Chapter Text
Ashes. Distress. Burnt leaves, charred dirt.
Acrid tones, sensory overload.
Pain.
Jimin is feeling each grotesque emotion as if it’s the first time. He should be used to it by now – but no memory ever equals reality.
No matter how hard he tries, memories never truly desensitise him.
They never match up to the horrors he feels each time he heals someone.
It’s a gift, they say— you have the power of life in your hands.
You’re special, Jimin.
He feels anything but.
Jimin’s voice cracks as the little girl cries out loud— but just as always, the screams ease with time as Jimin absorbs her pain and heals her.
They only call him for the pups or for the serious, mortal wounds. Yet Jimin dreads every time Hyerin comes looking for him, sent by the pack healer to get the freak, now.
Hyerin is the only wolf in the pack allowed to know how to actually reach him, besides his mother. Jimin considers her the closest thing he has to a friend. He dreads her visits, but the omega’s compassionate eyes every time she shows up are the only kindness he knows.
She is the only one who isn’t afraid of him.
However, this time it’s not Hyerin who drags him out of the hidden basement he lives in. Jimin’s shock of interacting with someone else for the first time in years overpowers his common sense— so he gets no time to prepare himself before facing the bleeding pup and understanding.
He is there to do what everyone knows him for, what he does – nothing more, nothing less.
He is there to heal the pup – so Jimin does.
Pups are the worst to cure because they feel fully. They don’t try to shelter their pain; they don’t try to hide it from Jimin – as most grown wolves do.
They don’t try to appear as strong as Alphas do, trying to protect their huge egos until their last breath. They don’t try to hold themselves together like Betas or Omegas, knowing they will be taken care of by Jimin.
Pups just feel their pain, and cry, and scream; but they also smile the brightest.
When everything is over and when Jimin finishes healing them through his lullabies, they smile with tears in their eyes and sometimes even hug him.
Those are the highlights of Jimin’s life. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged him, played with his hair, or even touched his skin.
That’s all he ever wants.
When Jimin finishes healing the pup in front of him, she smiles shyly at him. Jimin tries to reciprocate the best he can through the headache that’s splitting him open, his vision foggy. He mourns the hug he didn’t get, but this time it’s probably for the best. Earlier, he didn’t have time to shield his mind from what he was about to do, so he’s actually dizzied from the acrid smell of burnt flesh.
The little girl he cured was playing too close to the bonfire, unsupervised, and her pelt caught fire in the blink of an eye. That’s what her father had told him when he came to Jimin’s family house, screaming and banging at the front door. Jimin was out of his basement and in front of the door in an instant, shocked that someone was calling for him specifically— someone who wasn’t Hyerin or his mother. As soon as he opened the door, the alpha was screaming in his face that his daughter had caught fire, and he needed to help her immediately. He grabbed Jimin’s arm and dragged him outside without giving Jimin time to realise, let alone reply; his brain still caught on how he was able to actually follow the alpha outside because it was the autumn equinox, and everyone was celebrating at the village square, including Jimin’s mother.
When Hyerin usually came looking for him, she would be let in by his mother, and then she’d come down to the basement where Jimin lived to fetch him. The rules of his non-existent freedom were that he would only get to leave the house under his mother’s watchful eye, provided he’d never utter one word out loud and never leave the basement on his own.
He had tried to convince her to let him help around the pack or even in the house, but she regarded him with her cold eyes and said nobody would miss the help of a freak omega.
Being able to heal wolves with his voice, with singing, was something never heard of before. Jimin was seven lunar years old when he was walking with his father across the village town, singing happily his favourite lullaby. They were going to the trader to get a new pelt for Jimin’s bed for the upcoming winter when they passed by a crying pup. Jimin had felt his hands burn at the same time as they heard the pup’s thrilling voice, no longer crying, saying that the scratches on his hands had disappeared.
“Dad, my hands burn,” he whined with a pout.
His father checked his hands only to find nothing, then replied that it was probably in his mind before grabbing his hand and continuing to walk.
That coincidence kept happening over time, to the point where even his parents started to grow suspicious, noticing the weird coincidences time and time again. At some point, their affection started to get replaced by worry and, ultimately, by fear.
They didn’t understand what kept happening around Jimin, why he would get random pains at the same time that wolves around him started to feel better. They had their suspicions though, and one summer afternoon, they put their theory to the test.
Surely enough, despite his voice cracking from the stabbing pain he felt, Jimin was able to heal the broken ankle of one of their pack mates— just by singing.
There were a few tense moments of silence before she spoke. “I don’t feel anything anymore.”
No one in their pack or in the neighbouring regions knew what was wrong with Jimin, why he was able to heal wolves, where this weird ability came from, or how it worked. Healers and elders couldn’t find common ground as their old tales and passed-down knowledge never encountered a case similar to Jimin’s.
The only thing they all agreed upon was that Jimin was different. And different equals unknown; therefore – dangerous.
Word spread fast, and soon Jimin found himself more and more isolated by his pack mates, before realising he no longer had friends.
Before realising even his own parents had stopped touching and talking to him unless it was strictly necessary.
Then his father died on a hunting trip a few years later, and with him died Jimin’s already limited freedom.
