Work Text:
Mingi sighed in relief as he kicked off his shoes, putting them neatly away, and hung up his bag. He ruffled his hair on the way into the bedroom to change, then went to the kitchen for a drink of water. As usual, he went to drink it on the balcony of his fourth floor apartment, watching to catch the end of the sunset.
He opened the door and his foot hit something heavy. He looked down, and stared.
A large dog lay against the door, a pool of blood seeping away from it. He couldn't comprehend it; one, that the dog was here, four floors up from the ground, and two, that it was bleeding. That realization got him moving, and he went to get a towel from the bathroom, setting his water glass down by the sink in his hurry to get the bleeding stopped.
He found a couple of scrapes - claw marks, really, probably - but nothing that explained the blood still pooling on his balcony. Then he rolled the dog over and found it, a wound in his shoulder that still flowed. He folded his towel and pressed it to the wound, and then lay the dog back on that shoulder, careful that the towel didn't move from the wound.
That wouldn't be enough. He got up to wash his hands, and then took out his phone and started to look for the nearest emergency vet as he poked around his kitchen to find something to eat. His initial call went straight to voicemail, even though the website said the practice was still open. He left a message, and then sat down at his table, facing the dog, and opened his laptop to see about getting an appointment online.
It required registration, so he reluctantly did that, and then set about answering all the questions they had about the dog. When he couldn't name the breed, they asked for pictures, so he took the laptop over and took one that got both it's - his, he could see now - face and the visible wounds. When he finished, he went back to looking for food, both for him and for the dog. He found some leftover chicken from dinner a couple of days ago, which seemed fine, and then he reheated some rice and the stir fry his mom had sent home with him the weekend before. He added some of the rice to the chicken, got out a couple of bowls, and set them near the muzzle of the dog, one with the chicken and rice, and one with water.
He spent the next while cleaning up the injuries he could see, using scissors to cut away the hair from the cuts where blood had dried. He couldn't bandage them, but he did clean them as well as he could, and caught, more than once, the scent of mint. Why would a dog smell like mint? It didn't make sense, anymore than the fact that he had this dog on his fourth floor balcony and it hadn't gone through his apartment.
He didn't hear from the vet hospital when he went to bed that night, sleeping in the living room because he didn't want to leave the dog alone, and because he couldn't close the door again. At least the weather was mild, something that he appreciated as he pulled the blanket from his bed around him, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.
Euijoo woke with a start, eyes opening, teeth clenched against the pain. His first cautious sniff brought him the scent of chicken. Cooked chicken. And rice. Plain, but still... he started to get up and had to bite back a whimper. Fire laced through his shoulder, the skin pulling. He relaxed again, breathing in to find not only chicken, but water. He needed water.
It took him longer than he wanted to admit to get up, but he finally managed it, crouched next to the bowl and drank it all.
"Hey," a soft voice said.
Euijoo started and looked up, baring his teeth instinctively. The man stopped, hands up, and sat back down on the couch. "I was going to get you more water," he said. "But I can stay here." Then he whistled softly. "You're bigger than I thought," he said in appreciation. "Still doesn't explain how you got here."
Keeping an eye on the man, Euijoo scarfed down the food. It wasn't exactly what he needed; he'd have preferred a good raw steak, but this would work out fine. It was some of what he needed, anyway. It helped. He could feel his shoulder knitting together and once again thanked werewolf biology for fast healing.
When he finished, licking the bowl clean, he sank back down with a soft sigh.
"I've got more, if you want more to eat," the man said. "And I can refill the water."
Euijoo curled away from the bowls, rested his head on his paws, and closed his eyes. His ears twitched as the man came closer, took the bowls away, and returned them full again. Euijoo waited until he sat on the couch again, then he drank the water down. The food went slower this time, still too fast to really taste it, and he didn't quite clean the bowl completely. This time, he sat down and regarded the man sitting on the couch.
He had short brown hair, sticking up in all directions, probably from sleep. He was tall, probably as tall as Euijoo himself when he was in human form, with broad shoulders. He couldn't see so much in the darkness, and he wondered why he'd ended up here. He couldn't remember much, after that fight, only thinking he had to get out of there, cut off from the rest of his pack. Fuma and Kei would have made sure everyone else got to safety. He didn't even know where he was.
He couldn't express that, of course. He rested his head on his paws again, and closed his eyes.
"I'd like to check on your injury," the man said. "But I don't think that's a good idea."
