his things together and went to push the door open, you called after him.
“Hey, drop by if you get a chance to take a break and warm up.”
“I’ll try,” he said, turning around and flashing another soft smile as he pushed through the door.
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You thought about Yoongi a lot through the rest of the day. Jungkook noticed and teased you all day. You couldn’t scold him for it though, you’d teased him plenty about his first crush.
As long as Yoongi had been coming to the cafe you’d been curious about him. He was quiet, handsome, and talented. You’d heard him perform in the square before. He played the keyboard but also produced tracks that he played from his laptop, blending the simplicity of the piano with a full-bodied studio sound.
You often wondered why he wasn’t working at a studio, producing for idols. He could have been an idol himself with the good looks he hid behind a beanie, hoodie, and bangs. The more you learned about the boy, the more you wanted to know. On your break, you googled his name and found a few YouTube videos of performances at clubs and underground rap battles. Apparently he wasn’t just a musician, he was a talented lyricist and rapper as well.
“Doing some research on your boyfriend, I see?” Jungkook said, resting his chin on your shoulder. You jumped, turning to swat at him as he quickly danced away.
“Don’t read over people’s shoulders! That’s rude,” you scolded. You could feel your face turning pink, and it irritated you to know that he could sense your embarrassment. “He’s not my boyfriend. And I was just curious about his music.”
“Mhm, right,” Jungkook said dismissively. “You’re seriously browsing Google? Come on, doesn’t this guy have an Instagram?”
“Not one that I can find.” Your tone made it clear that you had made a thorough search and failed.
“Wow, really? No social media presence at all? Maybe he has Twitter.” You shook your head. “Facebook? LinkedIn? MySpace? AOL?”
“AOL did IM and email, you dork,” you interrupted, cracking a smile. “And no, I can’t find him on any platform besides YouTube. He doesn’t seem to have his own channel…”
“Weird…” Jungkook said. “Are we sure this guy really exists?” You snorted. “I’m serious! For someone to be completely off the grid on the internet is like, unheard of. Maybe he’s hiding from the law! Or in witness protection. Noona, what if your boyfriend is a drug dealer!”
You swung at him again, this time successfully landing a smack on his shoulder. He ran back out front when the door chimed.
“He’s not a drug dealer, stupid!” You called after him. “And he’s not my boyfriend!”
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Namjoon picked up Jungkook after closing that evening. They were having a boys night at Jin’s house.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join, noona?” Jungkook asked, pouting a little bit to try and convince you.
“We really don’t mind, noona. Jimin and Tae would love it if you came,” Namjoon added.
“I appreciate the invitation, but I’ll be fine Joon. And Koo, you know Overwatch isn’t my style. You have fun with the boys. Make sure to let them win a few times,” you said, getting on your toes to ruffle Jungkook’s hair affectionately.
“I will,” Jungkook said, leaning into your hand for one last ear scratch.
You waved off the boys and set to cleaning up for the night. After mopping and turning out the lights in the front you went in the back to wash the dishes. Through the door leading out into the alley, you heard shouting. Listening for a minute, you shrugged it off. Probably just college kids from a local frat house. You often heard them as they stumbled home from the local bar. It was Friday night after all.
That explanation left your head quickly when you heard a scream. The sound nearly made you drop the mug you were washing. That wasn’t a scream of young men goofing around, it was a cry of pain and fear. Before you could think better of it you shook the water off your hands, grabbed your phone, and raced for the door.
You burst out into the alleyway struggling to stay upright on the thin layer of freshly fallen snow.
What you saw made your stomach turn. A group of four young men were crowded around the dumpster. Something, or more likely someone, was crumpled in the corner between it and the wall. You couldn’t see much, just rumpled fabric and a couple of bags laying around. The bags were opened, the paper and garments they had contained tossed around the alley.
The men took turns throwing brutal kicks at the person in the corner, who was now curled so that the only thing you could see besides the snow-soaked hoodie was his hands clutching something to his chest.
“You thought you could fool everyone? Thought you could scam a buck out of us?” One of the men sneered.
“Too bad. We know what you are. Just because no one wants you doesn’t mean you get to do whatever you want,” another said
“You’re just a toy that someone threw away. What were you thinking trying to pull something over on real people?” another said, punctuating his point with a kick to the ribs that sent the victim sprawling onto the snow.