“What are you doing here!” His mother’s harsh voice shakes Jimin back to the present, sending his heart racing and instantly making his headache worse.
Jimin turns away from the little pup now hugging her father and his eyes find his mother’s irate gaze. He bites his lip and braces himself to reply, but she speaks first.
“You know you can’t leave the house on your own!” She comes closer, angry. “What if Hyerin comes for you and you’re not there? Are you going to let your own packmates die?!”
Jimin flinches and lowers his gaze. “The pup caught fire…” he replies with a small voice. The scent of distress is starting to seep out of him now, his headache not helped by the voices around them or the music and percussion nearby.
His mother’s bitter scent adds to the mix as she falters, insulted that he replied to her. “You still had to ask before leaving,” is all she says. A tiny bit of embarrassment clouds her scent, and Jimin knows better than to reply when she’s already worked up and embarrassed.
He nods, still unable to meet her eyes, when the alpha that came looking for him addresses him for the first time. “Thank you,” he says.
For the second time that evening, Jimin is taken by surprise by the other wolf. He looks up at him, only to see his daughter still held tight in his arms. Jimin’s eyes prickle as his omega whines inside of him, longing for the affection he never received. Memories of his father’s hand playing with his hair have lost every sensation linked to them; they’re now empty shells of what he once had, countless moons ago.
He doesn’t remember what being cared for feels like, but it’s all he ever wants.
He nods once to the alpha, biting his lip to prevent himself from whining in distress. He turns away from them, and his gaze falls on the other wolves that gathered around the scene. Some alphas have their arms around their omegas, and some omegas are holding onto their alphas’ arm. They are either watching the little girl with relief, or Jimin with fear.
A few of them are absorbed in their mate, smiling at them or scenting each other, and for a split second, Jimin imagines that’s his life. He imagines that he’s just a normal omega, with his alpha by his side, warding off the remaining cold of winter next to the bonfire, a soothing scent hugging him and making him feel safe.
“Go back home, now,” Jimin’s mother seethes in a low voice. Jimin sighs quietly and nods, starting to head back home, when she speaks again. “No detours. I’ll know.”
Jimin doesn’t reply, heading back home on the well-known road. He watches the edge of the forest surrounding their village with a longing that’s so deep that it shakes him to the core. He has fantasised about going to the forest more times than he can count. He would run away in his wolf form, feeling the soil beneath his paws and the breeze around him, and he would find a lone wolf, escaping his own pack and finding affection instead. In the fantasy, Jimin would fall in love with the wolf, and they would fall in love with him in equal measure. They would stumble upon a kinder pack and live their lives simply, yet blissfully happy.
Tears fall from his eyes as Jimin sees his family’s big cabin.
It used to be Jimin’s shelter and source of comfort, but right now, the only feelings linked to the big building are dread and oppression.
Jimin closes the wooden door behind him as he heads back to the basement.
He’s been confined to that small portion of the cabin for eight lunar years now. He spends the majority of his time there, only coming upstairs to use the tub, relieve himself, and eat after his mother. The basement is his room, as his mother likes to put it for Hyerin. There’s a big, wooden door that separates it from the rest of the cabin, and it’s almost always closed.
The two small windows up on one wall of the basement are Jimin’s only view of the outside world. They’re holes in the wall, really— long but thin, less than Jimin’s own palm, and constantly open to the outside world.
Jimin looks outside, at the waning moon which stares down at him, its bright white almost reflecting on Jimin’s fair skin. He lets the tears fall as he prays to the Moon Goddess, begging for love and affection, then asking for forgiveness for being selfish. His omega is wailing loudly inside of him, distressed and in need of comfort and kindness. His wisteria scent is all over the place, acrid notes of distress permeating the small space and making him feel nauseous, his headache worsening.
Jimin mourns a life he never had. He knows his duty is to help his pack with his gift, yet he can’t stop yearning for the forest. He feels guilty for wanting to leave everyone behind, so he shakes his head and hugs himself, a book tucked between his arms as he lowers to the ground and cries.
Loud bangs at the top of the stairs startle Jimin awake. He looks around, disoriented, and notices the moon has shifted quite a bit, meaning several hours have passed since his breakdown earlier. He must have fallen asleep during that time.
The headache is better, but the heartache is still eating him.
Another loud thud makes Jimin get up. He braces himself, thinking Hyerin might be there to call him for another healing, but as he goes to open the door, he finds it stuck.
His senses sharpen all at the same time, his wolf at high alert as he applies more pressure, but nothing budges.
“Hyerin?” he calls, voice hoarse. He clears it, then asks louder, “Hyerin— is that you?”
No one replies. Jimin is starting to feel suffocated, but he tries again and again. “What is going on? Hyerin? It’s not funny,” he says, trying to use his shoulder to open it. “Hyerin, please.”
“She is not here,” his mother replies, and a shiver runs through him. Her tone is muffled by the door, but Jimin hears the hatred all the same.
“Mother? What is happening?” he asks, hating the crack in his voice.
An empty laugh reaches his ears. “Next time you decide to leave the house, you will not embarrass me in front of everyone.”
