Chapter Text
Minho is seven years old when his next-door-neighbors bring home a cub.
Or, not a cub, as he is informed. A kit.
“Minho, this is Jeongin. He’s our new son,” says Mrs. Yang, her spotted tail curling gently around the little boy by her side.
Minho flicks his own gold-and-black spotted ears a few times. “Cool,” he says. “How old are you, Jeongin-ah?”
The little boy looks a bit different from anyone he’s ever seen. Huge sandy-blond ears and hair pair with a fluffy tail that doesn’t move as much as Minho’s or Mrs. Yang’s. Minho’s whole family are Amur leopards, as are Mr. and Mrs. Yang. As are most of the people living in this mountain town in the northern part of South Korea.
Even at school, most of his classmates are leopards, with a few deer and bears, and two mice sisters who giggle nonstop. Some families have two different hybrid-type parents, like the Kim-Parks, who have a leopard mom and a wolf dad. One son is a wolf and the other is a leopard.
“I’m five,” Jeongin says clearly, staring at Minho just as hard as Minho is staring back at him.
Later, Minho’s dad explains the concept of adoption to him. He also says Jeongin is something called a fennec fox, but that shouldn’t change how Minho treats him.
Minho had already figured that last part out.
“You can call me hyung,” Minho says with a magnanimous nod. He flicks his tail towards the wooded area beyond his house. “Wanna play tag with me?”
Jeongin’s eyes light up, and he looks up at Mrs. Yang for permission.
She smiles. “Go ahead. Come back before dark, and stay with Minho.”
“Yes, mama,” Jeongin says.
Minho is bouncing on his feet. He doesn’t have any siblings, and there are no kids his age on the block. He’s ready to play.
“Come get me!” He races away, hearing Jeongin running behind him.
His little heart pumps fast as he runs through tall grass and jumps over sticks. He knows better than to go his full speed when he’s playing with someone younger than him, so he looks behind him and lets Jeongin get very close.
His new neighbor has a big smile on his angular face as he swipes at him, tiny claws inches from his back. Minho dances away, laughing, and Jeongin laughs, too.
“Come on! Can’t you catch me?”
“I’ll get you!”
Minho doesn’t run too far into the forest, instead climbing one of his favorite trees within view of their houses. He extends his claws to climb more easily, but he already knows the best handholds on this particular trunk so he doesn’t need to take off his shoes to scale it.
When he gets to the first thick branch, he perches there and looks down.
Jeongin is frowning up at him, ears laid flat and tail swishing a little. He circles the tree curiously, little nose sniffing.
Minho tilts his head to one side. “Do you know how to climb?”
He should have thought to ask. Every hybrid with hands and feet can theoretically climb, but it is definitely easier for some than others. His deer classmates don’t seem to ever perch in tree branches, for example.
Instead of answering, Jeongin runs and jumps at the tree, clinging for a few seconds only to slide back down. He huffs, and looks back up at Minho, locking eyes with him and frowning.
Ah, this might not be fun for his new dongsaeng.
Minho moves to jump down, but Jeongin shouts, “No! I can do it!”
Minho settles again. “It’s easier if you take off your shoes,” he offers.
So Jeongin sits on the leaf-covered floor, getting his jeans dirty, and takes off his shoes. With a cute yip, he starts to climb the tree, tail held stiff for balance.
“Almost there!” Minho cheers, and when Jeongin gets close enough, Minho reaches his arm down to grab his wrist.
Together, the two little boys pull and push to get Jeongin up and nestled in the crook of the branch where Minho also sits.
“You did it!”
“I did it!”
Minho grins at the little fox, who’s panting from his climb and grinning right back at him. Jeongin looks around.
“Wow! It’s nice up here. Is that our houses?” He points a finger at the red-roofed homes in the middle distance.
“Yep. This is my favorite tree.”
“Cool.” Jeongin’s ears perk up, and he suddenly smacks Minho’s shoulder. “Tag! Got you!”
Minho smacks Jeongin’s knee in retaliation. “Tag!”
“Tag!”
“Tag!”
“Tag!”
They collapse into giggles.
And never quite stop for the next thirteen years.
***
Minho and Jeongin become inseparable. They play together after school and on weekends, complaining when they have to go on trips without the other. A pair of Minho’s shoes start living at the Yangs’ house, and vice versa.
They walk to and from school together, even if their different grades mean they only get to interact at recess.
One chilly autumn day at the start of Jeongin’s Grade 1 year, a group of children play tag during recess. Jeongin’s fluffy tail streams behind him as he runs laughing, evading one of his goat classmates who is ‘it.’ Minho crouches behind a slide, also part of the game, his own tail twitching.
“That fox is so weird.”
“Yeah, look at his huge ears. They're ugly.”
“I hate his voice. So squeaky.”
Outrage rushes through Minho’s veins as his ears pick up the words. He turns, lips lifted in a snarl, showing his baby fangs. His gaze zeros in on the two other leopards who were talking, two of his fellow third graders.
