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This winter is particularly harsh, and Chan is trying hard to fend for his pack.
Their food reserves are slim. Hunting is going badly. If it continues like this, they might starve.
Chan will be the first one. Now, he only eats enough to be able to hunt.
*
They have chicken which they can’t kill because they give them eggs. But they will die at some point anyway. And then what?
Minho cooks the eggs for them. Five eggs. Eight of them.
Chan doesn’t eat any. Minho, Changbin, Seungmin and Felix each take a half.
They usually rotate, but this time, Chan volunteers to opt out. Minho sends him a strange look. He knows what’s up.
*
“You have to eat, Chan,” he says. “If you don't, you will starve yourself to death, and if you die, we will all die.”
“Are you saying that you all eat enough, and I’m the only one who doesn’t?”
“That’s not what I mean,” Minho hisses.
“I promise that I’m fine,” Chan attempts to smile. “We just have to get through this and wait for spring to come. We will have more crops next year. We will be better prepared—”
“Don’t change the subject. You have to eat now.”
*
Chan doesn’t listen. He tries to hide it from Minho. Shares his portions with the others in secret. Each time with a different member of the pack, so that none of them get any suspicions.
But he can feel his body getting weak. He can’t run like he used to. A few seconds of sprint, and he has to stop, and he’s wheezing. Cold air is hurting his throat. He feels like he’s about to throw up.
At first, nobody notices his weakness or just decides not to comment on it. The truth is that nobody is doing well. Everyone is in a bad shape, vitality declining. No amount of sleep helps. No amount of hope, perseverance.
*
Chan goes for hunts every single day, and each time it’s getting harder and harder. His legs get heavier. Lungs smaller. Blood thicker.
Chan’s vision starts going black, and he leans against the tree.
“You good?” Changbin asks him.
“Yeah, just… just need a moment.”
His legs give out underneath him. He can’t feel them, can only feel the fall, landing in the soft snow, the cold wetness on his cheek.
“Jesus, Chan!”
Somebody shakes him, and he tries to say he’s okay, but whatever words leave his mouth must be completely incoherent. Even Chan isn’t sure what he’s saying.
“Hey, Chan, can you hear me?”
Even through the thick layer of clothes he feels someone putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing.
“Chan, can you hear me?”
“I think he passed out.”
“No,” Chan manages to say.
There’s a hand on his forehead, maybe checking for fever.
“Fuck, what do we do?” Hyunjin asks, his voice high-pitched and shaky.
“Let’s not panic,” Changbin tries to calm him down. “Chan, do you feel dizzy?”
“Don’t know.”
“Are you in pain?”
His lungs hurt, but it must be from the cold, from running in the cold.
“Don’t think so.”
“Okay, we’ll carry you home.”
“No…”
Chan can’t let them. They need to preserve energy. They need to continue with the hunt. They are far away from home, didn’t even catch anything; they can’t just go back.
“It’s okay, you know I’m strong enough,” Changbin says.
Chan attempts to sit up, but Hyunjin doesn’t let him.
“You go hunt, and I’ll just stay here,” Chan suggests.
“And you freeze to death? Absolutely not.”
“At least let me walk,” Chan pleads. “I’m feeling better.”
He looks up at Changbin, and for a moment they stare at each other. Chan tries to muster up some expression that would convey that he’s fine. Something relaxed. No tightness in his jaw, no creases in his forehead. He breathes deeply and blinks slowly.
“Okay, we can try that,” Changbin agrees. “Do you want to try to sit up or do you need a moment?”
“I’m fine,” Chan says.
Hyunjin helps him sit up, slightly pushing his back forward and then keeping a steady palm against it.
Chan realises that he does feel dizzy after all. But he can’t show it, has to breathe slowly, let his body adjust.
It will pass.
When he finally feels ready to get up, Hyunjin and Changbin both grab him by the armpits and don’t let go as he stands.
“How do you feel?” Hyunjin asks, and Chan has to lie. He has to.
“I’m good. I’m just… Can one of you hold me, just in case?”
They both continue to hold him as Chan takes an experimental step forward. The layer of snow is thick, so he can’t shuffle his legs. He has to raise them up significantly and then lower them down, again and again.
Soon, Hyunjin and Changbin aren’t just holding him—they’re supporting almost his entire body weight, nearly dragging him forward.
“Chan, it makes no sense to do it like this. Let me carry you,” Changbin suggests once again, but Chan shakes his head.
“No. No, I’m good.” And he tries to raise his legs up higher as he walks, fruitlessly.
It seems to take forever till they see their house in the distance, and even longer till they finally arrive there.
Hyunjin and Changbin lay him down on the bed, and everyone else gathers around them.
Or that’s how it feels—there are a lot of people, a lot of voices, but Chan’s vision is grey again, blurry.
*
He wakes up still surrounded by people.
“Chan,” Minho calls him. His voice is so sweet, so soft. “Chan-ah.”
In response, Chan can only grunt.
“Drink this for me.”
Someone pulls him up into a seating position and somebody else holds a mug up to his lips.
“Just slowly, don’t choke.”
Chan expects water, but the drink is mildly sweet. Warm and sweet. What did they put in there?
“Slowly,” Minho instructs him. “Just like that. Good boy.”
Chan isn’t sure if it’s the drink that warms him up or the praise, but he knows his cheeks are getting red.
“Look at me,” Minho says, and Chan turns his head around. “You won’t faint again, understood?”
Chan gives him a tiny nod.
“Eat it,” Seungmin appears next to him out of nowhere, holding a plate.
A few pieces of dried apples and persimmons. A few stripes of smoked meat.
“I don’t—”
“Eat it.”
It can’t be dinnertime. Chan didn’t sleep for that long, did he?
He looks around, finally able to recognise all the faces. Everyone is gathered around him, like he’s about to die.
Were they really that worried about him?
He grabs a piece of dried apple and chews it slowly. Everyone is looking at him, as if making sure he won’t trick them this time.
*
They don’t let Chan hunt for a week afterwards. They sit with him and make sure he eats all his meals.
Each passing day means one day closer to spring.
One day closer to no snow. Feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin. Eating fresh fruit and watching their chicken peck on the ground. Watching flowers bloom. White turning into green.
They just need to survive till then.