“I had to help!” Jimin snaps in reply, his wolf becoming more and more agitated inside him. It caught on already, but Jimin denies his gut feeling and tries again. “I did not mean any disrespect, I swear!”
“You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies!” is the scream she lets out. Jimin freezes. “The only person you had to help was your father, and he’s dead! He’s dead because you couldn’t do anything about it! You’re an abomination, Jimin, and I wish it was you buried in the ground instead!”
Each word is like molten lava inside Jimin, with the words hurting deeper than any phantom pain ever could. Sorrow and grief roll off of him, and the entire space is now filled with burnt tones of ashes and mould. Jimin’s deepest wound bleeds again, leaving him speechless and aching.
“I’ve had enough of your sickeningly sweet scent all around the house. I’ve had enough of your abilities. You will remain in there until I say so, until the pack healer calls for you specifically! You’re not the Moon Goddess; you will obey me, or I swear, Jimin—”
Jimin is breathing with difficulty now. A small part of him hopes he will wake up from this nightmare. A bigger part of him is choking out, “Please-”
“You won’t say another word in my presence if you want me to keep feeding you.”
Jimin hears her walk away. Choking on air, he tries to open the door and finds it’s locked from the outside, and breaks down.
Everything becomes black.
*
Jimin stares at the wooden bracelet with unfocused eyes.
It was a gift from a little pup, no older than five. He gave Jimin the small token of affection after Jimin healed his mother from a nasty head wound.
Jimin has some keepsakes from some of the kids whose family he has helped over the years. He’s displayed them on the fireplace in his basement, and whenever he craves comfort, he would look at them or pick one up and let himself feel some warmth.
He’s memorised every single detail over the past few weeks.
After the autumn equinox, he’s only ever left the basement when called to heal someone. Jimin was not allowed in his own cabin anymore. His mother would drop him something to eat once a day and immediately close the door afterward, lamenting the sickening scent of wisteria all around the house. She would be the one to unlock the wooden doors of the basement, and she would be the one to allow him to leave when Hyerin comes looking for him. “One hour,” is all she ever says to him.
Jimin never dares to come back more than an hour later.
As a result, he got used to working quicker and healing faster. It’s taken him a while, but he gets better every time. It’s his only opportunity to bathe in the river near their village, and he’s not going to waste it.
It’s also his only opportunity to have some free time. He doesn’t even mind the pain he’s in after healing. It lingers on him less if he heals faster, he noted.
Sometimes he’s alone, and he considers washing quicker than usual just so he can shift for a few minutes. He hasn’t been allowed to shift since that disastrous night; his wolf is too big to be let out in the small space of his basement. His omega feels delirious from being caged for days on end. Jimin tries to soothe it by humming himself a lullaby, but he never truly succeeds.
Sometimes, like today, Hyerin keeps him company.
“You can’t keep living like this!” Hyerin’s voice trembles with barely contained rage.
Jimin is submerged in the freezing water up to his neck. He’s scrubbing himself quickly to wash off the remains of his last heat two weeks ago and to warm himself at the same time. Winter is almost here, and with it comes the first snow. Jimin braces himself before lowering his head into the water, the shock of being completely surrounded by gelid water hitting his senses and making his heart race faster. He emerges with a loud gasp as he passes the herbs Hyerin gave him through his hair. She’s been bringing him small toiletries and a comb whenever she could, and Jimin could not be more grateful. Her presence keeps him grounded.
“It’s okay—” Jimin tries to say, but it’s interrupted before he can finish.
“It’s not!” She exclaims. She’s staring at him with bugged-out eyes, hugging herself next to the minuscule fire she started for him. They don’t have much time, and she knows. “You did nothing wrong; she can’t keep treating you like you’re some kind of plague!”
Jimin sighs, a shudder shaking his whole body. “I know…”
“Then why don’t you talk to her?” She asks.
“It’s not that simple,” Jimin says. “She doesn’t want to see me or listen to me. I have tried.”
“Maybe not hard enough,” Hyerin says, unforgiving. Her words are harsh, and Jimin can’t blame her. They didn’t talk much before, but after what happened, even Hyerin could sense the hostility rolling off his mother whenever she came for Jimin. His mother always toned it down in the presence of others, but she was cold enough to leave Hyerin’s omega in a tense state every time.
“She won’t listen,” Jimin says, his own tone hardening a bit. “She wants me dead. She hates me.” As soon as they leave his mouth, those words feel heavier than a boulder. He feels cold outside and inside.
“You are still her son,” Hyerin says, still hugging herself. “She can’t hate you.”
“I couldn’t save my father. She can.”
A beat of silence passes, then two. Jimin is starting to feel numb from the coldness, meaning it’s time to get out of the water. He shakes himself off the best he can, then jogs to the tiny fire.
Without looking at him, Hyerin passes him his clothes from the rock next to the fire. They’re warm now because of the heat. He shivers violently as he dresses up.
“Your father was already dead when they called you,” Hyerin says, her voice softer now. She looks back at him when he has his clothes on and meets his eyes. “There’s nothing you could’ve done to save him, Jimin.”
Jimin’s heart clenches as he hears his name said in a soft, gentle tone. That is another luxury he does not possess, so he takes a few moments just to remember the sound of it.
