Chapter Text
The urban fox seeks absolution from the wolf and the valleys look like veins from the right angle.
I want to be more than this.
⸺
Seonghyeon dreams in feelings more than in pictures. The visions are rarely still there when he wakes up, but the feelings linger.
He’s not certain what he dreamed about, but the tightness in his chest as he stirs awake is the same clench that he gets on mornings of particularly packed schedules. He’s already mentally preparing himself for the day, whatever laundry list of things they have on the agenda.
But then he forces his tired eyes open and sees Martin pressed face down into his pillow across the room. His blanket is halfway on the floor and Seonghyeon wonders how he’s even able to breathe sleeping like that.
Keonho is equally dead to the world when Seonghyeon glances his way. His lips are curled in a downwards frown. His tan shoulders pop out of the top of his blanket. Seonghyeon doesn’t let his eyes linger.
It’s too quiet in the dorm for a busy day morning, too still. It’s then he rolls over in bed and realizes— it’s because today isn’t a busy day. They have nothing to do today other than a scheduled studio session at the company.
So why does he feel so on edge?
Seonghyeon tiptoes to their shared bathroom, letting the other two sleep as much as he’s enjoying the quiet. He’s too exhausted to disturb the morning peace. He stretches his arms above his head as he walks, feeling a weird ache in his lower back and ignoring it. Maybe he’ll even get to sleep some more— they don’t have to be at the studio for hours.
It’s a comforting thought. It’s too bad, really, that it only lasts for a few moments before he flicks the bathroom light on and his eyes catch something in the mirror. An abnormal blotch of orange in his peripherals are enough to stop him in his tracks, turning towards his reflection with the slowly creaking shoulders of a horror movie monster.
It feels like a horror movie too, when he sees the ears on top of his head.
He stares at himself, frozen. The face that stares back at him is familiar. Soft cheeks even puffier from a night of sleep, almond shaped eyes, straight brown hair that’s getting a little too long.
Being an idol means being way too accustomed to your own appearance. All the time, every second of the day. Suffice to say, he knows what he looks like pretty well. So, Seonghyeon thinks he’s gone clinically insane as he stares at the newly appeared ears pointed out of the crown of his hair. He can’t even move, like his reflection will jump out at him if he does, this imposter clone of him with furry orange ears. His mind spins, no longer half asleep.
How did they get there? When? Why? Are they even real?
Then, one of the ears twitches.
“What the fuck!”
It’s no less than a shriek, and he hears a muffled thump come from the bedroom as he reaches a hand up in pure shock. His fingers brush the tip of one of the ears, and it sends a shiver throughout his entire body when he can feel it.
He rips his hand down, hanging stagnant at his side once again as the bathroom door is pushed open.
“What happened?!” Martin pops in, alert, but his blonde hair is twisted in a thousand different directions, sweatpants bunched into pantaloons. He glances around the bathroom like he’s looking for a threat, looking right past Seonghyeon, “Is there a ghost? A person? Are you dying?”
Seonghyeon watches his body relax as he sees no immediate threat. It’s then his eyes finally land on Seonghyeon, eyes which go comically wide as they trail atop his head.
“Um,” Martin stammers. He goes a little bit red, coughing out his words, “Was I not supposed to see this? Are you a secret furry or something? I mean, that’s totally cool with me if that’s what you—”
“Martin, what?” Seonghyeon reels, “No, man. Oh my God.”
Seonghyeon runs his hands across his face, muttering into them a repeated utterance of ‘I can’t do this right now. What is happening. What the fuck is happening.’
He’s about to start pacing when feet pad up to the door, Keonho’s head popping out from behind Martin’s shoulder. He shoves the taller boy to the side with the nudge of his shoulder, trying to see into the bathroom.
“What’s all this noise about?” Keonho mumbles, rubbing his eyes. He sounds half asleep, and Seonghyeon is wishing they were all still asleep right now. That this is just a strange dream, one that he’s actually remembering for once.
When Keonho drops his hands from his eyes and looks at him, Seonghyeon feels the urge to turn away, to try to hide them. It’d be pointless, the bright orange ears atop his head are like beacons no matter which direction he turns in.
Keonho blinks. “Why are you wearing those?”
Seonghyeon purses his lips.
Dumbly, like if they all ignore them the ears will magically disappear, he mumbles, “Wearing what?”
