Archive of Our Own

On some unconscious level, Yuma has known that he’s in love with Jo from the moment he met the other boy. 

The first time he ever caught a glimpse of him, he’d been at Harua’s house, tutoring the younger in maths. They’d been spread out across the rickety kitchen table, books and graphing paper piled messily, with Harua clearly way more interested in sharing every last bit of middle school gossip with Yuma than polynomial regression. Yuma's mind had been wandering, because while he loved Harua, he really does not need to know everything about who kissed who behind the bleachers, his gaze had been straying too.

And that’s when he had seen the boy, passing by the kitchen window, his head down and his hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie. Like fate, the boy had looked up at the exact moment he’d passed by. For a suspended second, they’d made eye contact. The boy’s eyes had softened, almost imperceptible, but Yuma had seen it anyway. And then the boy had turned his gaze away, continuing on, and the moment shattered. 

Who was that? Yuma had asked Harua, all wide eyes and heart pounding in his chest.

Harua had followed his gaze and looked at him strangely, hair messy and eyes wild, then shrugged. That’s just Jo, he had said. He moved in recently with his aunt, who lives a few houses down. He’s pretty nice. 

Okay, Yuma had managed, lamely. Cool. And then he’d tried to wrangle Harua into caring about numbers and graphs again, almost like that wasn’t a losing game from the start.

It doesn’t count as their first meeting, but it does count as the first time he sees the other boy. Their first meeting comes a few days later, when he pushes into Harua’s house after school finishes, and finds not only Harua spread out across the couch, but also the guy. Jo. He’s as gorgeous as Yuma had remembered, even from the brief moment he’d seen him, or even more gorgeous from up close, if that’s even possible. He has pale, smooth skin and his ears stick out from his head a little bit and his lips are so very pink. 

“What’s up, Yuma-kun,” says Harua, pleasantly. He turns to Jo and points at Yuma. “That’s Yuma. He just hangs out here, sometimes.”

“Don’t say that,” Yuma scowls, throwing himself down on the couch next to Harua and kicking his feet up on the  coffee table. “It makes it sound like I’m the scruffy neighbourhood stray cat you keep around.”

Harua shrugs. “If the shoe fits.” 

“This is Jo,” says Harua. “He moved in recently, but he hasn’t started school yet, so I invited him over so that he doesn’t have to sit alone all day.” 

Yuma swallows, licking his dry lips. “Nice meeting you, Jo. Are you going to Daehang, then?” 

Silently, Jo nods, his mouth tilting up into a little smile. “I’m starting next week.” 

“Cool. I’m in the first grade there, so feel free to sit with me at lunch if there’s no one else.” Yuma purses his lips. “And if anyone bothers you, tell me too so that I can punch them. Kids are fucking ruthless.” 

“Sometimes Yuma talks with his voice,” Harua reveals, grinning. “And sometimes with his fists.”

“Hear the feral were say,” says Yuma, rolling his eyes. He turns to Jo, pulling the most innocent face he can muster. “I’m not a were so I don’t have claws or teeth to protect me, but I promise I’m not just going around punching people. Only the guys who deserve it.”  

Harua pouts. “I’m not feral. I have an alpha.” 

“An alpha who’s a dick,” Yuma points out. “Anyway, let’s not talk about this too much.” He turns to Jo. “Do you play games?” 

“I dabble.” Jo perks up, eyes widening adorably, so Yuma stands up to turn on the television and load up the last game they’d played. Jo ends up absolutely destroying both Yuma and Harua despite claiming that this is the first time he’s playing this game, but it’s worth it to see the smile scrunch up his nose. 

--

The thing is that Jo has a face to be popular, and Yuma is not exactly popular. He calls Harua feral, but he’s pretty sure that his peers think he’s the feral one, despite not being a were. Most of the kids in high school are busy with their popularity and sucking up to the closest were they can find, while Yuma’s just busy with making sure his father doesn’t end up in a holding cell again and making sure Harua ends up well-adjusted despite his dick of an alpha. 

So, it surprises him when lunch time rolls around on the first day that he knows Jo has started at school and a lunch tray clatters down on the bench opposite of him. 

“You look surprised,” says Jo, sitting down.

Yuma manages to gather himself and shrug. “I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on it,” he says, honestly. “But you’re welcome to sit here, of course!”

“I got a few other offers,” Jo says, his lips pressing together in concentration as he scoops some white rice onto his spoon. “From some of the girls in my class. But it didn’t sound like they were really interested in sitting with me as you were, so I turned them down.” 

“Social suicide.” Yuma nods, all sagely.

Jo rolls his eyes, surprisingly cheeky. “I’m making the choice myself, so you’d better not drop me now. Also, Harua has told me that you’re in the top one percent at this school, so I should stick around you to receive some of your intelligence.” 

“Harua needs to stop being a little snitch,” says Yuma, though without heat behind it. He smiles. “I gotta get out of here and go to a good university, so I have to do well now.” 

“Fighting,” says Jo, his voice sincere. 

Other people see Yuma and think he’s cute at first. Then they actually meet him and realise that he’s just a bunch of anger issues and a determined streak a mile wide to prove the people around him wrong, wrapped up in a cute, less-than-average sized package. But Jo looks at Yuma and it actually feels like he is seeing him. It is both disarming and freeing all at once. It doesn’t look like Jo has a malicious bone in his body, is the thing. He doesn’t look at Yuma like he’s a puzzle to be solved or a tough case to crack or a disease-ridden cat that he has to pick up by the scruff of the neck and nurse back to health. No, he just looks at Yuma, plainly, and allows Yuma to go at his own pace. 

For the remainder of the lunch, they don’t really talk, Yuma nose deep in his History book, but it’s the most comfortable lunch Yuma has ever spent at this school.

--

Despite the fact that there’s technically a neat divide between the time that Yuma knew Jo and the time that he didn’t, it doesn’t feel like that. Jo slots neatly into their lives like he’s always been there,  hovering at the edge of Yuma’s consciousness. He gets on well with Maki, the perfect counter to balance out the younger’s puppy-ish energy, dotes and teases Harua in equal measures, and fits himself neatly in the hollow of Yuma’s rotten heart. Like he has peeled away Yuma’s cracked ribs and found the one space that is still soft and not scarred over. 

Jo makes Yuma want to be soft. It is a new feeling, but not a wholly unwelcome one. 

The other kids at school have shut Jo out because he refuses to spend his lunch break with them, just as they’d done for Yuma, but he never looks like he regrets making that choice. Most of the time, he’s already seated at the table when Yuma makes his way over there, his spine straight and his spoon diving straight into the bowl of white rice. Yuma has started to consider this spot as theirs already, even though he knows that there’s no chance that Harua won’t be joining them next year, when he also graduates middle school and joins their high school. When Jo spots Yuma approaching, he always smiles, this lopsided thing, like he doesn’t really know how much force to put behind it, and it’s like the sun coming out from behind the clouds and uppercutting Yuma in the sternum ever single time. 

He just swallows the taste of copper on his tongue and joins Jo at the table, giving the other boy a small grin in return. He knows that Jo is fascinated by the snaggletooth, so he makes sure to flash it then. 

Jo has never been the best with words, but that just means that everything he says stems directly from the heart. Yuma treasures each and every word that spills past those perfectly pink lips of his, latches onto them like a man starving, like he can engrave them on the sharp knobs of his spine to carry them around for the rest of his life. It is like Jo pries open Yuma’s mouth with his words and breathes air directly into his lungs. 

Until Jo showed up, Yuma hadn’t even realised he’d been drowning. Now, he finally knows to kick up to the surface and inhale the fresh air. 

Harua tells Yuma that he’s the person Jo talks to most, but that doesn’t mean he tells Yuma everything. Yuma doesn’t expect him to, just waits patiently for whatever snippets Jo is willing to share. He knows that Jo moved here to live with his aunt because he couldn’t live with his parents anymore for some reason. Yuma doesn’t pry, because he knows a thing or two about coming from a broken home. When they were younger, he used to joke that between the two of them, he and Harua had one whole family—Yuma provides the father and Harua his mother and then the two of them can be brothers. It doesn’t work like that, of course, but it was a nice fantasy to giggle about.

Anyway, Yuma is content with just sharing his space with Jo, brushing their shoulders together from time to time to show him that he’s still around and here for Jo to say anything that he wishes to. 

Jo draws. He’s an artist, even though he blushes and ducks his head when Yuma points it out. He fills his sketchbook with scenes from his thoughts and scenes from real life, like Riki and Harua curled up on the shitty couch together and Yuma studying and wolves loping across the forest floor and birds tangled together in flight, their beaks pressed together. It is almost impossible to tell whether they are fighting or lovers, and when Yuma asks Jo about it, he just says it’s up for interpretation. But he gifts Yuma that page from his sketchbook, so Yuma puts it up above his bed and looks at it every night before he goes to bed. 