Hyerin takes his silence as a reply to her question, so she presses on. “Please tell me you understand that.”
Jimin bites his lip, looking at the river in front of them while putting his hands so close to the fire that they almost touch the flames. “What if I just didn’t practise hard enough—”
“No.” Her voice is stern now. Jimin can actually feel her omega scent getting sour in distress. “Jimin. Listen to me.” Jimin hums in reply, not wanting to look away from the nature in front of him. Who knows when he’ll be able to take it all in again? “Nobody has the power to bring back the dead. Not even you.”
Jimin sighs. “We don’t know that. For all we know, no one was ever able to heal someone by singing either.”
Hyerin purses her lips, frowning. “When you do it, their heart is still beating, though. That can’t be the same thing.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Jimin sighs again. His fingers have regained some warmth, so he presses them on his scent glands. Phantom warmth spreads all over his body, and Jimin feels a fraction better. He doesn’t want to dwell on the past anymore; he can’t change it, that’s for sure. “It’s almost time to go again, isn’t it?” he asks her.
Hyerin sags on herself. “Yeah, it probably is.” Her tone is sad, and her omega is dejected as well. “I hate to see you like this. You deserve so much better, Jimin…”
Jimin smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s okay.”
“It’s really not,” she says. “You’re bathing yourself in the freezing river because your own mother forbids you to step out of the basement and use the tub. That’s so fucking messed up…” she trails off.
Jimin hates to make her feel like this. His only friend, and he can’t even cheer her up. “Hey, it’s okay, really. I’m happy to get out at least sometime, you know? And also, I have you!” he tries to joke.
Hyerin shakes her head. “Why don’t you leave?”
The question strikes Jimin like a lightning bolt, effectively freezing him. Why don’t you leave?
Why don’t I leave?
“I—”
“Why are you even still here?” She asks again, looking right into his eyes.
“I have to help the pack—”
“Bullshit. No one else has this kind of healer in their pack, and they survive just fine.” Jimin’s heartbeat accelerates at her words, his omega waking up inside of him, as he feels tentatively hopeful for the first time in years. “And I know it hurts you every time you do your thing. I can see it and I can feel it. Why do you let yourself be treated like this?”
Jimin is too stunned to speak. There is nothing he can say in response to such logic.
“So why stay? Just leave and never turn back,” she presses on, getting up on her feet.
“But where would I even go? I barely know the forest around our village; they would track me down very quickly,” Jimin reasons, feeling dejected once again. His omega is still pacing around, urging him to go, but Jimin shakes his head to clear his mind and heart. “I couldn’t.”
“You could. You must. Please,” she adds, softer. “Promise me you’ll think about it.”
Jimin looks up to her. From this point on the ground, she feels majestic, happy, and fierce. Everything he wishes to be.
He agrees before his mind catches up with his tongue. “Okay.”
“Okay! Thank you!” She exclaims, her actual happiness now illuminating her features.
Jimin smiles at her. He’s only ever seen her like this when she talks about her mate.
“How are things with Nari?” Jimin asks her. He soaks up the last bit of warmth from the fire, mustering up the courage to get up.
“Really great,” she answers immediately, her scent sweetening further and her whole demeanour changing. “She’s been treating me so well. I love her more than my own life,” she replies, love oozing out of her like a thick blanket.
Jimin smiles. “I’m happy for you, Hyerin. You deserve it,” he says. He hopes to find a tiny fraction of what Hyerin has someday. Her alpha is probably the kindest alpha in their pack, and Jimin was truly happy when he learned she started to court Hyerin. He presses his fingers on his scent glands again for some more warmth, before grabbing the pelt from the rock next to the fire and standing up.
“You will find your true mate as well, I’m certain of it,” Hyerin says with fire in her eyes. “I know that, Jimin, I do.”
Everyone in the pack is disgusted by me, he doesn’t say. He doesn’t want to bring her down again, so he just nods.
“I really do,” she repeats, before bringing her arms around him and hugging him tight.
Jimin buries his face in her neck, careful not to scent her as his arms hold her tight as well. They started hugging after that fateful night. Sometimes, Jimin thinks being truly locked up brought a few good changes in his life, with his and Hyerin’s blossoming friendship being the most outstanding. Now, Jimin gets a hug every single time he heals someone, which is a great improvement from before, when he had to hope there would be pups around who were not scared of him.
He heals much quicker now, too. He only takes a handful of minutes most times, meaning he can enjoy the rest of the hour outside the cabin while hurting for less time. Definitely a bright side.
He feels Hyerin rub the back of his neck and relaxes, letting himself be comforted by her. His omega settles as well, soaking in the warmth of another friendly wolf. He sighs as she rubs the back of his neck again, applying a little bit more pressure.
“Did you injure yourself here?” She asks. She keeps rubbing at the same spot, at the beginning of his spine, and Jimin thinks for a moment before shaking his head.
“No, I haven’t. Why?”
“You have some sort of mark here, and it’s not dirt,” she replies, a frown in her voice. She rubs it with a bit more strength, as if trying to brush off dried mud, but Jimin frowns. He doesn’t recall ever getting hurt in that spot.
“Are you sure it’s not just a random scratch or something?” Jimin asks. Hyerin steps out of his arms and turns him around, inspecting the back of his neck.