“Hey!” you shouted before you could think better of it. You hurriedly lifted your phone to dial the police. It was dead. Panic shot through you as the four guys turned to you. Thinking quickly you put the phone to your ear and started talking.
“Hello? I need the police. I’m in the alley behind ***********. There are some young men here and I think they’ve hurt someone.” One of the men took a step toward you, further illuminating his face in the dim security light. You took a step back. “Hey, I have all of this on CCTV! Your faces are on it!” you warned before returning to the imaginary phone call. “Yes, the cameras run 24/7. Everything should be on there…”
The guy closest to you stepped back into the shadows, cursing.
“Let’s go,” he said, turning to walk away and nodding for his friends to follow him. One of them turned to spit on the figure in the corner before walking away.
“You’re lucky, freak.”
You kept talking until the group disappeared around the corner. As soon as they were gone you rushed to the person in the alley. The person flinched away as you approached, tucking in on himself. You stopped, listening as he said something. It was muffled by his arms, which were held up in an attempt to protect his head.
“What did you say?” you asked, moving a little closer.
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…” he repeated over and over again. The man’s voice trembled to the point it was hard to understand him, but his voice was undeniably familiar. As you came within arms reach you got a clearer view, and your blood ran cold. There bundled in a thin, soaked hoodie, was Yoongi. The snow that had melted over him from his body heat was quickly refreezing. He shivered so badly you could hear his teeth chattering.
“Yoongi?” you asked in a choked whisper.
He looked up at you then. One of his eyes was blackened, almost entirely swollen shut, with a cut through his eyebrow dripping blood onto his eyelashes. His nose was bleeding, possibly broken. The split in his lip lined up with a quickly darkening bruise on his jaw.
“Oh my god, Yoongi! What happened?” you asked, reaching out for him.
“Please,” he said, more of a whimper than a word. You froze. He was scared you were going to hurt him.
“Yoongi?” you said, more softly this time. “It’s okay. They’re gone. I’m not going to hurt you. Would you please let me help you?” The panic in his eyes seemed to clear a little, and he seemed to really see you when he met your eyes again.
“Yeoji-ssi? I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry. I’ll leave,” he mumbled, wincing as he tried to stand.
“Woah, hold on.” You reached out to steady him. He flinched at the sudden movement, but didn’t pull away this time. “You aren’t going anywhere. Come on, let’s get you inside before you freeze.”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. It’s really not worth the tro-“ he started.
“Yoongi,” you said in your older-sister voice. He seemed to realize that that was the end of the discussion, because he sagged against you as you slung his arm over your shoulders. His free hand was still clutching something to his chest. You glanced at it and your eyes widened. A tail. You looked up at him with a clearly shocked expression. He let out a kind of tired, resigned sigh.
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. Like I said, I can just go. You can leave me. You probably don’t want me here.”
“Why would you say that?” you said, immediately regretting your tone. He shrank into himself, curling his shoulders in to make himself smaller, even as he winced at the pain of moving.
“Sorry,” he repeated meekly, pulling his arm off as if he expected you to shove him away. You grabbed his hand and settled it back over your shoulder.
“I’m not mad at you, Yoongi. But why would you think I would leave you here?” you said. As you limped toward the door into the café he couldn’t meet your eyes. He’d embarrassed you, again. Of course you’d want to get rid of him. He hung his head and obediently followed you inside. His heart broke as he saw his bags, open and empty, strewn around the alley. His notes littered the floor, already soaked and probably illegible. He glanced around, seeing the edge of his keyboard where it had been shoved under the dumpster in the scuffle. Turning, he realized his backpack—containing his laptop, important papers and notes, and what little money he had saved—was still lying in the corner where you’d found him.
He turned to you to say something, but found you were already at the door. As soon as the door closed behind him, what little strength he had left him. You eased him to the ground as best you could. He grunted, muffling a whimper of pain. He already felt pathetic enough.
“Okay, I’m going to call the police and an ambulance,” you said, tossing your dead cell phone on the counter and hurrying to the landline. Thank god you hadn’t hadn’t got around to cancelling it yet. Yoongi’s eyes widened and he lurched forward, trying to stand. He only made it one step before he fell, yelping in pain and landing on his hands and knees on the tile. You rushed back to his side.