Keonho pulls a face at him, a signature twisting of his thick eyebrows and curling of his mouth. He looks like he wants to laugh. A small smile creeps onto his face, like he thinks this is funny, as he reaches out.
“These.” Keonho’s fingers smooth along the back of Seonghyeon’s left ear, brushing through the fur.
It feels… nice. Very nice. For a moment, it’s like his brain turns off, and all his instincts tell him to do is lean into the warmth. His ear twitches in response to the touch. Seonghyeon’s face goes deathly hot as Keonho’s hand freezes in its place, the teasing smile the boy was sporting going cold along with it. Any remnants of it slip away for good as Keonho’s mouth drops open in shock.
Seonghyeon feels like imploding.
“Are those real?” Martin’s voice pitches up, loud and boisterous. Seonghyeon shushes him, like he’s announcing it to the world or something. Keonho is still staring at him with wonder in his eyes, fingers still touching the orange fur of Seonghyeon’s ear but not moving, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed.
Or perhaps, like he’s scared. What if Seonghyeon has scared them? Hell, he’s sort of scaring himself.
“Yes.” Seonghyeon spits back, swatting Keohno’s hand away. He turns back to the mirror. “I think. I can feel them and they… move.”
He cringes at the uncertainty of his own words, but he really doesn’t know any more than they do. He doesn’t want to turn back to look at them, worried about their reaction. He can’t even begin to think about anything logically right now, leaning towards his reflection to examine his face. Looking for anything out of place, like cat eyes or whiskers or a bump on his head that could prove he actually is hallucinating right now.
He’s tucking his hair behind his normal human ears, thanking any God there is that he still has his normal human ears, when he hears a gasp from beside him.
The noise that echoes in the bathroom is hard to read. Seonghyeon immediately assumes it’s one of horror, that his friends and bandmates are finally waking up from their shock and getting freaked out by now. His theory is quickly proven wrong.
“Hyeon!” Martin says, sounding awed. He hears Keonho start giggling behind him. “You have a tail!”
His brain shortcircuits. He cranes his body, turning his lower half to be able to see past his hips in the mirror. And there it is, stuck halfway between his briefs and poking out below his sleep shirt. A fucking tail. The aching in his lower back suddenly makes sense.
“Jesus Christ,” He whispers. It matches his ears. It’s so orange, so bushy, so ridiculous.
“So cute.” Keonho mumbles, and then there’s a hand reaching out again at lightning speed. Seonghyeon feels it before he even sees the movement in the mirror.
Keonho’s fingers brush through the fur of it and he gets a full body shiver, like the spine hair of a cat standing up.
“Stop fucking grabbing me!” His normal human ears go red as he steps out of Keonho’s reach. “You’re treating me like I’m Cookie!”
“My dog is much cuter than you.” Keonho faux snarls at him, pretending to bare his teeth.
Martin puts his hands out between them, “Stop fighting!”
Seonghyeon wants to roll his eyes. Instead, he tugs his shirt over his tail and pretends like he doesn’t see Keonho eyeing it, the boy’s fingers looking like they’re itching to pet through the fur.
“We’re not fighting, Mom.”
And now Martin is faux frowning at him.
This is all too much right now. His head is spinning, he can’t process any of this, and he’s tired. They’ve had one of the longest months of their lives, their first comeback promotions just now winding back down. It’s been music show after music show, content filming, variety shows, fansigns, everything. At least now they’re back down to their usual studio sessions and dance practices, days spent brainstorming and creating instead of hauling ass to different buildings across Seoul every morning.
All in all, Seonghyeon just wants to go back to sleep.
The doorbell to their apartments rings, breaking him from his haze.
The three of them all freeze in the bathroom, blinking at each other, before doing a once over of Seonghyeon’s appearance. Like seeing the state of him kicks them back into action, they rear to life again, scurrying and floundering over what to do.
“Why is Manager-nim here so early? He shouldn’t be here for hours.” Martin grumbles, distraught, tugging him into their wardrobe room. He leaves Seonghyeon in the middle of the room, beginning to dig through clothes. Seonghyeon stays put. His muscles won’t do much else.
Keonho staggers behind them, looking lost, hands twitching like he wants to help. Martin glances over his shoulder, nudging his head towards the front door a few rooms away. “Go open the door! Stall him or he’ll just let himself in.”