“No. It’s black,” she says to his back, her voice a little shakier than before. She traces a semi-circle against his back, then moves his shirt a little. “It’s not a scratch; it’s not dirt. It has the form of a crescent moon,” she adds with a small voice.
“What?” Jimin asks. He’s never heard of that. He’s never had anything on his back, as far as he can remember. “What do you mean ‘a crescent moon’?”
“A crescent moon,” she replies, her finger tracing a semi-circle at the top of his spine. “Here.”
“I don’t even touch that spot much,” Jimin says. His heart starts to beat a little quicker in his chest. “Are you absolutely sure it’s not a scar? I don’t recall getting hurt there, but maybe as a pup—”
“It’s black, Jimin. It’s not a scar,” she says, with an edge to her voice. Her fingers lower his shirt a little, and then she gasps loudly.
“What?” Jimin urges her. He’s starting to feel afraid. “What is it?”
“It’s not just—” Hyerin lowers his shirt more, then lets it go. She lifts his shirt from the bottom now, making Jimin shiver from the cold wind hitting his bare back. “Oh my god.”
“You’re scaring me, Hyerin, please,” he says with a trembling voice. He removes his shirt and tries to look at his back, but he can’t see anything besides Hyerin’s shocked eyes.
He feels her fingers move down his back. “You have… You have the five moon phases on your back, Jimin.”
“What do you mean—”
“You have the moon phases on your back!” She repeats, her voice now high-pitched. “All down here!” She says, shaky fingers tracing patterns on his spine down to his back.
“Come on, this isn’t funny,” he pleads with the smallest voice in a good while. His omega inside him is agitated; its whining makes it harder for Jimin to focus. He tries to recall when he hurt himself on his back, but nothing comes to mind.
“Come see for yourself!” she says, grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the river.
The water's surface ripples, lending a gentle distortion to their reflections, but not to the extent that their features become unrecognisable.
Jimin turns his back and gasps.
His heart beats frantically in his chest as he sees something resembling the moon phases in black on his spine. He traces his fingers on the smooth skin and watches as they pass on the marks without brushing them away or smudging them.
“What is that?” Hyerin asks with something akin to awe in her voice.
“I have no idea,” replies Jimin, moving his gaze away from the marks as if to pretend everything is fine and jogging back to what remains of their fire. He puts on his shirt very quickly, then grabs the warm pelt and hugs it tight around him.
“What does your mother think it is?”
“She doesn’t know,” Jimin replies instantly. He turns to look at her. “I’ve never seen it before in my life; I did not have it as a pup!” he goes on, eyes wide.
“Are you sure you never saw that? Not anyone?”
“Who would even see it? I haven’t interacted with anyone besides you in the past years!”
Hyerin bites her lower lip as a flash of regret crosses her eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay; don’t worry about it. But no, I… I never looked at myself in a mirror, not since I was a pup anyway.”
“You don’t have a mirror?” She asks, surprised. She nods in the direction of the village, and they start to walk back to Jimin’s cabin.
“No. My mother owns one, but you know…”
“Yeah, I see. Next time, I will bring you one,” she says, nodding. “And a comb.”
Jimin bursts out laughing, his heartbeat slowly calming down. His omega is still on high alert, prodding Jimin to keep touching the mark, but Jimin ignores it. “Rude,” he says with a smile.
She smiles back, relieved to see him a bit more relaxed. Her eyes are still worried, though, so Jimin says, “Are you absolutely sure they were just black marks? Not dirt, not scars?”
Hyerin purses her lips and shakes her head. “You’ve seen them too.”
“Barely,” he mutters. Yeah, because you practically bolted away from the river.
“I’ll bring you a mirror,” she repeats, biting her lips.
Jimin hesitates for a second, then asks, “You won’t tell anyone, right?”
Hyerin must hear the fear in his voice because she relaxes and smiles at him reassuringly. “I won’t; you have my word.”
Jimin takes a breath of relief. “Thank you, Hyerin. It means a lot.”
“It’s nothing. Nothing bad that happened to you is your fault,” she says. She looks him in the eyes and says, “Remember your promise.”
Why don’t you leave?
Promise me you’ll think about it.
“I will,” he says.
She nods, satisfied with his prompt reply.
When Jimin’s cabin appears in their sight, she turns to him and asks, “Do you have enough wood for fire?”
“Hardly,” is all Jimin replies. Winter is coming, and he is sure his mother will not share the logs she has with him.
“Okay then.”
They gather as much wood as they can before saying goodbye.
Jimin enters the cabin under the cold stare of his mother, shivering.
Remember your promise.
*
Three full moons have passed since the last time Jimin was allowed outside his basement.
Winter has become a time of almost complete hibernation for the pack. Families try their best to procure themselves enough basic supplies to last through the coldest months so that the alphas have to go on fewer hunting trips. Their land is quite prosperous anyway, and the forests surrounding it are full of animals and edible plants. It’s easy to go on without major accidents.
Their pack survives the winter just fine without Jimin.
Jimin loses a tiny piece of himself with each passing day.
He has learned every detail of the little gifts given to him over the years.
He has memorised every single word of each healing book he has.