“Don’t,” he begged through gritted teeth. You stopped short, thinking he didn’t want you to touch him. “No cops. No ambulance,” he got out before lowering himself to lay on his side. You quickly moved to lay his head on your lap instead of the cold floor.
“Yoongi you’re hurt. And those boys should be arrested! Besides, I’m sure someone is worried about you. Don’t you have a…” you trailed off, looking for the right word.
“Owner?” Yoongi said, disgust clear in his voice.
“I was going to say guardian. That’s what most of my friends call their arrangement.”
“You have hybrid friends? Or your friends own hybrids?” Yoongi asked.
“I guess both, not that my hybrid friends are anyone’s property-“ you cut yourself off. “Yoongi this isn’t important right now. You need help.”
“No. The hospital will call the police, and the police will put me in a shelter.”
“You’re alone?” you asked cautiously.
“Yeah. I’m better his way. If I can just sleep here, I’ll be gone in the morning. Please,” he said. His voice kept getting quieter, losing its bite the more he spoke.
“No,” you said firmly.
“I’m sorry, I know you don’t want me here. I’ll be gone before you wake up. I won’t touch anything. You can just forget all of this.”
“No, Yoongi. I meant I’m not letting you leave like this. I’m getting you help and you’re going to let me.”
You took off your sweater and put it under his head so you could stand and get the phone. Yoongi moved to protest, but you threw him a look and he surrendered. You dialed and watched as Yoongi’s eyes fell closed despite his best attempts to fight it.
“Noona? What’s up?” came the answer on the phone.
“Hoseok, I need your help,” you said, not wasting any time. You could hear the sound of video games and trash talk pause in the background as the other boys asked Hoseok what you called for.
“Shut up a sec and let me ask,” he said to the younger boys who were no doubt hovering around the phone trying to eavesdrop. “Sorry, noona. What do you need? It’s late. Is everything okay?”
“I need a doctor.”
“Are you okay?” he asked immediately, his voice more urgent now. You could hear a whine on the other end already, probably Jungkook, already worried.
“I’m fine, Hobi, but could you take this conversation somewhere more private?” you asked, not wanting to expose the younger boys to any unnecessary trauma. There was shuffling and complaints on the other end of the line, then the sound of a door closing.
“Talk. What’s going on?” Hoseok demanded. The door opened and closed again and you heard Namjoon’s voice.
“What’s happening? Is she okay?” he asked. “Are you okay?” He repeated more clearly, evidently sharing the phone with Hoseok.
“Yes, I’m fine! But I have an injured hybrid here. He doesn’t have a guardian and he’s too scared to let me call an ambulance.”
“What happened to him?” Hoseok asked. He was a doctor specializing in hybrid medicine at the nearby hospital. He often helped out at Jin’s shelter. You felt some relief as you sensed he was in what Taehyung liked to call ‘doctor mode.’
“Some kids beat him up. It’s bad. He’s passed out on my kitchen floor right now. Drenched from the snow too. I can’t carry him into my apartment myself and it’s way too cold in this kitchen.”
“I’m on my way. I’ll have to grab some supplies from the shelter.”
You heard the door opening again, and a bunch of voices throwing questions at Hoseok and Joon.
“Jin-hyung, shelter keys?” Hoseok requested over the noise.
“I’m going too,” Namjoon chimed in. There was more arguing and shuffling noises as coats were grabbed and shoes were put on and everyone insisted they were coming. You were distracted by a soft murmur from Yoongi, still on the floor behind you. You stretched the phone cord and returned to his side.
“What is it, Yoongi?” you asked, pulling the beanie off to brush some of his fringe off his face. His soft black ears were flattened against his head, and you gently smoothed over them too.
“My bag,” he mumbled, eyebrows creasing even in unconsciousness.
You interrupted the arguing boys on the other end of the phone.
“Bring the boys,” you said.
“Are you sure about that?” Namjoon asked, knowing that you, Jin, and himself all agreed it was best to protect the three maknaes from this kind of situation when it was possible.
“They can’t come in and see him, but I have a job I need them to help me with. Make sure they dress warm,” you said.
“If you’re sure,” Namjoon said, deciding not to question you.
“We’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Hoseok said. “Do your best to keep him warm until then.”
“Okay. Please hurry.”