One day, you’ll have an exhibition in a real exhibition, and I’ll be there to brag that I already knew you before you were famous, Yuma tells Jo, all proudly. 

Maybe, Jo just says. But you’ll definitely get the very first invitation. 

I better.

They grow up and into each other like that. And Yuma thinks he must be a great actor, because nobody suspects that he’s so in love with Jo that it is almost pathetic, despite the time passing. It hadn’t even been a gradual thing, he’d just looked at himself in the mirror and known that he was in love with Jo. Like a doomed man staring at himself and knowing that there are some things that are just the way they are, not to be changed by him or the people around him. 

Most of Yuma’s days are filled with studying, because it’ll definitely have to be himself that carries him to the finish line and the university he wants to go to, but Jo—despite his gentle demeanor—is a surprisingly bad influence. 

A few weeks before the CSATs finds Jo in front of Yuma’s window at night, a sweet grin on his face and a plastic bag with snacks swinging from his wrist. 

“What are you doing here?” hisses Yuma, cracking the window open slightly. 

“Kidnapping you.” Jo’s face does not change, his eyes smiling. “Come with me, just for one night.”

“I’m going to regret this so much tomorrow when I’m tired,” Yuma says, mournfully, but he’s already tiptoeing to the hallway to grab his outside shoes and throwing a warm hoodie over his head. October is surprisingly gentle for the time of year, so he’s not shivering as he heaves himself through the window and into the corridor. His father is probably sleeping off the alcohol from last night’s bender, so he probably won’t wake even if Yuma sets off a cannon next to his bed, but it doesn’t help to be careful. Once he’s made it outside, he looks at Jo. “Where are we going?”

Jo grins, mischievous. “It’s a secret.”

He leads Yuma out of the building and down an alleyway a few streets over, rolling his eyes when Yuma points out that this is a great place to get murdered. There’s an abandoned building in this alleyway that used to have a heavy chain locking the door, but someone had taken a pair of iron clippers to it and snapped it open. Jo leads him all the way to the top, pushing through a final door and revealing a relatively clean rooftop. When Yuma asks how he found this place, he just shrugs, mysterious. 

They sit down on the brick wall surrounding the rooftop, their legs dangling down towards the floor. It’s probably not very safe but Yuma’s never had a fear of heights or falling. Seoul’s too polluted to see the stars, but all of the buildings flashing their lights in the distance almost make it look like a starry sky anyway. 

“It’s beautiful,” Yuma says, the words a breath of air. “Thank you for taking me here.”

Jo just smiles and tips his head forward. He holds out the plastic bag to Yuma, revealing their favourite crisps. Yuma grabs the bag and pops it open, jerking a little bit when some of the crisps jump up out of the plastic. Jo laughs at him, delighted, so Yuma can’t even feel embarrassed at it, just takes a handful of the salty treats and stuffs his face with them. 

“Exams are coming up,” says Jo, carefully. He always seems to choose his words so attentively, as if he’s searching for the best ones. It makes Yuma always feel warm in his chest, like he matters to Jo. 

“Don’t remind me,” Yuma sighs.

“You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

Yuma just hums, pressing his lips together. He’s probably the most prepared student out of their grade, but his entire future rests on those stupid exams. Just one chance to make it. Or just one chance to fuck it all up. 

“When we both make it in,” Jo says after a beat of silence, his voice hesitant. “Live with me? My aunt has a friend who can get us a dorm off campus for a good price. It’ll be nice. I’m not the greatest cook, but I can try. And Harua says you keep your space clean, so. I think we’d do well together.” 

Yuma looks at him sideways, ignoring the way his heart skips a beat. “If we both make it.” 

“When,” stresses Jo. He puts his hand over Yuma’s in the space between them, his skin shockingly warm. 

“Okay.” Yuma surprises himself with how clear his voice rings out. Jo looks at him, raising his eyebrows questioningly, so he nods. “Okay, I’ll live with you. When—if we both make it.” He looks down at the slick street below them, a little grin on his face. “I can’t wait to get out of this hellhole, to be honest.” 

Jo smiles, the corners of his lips curling up and his eyes softening even more, if that already was possible. “I can’t wait.” 

“Look,” says Yuma, pointing at the sky. The clouds have parted to reveal the moon.

It is the night of the full moon tonight. 

--

“There is my son, the stranger,” his father slurs, when Yuma comes home the night of his graduation from high school. He’s seated at the kitchen counter, a glass bottle at his elbow and his gaze set to infinity. He does not even notice Yuma’s wearing a sash over his shoulder, courtesy of Riki and Harua. “Do you even recognise your old man anymore? You’re never home anymore.” 

“You might as well be dead to me already,” Yuma tells his father, surprisingly himself with his own calmness. He has every single scholarship he aimed for in his pocket and Jo’s promise that they’d get a dorm together, and the sunset behind him. “But I am going to live.” 

If his father replies to that, Yuma does not know. He has already slipped away again. 

--

(“Hold your fist like this, yeah like this. No, Riki, you put your thumb on the outside, unless you want to break it. Yeah, exactly like that. Aim for sensitive places, like the nose or the eye or the side of someone’s jaw. And then, when you’re going to punch someone—imagine punching not at them, but through them.”)

--

It is a warm spring in their first year of university when Harua barges into Jo and Yuma’s house and tells them that he’s met a were. A cool were who ran with him, who runs faster than him but holds back for Harua, who came from Tokyo but seems to want to settle in Seoul. One day, he tells them, dreamily, I’ll have an alpha just like that. Like Yūdai-kun.

A few weeks later, Yūdai surprises them by inviting them all over to his house. Apparently he wants to meet Harua’s friends, almost like an alpha meeting Harua’s pack members. Yuma bites down on that observation because Harua has told him that Yūdai’s not looking for a pack at the moment. At least it’s funny to see the exact moment that Yūdai realises exactly who he invited into his house, because Riki has a sort of limitless energy and Yuma enjoys riling people up for fun and Harua still has a big brother complex around Yūdai that makes him even more bouncy than normal. Only Jo is kind of normal, but that is because he is Jo.

Harua likes gossiping about Yūdai. He’s met someone. Yeah, he reeks of them and happiness. Older weres like him will tell you not to use your nose to pry, but I can’t help it. It hangs around him like a cloud.  

Yuma’s just glad that Jo isn’t a were and can’t smell him like that. Still, when Harua urges them to go to Yūdai’s apartment to go and check up on the were after the full moon, he goes and does that. And not only because Yūdai’s house feels like a home, and he always welcomes them so warmly, and because saying no to Harua is an impossible quest. But also because he wants to scope out whoever managed to capture Yūdai’s heart. When Riki and Harua divebomb the two lovers tangled together in the bed—which admittedly is a very adorable sight—Yuma allows himself to let loose too and follows right behind them. It is the first impression Fuma has of them, but Yuma can’t let himself regret it. 

The thing is that Fuma’s very cool. He’s also human, but he’s smart like a wolf, and Yuma doesn’t have to be a were to sense that he likes Yūdai a lot. That’s good, because despite himself, Yuma has grown really fond of Yūdai, even if Yūdai still pretends they aren’t pack. Harua tells them to give him space and that he’ll figure it out by himself soon. 

After shaking up the were and his lover, they all set up at the kitchen table with the brunch-lunch they’ve brought with them, bought from their money pooled together, and grill Fuma and Yūdai about their hunt. They’re annoyingly tight lipped about it, though Yuma weirdly senses that it was Yūdai who got hunted. It’s a fascinating thing, that were-human interactions perhaps aren’t as straightforward as they sometimes appear to be, and he’s happy if Yūdai’s happy. Fuma matches the cubs beat for beat, seems to be endeared by Jo’s quiet loveliness, and has no qualms about absolutely showing little Harua who’s boss in an impromptu wrestling match in the living room. 

It seems to perk Harua right up. Yuma knows it hurts Harua not to run with his alpha, his were somehow still connected to the asshole even if it’s just out of convenience. His father had been the were, but he hadn’t stuck around to see Harua grow up, and his mother hadn’t really known what to do with the young were. She’d gone to the Byuns, who’d put Harua with the alpha just because his pack was the closest. Yuma had pressed Harua to go to the Byuns again and get a new placement, but Harua had just shrugged and told him that he didn’t want to stress his mum out even more than she already has to carry. 