He finished the firewood one month after his last healing job.
He’s tried to reason with his mother through the wooden door; he’s begged for some warmth, for new books, for getting into the tub even once.
All he got in reply was the same cold silence and one single meal per day, with barely enough water to get him through the next day.
Jimin is starting to forget what warmth feels like.
He used to dread healing someone; the pain he felt in the process was still shuddering and breathtaking in the worst way, but now he finds himself begging the Moon Goddess to have him escape his basement in any way he could.
He hadn’t realised how much freedom he had before the autumn equinox. Being able to go up after meal times, being able to shift once a month, and even being able to relieve himself with dignity and not in a closed-up storage room felt like fever dreams. Even the past couple of months were hundreds of times better, as wolves got hurt more and required his help.
Jimin tried breaking out of his basement a few times, but its walls are too thick and etched into the ground for him to demolish. The windows are far too small and tall for him to climb through, and the wooden door on top of the stairs is bolted and stuck in such a way that not even Jimin’s full body weight managed to ever open it.
He considers shifting to break through it, but his wolf is already a mess of anxiety and anguish inside him. The space is too small to allow a successful shift, and Jimin is not even sure he could manage to break the door open, even as a wolf. He doesn’t want to upset his omega even further than the whole situation has, so he tries not to disturb his wolf more than necessary.
Why don’t you leave?
Hyerin’s question is the only solid thing anchoring him to reality. The thought that his only friend thought it could be possible for him to escape and never come back is what gives him fuel to go on and not break down once and for all.
She thinks he’s strong enough to do it, and Jimin owes it to her to try it.
Owes himself to try it.
Anything would be better than a slow death by insanity.
So in the months he has been locked up in the basement, Jimin has planned his escape down to the last tiny detail.
He has a small pouch of everything he would bring with him when he left, hidden underneath the bed: some of his favourite gifts – a wooden bracelet, a long necklace with a tiny carved wolf pendant, a small handkerchief he never used – and Hyerin’s mirror and small comb she gifted him the only time she’s managed to sneak out in front of his windows without being seen by his mother.
She had been frantically calling Jimin’s name from outside the small windows, not knowing Jimin was already looking outside, hours before she even appeared in front of him like a mirage.
She apologised for everything – as if it were her fault Jimin was being confined in his own home, as if it were her fault there was no one in need of being healed, as if she could’ve done something to prevent Jimin from suffering.
Jimin had shushed her and thanked her for coming, over and over again, knowing how difficult it could be for her, if his mother found out she’d been there. That was the only day his mother had left the house, for Winter’s Solstice, and the only time Hyerin managed to see him in the entirety of winter. She had brought him a small mirror and a comb as she promised, and Jimin almost choked on his sobs in front of her, gratitude seeping through every fibre of his being.
She apologised for not finding anything about his strange moon marks, not even in the books she was allowed to leaf through or read. It seemed like that wasn’t something that had ever happened before, much like his ability to heal others with his singing voice, so Jimin stopped trying to figure it out by himself.
He did look at his mark through his mirror, though.
Every night, when the moon was high in the sky, illuminating the entire basement better than any sun ever could, when everything around him was quiet and the world was sleeping, Jimin would take off his pelt and lift his shirt, only to watch the five moon phases etched onto his skin as if painted by the most extraordinary artist.
His skin was still smooth to the touch; there was no sign of the mark being a scar or dirt at all, and the only reason Jimin didn’t think of it as a figment of his own imagination was that Hyerin was the first one to see it, not himself.
Looking at his marks has become somewhat of a soothing gesture for Jimin. It echoes Hyerin’s words: Nothing bad that happened to you was your fault. It gives Jimin a sense of comfort, looking at the moon phases etched on his back. It makes him think that the Moon Goddess is actually watching out for him, if she’s decided to put her likeness on his skin.
It has become something very Jimin. He never skips looking at them, not a single night.
Hyerin’s visit was short; she had to leave before someone could see her and forbid her to interact with him again. She did not go before reminding him of his promise, though.
Jimin had thought about her visit for days afterwards, his resolve to leave strengthening with each passing day.
Jimin has planned his escape down to the last tiny detail, and it goes like this:
He knows Hyerin will visit him again as soon as his mother leaves the house for a celebration. Mating season is almost here, and it’s introduced and concluded by ceremonies his mother loves to attend.
He knows Hyerin will visit him at least once during mating season; she is mated, after all, and doesn’t need to attend every single festival fully. Jimin will ask her to pay close attention to the type of lock on his door next time she comes to get him for a healing job. This way, they will know how open it when the time comes. He knows she will be thrilled to know Jimin not only honoured his promise, but is going to make it a reality too, so she will help him without questions.
Jimin will force himself to wait until the spring equinox to actually escape. As soon as his mother leaves for the festivity in the middle of the village square, Hyerin will come back to his house and sneak in through the front door, aided by Jimin’s knowledge of the place.
Their parents used to hide a spare key in one of the garden pots on the front porch, and he knows his mother still keeps one in there. That was something she used to do with her mate; they used to giggle at the thought that no one would ever figure it out.
Jimin is ready to bet the success of his plan on his mother being too attached to her memories and the spare key being still on the front porch.