The youngest doesn’t even have it in him to make a comment about Martin ordering him around, do a fake salute or something equally dumb, because he just nods with a gaping mouth.
After he leaves, Martin emerges with his hands full. He tugs a big hoodie over Seonghyeon’s head, covering the bump of his tail. It feels constricting. Seonghyeon wiggles underneath the weight of the material, his tail fighting against it and poking through.
“Stop moving around, man.” Martin mumbles, tugging the hoodie back over his lower back.
“I can’t help it.” Seonghyeon’s skin feels itchy, like his body doesn’t want to cover anything up. The effort it takes to not nudge the hoodie off of his newly emerged tail again is immense. It’s jarring to realize he can’t exactly control these things. “I don’t like how it feels.”
Martin grimaces, clearly feeling bad. He looks even more unsure when he holds up his second and final step, the beanie.
Something in Seonghyeon’s very being revolts. He backs away, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. His ears flatten against his head at the thought of being confined to that piece of material.
“Sorry, Hyeon,” Martin mumbles, coming towards him with the hat. “We have to.”
His eyes widen like a deer in headlights when the taller boy advances towards him. Seonghyeon scurries away on socked feet, sliding across the floor of their wardrobe room on pure instinct. He feels like he’s running from actual life-threatening danger.
“Don’t run!” Martin follows after him, but Seonghyeon is fast, light on his feet. Even more so than he usually is. He reaches towards the younger with an outstretched hand, “Come on. It’s your favorite one! You love this beanie!”
They barely notice James and Juhoon have awoken until the oldest clears his throat. They stand off to the side near the doorway, staring at the scene before them.
Stopping in the circle Martin was chasing him in, Seonghyeon’s ears escape their destiny of getting suffocated. For now. He runs over to the other two boys and hides behind their shoulders. Juhoon blinks at him, or— at the ears on his head, still flat down on his hair.
James looks between Seonghyeon and Martin, the both of them panting from the chase. He raises an eyebrow.
“What exactly is going on in here?”
Seonghyeon shrinks behind Juhoon’s body, still eyeing the beanie in Martin’s hand through his peripherals in case a sudden attack is made. At the same time, his tail twitches free behind him, popping out of the hem of the large hoodie.
He groans, throwing his head back on the wall. Martin stays quiet. For once, he doesn’t seem to know what to say.
Just then, Keonho walks back into the wardrobe room. He looks curiously at the four of them before he raises up a big white paper bag.
“It wasn’t Manager-nim. Just the breakfast he got us delivered.” Keonho looks to Seonghyeon, points at Juhoon and James. “Did they see the tail yet?”
⸺
Seonghyeon doesn’t even remember the last time they all sat at the dining table in their living room.
They don’t spend much time at home, and when they do they rarely share food here or lay out a meal. They used to have more time for moments like that back when they were trainees, but as of now the sight of them all sat at the rectangular table is foreign.
The delivery breakfast is a poor spread, but no one seems particularly hungry anyways. Other than Keonho, who’s chewing at a bagel next to Seonghyeon— and perhaps these ears are giving him super-hearing because he swears he can hear every noise being made. The boy might as well have an ASMR mic hooked up directly to Seonghyeon’s eardrums.
“I just don’t understand how this happened overnight.” Juhoon says across from him.
“Yeah,” Martin nods his head towards Seonghyeon, “Are you sure you didn’t do anything?”
Seonghyeon crosses his arms on top of the table, the oversized hoodie Martin stuffed him in forgotten on the couch, the beanie long gone (and would’ve been torn to shreds if Seonghyeon had a say).
“What would I have possibly done for this to happen?” He deadpans.
“I don’t know,” Martin shoots back, “Did someone curse you?”
Seonghyeon groans, the sound oddly sounding like a low rumble of an animal. His chest shakes and it startles him, but the noise must sound normal enough considering no one else bats an eye.
Beside him, Keonho swallows the last bite of his bagel. Seonghyeon knows without even having to look at him. There’s the faintest, most imperceptible to human ears, scratch of a chair against the floor, and then Seonghyeon feels body heat creeping towards him.
“I doubt any of our fans hexed him to turn into a cat.” Juhoon answers instead.
“A cat?” Keonho speaks up for the first time since they sat down, disgruntled. He points a finger towards Seonghyeon. “He’s clearly a fox. I mean look at his ears! They’ve got white and black tips.”