Through Yūdai and Fuma they meet Nicholas, who’s even more of a blast than the two older members of the pack are. Because Yūdai might be kidding himself, but Yuma definitely isn’t. They’re a pack. Nicholas is a fucking riot, probably just as crazy as Yuma is, but he’s got the kindest heart ever. He also dances, teaches it even, something that Yuma has picked up after starting university, and invites Yuma to come and dance at his studio sometime. What can Yuma do but say yes? 

Sure, his heart still aches for Jo, but it’s different now, placated. If all he can get is Jo close like this, and clearly delighted by the people he surrounds himself with, he’ll count it as a win. 

--

Studying sucks the life out of Yuma and gives him life in equal measure. It’s fucking fascinating to learn so many things, to get his head scrambled in various different ways with new insights and new experiences, and to meet other students who are actually as excited about learning about this stuff as he is. 

And living with Jo is a whole thing too. It’s been a few months now, but Yuma is still surprised by just how well they fit together. Jo is just as much an angel to live with as Yuma had expected him to be. Neither of them is a great cook, but Yuma manages and Jo tries, and between the two of them, they keep the house clean enough. It’s a walking distance from campus, as Jo had said, and a few subway stops away from Yuma’s dance studio—which he figures out is also Fuma’s studio and fucking Byun Euijoo’s studio.

Small world, eh? Anyway, Euijoo’s a guy just like the rest of them, and Yuma’s not a were so he doesn’t get starry-eyed around him. But Yuma can and will admit that he’s a great dancer.

Jo has gotten into university for fine arts, because of course he has, and their entire flat is filled to the brim with his canvases and sketchbooks and the easel in the corner of the living room, where the natural sunlight slants in through the window, and Yuma wouldn’t have it any differently. Jo is the cutest when he’s really focused, after all, his eyebrows furrowed and his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Yuma likes to sit on the couch when Jo’s sitting at his easel, his books spread out around him, and just watch him bring entire works to life underneath his skilled hands. 

He makes other friends as well, of course, but no one comes close to what Jo and the rest of the pack mean to him. It’s not necessary anyway. Yuma’s only so big, and there’s only so far he can stretch himself. Still, the study sessions and the discussion groups with the people from his course are fun and he learns a lot from them.

By now, he hasn’t spoken to his father since he quietly moved out at the start of the semester, and he doesn’t miss it either. 

--

Sometimes, Yuma imagines a world where Jo loves him back. Well, that’s not quite true. He’s sure that Jo loves him like a friend, as fiercely as anything. But he dreams of a world where Jo loves him back in the same way that Yuma does: with his whole heart and head, as certain as the sun warming the land below and the moon lighting up the night. 

But he’ll settle for this too. God, if this is the way he gets to have Jo, he’ll die a happy man. 

--

Harua calls him in the middle of the day, when Yuma is walking from one class to another. When he picks up, the first thing he hears is muffled sniffles down the line, and it makes his heart jump into his throat. “Where are you now?” he demands, voice pitching up in worry. “Are you safe?” 

“I’m fine,” says Harua, sniffing wetly. “I’m at Yūdai-kun’s house now.” 

“Are you safe?” Yuma presses.

For a beat, it’s silent. “I think we’re pack now,” Harua says. “Me and Yūdai-kun and Fuma-kun. My old alpha . . . he’s dealt with. You won’t have to worry about him from now on.” 

“Stay where you are,” says Yuma, having already made up his mind. He pauses, spins around, and starts heading in the completely opposite direction. “I mean it, Harua, don’t move. I’m coming over now.” 

“But aren’t you at university now?” Harua asks, somehow worried about that despite everything.

Yuma doesn’t even skip a beat. “University is not more important than my little dongsaeng, you hear me?” he says. He checks his watch. “And it’s only the first week of classes, so it’ll be fine. I’ll be there in forty-five minutes, give or take. Don’t even think about moving, okay?” 

“Okay. See you soon.” 

When he gets to the apartment, a mere forty minutes later and with a package of cookies from Harua’s favourite bakery underneath his arm, Jo is already waiting for him a few paces away from the doorstep, his hands jammed in his pockets. He looks up when Yuma calls out to him. “Harua call you?” 

“No, I felt it in my bones I had to be here.” When Yuma just stares, blankly, he huffs out a laugh. “Yes, Harua called me, of course. Riki is already inside.”

“You didn’t go in yet?”

“Mn. I wanted to wait for you.” 

Smiling, Yuma brushes past him, easily punching in the code they pretend they don’t know, even though everyone is aware that they do. They find Harua on the couch with Riki, a droopy little thing with obviously swollen eyes from crying, and he immediately sags into Yuma’s hold when Yuma steps forward to embrace him. Yuma knows he doesn’t really smell like anything primal as a human, not like how weres do, but it seems to calm Harua anyway to stick his nose into the crook of Yuma’s neck and breathe for a while.

“What happened?” Yuma asks, looking at Harua and then Yūdai, who is hovering at the entrance to the kitchen like a worried mother. 

“Pack rejection,” says Yūdai, his lips pressing together. 

Yuma hums and then pauses, thinking. “Is that as serious as it sounds like?”

“It can definitely be serious,” Yūdai says. “If it’s left untreated and there’s no other wolf for the afflicted to latch onto. But Harua was very brave and came to me, and his wolf was strong enough to pull through and make it to the morning.” He walks over and ruffles Harua’s hair, who scowls up at him but lets it happen. “We can assume that, as long as no other complications arise, Harua can stick with me and we’ll be fine.”

So you guys are pack now, Yuma is going to say, but Harua pinches him in the ribs as soon as he opens his mouth, probably sensing what he’s aiming at. He twitches away with an undignified yelp and almost launches himself into Jo’s lap, who has curled up on the couch next to them.  

Blushing, he makes himself as small as possible. Jo just smiles at him. 

Fuma sweeps into the room, and claps his hands. “I’ve ordered enough food to feed a small army, so that will hopefully tide you heathens over. Now, who’s going to help me set the table? I’ll give you a reward if you do.”

The four of them immediately clamber all over each other, proclaiming that they definitely are the best helper and that Fuma should pick them. Fuma just smiles.  

--

A year passes, and suddenly Yuma is a second year student. Jo is still at his side, a stable presence. He’s in a pack now, Yūdai having finally taken his head out of the sand and accepted it for what it is. Everything, finally, seems to be coming up Yuma. 

His father dies on a bleak May morning. Yuma isn’t even there when it happens. He’s walking home from the subway station when he gets the call from the local precinct in his former neighbourhood. Apparently, his father had been so drunk that he passed out in his house and banged his head on the corner of the kitchen table, immediately passing away. That is the tragic end of Nakakita Senior. 

When he gets home that night, after turning around to go to the morgue and confirming that yes, indeed, that’s his father, he bleakly tells Jo about what happened and then falls into bed. He sleeps for thirteen hours straight and does not dream. 

Funeral preparations take up most of Yuma’s week after that. The pack drops by every now and then, just to be around him and probably make sure that he doesn’t do anything stupid, but Yuma barely acknowledges them. He’s certain that he has family out there—his mother, who gave birth to him and then immediately ditched him, and perhaps uncles and cousins—but he’s never been in contact with them. He’s not even sure they know he exists. So, Yuma does everything himself, dressing in sober clothes and paying for the cheapest wreath, bowing twice to his father’s portrait and then listening dispassionately as they tell him what will happen to the body. 

He does not even pick up the ash, telling the funeral house to just get rid of it. Throw it out. 

Then, Nakakita Yuma is alone. 

Except that he really isn’t. He lives with Jo, of course, and he’s pretty sure that the other is in frequent contact with the rest of the pack members, because every time Yuma so much as sighs, a pack member is over the floor a small amount of time later to cheer him up. It isn’t invasive, because they all are just too kind for that. Yuma just feels like a deadweight, something they have to carry around. Even if they say he isn’t, he can’t help the way he feels. 

“It’s really difficult to lose a family member,” Nicholas says, quietly. He’s taken Yuma to a cafe, just showed up at their door and told him to come with, didn’t accept any of Yuma’s half-hearted protests. “It’s okay to grieve.”

Yuma presses his lips together. “I’m not even grieving for him. I don’t even know him.” 

“But you’re feeling something,” says Nicholas, his eyes searching. 

“Anger, mostly,” sighs Yuma. “Regret, maybe? I never got closure. We never made up. And he wasn’t the father I wanted him to be, never had the guts to become the father I dreamed to have. For fuck’s sake, Fuma-hyung feels more like a father than my actual flesh and blood ever did. I just mourn the things that I could’ve had, not the things that I actually lost.” He sniffs, tears suddenly welling up in his eyes. It’s the first time he’s cried since losing his father, he realises dimly. “Does that make me a bad son?”