Hyerin would have found a way to open his locked door from inside the house, and after grabbing a few food supplies, they would get out of the cabin as fast as lightning. His scent in the house would go undetected, as the spring equinox is the time of the blooming of spring flowers – including wisterias. His mother would not pick up his smell in the house, just as no one outside would be able to tell apart his scent from the natural spring fragrance in the air.
Jimin’s fair hair would be unrecognisable as well; it used to be one of the fairest shades of blond, quite short on his head. These days, albeit still very light, his original colour was matted by the sweat and dirt of not washing for months, making it a few shades darker. Not to mention the length of his hair: it almost reaches his shoulders; a far cry from the short cut he had.
If anyone were to look at him, they would not recognise him by his looks.
He would be no more than a ghost.
Jimin has thought about his escape in every single aspect. He intends to leave, disappear, and never come back.
The only serendipitous aspect the whole plan relies on is Jimin being called to heal at least once between mating season and the Spring Equinox. However, Jimin knows that once he explains to Hyerin what he wants and the conditions of his success, she will help in any way possible if worse comes to worse, so he’s not too worried about that.
Jimin prays to the Moon Goddess every day and every night for his success, Hyerin’s safety, and for forgiveness.
He only wishes he would’ve known more before leaving altogether. He should know more about his marks, about his abilities, about the surrounding forests, about proper healing, about hunting and about how to live in the unknown forest— but he doesn’t.
He has to rely only on the little knowledge of everything he has gathered in his sheltered twenty-two lunar years. He has to survive out there, alone, until he finds a pack far away from here, one that will look at him kindly and not with disgust.
Jimin doesn’t know if that outcome is even a possibility for him. He doesn’t know if it’s just wishful thinking, but he prays for the best. All he has left is hope, and he clings to it for dear life.
Everything is better than a slow death by insanity.
*
Jimin is called to heal a handful of days after mating season ends.
*
When the time comes, Jimin is calm and level-headed.
It’s the spring equinox, the air all around smells like wisteria, and his pouch filled with everything of significance is hidden under his pelt.
Jimin takes in one last time the basement that served as both home and prison for him for the majority of his life. The unlit fireplace, filled with ashes and debris long since gone cold, stares back at him, lifeless. A few items are scattered on it; some of the bigger gifts Jimin couldn’t bring with him are covered by a veil of dust. Jimin feels somewhat guilty about not being able to carry everything with him when he goes, but he knows speed and stealth will play a crucial role in his success.
The small bed cramped next to the wall is caved in and covered by a thin blanket, and for a brief moment, Jimin mourns its usefulness. The blanket never did much, but it would be good to have out in the open forest. He knows that bringing it with him would be impossible, though, so he sighs and leaves it there.
Opposite the bed, the wall with the two small windows is bare. There’s a chair in the corner with a few very used clothes laying on top of it, and Jimin sighs at the prospect of leaving them there – but much like his blanket, he will have to forego them for practicality as well.
The seven books Jimin owns are piled on the floor next to the chair, and Jimin knows at least he won’t miss those. He has memorised them down to the last word over the years; they were the only source of knowledge, of distraction, of sanity in the endless days.
It’s only a matter of time now, and Jimin is ready.
Jimin hears the sound of the big, mahogany beam falling to the ground, followed by a rustle and a click, and he zooms up the stairs of his basement quicker than the wind.
Hyerin waits for him on the other side of the door, eyes wide open as she watches Jimin appear from the basement. “This is exhilarating,” she breathes out with excitement.
“How did you figure out where the key was?” Jimin asks under his breath.
Hyerin smirks and juts out her chin. “I watched where your mother grabbed it from when I accompanied you back the last time,” she announces proudly, indicating a nail next to the kitchen aprons.
Jimin smiles wide. “You’re actually scary,” he teases. “Thank you so much—”
“Come on, there’s no time for it now,” she interrupts him, her own breath thin and shallower than usual. “Did you take everything you needed?”
“Yes…” Jimin trails off as he watches the basket Hyerin has in her hand. It has a big handle, and Jimin does the maths in his head quickly. “Did you bring it for—”
“Yes, of course,” she says quickly. “I figured you could grab this one very easily, even as a wolf. I’ve filled it with whatever food I could muster and with some water.”
Jimin nods, not trusting the way his throat closes up at the thought of his friend going out of her way again to help him. He runs to the pantry and takes a couple of cheeses, some dried meat, a small jar of jam, and some bread, then puts them in Hyerin’s basket.
He notices there’s a bit of space left, so he thinks for a couple of seconds, then runs right back to the basement.
“Jimin, we have to hurry up—”
“I know, one second,” he says in reply.
He grabs the tiny blanket and a handful of clothes. They’re thoroughly soaked in his scent, though, so Jimin takes another split-second decision and crumples them all together, then throws them on top of his windows.
He’s back up in front of Hyerin after a few seconds.
“What did you do?” she asks, wide-eyed.
“After we leave,” is all Jimin says. He closes the door to the basement next, careful not to touch it with his hand directly. Hyerin understands and leaves the basket on the ground, then goes to help him pick up the mahogany beam from the ground. They manoeuvre it on its hinges through their clothes without directly touching it, not wanting to leave their smell on anything. Hyerin then locks the basement with the keys she still holds before wiping them off with her clothes to remove some of her scent.