Once again, Keonho reaches out towards Seonghyeon’s ears, like he just can’t help himself. Seonghyeon manages to dodge it, swiping at Keonho’s arm with a weirdly fast hand. The other boy withdraws his fingers, but he turns his body in the chair. His eyes look over Seonghyeon’s face, gaze all too intent.
He’s closer than when they sat down. The body heat Seonghyeon had noticed before almost seems visible to his eyes, reaching out and twining around him. It’s strange, the radiating warmth much more tangible than Seonghyeon has ever felt before.
“It just makes sense,” Keonho smiles, “He always looked like a little fox, anyways.”
Seonghyeon has to dart his eyes away from the boy’s watching gaze. He successfully manages to ignore the beat behind his sternum, but it’s hard not to feel the weight of Keonho’s eyes lingering on the side of his face. After mere seconds that feel like hours, the boy finally turns away.
“Maybe we’re looking at this as something too fantastical,” James refocuses the conversation, drawing the last word out in English.
Seonghyeon raises an eyebrow at him, something along the lines of ‘I have a fucking tail and ears. That’s not fantastical enough for you?’ unsaid in his expression. James holds both hands out as if to appease, and Seonghyeon doesn’t like that gesture much either.
Martin motions with his hand for the eldest to continue.
“Maybe it’s like, a stress response? People revert back to basic animalistic instincts under pressure and anger and stuff. This could be that, just…” James has the decency to at least grimace as he points to the ears, “Way more literal.”
Seonghyeon’s nails start to dig at the table.
“I’m not stressed out.” He bites back, quick. It’s supposed to be convincing, casual, mundane. But if Seonghyeon is one thing, he’s a bad liar. Especially right now, when every single thing feels amplified by a hundred of their usual capacity. “I’m fine.”
Unfortunately, unlike the strange rumble of his chest, the table does hear the prickly edge to his voice.
Everyone looks at him like they just know. And they probably all do know. They can all tell, they’ve probably seen it for weeks. Maybe ever since they met him. They can tell something is wrong with him. It makes Seonghyeon want to shrink into himself. He doesn’t like feeling like he’s on such display.
No one really says anything. Their eyes are full of poorly concealed pity or concern or stress of their own, things that all equally make Seonghyeon feel like a child who’s done something bad.
He grumbles again. The sound is softer and quieter this time, but no less the rumble of an animal. He slumps his head into his crossed arms, the only thing keeping him from being face down on the table. Against his own will, he feels his ears flatten down on the top of his head, revealing his current embarrassing upset.
Next to him, he hears Keonho hold in a coo. The beginnings of the high sound catch in the boy’s throat before he forces them to die out.
Thanks to his new powers, Seonghyeon hears it anyway.
Everyone else starts to talk again, rightfully taking Seonghyeon’s hiding as him checking out. He knows they’re talking about him, but quite honestly he can’t bring himself to listen. He’s tired. His emotions are going haywire, bursting out of the tight ball that he can normally keep them contained to.
He further burrows his face into his arms, another new instinct that he can’t help but follow, when he feels that body heat crawling closer. A hand lands on his back; high up, respectful, but firm in its place on his spine.
On his right, Keonho scoots closer. Seonghyeon hears the miniscule scratch of the chair once more, and then their knees are pressing together only slightly underneath the table. The bare skin of Seonghyeon’s leg brushes against Keonho’s pajama pants and the material is soft— Seonghyeon finds himself wanting to nudge against it. He doesn’t.
The hand on his back starts to move, up and down or side to side, aiming to soothe. Seonghyeon stiffens at the touch if only for a moment, before letting himself relax under it.
Usually he wouldn’t let himself be this easily placated, but something about Keonho’s presence at his side is hard to shirk away. It’s a warmth that’s familiar to him, a few years of friendly touches and playful shoves that are easy to recognize.
Right now that warmth feels just as comforting as it always has, but somewhere along the lines things got twisted up. Somewhere it became usual for Keonho’s touch to come with a wave of anxious guilt, making his chest clench and leaving him unable to enjoy it. Sometimes it’s bad enough that he has to run and hide.