As soon as you hung up, you quickly ran into your apartment in the back. You pulled as many extra blankets as you could carry out of your closet and rushed back to Yoongi. You debated for a minute before pulling off the drenched hoodie, only to find that the black t-shirt he wore underneath was no drier. You weren’t confident that you could get the garment off without further hurting him, so instead you piled blankets on top of him. You filled a couple of hot water bottles and tucked them around him; then filled a couple more and tucked them into your bed so that it would be warm when the boys carried him in.
You returned to the kitchen, where Yoongi was barely visible for all the blankets he was packed in. Glancing at the clock, you saw that only 10 minutes had passed. It felt like you’d been waiting for hours. The time crawled as you alternated between watching the seconds tick by and watching Yoongi’s chest rise and fall.
You jumped when the knock finally came at the door. They’d come to the back, the front door to your apartment, and you ran to let them in. Hoseok immediately slipped past you and headed to the kitchen. The others moved to follow, but you stopped them.
“I need you guys to help me with something,” you said. “Those thugs trashed his stuff threw it all over the alley. Joon, can you take the boys and go gather what you can and see if any of it can be salvaged? I know he said his bag is back there. It seemed important to him.”
Namjoon nodded and quickly herded the boys around the building and into the alley. You pulled Jin inside.
“I need you to help Hobi and I get him inside.”
“That bad?” he asked, frowning. You just nodded. He followed you back to where Hoseok was already taking stock of his patient.
“You did good, noona. Seems like you staved off the shock. Move him, and then I’ll dress these wounds.”
You carefully pulled the blankets away.
“Be careful, he was really protective of his tail. I think it’s injured somehow,” you warned before Jin and Hoseok picked him up. They exchanged a glance as they moved toward the apartment door.
“What?” you asked. “Is something else wrong?”
“No,” Jin tried to assure you, though his tone wasn’t comforting. “It’s just… Hobi, I know he isn’t a big guy, but is it normal to be this light?”
“No,” Hoseok answered grimly. “Definitely not.”
Now that your attention was drawn to it, you noticed how slight Yoongi was. His ribs were clearly visible through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. You felt a lump in your throat and looked away, hurrying to open the door.
“You can put him in my room. I put some water bottles to warm the bed.” They nodded and quickly settled him on the bed.
“Do you think we could cut away this stuff?” Hoseok asked, gesturing to his clothes. “It’s all trashed anyway.”
“I don’t know if he has much else…” you said, hesitant to ruin his things.
“I just don’t want to risk further injury trying to get them off intact. And we can’t leave him in these, he’s already nearly hypothermic,” he said.
“We can replace them,” Jin suggested. “I brought a change of clothes. It’s in a bag on your coffee table, noona.”
“Right, great,” you said. “I’ll go get them.”
You hurried out of the room to get the bag Jin mentioned. When you came into the living room you found Jimin, hovering by the door.
“Noona, there was a keyboard by the trash and papers everywhere. Are they his? Should we get them too?” he asked, shifting from foot to foot. His nose twitched, and you realized he could probably smell the anxiety and pain in the air. You sighed.
“Yeah, grab everything you can. We can sort through it in the morning, and see what we can save.” He nodded and turned to leave.
“Chim,” you called and he turned. You wrapped him in a comforting hug. “Thank you.”
A purr echoed in the boy’s chest, even as you heard him sniffle. You knew this whole experience was hard for him. He was one of the volunteers at the shelter the day Jungkook was brought in. That experience still haunted him. It’s why he stopped working at the shelter and took a job at the coffee shop. His tail curled around your waist as he hugged you back tightly.
“He’ll be okay, Chim,” you said, stroking his hair. “We’re going to help him.”
A pained groan came from the room behind you, and you pulled away from Jimin.
“Go back out and help the boys. Once you’re done, leave the stuff in the living room and go to the cafe. Tell Jungkook I said everyone needs a hot chocolate,” you petted his hair one last time and guided him out the door. A shout echoed out of your bedroom, and you couldn’t tell if it sounded pained, angry, or scared. Snatching the bag off the coffee table, you dashed back into the room.
“Get off me!” Yoongi shouted, tail clutched to his now bare chest. Jin stood back, hands up in surrender as Hoseok tried to calm the panicked cat.