“Shut up about Jeongin,” he snaps, tail lashing.
The other leopards sneer at him, unimpressed.
“Why? It’s true. He’s weird.”
Minho doesn’t think. His body moves on its own, determined to silence these idiots who would insult his best friend.
The end of the school day sees Minho sitting in the principal's office with his mother by his side. He feels no remorse, arms crossed and glaring down at his feet in defiance. He only regrets that he didn’t get to walk home with Jeongin like usual because of this dumb meeting.
“They were talking bad about Jeongin,” he tells his mother later, privately.
She smiles and scratches her claws lightly behind his ears. “Oh, I see now. Well, next time just give them a little warning scratch, okay? You went too far today, Minho-yah.”
“Fine,” he mutters, then nuzzles into her hand. “Can I go to the Yangs’ house now?”
“Yes.”
Minho scampers across the way, heart light. Maybe he did attack those two idiots too much today. But if he doesn’t defend Jeongin, who will?
***
They grow, and eventually Minho has to go to middle school, leaving Jeongin behind in the elementary school. Minho worries for Jeongin. Jeongin worries for Minho. They hatch an idea.
They gather all four parents together and present a unified plea.
Their parents happily cave to two sets of wide brown eyes and lifted ears, signing them up for an after school dance class together.
“Look at this, Minho-hyung!” Jeongin calls after class one day. They are still in the studio, the instructor putting equipment away in the corner.
Flushed from exercise, 13-year-old Minho looks at Jeongin, who executes a silly version of a move they learned today.
Laughter bubbles out of Minho’s mouth, and Jeongin grins widely.
“Wait, wait! How about this?” Minho exaggerates the move even more, practically throwing himself around the room.
Jeongin yips with laughter, and stumbles towards Minho, dancing goofily.
They end up collapsed on the floor, laughing so hard their stomachs hurt.
Their instructor, Kibum, smiles fondly at them, used to the sight of his two best students entertaining each other after class.
***
Jeongin watches with envy as Minho matures before him. Starting with losing his baby teeth and getting his bigger canines, and then when his scent deepens and his fur starts to come in.
They’re hanging out in Jeongin’s bedroom after school. “It’s so silky,” 13-year-old Jeongin pouts, running his fingers through the fur on the back of 15-year-old Minho’s neck. “I bet mine won’t be as silky.” He cast a baleful glance at his fox tail, with its long, coarse, fluffy fur.
“Don’t worry about that right now,” Minho says, voice muffled as he takes his shirt off and turns his back towards Jeongin. “Now check for me. Is it meeting in the middle yet?” He scooches the waistband of his jeans down a little to show the base of his tail.
Maybe that would be a little scandalous, if they weren’t best friends. But only a little. It’s not like Jeongin can see his butt cheeks or anything.
Jeongin takes in Minho’s new, mature appearance. His ears are the same, mid-sized and covered in short, soft golden fur with black spots. They blend perfectly into the golden hair on his head, random black hairs scattered throughout.
What’s new is the strip of golden, black-spotted fur running along his spine. It’s a sign of puberty, of adulthood, and every hybrid wants that fur to go from nape to tail in an unbroken line. It’s considered the prettiest growth pattern.
“Not yet,” Jeongin says. Minho’s fur creeps up from his tail along his spine, stopping well before his mid-back. The fur on his neck blooms outward along the center of his shoulders, before tapering off into a point between his shoulder blades.
“You’ve got, like, a little diamond shape up here, though. That’s kind of cool,” Jeongin says, outlining the fur at the top. It really is so silky against Jeongin’s fingertips. Just as silky as the fur of Minho’s ears he likes to play with. It’s remarkable that Minho’s skin bordering the fur is just as smooth and warm.
Minho grumbles and grabs his shirt, shrugging it back on. “Maybe it’ll grow more. My dad said his didn’t stop spreading until he was 20.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Minho turns, and the gloom on Jeongin’s face must be apparent, because he laughs and reaches for Jeongin’s ears with two gentle hands. Jeongin’s eyes slip shut out of habit, Minho’s fingers running from base to tip, smoothing them down against Jeongin’s head. It feels really nice.
“Don’t worry, Innie. However yours grows is gonna be great, okay? Maybe it’ll be short and soft like your ears! We just have to wait and see.”
“I hate waiting,” grumbles Jeongin, though it comes out more like a sigh.
“Too bad, little kit.”
“I won’t be little for long.” Eyes closed, soft hands on his sensitive ears, Jeongin feels soothed. His claws itch a little, and he finds himself kneading the carpet of his bedroom floor mindlessly. The scritch scritch is nice.
Over the next few years, Minho’s fur does spread a little, but it never connects along his spine. If anything, the diamond around his shoulderblades grows wider. But that might just be because Minho’s shoulders grow broader throughout high school. Sometimes Jeongin will blink and it’ll seem like Minho’s gained another centimeter of muscle up there.