Nicholas reaches out and places his hand on top of Yuma’s, a touch of comfort. “Your father was an asshole,” he says. “But that doesn’t make you a bad son. It’s okay to grieve your past. And you get to take as long as you need to feel better, anyway.”

“You seem to know a lot about this subject,” Yuma observes, drying his tears with the back of his hand. 

“I know a thing or two about losing,” Nicholas says, flatly. The corners of his mouth quirk up when Yuma searches his face, even if his eyes are a bit far away. Then he shakes himself again. “It’s okay, Yuma-yah, I’ve gotten over it by now. And at least my experiences can help you.” 

Yuma senses that Nicholas doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, so he just drops it for now. Instead, he starts up a conversation about dancing, about the classes he’s taking, and Nicholas also seems to appreciate the change in subject. Soon enough, Yuma’s tears have dried, even if his smile still feels wobbly, and Nicholas perks up as well. The rest of the afternoon slipping into the night passes like that, straddling the line between laughter and tears, and when he parts from Nicholas to head home, his heart feels so much lighter. 

--

When he gets home later that night, Jo is waiting for him, standing up from the couch when he steps through the door. “Was it good for you?” he asks, quietly. “Did Nicholas-hyung help you? He told me he was coming over.” 

“I guess it was something I needed,” Yuma says slowly, kicking off his shoes. 

Jo smiles at him, a small, genuine thing. “You can always take what you need, Yuma-yah,” he murmurs.

Yuma crosses the living room, grabs Jo by the shoulders and kisses him. It takes Jo less than two seconds to kiss back, and Yuma fools himself into thinking that he tastes the same desperation on his tongue as he feels himself. Jo’s hands come up hesitantly to settle on Yuma’s waist, and the span of them takes Yuma’s breath away. It is almost a natural thing, how they deepen the kiss, Jo’s tongue slipping between Yuma’s lips. 

He moans into the kiss, shocking himself, and immediately freezes, worried that it’s going to snap the strange mood that has settled across the room. But instead, Jo just pulls back, searching Yuma’s gaze, and then dives forward so that he can connect their lips again. He tastes slightly sweet, like whatever he must’ve had for dinner, and it is an intoxicating taste. 

“Room, room,” chants Yuma when they break apart again, pulling at Jo’s shirt so that he can slip one hand underneath, fingers sprawling against the small of his back. “C’mon, Jo, I want to see you.” 

“Yeah,” says Jo, his voice raspy. “Okay.” 

In all honesty, Yuma is probably making a mistake. But Jo isn’t being his usual conscious self and stopping the situation before they get ahead of themselves, so Yuma does not dare to press the breaks himself either. If this is all he gets from Jo, ever, he’ll treasure it like a man starving and Jo is the last food on earth. Almost like a wolf, he imagines Jo’s flesh beneath his teeth. How satisfyingly his blood would pool in Yuma’s mouth. 

They manage to make it to Jo’s room, but not before stopping twice as Yuma presses the taller up against the nearest vertical surface he can find and kiss him within an inch of his life again. Jo just sounds so sweet when they do and he kisses back with his own sense of urgency. How can Yuma resist this temptation? 

He gets Jo on the bed, tugging off pieces of clothing as they do. Jo is gorgeously sculpted, waist narrow and chest broad. He allows Yuma to roam his hands across the planes of skin being revealed, almost arching up in the touch like Yuma’s hands don’t burn him. 

Almost like Yuma isn’t doing something that’s going to bite him in the arse later. 

“Want you to fuck me,” Yuma says, plainly. He reaches down to cup Jo through his boxers, watches as the other’s mouth drops open on a gasp. “Want to feel you tomorrow.” 

Jo nods so fast Yuma worries he’ll get whiplash. “I can do that for you.” 

He shows Yuma where he keeps the lube, the bottle neatly stashed in the drawer of his bedside table. The fact that he even has this makes heat zing up Yuma’s spine. He wonders what Jo looks like touching himself. Even the thought of that is enough to make his hips jerk forward. Quickly, he sheds his jeans and boxers, Jo sitting back on his heels so that he can do the same, revealing a gorgeous dick nestled amongst dark curls. 

Jo watches him with dark eyes as Yuma opens himself up. He remembers the hot warmth of Jo’s cock underneath his hand and assesses that he’ll probably need three fingers. He does like the sting, the burn, and he wants to feel Jo even after the night is over. Just to make sure that this hasn’t all been a dream. 

Once Yuma deems himself opened up enough, he nudges Jo until he’s sprawled out against the pillows and the headboard and then climbs into his lap. Jo looks absolutely gorgeous, sweat beading along his hairline and eyes blown wide, his lips spit-slick and bitten. His flush charmingly blooms all the way down his chest, a sharp red against the almost creamy white it normally is. Yuma reaches behind him to grab Jo’s dick, steadying it with his hand, and then sinks down with one steady movement, until he’s seated all the way, their hips pressed flush. 

“God, Yuma—” says Jo, biting down on his groan, and it’s the most messed up, the most raw Yuma has probably ever seen him. For someone as well composed as Jo is, he surely falls apart gorgeously. His hands come up to settle on Yuma’s hips, but not to push him away or pull him closer, seemingly just to ground himself.

“Does it feel good?” Yuma bites his lip, starting to rock his hips slightly. It feels incredible. 

“Yeah, yeah,” babbles Jo, sitting up a little bit, his arms curling around Yuma so that he can slide their chests together. “You can take what you need, Yuma-yah. I want you to take it.” 

Groaning, Yuma tosses his head back, lifting himself up and then letting gravity pull him down again. The stretch is just delightful. Jo isn’t thick as much as he is long, longer than anyone Yuma’s been with before, seeming to reach inside places Yuma couldn’t even have imagined. Yuma is pretty sure that if he were a girl, he’d feel Jo in his fucking womb. The thought is so hot that he actually falls forward into Jo’s chest, moaning, the movement dislodging Jo’s mouth from his neck. 

“Are you okay?” Jo asks, his eyebrows furrowing even though his voice is still rough from arousal. 

“I’m fine,” says Yuma, too horny to be embarrassed about the way his voice pitches up in a whine. “C’mon, c’mon. You said you’d fuck me like you meant it.”

The corners of Jo’s lips quirk upwards. “Bossy,” he says, and it almost sounds fond. But he does curl his ankle behind Yuma’s leg so that he can flip them over, miraculously not breaking his dick in the process. He’s strong enough to hold himself up above Yuma as he fucks into him, his biceps bulging, and Yuma can’t believe there’s anyone in the world who would find missionary boring. This position means he can look up at Jo and see every emotion that flashes across his face, down to the littlest twitches of his lips. And he can also kiss Jo like this, reaching his hands behind the other man’s head so that he can pull him down and slide their lips together. 

It’s clear when Jo is getting close to coming. He hides his face in Yuma’s neck, sloppily mouthing against the skin there, his shoulders shaking. Yuma realises they hadn’t even bothered to put on a condom, which is probably highly irresponsible of them, but then Jo pulls away from his neck to miserably croak I’m close at him.

“Let’s come together,” Yuma says, and before he can reach down to curl his hand around himself, Jo is already batting his fingers away and doing it for him. 

Yuma’s mouth drops open on a wordless sound, his back arching, as Jo starts stroking him off in time with his thrusts. He surprises both of them when he comes first, a shout of Jo’s name leaving his lips as he does, but Jo isn’t too far behind him, burying himself deep in Yuma before shuddering through his own orgasm. 

If Yuma would die now, he’d be happy, sated. And he’ll never forget this moment for as long as he’ll live, he’s sure of that. 

--

He wakes up in the middle of the night. It isn’t even something that did it, but he’s asleep one second and awake the next. Jo is still draped across his back like they’d been when they’d fallen asleep, his mouth slack and a bit of drool crusted across his cheek. It should look ridiculous, but it just highlights how beautiful Jo is in every situation. Luckily, though, he sleeps like the dead, and doesn’t stir when Yuma quietly extracts himself from his hold. 

Sighing, Yuma sits on the edge of the bed. The moon falls in through the window as they’d forgotten to close the blinds last night, tracking a streak of silver light across the room and ending smeared out across the sheets. Like a perfect round disc, it hangs in the sky, quietly observing all that happens below but not interfering.

A full moon. Yuma closes his eyes and imagines that he can hear the howling in Bukhansan all the way here. He goes back to bed. 

--

The following morning, Yuma sees himself in the shower and nearly shits himself. It seems that Jo has a very . . . zealous mouth. Yuma looks like he’s been mauled by a were, all savage teeth and possesive streak a mile wide. He runs his hand across his face with a groan and then steps underneath the shower, letting the water run across his body until his skin prunes and it feels like his sins—and Jo’s scent—have washed away. 