“Look man, your clothes are soaked. We’re risking hypothermia if we don’t get you into something dry.”
Yoongi looked down, seeing what remained of his ratty t-shirt cut open and in the trash. The right leg of his jeans was sliced along the outer seam up to his mid-thigh.
“What the hell did you do to my clothes?” He shouted again. He winced and swayed from the strain of sitting upright.
“Yoongi,” you started softly. Yoongi turned to you, eyes wide with panic. You approached slowly, not stopping when he spat at you to leave him alone, hurling threats and nonsense at you. As you sat on the edge of the bed he shrank back into the bedding around him and refused to meet your eyes.
“Please,” he said, his voice so quiet you hardly heard him. “Please just leave me alone. Please don’t hurt me.”
“Yoongi,” you said again, “I want to help. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” You reached out to gently take his hands. “I swear, I’m going to protect you. Please let me. These are my friends, and they’re trying to help.”
He drew a shallow breath, wincing at the pain in his ribs and nodded. You stood and moved to leave, trying to spare him some privacy.
“Wait!” he said, stopping you. “Please don’t leave me.”
You turned back to him and took in his face, still chapped from the winter wind. You couldn’t leave him. So you stood with your back turned, awkwardly rocking on the balls of your feet as Jin and Hoseok helped him change.
“That’s much better,” Hoseok said, evidently satisfied that his patient was no longer at risk for hypothermia. You turned to find Yoongi with his ribs already wrapped and Hoseok working on dressing the wounds on his brow and lip. The flannel pajama bottoms Jin had brought were much too big for him, you might’ve giggled at how cute he looked if the situation were different. Without the dark hoodie and ripped jeans, Yoongi was undeniably adorable.
“I brought my clothes since I wasn’t sure what size would fit. I guess we should’ve borrowed Jimin’s instead,” Jin said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.
“Thank you,” Yoongi said, bowing his head in thanks.
“It’s no problem. I’ll bring by something that’ll fit you better tomorrow.”
Yoongi glanced from you to Jin to Hoseok, then back to his hands in his lap. He focused on Hoseok’s hands, which were now busy setting the break in his tail.
“Don’t worry about it, I probably have something in my bag I can wear…” He trailed off, remembering the state his belongings were in the last time he saw them. “I’ll go clean up my stuff as soon as it’s light tomorrow. Don’t worry, I’ll be out of the way before you know it.”
“Yoongi,” you said, trying her best not to sound frustrated. Yoongi’s ears flattened and you knew you hadn’t succeeded.
“I’m sorry. I can leave now if you want,” he said, tail curling back around him as soon as Hoseok released it.
Your heart, already cracked from all the events of the night so far, finally broke completely. Hoseok stepped aside to make room as you came to sit beside Yoongi again. He was shaking, and you realized that he was terrified. He genuinely believed that you wanted him gone; that you’d throw him out in the snow right then and there.
“Don’t leave,” you said, your own voice trembling now. You reached out and lifted his chin so he’d meet your eyes. He did, and you found they were shining with tears of pain and fear that he was desperately trying to hold back. “Please don’t leave. I want you to stay.”
His shaking hand came up to rest over yours, which still cupped his cheek. He leaned in to the first gentle touch he’d felt in years, and the tears finally fell. You pulled him into your arms, and he let you. He buried his face in your neck and cried as you pulled a blanket over his shoulders.
Eventually the sobs quieted. His breaths came in little gasps now, as he tried to catch his breath despite the pain in his ribs. You leaned away after a while to look at his face and saw he’d fallen asleep.
You looked back to find that Jin had gone to check on the boys. Hoseok sat quietly at the end of the bed, not wanting to interrupt. He gave you an approving smile, and you thought his eyes were a bit wet too. It took you a moment to notice Namjoon standing in the doorway. Hoseok helped you ease Yoongi down to lie comfortably, and you carefully disengaged herself from his arms. The two of you exited the room as quietly as you could.
“You were great with him, noona,” Hoseok praised. Namjoon beamed with pride before pulling you into a tight hug.
“I’m proud of you,” he said, planting a kiss on top of your head.
“Thank you, Joonie.” Your voice broke and you finally felt all of the emotions hit you. Your shoulders shook and you struggled to stay quiet as you sobbed into Namjoon’s sweater.