Minho keeps getting stronger and sturdier, and Jeongin is stuck in the body of a lanky kit, even if his own fur has started to grow in: a narrow strip of short blond running all the way down his spine that Minho pretends to be jealous of.
He knows it's just because of their age difference, but Jeongin can’t help but feel like he’s being left behind sometimes.
That feeling slams into Jeongin during Minho’s high school graduation ceremony, sharper than ever before. Jeongin sits frozen in his chair as he watches Minho approach the stage, his father to one side and someone’s grandmother on his other.
Is he going to leave now? Leave me?
This whole year, they haven't talked about the future. The few times Jeongin had brought it up: “what will you do after graduating?” Minho had just shrugged and said some variation of “I’m not worried about it.”
But now, as Minho crosses the stage and takes his diploma with a bow, cold lances through Jeongin’s heart.
Minho has always been in Jeongin’s life. He’s seen him practically every day for more than a decade: before and after school, throughout long summer days, in treetops and bedrooms. If Minho leaves, what will Jeongin do to fill his days?
Jeongin watches as Minho leaves the stage—spotted tail twitching happily, huge smile on his face—and feels something squeezing his heart so hard he wants to cry.
When all the graduates have been announced, Jeongin and his family battle through the crowd to get to Minho.
Jeongin waits with his heart beating painfully as Minho’s parents and family hug him. Caught in the grip of a grandmother, Minho’s eyes find Jeongin’s over her shoulder and crinkle like he’s smiling.
Jeongin smiles back, and when it is finally his turn for a hug, he clings tightly to his hyung’s solid shoulders. His scent is potent from this close, a signature Minho smell that’s been there since childhood, but has strengthened with maturity. It’s deeper, richer, somehow just more than what it used to be. It reminds Jeongin of their favorite tree during autumn.
“Congrats. You did it, hyung.” The warble in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed, and Minho pulls back, searching Jeongin’s face.
Jeongin looks down, but before Minho can ask him what’s wrong, he’s swept away by more well-wishers.
That night, there’s a party at Minho’s house. Jeongin’s there, of course, and gratefully follows Minho when he leads him to his room.
Jeongin settles on the bed, the posters and photos on the walls familiar and welcome.
“What are you worried about, Innie?” Minho says casually, sprawled out on the floor. His eyes flash in the moonlight streaming in through his window.
Jeongin bites his lip. Lightly, because his adult canines are far sharper than his baby teeth were. “Just wondering where you’ll go. What you’ll do.” He clears his throat. “It sucks I’ve got two more years left of school without you.”
“Hmm.” Minho tucks his hands behind his head, and Jeongin wonders if his own biceps will be that big in two years, too. “I’m sticking around.”
Jeongin’s ears stand straight up. “You are?”
“Yeah. Kibum already said I have a job at the dance studio if I want it.”
It’s like a flood washes through Jeongin, cleansing and surprisingly powerful. His tail sways back and forth. “Really? That’s great!”
Minho smirks at him. “You seem awfully relieved. Were you afraid hyung was gonna leave you behind?”
Jeongin pouts and traces a pattern on the bedspread. “Maybe. A little.” He swallows. “I thought you might want to get out of town. Explore. Try something new in a different place.”
There’s a rustle as Minho shifts, and Jeongin doesn’t have to look to know he’s coming closer. Propping his chin on the bed next to Jeongin’s leg.
Minho curls a hand around Jeongin’s ankle and shakes it lightly. “Everything I need is right here.” He squeezes, and a sweet warmth fills Jeongin. “Why would I leave?”
A dry laugh squeaks out of Jeongin’s throat. “Right. That’d be dumb.” Of course Minho doesn’t want to leave this town. Everything he needs is in this town, obviously. He likes it here, with the mountains and the forest and the familiar routine. His hyung has never been restless or particularly adventuresome. He’s never sought out the new just for the sake of it.
Minho nods, a little smile on his face. “Very dumb.”
***
Jeongin is a high school senior when a new family moves into town.
This is a rare enough occurrence that everyone is excited. Jiya (a goat) swears she saw a moving van over the summer, and that a whole pack of leopards came out of it. Mihan (a leopard) says they were tigers and leopards.
Jeongin sits on his desk on the first day of school and listens, laughing when Hyeri (another leopard) pets his ears gently, saying, “Maybe it's a fox family! And Jeongin can make them feel welcome!”
“That’d be cool,” he says, smiling. He doesn’t mind Hyeri touching his ears. They’ve been friends and classmates for a full 12 years, after all.
A fox family would be amazing. He’s met a few red foxes that passed through their tiny mountain town as tourists, but none ever stayed. The only other fennecs he’s seen have been on TV.
He asked his parents once how they got him if fennecs were so rare, and his mom had gone all misty-eyed. “Fennecs are rare here in Korea, but there are plenty in Africa. We got you because we knew your mother. She cared for you as long as she could, but she had some problems that she couldn’t quite overcome.”
Jeongin nodded. He had memories of his birth mom, memories of bad smells and tired smiles and tears. Those memories faded with time, and with how little he liked to look at them.