Hopefully, her own forget-me-nots scent will blend with the spring smells in the air as well.
Jimin doesn’t spare a last glance at the house as he grabs the basket and leaves.
Hyerin locks the main door quickly, then wipes the spare key on her clothes before putting it back in the pot on the far left. “You were right,” she winks.
Jimin smiles and bolts towards the tiny windows of the basement, motioning for her to follow.
“Smart!” she says when she notices the bundle of clothes hanging off one window. “The scent of those would’ve been way easier to detect inside,” she says, remaining at a distance.
Jimin snorts. “You can say they smell; I know they do,” he teases again. Despite what he’s doing and the many ways everything could go wrong if anyone were to see them, Jimin’s spirit is high and soaring. His omega is going wild in excitement, thrilled at the sheer amount of freedom it’s going to have in a matter of minutes.
“They really do,” Hyerin replies, wrinkling her nose, and Jimin laughs.
He crumples the clothes to make them as tiny as possible, then shoves them in the basket. “Let’s go.”
Hyerin nods in earnest, her eyes wide and excited. They bolt out of there, running as if it’s the last thing they will ever do on earth.
They put as much distance between themselves and Jimin’s cabin as possible, remaining on hidden and untracked paths in the forest before stopping in front of the river.
That is where they’ll separate.
For a few seconds, they both try to catch their breath in silence, heaving and panting. The sun is setting on the horizon, meaning the festivities in the village are properly starting, and the first few crickets are starting to chirp.
It’s a beautiful, cold night, and Jimin can’t quite catch his breath or make his heart slow down. He looks at Hyerin, and his throat constricts again, a lump making it difficult to keep the stinging in his eyes in check.
“Go north,” Hyerin says when her breath slows down.
Jimin looks at her, at her wide, fiery eyes, at her small frame, at her long black hair all messed up from the wind, and at her reddened cheeks. Jimin looks at her and sees kindness.
It’s all he can do before tears start to escape his eyes. “Okay,” he whispers.
Hyerin’s face softens at the sight. “Oh, Jimin,” she says, then hugs him in her tightest embrace.
The basket is forgotten on the ground as Jimin hugs her back with as much strength as he can muster. He’s careful not to let his tears catch on her and not to scent her, but even his omega forgets the excitement of freedom for a moment, whining sadly and wishing to bring her with them.
Jimin closes his eyes and commits her warmth to memory. Her forget-me-nots scent invades his whole being, and he realises she’s scenting him and releasing calming, comforting pheromones for him. He holds her closer for the sweet gesture, and then, one heartbeat later, he lets her go.
“I will not forget you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “And everything you’ve done for me.”
She smiles sadly, her eyes a bit shinier than usual. “You didn’t deserve anything bad that happened to you, Jimin,” she says. “Your heart is kind, and you’re so brave. I pray you find happiness; you deserve it.”
A sob slips out of Jimin’s throat, and he sniffs. “Thank you,” he breathes. “Thank you for everything. For believing in me, for helping me, and for your kindness. I’ll pray for your safety and happiness too.”
Hyerin smiles. “I will be fine; don’t worry about me. Just – find your mate, Jimin. I know they’re out there, waiting for you.”
Jimin smiles. “I will do my best,” he says. He goes to pick up the basket with his things, and remembers something. “Oh, wait.” He removes his pelt and takes the pouch from his neck.
Hyerin looks at it with curiosity as Jimin opens it and takes out the wooden bracelet. “Here,” he says, giving it to her with a smile. “So you won’t forget me either.”
Hyerin beams at him and brings the bracelet to her heart. “I could never!” she exclaims. “I love it, thank you.” She puts the small bracelet on, showing her wrist to Jimin. “It fits my vibe!”
Jimin laughs. “It does.” He then looks at the river. “Go back now, you rascal. Please be safe,” he recommends.
She nods, serious now. “I will. You go north,” she repeats with a pointed stare.
Jimin knows she must’ve asked her mate, and he feels even more grateful. “I will. Thank you,” he says.
“Find your true mate,” are the last words Hyerin tells him before turning on her heel and running back to the village.
“I will,” Jimin whispers.
He grabs the basket and runs towards the river.
Jimin scrubs his body and hair quickly and efficiently. A few minutes in the freezing river is all he needs to clean himself up properly.
The river serves to make his traces disappear.
His pouch and all his clothes are shoved in the basket, with his pelt on top of everything so as to cover everything. As soon as Jimin deems himself clean enough, he takes a deep breath and shifts.
The freedom of shifting for the first time in months and months is exhilarating. Jimin’s omega is thriving and excited, happy to finally be free after so long.
The magnitude of what he’s doing makes Jimin’s heart accelerate in his chest. He ducks in the water a couple of times, then rushes to the side of the river to grab the basket between his teeth. Bless Hyerin, truly.
Jimin’s omega is careful to bring the basket to the other side of the river without getting it wet. He leaves the river and shakes himself to dry, then turns towards the general direction of his village, takes a deep breath, and turns his back around.
Basket in his mouth, Jimin runs.