Just a few weeks ago Keonho slung his arm over his shoulder, pulled them together and left his body pressed right up against Seonghyeon’s side. It’s not even something unusual for them, the action seeming as easy as breathing for Keonho, but that day it had brought a twisting of his stomach so harsh that Seonghyeon pushed the other boy off. Hard. He tried to play it off as the kind of fake fighting they always do, but he saw it in Keonho’s face; he knew. He knew there was something wrong with Seonghyeon. And they both knew it was way too aggressive to not stem from something real.
But right now, Keonho’s hand presses flat between Seonghyeon’s shoulder blades. He rubs up at the expanse of the boy’s back as Seonghyeon hides his face and ignores the ongoing conversation. Instead, he lets himself focus on the tingly feeling in his skin that Keonho’s touch leaves in its wake.
Keonho follows the knobs of Seonghyeon’s spine, and he feels none of that sickening twist in his chest or stomach.
For right now, Seonghyeon feels warm. For right now, he closes his eyes against his forearms, and he feels safe.
⸺
The studio has never felt so suffocating. Usually Seonghyeon loves their sessions, especially when they get to be in the studio and not just working off a laptop and plug-in mics at the dorm or in a random hotel room.
Today, by the time they decide to take a break, Seonghyeon is itching to rip the beanie off his head and go home. Thankfully, no one has noticed anything, not even their managers or producers who came in to work with them earlier.
Also thankfully, it hasn’t been too hard to lose himself in the session. It’s been easy to forget that he has a tail hidden under his hoodie and furry ears under his hat, but then he’ll get that creeping itch to let them breathe again and he remembers everything that transpired today.
When breaktime hits Seonghyeon falls back against the small studio room’s couch. It’s unlikely that anyone other than his members will come bursting into the room. The second he has the thought, his hand is clawing off the beanie before he can help it.
He sighs when they're free once again, and it must be loud because all four of them look at him in amusement. James laughs under his breath before he leaves the room. Martin walks up to the couch and towers over him, hand reaching out.
“How’re you feeling, kitty?” He asks, and pokes at Seonghyeon’s newly freed ears. It twitches when Martin prods at it.
“Kitty?” Seonghyeon shoves the fingers away, “What is wrong with you? I’m genuinely asking.”
“He’s not a cat.” Keonho pipes in from the swivel seat by the desk. “I told you. Clearly a fox.”
He looks at Juhoon for help, seemingly exasperated at the repeated mischaracterizing of Seonghyeon’s new features.
“Fox.” Juhoon agrees, and Martin scoffs.
“Well, fox babies are called kits, so. I’m right anyway.”
Seonghyeon throws his head back on the cushion. “That’s not the same thing as ‘kitty’.”
Martin pulls a taunting face and heads for the door, looking over his shoulder before he walks out to say, “Just be glad I didn’t go for kitten.”
He hears Keonho fake gag from where he sits. Martin disappears throughout the doorway and Juhoon moves to follow him as they all scatter for their break. As he leaves, the shorter boy tacks on, “See you in ten, kitty.”
And then he’s gone as well. Seonghyeon grumbles, but his ears heat up in deep-seated embarrassment, slightly affronted at Juhoon’s betrayal. Across the room, Keonho looks at the state of him and snorts. The laugh is teasing, but the look in his eyes is soft.
“This sucks.” Seonghyeon says, wiggling in his spot.
His tail is stuck up uncomfortably against the couch and begs to be freed from his hoodie along with his ears. That urge, he pushes down. He can ignore the ears— out of sight, out of mind— but the tail is too orange and too bushy to not burn a hole in his peripherals.
Keonho hums, swiveling back and forth in his chair absentmindedly. The room is quiet now that the demos are off and everyone else has left. The lights are still dim, the way they usually keep them when working on music. The computer screen illuminates the side of Keonho’s face.
“I don’t get it.” Seonghyeon throws his hand out, landing loudly atop his jeans. “Why me? Why now?”
Keonho sticks his lips out in a pout like he’s thinking, a behavior of his that Seonghyeon has grown fond of. He gets up, pushing off the chair and moving to sit beside the other on the couch. He sits down slowly on the edge of the cushion, crossing his hands between his knees. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t lean back. Seonghyeon can’t see more than the side of his face.
“Maybe the guys are right.” He says.
Lost, Seonghyeon furrows his eyebrows, “About what?”
“About why this happened. I know you say you’re not stressed out, but it would make sense.” In the dim light, Seonghyeon can see him fiddle with his crossed fingers. His voice drops lower, nearly a mumble, like he doesn’t think he’s allowed to talk about it. “Lately you’ve been… distant.”