“I’m so glad she let us bring you into our family, Jeongin-ah,” his mom would always say, curling her spotted tail around him. “Always remember that she loved you, and we love you, too. More than anything in this world.”
It was easy to forget that he was different from his leopard family, but he occasionally dreams of travelling to Africa, of meeting more fennecs, of seeing the community and land that his birth mother hailed from. Or maybe her parents. Nobody can tell him where his mother was born.
Jeongin and his classmates don’t have to wait long before the new kid appears.
It is another Amur leopard. His name is Ilsung. Apparently, his parents grew up here and have brought their family back home after being gone for decades.
Everyone is just excited to have a new person to get to know, Jeongin included.
Never one to bully his way to the front or speak over people, he waits until Mihan slings an arm around his shoulders and brings him forward.
“Oh, and you have to meet Jeongin! If you ever want to get into dancing, he’s crazy good. But don’t ask him for math help!” Mihan pokes him in the ribs with a laugh. Jeongin twitches away and elbows him back twice as hard.
“Yah! Don’t ruin my reputation with the new guy already!” Jeongin says with a smile. Then he turns to Ilsung. “So, are you into dancing?”
Ilsung is staring at him with his mouth open, a vacant look in his eyes. Jeongin’s smile wavers as his friendly question goes unanswered for several beats too long.
He catches Mihan’s eye, who also looks weirded out by Ilsung’s lack of response.
“Uh, Ilsung-ssi?” Jeongin says. “Do—”
“Your ears are huge,” Ilsung says, darting a hand out at the same time.
Jeongin jerks back before the leopard can touch his ears, Mihan’s arm slipping off his shoulder.
Mihan steps in front of Jeongin, blocking Ilsung. “Dude,” Mihan says, tone flat and tail thrashing. “Not cool.”
Ilsung blinks, face twisting into faux innocence. “What?”
“Don’t just grab someone’s ears,” Hyeri growls. Her leopard fangs are some of the biggest in class, and they glisten as she sneers. “Didn’t your parents teach you manners?”
Ilsung rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’ve just never seen a fox like him before. What are you, anyway?”
A weird feeling curls in Jeongin’s gut. It’s icky and sharp, and has him tucking his tail between his legs and holding his elbows.
“He’s our friend,” Jiya says, stepping in front of Jeongin, as if she can protect him when she’s a head shorter than him. Her goat horns make her taller, though. “Don’t be weird. Aren’t you from a big city?”
Ilsung scratches the back of his neck, finally looking sheepish. “Yeah. Sorry, um, Jeongin-ssi. I guess I’ve never met someone like you and kinda…was rude.”
“It’s okay,” Jeongin says, automatically. The icky feeling fades. He looks around at his classmates, his friends, and feels a little cozy.
Wait until he tells Minho.
***
“...and I didn’t even have to do anything because Jiya and everyone stood up for me.” Jeongin leans back against the tree trunk, a smug smile on his face. “I kind of felt like a prince with a bunch of bodyguards. It was cool.”
Laying belly-down on the branch above, Minho's throat hurts from how hard he’s been holding back his growl as Jeongin recaps his first day of senior year.
If he’d been there, he’d have cowed that new kid before he could even think about being rude to Jeongin. Reaching for his ears? Despicable. The tree bark beneath his claws comes away in curls.
“Hyung, you okay?”
At least Jeongin has good friends and classmates. Minho has always liked that Jiya girl. Maybe he should bring her a box of chocolates as thanks. A whole basket of chocolates for all of Jeongin’s classmates who stood up for him.
“Hyung?”
But is Jeongin really going to spend the whole year with that jerk? Who knows if this new kid will remember his place? Minho should pay him a visit. Nothing too savage, of course. Just introduce himself and tell him that if he dares to make Jeongin uncomfortable again, Minho will make his life a living hell.
He’d be well within the law to do so, too. They may live in a society that strives for peaceful cooperation, but their laws are rather bare. Murder and rape are punished, but not much else. He looked into the specifics after he landed in the principals office in high school for slashing some piece of shit who was threatening Jeongin. Turns out the school standards for violence are way more conservative than federal law.
A tug on his tail snaps Minho out of his thoughts, and that growl he’s been holding back finally comes out. He finally notices the fresh scores in the bark of his tree, and he glares down at Jeongin.
Jeongin just laughs, shaking his light blond hair out of his eyes and tugging on Minho’s tail again, lightly. “Were you even listening to me?”
There’s a restless buzzing in bones, a need to move, to act. Too bad Jeongin’s here to be a target.
“I was.” He flicks his tail in Jeongin’s face to annoy him. “The new kid’s an asshole, but it's fine because you’re the prince of your class, right?”
Jeongin blushes and whines, batting Minho’s tail away.
“What?” Minho goads, bothering him more. “You said it first.”
“It sounds worse when you say it, hyung,” Jeongin complains, which just fuels Minho’s urge to pester him.