They don’t talk about it. That’s the truth. Yuma doesn’t want to hear Jo say that it was a mistake, even if they woke up still curled together, Yuma’s body moving into Jo’s all by itself. So he just says nothing. And Jo doesn’t call him out on it either, in true Jo fashion. 

If Yuma notices Jo watching him a bit more often than normal, almost like he is waiting for something, it means nothing. 

--

“Do you know what longing smells like?” Harua asks him, one day out of the blue.

“I’m a human, if you hadn’t realised,” says Yuma. “I don’t have a freakishly strong were nose like you.” 

Harua sticks out his tongue, childish as anything. “I’ll tell you, then. Longing actually smells really sweet, almost cloying, in a way. It’s desperation mixed with affection, and it hangs around a person almost like a second skin. Old weres, like Yūdai-kun, they don’t mention smells because they’ve been raised to think it’s impolite or whatever.” He rolls his eyes. “But I don’t care about any of that. Longing is one of the smells that cannot be mistaken for anything else. Any were worth their salt will immediately realise what it is. And I’ll tell you another secret—if someone is close to the object of their affection, that smell becomes even more potent. Impossible to ignore, really.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Yuma says, miserably.

For a long time, Harua just looks at him. Then he snorts, dismissively. “Figure it out by yourself, Yuma-kun.” 

--

Before Yuma knows it, the second year of university finishes and the third year starts, as smoothly as flowing water. It is somehow his most relaxed year at university, but that doesn’t mean his life outside of university calms down too. In fact, this is possibly the most exciting and overwhelming year of his life so far. 

First of all, he and Jo move. 

Before that, he asked Jo, Are you sure that you still want to live with me? Don’t you want to go anywhere else?

Jo had looked at him for a long time and then just said, Where would I go?

Yuma is too cowardly to point out that Jo could go anywhere and be fine, so he doesn’t say anything. They sign the lease under both of their names and move in the following month. This apartment is a lot bigger than their previous one, with three whole bedrooms. Yuma immediately tells Jo that he can take it as his art room, and Jo protests for a while but agrees in the end. Mostly because Yuma is a stubborn bitch when he wants to be, and absolutely does not accept Jo’s refusal. He’ll miss Jo drawing in the living room, but it’s totally worth it to hear Jo gush about the natural light and the space he has for everything to dry, and also it’s great not to trip over a stack of canvases every three seconds. Yuma counts it as a win. 

It doesn’t take that long for the house to feel like home. It’s only one subway stop away from the pack house and two from Nicholas’ house, which means that it’s easier for Yuma to see both the older pack members and the cubs. Yūdai’s a great host, really doesn’t mind them being over a lot, and Nicholas pretends to hate it but secretly loves it. That’s when the second exciting thing happens. 

Nicholas is getting hunted. And not just like a normal person, no, he’s being hunted by Byun Euijoo. Or, like Harua says it, werewolf royalty. Yuma kind of knows Euijoo because they dance at the same studio, but they don’t really move in the same circles. 

But Nicholas seems enamoured with the were, even if he blushes when Yuma heckles him. It’s clear that it isn’t just hunting, something that Nicholas has quickly given up on denying.

Before Euijoo, though, Yūdai’s pack grows with one more member. He’s the same age as Harua, is also called Riki, and insists on being called Taki. In turn, almost like they’re having a competition over it, Yuma’s Riki insists on being called Maki. So, they have a Taki and Maki now and zero Rikis. Yuma thinks it’s all quite amusing. Taki fits himself in the pack like he’s always been there, though he’s a bit of a chaos gremlin. Yuma enjoys his particular brand of madness, though, and so Taki becomes part of the cubs. 

It’s clear, though, that Taki’s interested in Harua. That would be great if any fool couldn’t see that Maki’s also interested in Harua. Yuma’s just going to sit back and eat popcorn and watch it all unfold. At least that way he has a valid reason not to pay attention to his own love life or the tragic lack of it. And he’s pretty sure that Nicholas and Euijoo have made a bet with each other, so at least he’s not the only one waiting to see how it all pans out. 

That’s a whole other thing, in fact. Byun Euijoo becomes part of their pack. It’s kind of mind boggling to Yuma. He doesn’t really care for werewolf politics, but even he’s aware that the Byuns are kind of a big deal. Euijoo’s basically set for life just being born into that pack.

And he’s going to throw it all away for love. For Nicholas. It’s not like Yuma didn’t see it coming from a mile away but it’s still startling. And kind of a impressive. To be willing to do anything for love. Euijoo’s not just clutching at uncertainties, though, because as much as Nicholas is a pathetic wet cat from time to time, it’s clear that he’s going to be mating Euijoo. He’ll wear that scar for the rest of his life. 

He asks Jo about it once, just because he’s curious. “Do you think what Nicholas and Euijoo have is scary?” 

“Scary in what sense?” Jo asks, curiously.

“Like—” Yuma gestures with his hands, trying to gather his thoughts. “It’s so all compassing, right? The mating bite? That’s something that’ll tie them together forever, even if Nicho’s a human. I know he really loves Euijoo and Euijoo would move mountains for him, but do you think it scares him sometimes? That commitment?” 

Jo thinks about it for a long time. “Things that scare you are the only things really worth doing,” he says, at last. “Because if it’s scary that means it means something to you.” It’s the most certain Yuma’s heard him sound in a long time.

“I don’t think I’d be brave enough,” Yuma confesses. “To do something like that.”

“I think you’re capable of more than you realise,” says Jo. “I think you could do anything your heart would tell you to do.” 

Like what? Yuma wants to ask, but doesn’t. Instead, he changes the subject and says, “Do you think that they’ll get married too? It’s possible in Taiwan now, right? It would be cute if they both got were married and human married.” 

“Oh yes, I can’t wait for Fuma-kun and Yūdai-kun to fight to the death about who’s going to give Nicholas away,” says Jo, straight-faced. 

Cackling, Yuma hits him over the shoulder. “Poor Euijoo-hyung, he’s not even getting considered.”

Jo snorts. “Euijoo-hyung has the most powerful pack of Seoul behind him. I’m pretty sure his grandma would be in a state if she’s not invited to the wedding, even though she’s officially renounced him from the pack. She’d knock the entirety of Seoul over just to rip Hanbin a new one if she figured out he’d got married without her there.”

“She’s a bad bitch,” Yuma says, appreciatively.

“You can’t say that about Euijoo-hyung’s previous alpha!” protests Jo.

Yuma just shrugs, grinning. “She’s not here to hear it anyway.” He smiles and leans closer to Jo, sure he’s imagining the way Jo’s throat bobs at the proximity. “And I’m telling you now, it’s going to be me who’s going to give a speech at Nicholas and Euijoo-hyung’s wedding.” 

“I’m the one who’s better at words!” yelps Jo, immediately. When Yuma just raises one eyebrow, he adds, “At pretty words, anyway. You’re just going to talk about Nicholas-hyung and how gone he was for Euijoo-hyung, and then you’re going to brag about the fact that you knew Euijoo-hyung before Nicholas did because he danced at the same studio as you did.” 

Satisfied, Yuma nods. “And it’s going to be glorious.” 

--

So, yeah, Euijoo and Nicholas get werewolf-married and Nicholas walks around like he’s walking on clouds for the next few weeks, the fresh bitemark visible on his skin like a trophy. It’ll scar over like Yūdai’s at some point, a raised line of skin against his neck, even more permanent than a tattoo. Euijoo touches it possessively whenever he can, as if the mark alone isn’t proof enough, and Nicholas does the same right back to him, right over the mark he left on Euijoo’s neck.

Yuma remembers his earlier hunger. The ache he carries around in his teeth, despite the fact that he isn’t even a wolf. How beautifully would Jo bleed underneath him? How sweet would he taste? Would Jo mark him back? Yuma would allow it. 

And then he’s a fucking senior in university. His final year crashes across him like a tidal wave, and it seems to do the same to Jo as well. The pack supports the two of them as much as they can, and yet still Yuma feels like he’s treading water, his head just above the surface. Even his feelings for Jo get put on the back burner as he has a million assignments to fulfil and exams to take and a thesis subject to get confirmed and then write about. He’s sure he blacks out through most of the year, only faintly aware of the time passing by the rise and fall of the sun and the moon. 

Full moon nights still get under his skin like an itch, well attuned to Harua’s rhythm by now. He knows the young were runs the Bukhansan slopes a lot with Yūdai, Euijoo, and Taki, yellow eyes glowing. For the first time in his life, Yuma wishes he was a were too, just so he could put his nose in the wind and feel the freedom of the run just once. How exhilarating it must be to fly across the earth, not a worry in the world.