Euijoo snorted softly. The man laughed at himself, and lay down again. "In the morning," he mumbled, and within a short time, his breathing evened out again. Euijoo relaxed some, dozing until he could feel the sun about to rise. Carefully, he got to his feet and gave a gentle shake. He padded out to the balcony, carefully pulled the towel plastered to his shoulder with blood away and dropped it on the floor.
Then he leaped over the balcony rail, landed lightly on the grass, and loped out of sight.
Mingi woke to his phone ringing, and he fumbled around, trying to find it. "Hello?"
"This is the vet," a voice said, restrained panic in it.
"Oh! Yes, hi," he said, sitting up. His eyes fell on the floor where the dog had been, and he froze.
"I have to ask," the woman on the phone said. "Did the... the animal bite you? You said he wasn't yours?"
"That's right. He didn't bite me, why?" Mingi asked. He rubbed his face, trying to wake up.
"It's just... we can send someone over to get the dog," she said, hedging around the question.
"Oh. No, that's okay," Mingi said. "He's gone."
The silence at the other end of the phone startled him. "Gone?" she repeated.
"Yeah. Gone like he showed up. I don't have any idea how," Mingi said. "I mean, he probably didn't go through the apartment, because my door is still locked, not that dogs can open the doors."
"He wasn't a dog," the woman said abruptly.
Mingi blinked and reached for his glasses. "I'm sorry?"
"It wasn't a dog," she repeated, slower this time.
"Then what was he?" Mingi asked.
"From the pictures... he was a werewolf."
"A what?" Mingi demanded, getting to his feet.
Nothing was out of place. The bowls hadn't moved, the only other thing he saw was the towel, dropped near the edge of his balcony. "A werewolf. Are you sure you weren't bitten?"
"I'm sure," Mingi said. "A werewolf? Really?"
"Yes," the woman said. "Be careful. Thank you for calling. Let us know if anything changes." She hung up abruptly.
He looked at his phone, and then shook his head and went to get ready for work.
His life got busy again, and the incident with the dog (werewolf?) got shoved behind everything else he worked on, especially after he spent a Saturday afternoon washing the balcony clean. He didn't want to lose his deposit, honestly.
He stood in line for lunch one day a couple of weeks later, needing to get out of the office, and the smell of the food truck dimmed under the scent of mint. It brought that evening back into sharp focus, the feel of the dog's fur under his hands, the blood, everything. He stiffened and turned, looking around to see if the dog was close.
Behind him stood a young man, about his height, with an open face and a ready smile. The scent was stronger this way, and he looked around again, trying not to be too obvious.
"Everything okay?" the young man asked, eyes bright and curious.
"Yeah," Mingi said. "Sorry. I just... can you smell that mint?"
The young man behind him blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"I can smell mint," Mingi said. "I wondered where it came from."
"Oh! That's mine," the young man said and offered his wrist for Mingi to smell.
Mingi did so, and smiled. "Yes," he said, "That's it. But...."
He remembered the vet's surprising revelation, and frowned. "I... Thank you," he said finally, and turned around just in time to move to the counter to place his order. He sat down at a secluded table to wait, watching the young man give his order, and then he looked away, down at his phone.
"Do you mind if I join you?"
Mingi looked up to see the young man standing next to him. "No, go ahead," he said, getting up to get his food when they called his name. He sat back down and opened his chopsticks. He'd meant to listen for the name the young man answered to, but he didn't manage it.
"I'm Byun Euijoo," the young man said, sitting back down.
"Song Mingi," Mingi said. "Nice to meet you."
"It's good to meet you, too," Euijoo said. They didn't say more, digging in. The company and silence were nice. Mingi enjoyed it, not nervous about the silence. It felt comfortable. Familiar.
Familiar? That didn't make sense. And yet. Mingi didn't have the courage to say anything, so he didn't, focused on finishing his food.
They finished about the same time. "I wanted to say thank you," Euijoo said abruptly as Mingi started to gather his trash.
Mingi stared at him. "You're welcome," he said automatically, and then shook his head shortly. "For what?"
Euijoo rolled up his sleeve to show a scar on his shoulder. "For caring for me," he said carefully. "For helping me. "
Mingi's eyes went huge and he set everything down again. "That was you? The vet was right?"
"Yes," Euijoo said. "Thank you. I owe you."
"No, it's...." His words stopped at the seriousness in Euijoo's eyes, and the card Euijoo extended in both hands.
"If you need help with anything, please call. Anything," Euijoo said.
Mingi took the card with both hands. "I... okay. Thank you," he said softly.
"Thank you," Euijoo said. He stood, bowed formally, and then gathered his trash and disposed of it, disappearing into the crowd on the street.
Mingi put the card away, gathered his own trash, and went back to work, his mind reeling.