“You are so rude.” Minho slides off his branch and onto Jeongin’s, smothering his smaller frame.
“Hyung!” Jeongin squawks, fighting back without teeth or claws. “You’re the rude one.”
Minho smirks. Wrestling in a tree could be dangerous, but he’s careful. Jeongin might whip around thoughtlessly, but Minho’s strong enough to keep them both from falling to the forest floor.
He pins Jeongin until the fox tires of struggling. Sweat beads on his flushed skin, and he glares at Minho. It makes Minho’s chest warm and lips smile.
“Fine,” Jeongin snaps. “You win. Now let’s go. I’m hungry.”
Minho clicks his tongue. “Still so rude. Ask me nicely.”
Jeongin rolls his eyes. “Please, hyung, let me go so we can go eat.”
A pleased chuff escapes Minho’s mouth, and he releases Jeongin. “Good job, kit.”
Minho jumps down first, smiling to himself at Jeongin’s affronted, “I’m not a kit!”
As Jeongin descends noisily, Minho runs his hands over their claw marks in the base of the tree trunk. He and Jeongin grew faster than his old favorite trees, so they had to find new ones. When Jeongin declared this tree as “the one,” they both scratched it to mark it as their territory. Minho’s marks are deep and wide, while Jeongin’s are more shallow.
Looking at the scores in the tree, Minho wordlessly grabs Jeongin’s hand. He wants to see something.
Or, rather, remember something.
“What?” Jeongin asks tiredly, though he cooperates as Minho spreads his fingers, pressing their palms together.
Jeongin’s fingers are long and slender, while Minho’s are shorter and thicker, his palm wider. Minho extends and retracts his wicked-sharp claws, the extra thickness of his fingers housing them when they are retracted.
Jeongin, being a fox, does not have retractable claws. His claws are small and hard and always out, dull points reaching only slightly beyond his soft fingertips.
“You have nice hands,” Minho says. The thought enters his head and comes out of his mouth in the same instant. They feel nice, too, Jeongin’s palm warm and smooth against Minho’s.
“Thanks?”
“Mmm.” Minho drops his hand and turns his back on Jeongin, starting to jog down the mountain towards their homes. “What do you want to eat?”
Jeongin scrambles to keep up with him. “Hyung’s going to treat me? With his money from his proper job?”
When Minho glances at him, Jeongin has a shit-eating grin on his wide mouth. It makes Minho’s heart feel like it’s full of helium.
“If you can be polite for once.”
“Of course I can. I want gamjatang, please!”
Minho takes him to eat gamjatang, but only after he pays the fee of aegyo.
***
Jeongin stares at the paper pamphlets spread out on his bed, rubbing the fur of his tail between his fingers absently. The teachers at school have been pushing for college applications, pointing out the upcoming deadlines. Jeongin’s Science teacher especially has been on him about going to university, so he can “put his mind to use.”
But Jeongin doesn’t know what he’d want to study. More importantly, he doesn’t even know if he wants to leave.
The pamphlets stare back at him coldly, pressuring him to make a decision.
Fed up, Jeongin turns his back and slams his bedroom door on the way out.
He finds himself walking through the forest behind his and Minho’s house, climbing up the slope until he reaches the farthest of ‘their’ trees. The bark welcomes his touch. He turns around and looks at the whole of the town, feeling the indents of claw marks in the smooth bark of the tree: one set deep, one set shallow.
Familiar roofs, familiar streets, familiar cars. Technically, it’s not all he’s ever known. But the memories of his birth mother, of toys and places that must have been important to a 3-year-old fennec, get more fractured every time he lifts them to the surface of his mind. Like a VHS tape that’s been played too many times.
Jeongin’s stomach churns. He wants to see the big, wide world. Wants to meet people like himself.
However.
The thought of leaving, of striking out on his own, sends pain lancing through his heart.
Jeongin runs his fingers over his and Minho’s mis-matching claw marks, turning his gaze away from the town and towards the tree trunk. With a curl of his fingers, he aligns his claws into the deeper, wider scores that Minho left—and drags them gently down.
“Why’d you hike so faaaar?”
Minho’s complaining voice reaches Jeongin a few seconds before his scent. Jeongin quirks his lips up and turns to look.
He blinks, finding Minho much closer than he expected. Damn his silent stalking.
“Um. To think.”
Minho wears sweat shorts and a dark green hoodie that makes him look small. His calves flex as he hikes up the incline, tail whipping about for balance. His golden hair is tousled, fluffy ears perked and eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief. With his flushed cheeks and pouting lips, he looks extra handsome.
Or something.
Jeongin shakes his head a little to clear it. Then lifts one eyebrow. “Why’d you hike so far?”
“To be with you,” Minho says simply, and Jeongin almost chokes at how his heart speeds up a notch.
Which is silly. Minho likes to hang out with Jeongin and vice versa. This is hardly news. Nor is it uncommon for Minho to seek him out like this. Really, there’s nothing unusual about this moment at all.