But Yuma’s just a pathetic human, and he twists and turns in his bed, running through the most boring formulas he can think of just to fall asleep. Studying advanced mathematics was a fucking joke. 

As the end of the year draws closer, Yuma starts sleeping less and consuming more coffee just to be able to finish everything he needs to finish. That’s why he’s pretty sure he’s hallucinating when Jo comes home and stumbles over to him. He places one hand on Yuma’s shoulder to steady himself and then kisses Yuma right on the mouth, parting his lips with his own so that he can slip his tongue inside.

Yuma immediately tastes bitter alcohol on his breath. He pulls back, panting, and licks his lips. “Are you drunk?” he asks, almost incredulous. 

Like he’s been burnt, Jo jerks back, his eyes widening. And then his shoulders sag, all the long lines of his body crumpling in on themselves. “Oh fuck,” he manages, between his heaving breaths. He tips his head back. “Oh fuck, Yuma.” 

“Hey,” says Yuma, raising his hands like he’s trying to placate a small animal. “Jo—”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jo cries into his hands. It’s the most heartbreaking sound Yuma’s ever heard. “Fuck, I’m such a bad friend. I should’ve known better.” 

Yuma’s heart sinks into his stomach, and he immediately shakes his head. “You are not a bad friend. My father’s mistakes were his own, okay? And I know you’re nothing like him, thankfully.” His shoulders sag, but he reaches out so that he can wrap his fingers around Jo’s wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. “Let’s get you into the shower and into some comfortable clothes. And by god, you’re going to have to drink some water. You’ll still probably have a right old hangover tomorrow, though.”

“I can’t wait,” Jo grumbles. He sighs and hangs his head, still wobbling a little bit. “It’ll be a good punishment, at least.” 

Grumbling, Yuma hits him on the back. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. This is not a punishment. It’s just a consequence of your actions.” He manages to get Jo into the shower, sitting on the toilet so that he can make sure that Jo doesn’t slip and bang his head, and then literally forces him into a pair of comfortable joggers and a hoodie. Like this, with his hair wet against his forehead and his gaze kind of unfocused, he still looks hot. It should be illegal. Yuma forces two bottles of water on him and watches with hawkish eyes as he tips both of them back, then fetches a couple of aspirin to put on his nightstand for the following morning. 

“Will you sit with me until I fall asleep?” Jo asks, grabbing Yuma’s hand with surprising accuracy so that Yuma cannot slip away like he’d planned to. He rounds his eyes. “Please?”

As if Yuma could ever say no to him when he looks like this. And it won’t be that long before he’s asleep, seeing the state of him. Biting his lip, Yuma settles on the chair next to Jo’s bed, watching as the other boy makes himself comfortable against the pillows, long eyelashes fluttering. “Forgive me, Yuma,” he says, the words slurring from a combination of tiredness and the lingering effects of the alcohol. “I would never forgive myself if I hurt us irreparably.” 

“You’re my best friend, Jo,” Yuma whispers. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t forgive you for.”

Jo hums. “Mm, best friend. I hate that word.” Before Yuma can ask what that means, Jo’s already asleep, his breaths deep and even. 

“I wish you’d kiss me again once you’re sober,” Yuma tells his sleeping friend. Unable to help himself, he reaches forward and brushes the fringe out of Jo’s face. “But I hope you’ll forget about all of this in the morning.” And then he flees like a coward, runs over to his own bed so that he can stuff his head in the pillow and finally allow the tears that had been threatening to spill the entire time to fall. 

--

Pack cuddles are one of the greatest inventions in the world. First of all, despite what Yuma looks like, he’s actually kind of a slut for physical touch and cuddles. And it gives him a great excuse to drape himself all across Jo’s body without making it weird. The fact that half of the pack members are veritable giants—even Maki and Taki have surpassed him by now—means that they’re just great teddy bears. With his thesis deadline looming, Yuma uses every opportunity he can to all herd the pack members into the pack house and then enforce cuddle time on them. 

True to Yuma’s hope, Jo hadn’t brought up the kiss after it happened, though he’s too good of an actor for Yuma to determine whether he’d forgotten about it or was just too embarrassed about it happening to mention it in the first place. His heart still squeezes when he looks at Jo, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be a good friend and lie on top of him like a weighted blanket to squeeze out all of the stress. 

On one such session, Yuma does indeed end up half on top of Jo, half on top of Yūdai, except that Yūdai’s an old man so he’s dead to the world asleep, even snoring slightly. 

“My thesis supervisor asked me to consider grad school after the year is over,” Yuma tells Jo, blankly, looking down at his friend. Despite how comfortable he is, he’s on his thirty-fith hour without sleep, he’s pretty sure, so he’s already pretty proud of himself that all the words out in the right order. He would’ve missed Jo’s hand held up for a high five for sure if Jo didn’t wave it around so obnoxiously, and his first attempt misses, but the second is marginally better. 

“Twinsies,” says Jo. He smiles and laces their fingers together. “Here’s to another year of living together and struggling together.”

“Yay,” Yuma manages. Privately he despairs about how he’s going to survive that. And then Harua shushes them from where he’s being cuddled between Maki and Taki like he’s some kind of chew toy the two are fighting over, and the moment passes. 

--

When Yuma and Jo graduate their bachelor, the entire pack is there. Yūdai is even carrying a handcrafted banner that says CONGRATULATIONS YUMA on one side and CONGRATULATIONS JO on the other side. It’s kind of cringe and kind of cute at the same time. They’re not in the same program, of course, but their graduations do end up being on the same day, Yuma’s a couple of hours ahead of Jo’s. That just means he can sneak over to Jo’s graduation when his finishes. 

During his own graduation, Yuma nearly stumbles on his way to the stage, awkward gown tangling around his legs. The head of the board for his program gives a short speech and mentions how he’s graduating with honours. He’s pretty sure everyone in the vicinity of Harua will be deaf with how hard he cheers at those words. And Yūdai holds up his banner like this is a sporting match and not a university graduation, but that’s whatever. Yuma receives his diploma in a neat little folder with the university’s logo embossed on top and bows about a million different times. He knows Fuma is probably snapping some photos, so he makse sure to flash a peace sign a couple of times, and then he’s ushered to the side of the stage again.

They have lunch in between the two graduation sessions. Jo is not present because he’s been dragged along with his cohort, even though he spams the group chat with sad emojis when Maki shares a selca of the eight of them smooshing their faces together to fit into the screen. 

Be right there! Yuma texts him in their private chatroom. 

Can’t wait to see you, Jo sends back. 

An hour later of waiting around it’s finally time for Jo’s graduation. Yuma shares a chair with Harua because there wasn’t enough space for everyone and having eight people at your graduation is probably overkill, but Yuma doesn’t care.

Jo is amongst the first to be called up, and the eight of them are immediately on their feet, hollering and shouting. Yūdai waves his banner so wildly that Yuma worries that he’ll whack one of the ladies in the row in front of them in the head, and they actually get shushed by one of the overseeing teachers. Jo looks like he wants the ground underneath him to open up, but even from this distance, Yuma can tell that he is also smiling that endeared little smile of his. 

Once the ceremony ends and Yuma’s sure he won’t have a voice anymore tomorrow, he meets Jo somewhere in a hallway behind the auditorium. Jo spots him in the crowd and heads straight towards him, enveloping Yuma in his arms.

Yuma hugs him back, fiercely. “You did it, my Jo.”

“ We did it,” Jo corrects him. He tucks a strand of Yuma’s hair behind his ear, smiling when he feels Yuma still beneath his hands. “I’m really proud of you, Yuma.” 

His eyes drop to Yuma’s lips, and for a long, suspended moment, Yuma thinks he’s actually going to kiss him. Worryingly, Yuma thinks he would kiss him back. And then the cubs and the rest of the pack crash into them, hollering and congratulating them, and the moment fizzles out. But, somehow, Yuma doesn’t think it has shattered. 

--

“Would you run during a full moon?” Jo asks him, one night, while they’re having takeout noodles together. Despite the fact that grad school is kind of kicking their respective arses, 

“Like a were?” Yuma asks right back, swallowing around the noodles in his mouth.

Jo shrugs. “Or like a human, I guess. Nicholas and Fuma run with the pack sometimes too, and I’m pretty sure that Maki begged Fuma-hyung if he can join them sometimes. I guess I’m not as fit as any of them, but I’m pretty sure I could struggle valiantly and keep up for a while.”

“I think about it sometimes,” confesses Yuma. “What it would feel like. But it scares me too. Is that a place for us?”

“Us?” Jo’s eyebrows raise, delighted. 