The words make Seonghyeon suck in a breath of air. He knows he’s been feeling… weird lately, but he didn’t know it showed. Seonghyeon frowns, lips pursing in and tugging with the weight of the thought. He doesn’t want to drag anyone down.
“I’m not trying to be.”
Their knees knock together, Keonho’s right against Seonghyeon’s left. He’s surprised to look down and see that he’s the one who has done it. He can still feel the warmth seeping from Keonho’s body, but he finds himself missing the soft material of plaid pajama pants against his skin, wishing they weren’t two layers of denim apart.
Unlike earlier, though, it’s not a brief touch under the table. Their knees stay pressed together. Keonho nudges him back, unspoken, making the touch firmer. It leaves Seonghyeon’s leg feeling tingly. Deep, deep down, he feels the twist in his chest— but something stronger takes over and washes it away, the instincts he’d felt this morning making him want to lean in further instead of push the other boy away.
He doesn’t. It feels too vulnerable, too raw. Like Keonho would be able to tell that Seonghyeon likes it, and for some reason that’s bad. Embarrassing. But at least that anxious twist is gone, and Seonghyeon doesn’t miss it one bit.
“I figured. I mean, I hoped.” Keonho says, and Seonghyeon’s eyes snap away from their touching legs and back to the boy’s side profile. “It’s just… I dunno about you and the other guys, but things between me and you have felt,” Keonho shrugs his shoulders, “Different. I don’t know.”
That makes Seonghyeon’s heartbeat pick up. Keonho says he doesn’t know, but frankly Seonghyeon doesn’t know either. He does know, though, that there’s something else Keonho isn’t saying. He’s holding back, his words sounding restrained with what his voice will allow him to say.
Seonghyeon wishes that he could see the other’s face. Then he might know what to say— but just then Keonho does turn, over his shoulder to look back at Seonghyeon, and his mind is still blank.
Keonho has always been expressive, but right now he’s like a closed book. It’s hard to even see what could be given away in his eyes from the lack of light. They look at each other, but the eye contact doesn’t last for long. Keonho’s eyes drift away to anywhere other than Seonghyeon’s face— the boy’s hoodie, the arm of the couch, the closed door beside them.
In the silence caused by Seonghyeon’s bated breath, Keonho’s voice cuts through.
“I thought maybe I did something wrong.”
Much like his face, the words are hard to read. Keonho doesn’t sound sad, or disappointed, or worried. He almost sounds like nothing at all, if not for the way his voice pitched up ever so slightly on the last word— something Seonghyeon would not have been able to pick up on before today.
It’s unsettling. It’s a far cry from the boy he knows well, has spent years learning the inner workings of. They were so young when they first met. As they get older, Seonghyeon feels like he has to relearn the boy at the beginning of every new year. Some days, Keonho is still a mystery to him. He wonders if that is what he has seemed like to the others lately, especially Keonho— a mystery.
“No– no, you didn’t do anything.” Seonghyeon whispers back.
But really, what hasn’t Keonho done?
It’s not fair, really, the things that he does and the consequences they have on Seonghyeon’s psyche. Seonghyeon is sure he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, probably doesn’t think Seonghyeon is always looking as closely as he does. He’s always been an observer, trying to blend, but Keonho makes him feel cracked right open.
Keonho looks at him once again, and that closed expression is broken away by a wide smile, like it was never there to begin with.
“Good, then.” He grins, as wide and toothy as ever.
Then, as if proving Seonghyeon’s point, he reaches out and ruffles the hair between his orange ears. When his fingertips catch on the fur, he changes direction to brush through it instead, enchanted by the soft hair there. He stares up at Seonghyeon’s new ears with a silly smile on his face, and Seonghyeon lets him.
His ears are sensitive after being hidden away for hours, and he doesn’t think any massage could ever beat the way Keonho tracing the edges of his ear feels. He feels dazed, and he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to refocus on work after this when everyone inevitably comes back. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before.
Don’t get him wrong, Seonghyeon still wants to figure out this whole half boy half fox thing. It’s weird and overwhelming and— and dangerous.
But with Keonho’s fingers combing through his fur, the younger boy suddenly looking thoroughly ecstatic; Seonghyeon thinks maybe, just in the meantime, this isn’t so bad.