Minho’s shoulder lands with a thud, right next to Jeongin’s hand on the tree trunk. He peers golden, slit-pupiled eyes at Jeongin and says nothing.
Jeongin has seen many a hybrid buckle under that unnerving gaze, but he finds himself calming instead, heartrate slowing again.
Huh. Must have been a fluke.
Jeongin clears his throat and takes his hand away, letting himself fall sideways to mirror Minho.
“You could have used your phone, hyung. To ask me to come down if it's such an inconvenience.”
Minho snorts. “As if you’d come down if I called.”
Jeongin sticks his tongue out. Just for a moment. “I might. I’m not as contrary as you.”
Minho shrugs. His tail comes up and taps Jeongin’s side. “So what are you thinking about?”
Jeongin drops his gaze to their feet. His dirty sneakers look good next to Minho’s slides. Honestly, who climbs a mountain in slides?
“What I’ll do after graduation.”
“What do you mean? You’re going to college.”
Jeongin looks up at that, amused. “Excuse you. Since when do you run my life?”
But Minho just looks confused. “What? You said you wanted to go to college.”
“When?”
“Always? All the time? Last year, and the year before that, and when we were kids? You’ve always talked about going to college.”
Jeongin frowns, biting his tongue. Yes, that’s true. Technically. “Well, maybe I don’t want to anymore.”
Now Minho frowns, looking weirdly cute while he’s worried. “Jeongin-ah. Why would you change your mind?”
Breath escapes Jeongin in a huff. “I don’t know. I….”
And that’s just it. He doesn’t know. Doesn’t know why he’s suddenly unsure about college. About leaving home.
“You’ve always been excited about seeing more than this town,” Minho says.
It slips out without Jeongin thinking about it. “Unlike you.”
He looks up, a strange almost-panic seizing him at his words. He finds Minho looking at him with a blank expression. The one that means, ‘elaborate.’
“Y-you told me—when you graduated—that this place had everything you needed. That you had no desire to leave.”
Jeongin’s mouth feels suddenly dry as he watches Minho’s eyes narrow, his ears flick in agitation.
“Well, maybe I do now.”
Jeongin blinks, mind reeling. Before he can catch up, Minho shakes his head. “But the question is about you. Not me. Don’t you want to leave?”
“Yes, but—”
“Because I’d feel really dumb if you didn’t. Considering this whole time I’d just assumed you’d be leaving, and made plans accordingly.”
Plans? What plans? Minho didn’t do plans, not in Jeongin’s experience.
“What do you—”
“I’d always thought I’d find a job in whatever city you went to college in, and we’d save money by finding an apartment together.”
“You what—”
“Your eomma seemed really happy when I told her all this.”
“My eomm—”
“Said she felt better knowing I’d be there to look after you in the big city. But maybe she’ll be happy since you’re just going to stay home anyway.”
“I never said I was going to stay home!”
Minho rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Jeez, Jeongin-ah. Make up your mind already. Enough with this flip-flopping.”
Jeongin stares at him, mouth agape. It’s like he’s been hit on the head several times, brain too slow to keep up with everything.
It seizes on one thing, though.
“You want to move out together?”
Minho looks at him like he’s an idiot for all of two seconds. He can’t hold it, fondness seeping into his face quickly. “Yeah. What did you think I was hanging around here for? I’ve been waiting for you to graduate so we can get out of here.”
This can’t be real. Minho’s been waiting for him?!
Jeongin staggers forward, the rug pulled out from under him. His heart is doing something concerning in his chest. His hands land on something warm and solid—Minho’s shoulders.
Minho’s hands come up to grip his forearms in return.
Jeongin’s voice comes out reed-thin. “You. You never said.”
Minho’s shrug lifts Jeongin’s palms and his heart. “Didn’t think I needed to.”
Jeongin doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He stares into Minho’s face as long as he can before the feelings become too huge. He drops his head with a strangled sound, squeezing his damp eyes shut.
Of course. Of course Minho would just quietly make his own plans and not tell anyone. Of course he’d act like it's a given that Jeongin would just go to a new city with him.
Jeongin loves that he’s right. It is a given.
Jeongin squeezes him. Minho squeezes back.
“So…am I dumb? Should we tell your eomma you’re staying home after all?”
Jeongin’s stomach has stopped churning. His chest feels light. Glancing over his shoulder at the familiar town, he suddenly feels no tether, no sticky heartache for it.
College. Yeah, he does want to go. If Minho is there, there’s no need to worry.
Jeongin bites his lip as it all becomes clear to him. He was afraid to be alone in a new city. Alone, without his hyung who’s been with him practically his whole life.
How embarrassing. He can never let Minho know. It would inflate his ego far too much.
Jeongin lifts his head, releases Minho’s shoulders, and punches him on the arm.
Minho doesn’t flinch, just stares at him, waiting for a response.
“I’ve got to be accepted first,” he says flatly. Or–dang it. His cheeks are bunching. He’s smiling. So much for a cool delivery.