Yuma grumbles. “You know what I mean. Neither of us is dating a were or trying to court one, even though we’re part of a pack. Not that it might not happen in the future, the dating or courting, but I’m just saying that it feels—weird? I don’t know.” He huffs. “

Snorting, Jo uses his chopsticks to loosen his noodles. “I’m not planning to date or court a were. Not ever.” 

“No?” asks Yuma. 

Jo looks him right in the eyes, a quiet conviction in his voice. “No.” 

--

It sometimes ends up happening that Yuma’s at the pack house without Yūdai or Fuma even present. Sometimes he’s alone, but this time, Euijoo’s with him. His books are spread out across the table in font of him, one foot on the chair next to his arse so that he can rest his head on his knee, eyes blurring from the amount of formulas on the page in front of him. It doesn’t even feel like mathematics anymore with how much fucking Greek letters there are now. They might be outnumbering (haha) the actual numbers by now. 

“Struggling defiantly?” Euijoo asks, his eyes soft and kind. 

Miserably, Yuma shakes his head. “You should be happy you never went to grad school, hyung,” he bemonas. “It feels like I’m drowning in work half of the time.”

“And you’re going to be so happy once you graduate and you’re going to get a great job,” Euijoo says, with a kind of certainty that Yuma can only hope to have. “Didn’t your professor tell you he might have a position for you?” 

Yuma looks down at his books. “We’ll get to that once I actually am at the end.” 

“I talked to Harua, by the way,” Euijoo suddenly says, all casually. “About Maki and Taki. Because he seemed to be stuck on something, and I just wanted to get him to confront his own feelings.” 

With a sigh, Yuma runs his hands through his hair. It’s gotten longer, messier, drooping across his eyes. “I’m grateful you did that for him,” he says, at last. “But I feel bad that I haven’t been there for him lately.” 

Euijoo reaches out and places his hand on Yuma’s wrist, a shockingly tender contact. “You’re busy with grad school, Yuma-yah,” he says. “Harua understands that.” 

“I basically raised the kid,” says Yuma, mournfully. “I didn’t even know that something was bothering him.” 

“Harua is a great actor,” says Euijoo. It doesn’t sound like he’s placating Yuma, but he’s just explaining the situation to him, which is kind of him. Then he taps the bridge of his nose. “I just have the benefit of having a great asset here that helps me figure out the things that people aren’t telling with words.” 

“Stupid were.” There’s no bite behind the words, and Euijoo just rolls his eyes to show that he’s understood that Yuma doesn’t mean it. “I’m serious about being grateful, though. I’m only one year older than Harua and it always seemed to be this gap that could never be bridged, and then suddenly I look away and he’s grown up.” 

Smiling, Euijoo sinks back into his chair. “That’s just cubs. I have a bunch of cousins from the pack, and I swear they just shot up overnight. They suddenly were my height or taller, I swear.”

“That might just have to do with the Byun freakishly tall genes.” 

Euijoo just sticks out his tongue. “On the topic, though . . .” he says, delicately, then trails off.

“On the topic of what?” Yuma feels his shoulders rise, defensively, and he hopes Euijoo is using his fucking were nose to figure out how little he wants to talk about this topic. Even though he definitely knows what the were is aiming at.

Either Euijoo doesn’t notice or he simply doesn’t care, because he barrels on. “I want my friends to be happy, Yuma. That’s why I talked to Harua before.” 

“I am happy!” snaps Yuma, putting his pencil down with so much strength he’s pretty sure it cracks beneath his palm. “I’m happy like this. I’m happy to be in love with Jo and pine at him pathetically from a distance. I’m happy because this is all I’ll ever get from Jo! And it’s all I’ll ever need.” He curls his lip. “It’s easy for you to observe from a distance and think you know what I want, Euijoo-hyung. But with all due respect, you don’t know me. I want Jo in this way because it’s what I deserve to get.”  

“You don’t have to sacrifice your own happiness for Jo’s,” Euijoo just says, quietly. 

Yuma shakes his head. “I am happy.” But even he knows how flat those words are. He lets out a shuddering breath. “Jo deserves better than me. I wouldn’t even dare to make that decision for him. How can I?” 

“That is up for Jo to decide, don’t you think?” Euijoo raises one eyebrow.

“Well, how do you know what Jo wants?” asks Yuma, defensively. 

Euijoo just looks at him for a long moment. “You know it as well, Yuma-yah. You just gotta allow yourself to feel it. That’s not as scary as you think it is.” He smiles. “Take it from me, cub—there’s nothing as liberating as love.” 

--

Despite Euijoo’s prodding, it is not actually Yuma who figures it out first. No, that honour goes to—

“The three of them . . . have figured it out,” Euijoo says delicately, loping into the living room from where he’d gone to wake up the cubs, his fingers pinching his nose closed and a vaguely horrified expression on his face.

They’re all at the pack house, because Yūdai had texted them to come over since something had happened to Harua the night before, but he’s alright now and in safe hands. Apparently Maki had punched someone. Yuma knew it was only right that he taught the cubs how to punch that one time. It always comes in helpful. Anyway, they’re just hanging around and were waiting for the youngest members to wake up or at least give a sign of life, though Euijoo had taken it up to wake them up when the pastries had arrived. 

Nicholas perks up. “Sick! So, who has won?” 

“No, no,” says Euijoo slowly. He takes a deep breath and laces his hands in front of his chest, stressing every single syllable when he continues. “The three of them have figured it out.” 

For a moment, it is silent as everyone in the room processes those words. Then Yuma falls back in his chair with a groan, and Yudai puts his head in his hands, and even Jo lets out a little, surprised cough. Only Fuma seems to acknowledge it fully, clapping his hands as he nods his head with a little proud grin, like a father celebrating his son’s win. 

“Wow,” says Nicholas, slowly. “So, I guess the bet’s off, then? Nobody has won?” 

Euijoo sits down heavily at the table and puts his head in his hands. “I wish I could erase everything that I just saw from my brain,” he says, muffled. “But yeah, I guess we both didn’t consider this scenario. Are we lame old people now?” 

Yuma looks between the two of them. “Who did you both pick?”

“A were has to back a were,” Euijoo says, puffing up his chest. 

Grinning, Nicholas nudges his shoulder against his mate. “And I picked Maki because I was going for the childhood best friend advantage. Not just because he’s also a human. Euijoo just thinks only with the were brain.” 

“My were brain is exceptional, thank you very much,” huffs Euijoo. 

Harua appears from his bedroom, sleep ruffled but with an air of satisfaction to him that even Yuma can taste it in the air. He zeroes in on Nicholas and jumps at him, arms coming up to curl around his neck to either hug or throttle him. “What did I just hear? Did you guys seriously bet on me?” 

“Nobody has won,” Nicholas says, indignantly. 

“Oh, I’m sure that makes it better,” snorts Fuma humorously. 

“If nobody has won, does that mean I get thet money instead?” Harua wiggles, excited like a puppy. He pulls back. “You did bet on money, right?” 

Nicholas is straightfaced. “We actually bet on whether I was going to ride Euijoo or—” 

Cheeks blushing such a bright red that Yuma worries whether he’ll actually go up in flames, Euijoo slaps his hand across Nicholas’ mouth. “Quiet, you heathen. And Harua, I’ve bought you so many snacks that I’m sure I’ve spent more money on you than most of us will see in our lifetimes. 

Harua pouts. “I’m a growing were.” 

“No, you are not.” Maki pads over from the bedroom, stretching, and grins, Taki two paces behind him. “You stopped growing in seventh grade.”

“I’m going to airstrike this house,” moans Harua. “Can you guys just be happy for me?” 

Yuma reaches over and pats him on the shoulder. “We are happy for you, cub. Look, we ordered pastries to celebrate that Maki punched someone and you all got through the full moon unscathed. Isn’t that enough?” 

“It’s a start,” Harua sighs, but grins at Yuma as he grabs a croissant and tears into it with sharp teeth.

“Not just punch someone,” says Maki, proudly baring his teeth. “I damn near killed him.” 

Yūdai sighs mournfully. “I raised monsters.”

--

One time, Nicholas explained to Yuma that a were’s hunt is over once the hunted party stops running away. But Yuma has been running for so long that he doesn’t really know how to stop anymore. And Jo is not even a were. Yuma has never been exposed, never gone belly up for anyone. Jo makes hin want to be vulnerable, though. 

It is the scariest and most exhilarating feeling that Yuma has ever experienced. 

--

Yuma has the weirdest dream. He’s standing on the edge of a cliff, the wind howling around him and tugging on his clothes, probably severely messing up his hair. Above his head, the moon is full and round and heavy, a million stars covering the sky around it. Despite the energy of the elements and his precarious position, Yuma does not feel scared. Twisting his head to the side, he realises why that is the case. 

