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Sunghoon almost didn’t hear it.
The woods had gone quiet in that uncanny way they sometimes did in late autumn. No birdsong, no rustling leaves, just the crunch of his boots against the frost-stiffened ground. He was halfway through convincing himself to turn back when a thin, broken sound cut through the silence.
A cry. High and raw. Painfully young.
Sunghoon froze.
It came again, closer this time, following by the sharp metallic sound of something shifting. His heart kicked into his throat as he pushed through the underbrush, branches scratching at his coat, until he saw it.
A baby dragon, no bigger than a large dog, was tangled in a rusted bear trap.
Its scales shimmered faintly, a soft opalescent red dulled by dirt and blood. One small claw was caught between iron teeth, trembling as it struggled weakly. Smoke puffed from its nostrils with each labored breath, more distress than fire.
“Oh-- hey,” Sunghoon whispered, panic flooding his chest. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”
The dragon snapped its head toward him, eyes wide and molten gold, but it was too tired to do anything more than hiss at him. Sunghoon swallowed hard and knelt anyway, hands shaking as he examined the trap.
It took longer than he liked, his fingers numb, his heart racing, but eventually, with a final wrench, the jaws sprang open.
The dragon collapsed out of the trap instantly.
Before Sunghoon could even react, the creature scrambled forward and latched onto him, claws digging into his coat, head pressed against his chest like it was afraid to let go.
Sunghoon let out a shaky breath.
“...okay,” he murmured. “Okay. Guess we’re doing this.”
Sunghoon tried. Truly, he did.
He tried setting the baby dragon down at the edge of the forest. It followed him.
He tried gently nudging it away. It clung tighter.
He tried waiting it out.
The dragon curled up in his lap and fell asleep.
By the time the sun dipped below the trees, Sunghoon accepted the truth with a quiet sense of doom.
He was bringing a dragon home.
The walk back to his cabin was slow, careful. The dragon, warm and surprisingly heavy, rested against his shoulder, occasionally puffing out tiny sparks that fizzled harmlessly in the cold air. Every crack of a branch made Sunghoon tense, his imagination filled with images of an enormous, furious dragon descending from the sky to reclaim its young.
When his cabin finally came into view, relief and terror twisted together in his chest.
“Just for tonight,” he told the sleeping creature. “Then we’ll figure something out.”
The dragon shifted, gripping him tighter.
Sunghoon sighed. “Yeah. That’s what I was afraid of.”
<><><><>
The change happened at dawn.
Sunghoon woke with a sharp jolt of panic, heart slamming as he realized the weight against his chest felt… wrong.
Too small. Too human.
He looked down.
A little boy, no older than six or seven, was curled against him, fast asleep. Messy dark hair fell into his eyes. Small black horns curved gently from his head, and delicate wings, dark red and translucent, were tucked against his back.
Sunghoon didn’t scream. He just stared.
The boy stirred, blinking awake. His eyes, those same molten gold eyes, lit up instantly.
“Hyung!” the boy chirped, throwing his arms around Sunghoon’s neck.
Sunghoon made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a prayer.
“Who-- who are you?” he managed to ask.
“My name is Riki!” the boy said proudly. Then his smile faltered. “I got lost. My brother was looking for food, and the trap hurt me, and I couldn’t fly anymore.”
Sunghoon’s stomach twisted. “Your… brother?”
Riki nodded, wings drooping. “He’s all I have. He’s a dragon like me, but bigger and stronger.”
Sunghoon forced a smile while dread pooled deep in his bones.
Riki’s brother was definitely searching for him, and Sunghoon was terrified of what might happen when he found him.
<><><><>
Days passed.
Riki healed quickly, dragon quick, and filled Sunghoon’s lonely cabin with life. He chased dust motes with tiny bursts of flame, asked endless questions, and followed Sunghoon everywhere like a shadow with wings.
Sunghoon cooked extra meals, fixed a bed on the floor beside his own, and learned how to soothe nightmares with soft humming and gentle reassurance.
Somewhere along the way, fear shifted into something warmer.
Riki wasn’t a burden.
He was family.
But every night, as Sunghoon stared up at the ceiling, the same thought haunted him.
He’s coming.
And when Riki’s brother did come, Sunghoon was certain he would pay the price.
<><><><>
The sky darkened unnaturally the evening it happened.
Wind howled, rattling the cabin windows as a shadow passed overhead. Riki froze mid-laugh, eyes widening with awe.
“Hyung,” he whispered. “That’s him.”
Sunghoon stepped outside before fear could stop him.
He expected fire. What he found instead stole the breath from his lungs.
The dragon that landed in the clearing was massive, but when it shifted, scales melting into skin, a man stood where the beast had been.
He was tall. Ethereal. Beautiful in a way that hurt.
His hair fell like molten night around his shoulders, horns sweeping elegantly from his head, wings arching protectively behind him. His eyes, golden and so much like Riki’s it almost uncanny, locked onto Sunghoon.
“You,” the man said, voice rough with emotion. “You helped him.”
Sunghoon swallowed. “I-- I did. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to find you.”
The man’s gaze softened as Riki burst past Sunghoon and threw himself into his arms.
“Heeseung!” Riki cried.
Heeseung caught him instantly, holding him like something precious beyond measure. When he looked back at Sunghoon, gratitude shone unmistakably in his eyes.
“Thank you,” Heeseung said quietly. “For keeping my brother safe.”
<><><><>
Heeseung stayed, only because Riki begged not to leave. He didn’t want to leave Sunghoon all alone.
At first, Sunghoon told himself it was temporary. Then Heeseung helped fix the roof. He cooked with quiet concentration. He laughed softly when Riki climbed him like a jungle gym.
Sunghoon learned that dragons loved fiercely. That Heeseung carried centuries of loneliness behind his smile. That beauty could be gentle.
And somewhere between shared meals and late-night talks while Riki was asleep, Sunghoon fell.
Hard.
The confession came on a calm night, stars scattered like embers across the sky.
“I like you,” Heeseung said simply, wings rustling with nerves. “If… if that’s allowed.”
Sunghoon laughed softly, heart full to bursting. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
<><><><>
The cabin became home to more than just Sunghoon.
Riki grew stronger, happier, surrounded by laughter and warmth. Heeseung stayed not out of obligation, but because he wanted to.
And Sunghoon, once afraid of the fire, learned that some flames didn’t destroy.
Some flames kept you warm.
Together, they built something quiet and extraordinary.
A family.