Minho’s face turns unbearably smug. It’s so unbearable, Jeongin punches him again. “Next time, tell me so I can—so I don’t—”
“So you don’t have a crisis about leaving your Minho-hyung, who you love?” Minho jokes, all cutesy—until he puts Jeongin in a headlock a moment later.
Jeongin’s heart lurches, as if jumping to dodge the dart Minho just threw way too close to home.
“Ha. You wish,” Jeongin wheezes automatically. Good thing Minho can’t see his blush in this headlock.
Why is he blushing, anyway? It must just be leftover embarrassment from being so wimpy.
***
Minho wasn’t lying when he told Jeongin he’d been waiting for him to finish high school before he started building his own life. He just… didn’t realize that was what he was doing. Hadn’t thought to interrogate his own apathy towards leaving home until Kibum had asked if he could one day leave the hometown studio to him.
Right there in Kibum’s office, Minho had envisioned his future. It was hazy and full of vibes, as most thoughts of futures are, but Minho was certain that it didn’t take place in their hometown.
Well, if he didn’t want to live here forever, why hadn’t he moved out yet? What was he waiting for?
His mind supplied him with visions of sandy ears and dimples and large hands that were always knocking things over. Jeongin.
Minho didn’t ask himself why he was waiting for Jeongin, though. That was unnecessary.
So now he pretends he was easily gaining work experience as part of a grand plan for his life.
Minho isn’t surprised at all when Jeongin gets accepted into his second choice of university. He buys a celebratory cupcake and is quietly satisfied when Jeongin stuffs the entire thing in his mouth at once.
Once Jeongin tells him which city they will be moving to, he goes job hunting. Having two years of professional dance teaching under his belt serves him well, and a month after Jeongin’s acceptance letter arrives, Minho has a work contract as a teacher at a studio in the city.
Their mothers go with them a month later to scout apartments. Minho takes a back seat to the decision-making, happy to watch as Jeongin speaks for both of them when their mothers ask for decor opinions. They settle on a muted color palette: beige rugs, a black scratching post, new grey bedsheets for both of them. Minho doesn’t care what the apartment looks like as long as it smells like him and Jeongin.
A month before Jeongin’s term starts, they move into the small two-bedroom place that’s closer to Jeongin’s campus than it is to Minho’s workplace.
“Hyung, no. You shouldn’t have to commute farther than me,” Jeongin says several times. First with a pout, and then eventually with drawn brows and adorable irritation.
“Yes, I should. I’m your hyung,” Minho answers, speaking precisely once. As Jeongin continues to argue, he simply flicks his tail at Jeongin’s nose afterwards. He’s said his piece, why repeat himself? They both know he won’t change his mind.
Their mothers stay out of that particular discussion. They just smile and look at each other like two conspirators.
After everyone has ferried the last of their stuff up the stairs and into the apartment, Jeongin gazes at the front door. He’s sweaty and flushed, hair sticking to his forehead and the nape of his neck, scent strong with exertion. Longingly, he says, “I really want to mark it.”
Equally sweaty and leaning against the wall, Minho’s claws unsheath of their own accord. Yes. This is their territory. They should absolutely scratch their claim into the front door.
“No,” Mrs. Yang and Minho’s mom chorus. They wear identical frowns of displeasure.
“This is a rental,” Minho’s mom continues. “You can’t damage the property.”
“That’s why we got you the scratching post,” Mrs. Yang adds. “Go take out your territorial urges on it.”
Jeongin pouts, lips sticking out in a way that should be ridiculous. His lips look so soft, though, so it's not ridiculous. Minho doesn’t know what he should classify that expression as. Viewing Jeongin’s pout makes his insides warm up, though.
Minho tears his eyes away from his kit’s lips and grumbles, but puts away his claws. Their mothers are right.
Three weeks fly by as Jeongin and Minho organize their home and explore the surrounding area. They walk together, finding the best convenience and grocery stores. They discover a music shop and several second-hand boutiques.
Minho has heard Jeongin call him ‘hyung’ for their whole lives. And yet he doesn’t think he’s heard it so much and so often before.
“Hyung! Look at this!”
“Hyung! Try this on!”
He likes it.
“Hyung, you look stupid,” Jeongin laughs as Minho does a little twirl in the second-hand store, unflattering flourescents beaming down on them. The sequined flapper dress is almost too small for him, and the bellbottom pants too big. The feathered hat fits perfectly, though.
“That’s your own fault, then,” Minho says. “You dressed me.”
Jeongin’s eyes disappear as he squeezes them shut, his sweet laugh turning into a silly honk as he swaps humor for chagrin. “My eyes!” His head shakes back and forth, dimples deep as he fights his smile. “Put it all away, hyung. I can’t handle such an ugly view.”
“You calling me ugly, kit?” Minho says with a fake growl, stalking closer.
Jeongin peeks one eye open. “Yeah. The ugliest.”
“Tch.” Minho swats Jeongin’s butt. “So rude. When all I am is kind to you.”
“Yeah? Like when you took up the whole couch last night and I had to sit on the floor?”
“Like when I moved in with you so you wouldn’t be lonely in a new city.”
Jeongin pulls a face like he’s chewing on his tongue to keep some words in. Minho smiles, all teeth, and takes off the offending garments.
“Come on, kit. Let’s have dinner.”
Minho also starts working at the dance studio.
It’s the day before Jeongin’s orientation (which Minho is definitely going to accompany him to), and Minho has two classes to teach in the afternoon. The second one is an intermediate adult class, and most hybrids who join are just looking for a fun way to exercise.
The studio room is warm, humid with the exertion of a dozen hybrids. The lights are bright and the blonde wood laminate floor makes every shoe squeak. Sweat darkens everyone’s tops, including Minho’s own.
“Let’s try that sequence again. No music, just counts,” he calls, and is met with the sound of many feet shuffling into position.
Minho starts the count and models the moves, students following along. A few beats in, the door in the back of the room opens with a creak. Minho watches the small dark opening sharply. Who couldn’t wait a few more minutes for the class to be over? Who decided disrupting his class is a good idea?
A sandy blonde head slips in, grimacing as the door closes behind him with another creak. Jeongin looks at Minho through the mirror, apologetic.
Irritation falls away like a snake’s old skin. Minho smiles at Jeongin. His students notice the newcomer, of course, and cast a few curious glances towards Jeongin and his large ears.
Minho decides not to enlighten them and simply continues his lesson.
“Good work, everyone,” Minho says. “Lets finish off strong!”
He starts the music and dances. Each step, each bend feels like happiness in his warm muscles. Motion has always been where he feels most calm.
Against the back wall, Jeongin also dances, getting that serious, sharp-eyed look he always has for performances. He nails every move.
Of course he does. This is a choreo they learned a few years ago. It’s new to the students in this city, and that’s what matters.
His students’ faces are a mix of joy and concentration, and the segment ends with a roar of whoops and groans, depending.
Minho stops the music and throws his hand in the air. “Nice! See you all next week! Don’t forget to stretch!”
“Bye, seongsangnim,” his students chorus a bit cheekily. At least the ones not too out of breath do. Most of them are older than him.
Minho grabs his bag and hooks an arm around Jeongin’s neck to drag him out the door.
“Hyu-ung !” he protests, pausing to bow in time with Minho as they pass other people in the hall and lobby.
“Ki-it,” Minho mimics, the studio door clanging behind them, the sound and smells of the city assaulting them.
“You’re sweaty.” Jeongin says, but doesn’t try to shrug him off, slumping into him and accepting his fate. They walk together towards their apartment just like that, scents mingling and bodies pressed close.
Minho grins and twines his tail around Jeongin’s, heart light. “You would be, too, if you’d been dancing for three hours.”
Jeongin doesn’t respond for a few moments. Around them, the rumble of engines and clack of shoes and claws against the pavement fills the silence between them.
Minho is unconcerned with silence, but as soon as Jeongin speaks, he thinks maybe he should have been concerned.
“Are you sure about this?” Jeongin’s voice is somber.
“About what?”
“Getting an apartment with me. Moving here just because my university is here.” Anxiety sours his usual fresh, bright scent.
Minho snorts and reaches up to ruffle Jeongin’s hair, avoiding his ears. “A bit late to change my mind now.”
“Hyung. I’m serious.”
He looks it, too. Turning towards Minho without a smile and looking down to meet Minho’s eye. When did Jeongin grow taller than him?
Minho is not ready to be serious. He’s in too good a mood. “You’re right. This was a mistake. I’m just gonna move back and live in my parents house for the rest of my life.”
Jeongin rolls his eyes. “Oh my gosh. Come on, Hyung. Don’t you have any dreams? Goals?” His eyes get big, shining in that pleading way. It makes him look pathetic, and Minho is a sucker for it. “I don’t want to accidentally hold you back.”
Minho slips his arm from Jeongin’s neck to his waist, pausing in the middle of the sidewalk to knock their foreheads gently together. “I like my life right now, kit. I get to dance, get paid for it, and hang out with you.”
Jeongin breathes deeply in through his nose. “Is that enough? Don’t you want anything more from life?”
Minho shakes his head. “Not really. Not right now. And what about you?”
Jeongin frowns. It’s cute. “Me?”
With his arm around Jeongin’s narrow waist, Minho shakes him a bit, and grins. “Yeah, Mr. Undecided Major. How dare you be lecturing me on not having future goals.”
Jeongin bristles, ears flaring wide. “My goal is to figure out what my goal is! It counts!”
Minho smirks and taps his nose before tugging them both into motion again. They pass under a scrawny city tree. “Well, then, I’ll say that’s my goal too. Happy?”
“Ugh,” groans Jeongin. Not happily, but his scent gives him away. It settles into calmness.
Goals, huh? Makes sense that Jeongin is thinking about them. He’s about to start university.
But Minho has no space in his mind to think about the future. Why would he, when he’s so incredibly content with his present?