Next to him is Jo. It appears the wind cannot touch him, his fringe calm and his clothes relaxed, his gaze as warm as a spring day. Yuma, he says, and Yuma can hear him despite the fact that his ears are filled with the sound of the wind. Would you take the dive?

Anything for you, Yuma says, desperately. 

Jo reaches forward and covers Yuma’s eyes with his hand. His voice is suddenly next to Yuma, as if he is leaning over to whisper in his ear. Jump, he whispers. 

Yuma wakes up, heart pounding in his mouth, and jumps out of his bed. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s already on his feet. But as he tears into Jo’s room, he finds the bed empty, sheets disturbed as if he’d kicked them off in a hurry. It’s unlike Jo, so he quickly checks his phone and finds that Jo is online despite the hour. 

Where are you? he texts Jo, uncaring of how creepy he must sound. As a response, Jo just sends back a photo: a low brick wall, the city of Seoul sprawled beyond. Yuma immediately knows where it is. Hands shaking, he texts back, Stay where you are. I’ll be right there.

There is no reply, but Yuma doesn’t need one. He knows Jo. Jo will wait. 

Quickly, he dresses himself and grabs his phone and wallet. The subway doesn’t run at this hour, but Yuma manages to flag down a cab and rattles off the address. While the cabbie does look sceptical at the location, he does not protest it, clearly realising that Yuma’s set in his ways. About twenty minutes later, he arrives at the alleyway, messily thrusting a couple of ten-thousand won bills at the cabbie and telling him to keep the change. The man does not protest that, tearing off before Yuma can turn around and change his mind.

The door and the way up to the rooftop are exactly like how Yuma remembers it, even though years have passed since then. His hands are sweaty as he pushes through the final door, and then he’s up on the rooftop. It’s late August and still hot, but the sight of Jo standing on the brick wall with his back facing Yuma still makes him break out into a flash of heat. 

“Jo?” he calls out. Jo does not turn around, but he does twitch, showing that he’s heard Yuma. “Why are you out here?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Jo’s voice rings out plainly. “Why are you here?”

Yuma parrots him. “Couldn’t sleep.” He walks over and jumps up onto the brick wall next to Jo. Despite the fact that there’s no wind, he’s oddly reminded of his dream. When he looks to the side, he finds that Jo is smiling softly, his cheeks bunched up attractively. His breath rattles in his chest. He can’t believe he was almost foolish enough to give this up.

“I think that I’ve been in love with you from the moment I met you.” The words are torn out of Yuma’s throat before he realises what is happening, but as soon as they’re out in the open, he barrels on. There’s no use in stopping now, not now he’s said everything that’s been cooped up in his chest for years now. “I think I just thought that you were too beautiful and too good and too untouchable for me to ever consider confessing to. I think that I was placating myself with the thought that if I could have you as a friend, that would’ve been enough for me. Actually, it still is enough for me, but that doesn’t take away the fact that I’m also embarrassingly in love with you. And I fear that I’m clingy and overbearing, but I also can’t let you slip away. You’re too shiny and good and I’m just Yuma.” He runs out of steam, his shoulders sagging. “Listen—can we just sit down?” 

That’s when he realises that Jo’s laughing at him. It’s not in a mean way. Jo looks so fucking fond that Yuma’s breath is punched out of his chest, his heart skipping a beat. “I think this is the most nervous I’ve ever heard you,” Jo comments, casually. “Do you always get this rambly?”

Yuma’s mouth drops open. “I’m trying to confess to you, here!” 

“I know,” says Jo. “But I already knew everything you’re telling me now.” 

“What do you mean?” asks Yuma dumbly. 

Jo does not respond at first, finally listening to Yuma’s question and crouching down so that he can lower his butt onto the wall, patting the brick next to him in invitation. All Yuma can do is do as he instructs, nearly tipping backwards in his haste to sit down. At least he wouldn’t have fallen as far that way down. 

“What do you mean, you already knew ?” Yuma repeats. 

“Just that.” Jo shrugs. “I’ve known you were in love with me. I noticed because I notice everything about you, Yuma. Because I’m also in love with you.” 

For a moment, all Yuma can do is stare at him. “Why didn’t you say anything? If you already knew?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to realise,” says Jo, softly. “To figure out what you want. To figure out if you wanted to be with me. To figure out what the rest of your life was going to look like, and whether you would have made space for me in that life.” 

Yuma searches his face, his big brown eyes, and finds only steady determination. “But what if it would have taken me forever to do so?” he presses. “What would you have done, then?”

Jo meets his gaze head on, smiles. “Then I would have waited forever.”

--

Yuma allows Jo to take him home. It’s so far into the night that it’s almost morning again, but Yuma has never felt more awake than he does now. Like he’s been asleep for his entire life and has only opened his eyes now. He reaches out for Jo’s hands and finds him already reaching back, their fingers interlacing. Jo spreads him out on the bed, his body perfectly fitting between Yuma’s spread legs. 

Grinning, Jo looks down at where they fit together like two perfect puzzle pieces. “I never noticed before, but your hands are kind of big. Not very proportional to the rest of you.” 

“You are just freakishly tall,” Yuma says, rolling his eyes. “And I am perfectly average sized.” 

“No, I’m pretty sure you’re kinda small,” says Jo. “But that’s okay. You fit perfectly next to me like this.” He leans up so that he can look Yuma right in the eyes. “I’m going to keep your forever, you know that right.” 

Yuma tips his head to the side to reveal the line of his neck. “Going to mark me like a were?” 

A slow smile spreads across Jo’s lips. “Only if you bite me right back.” 

“I can do that.” Yuma pulls his hands free so that he can curl them around Jo’s neck and then drags him down right onto his own mouth. Jo’s still grinning when their lips meet, Yuma can taste the happiness on his tongue. If he was a were, he’s sure he could smell it too, but then again, he doesn’t even need a nose to tell him that. 

Little words are shared as they peel each other out of their clothes, but their heavy gazes, reverent, are enough. It’s not like Yuma hasn’t seen this before, not even counting that one disastrous time they slept together, but just living as Jo’s roommate for the last five years of his life. Still, this is different. There’s a whole ocean between this and what normally happens. Because right now, Jo is looking at him with a heavy lidded gaze, his hands sure but his pursed mouth betraying his relative nervosity. Yuma cups the other man’s face with his hand, heart stuttering in his chest when Jo leans into the touch with fluttering eyelashes. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Yuma whispers. “Did you know that?” 

“It never meant anything unless you were the one seeing me,” says Jo, honestly. He settles his hands on Yuma’s waist. “Can I touch you?” 

With a sigh, Yuma overlaps Jo’s fingers with his own. “You can take whatever you need. I’ll give it to you, you don’t even have to ask. And I won’t ever take you for granted. I love you.” 

“And I love you.” Jo leans forward and kisses him, and Yuma surges up with a ferocity that surprises him to kiss him back. Pleasure zings up his spine like a spark of electricity, doubled in intensity when Jo lightly grazes his nail across his sensitive ribs. He gasps into the kiss, arching his body forward, their noses nearly knocking together. 

Jo snickers. “Graceful.” 

“Shut up.” Yuma leans forward so that he can nip Jo’s bottom lip, then soothes the sting with his tongue. “No takesies-backsies, by the way. You get me, you get all of me. Including my grace and my strength.”

“To me, you are perfect exactly as you are. This is after all the Nakakita Yuma that I fell in love with.” 

With sure hands, Jo opens him up, watching Yuma’s face intently as he does so that he can catalogue every single reaction. Yuma feels more sensitive than he’s ever felt in his life, so he doesn’t know if this is a fair, average norm of how he behaves, but Jo seems to imprint in his memory, repeating the movement he makes every time Yuma so much as twitches to confirm that was what did him in. By the time he finally deems Yuma prepared enough, Yuma’s hard and leaking against his stomach, his heart hammering in his chest. 

He doesn’t even have a were’s primal instinct, yet it feels like the hunt has been successful anyway once Jo slides inside of him. Whatever Jo had been talking about about puzzle pieces seems to ring true at this moment too. Yuma feels completely overwhelmed by Jo’s presence everywhere around in him in the best possible way. 

It’s like he can only breathe when Jo’s holding him like this. 

What they do is not fucking. Yuma would not hesitate to call it making love. Jo slides his hands across Yuma’s body like he’s something precious. His hips move slowly, letting Yuma feel the complete, overwhelming fullness down to the tips of his toes before pulling back out again. The speed never changes, just a slow rocking of his pelvis while Yuma gasps and whines, grasping onto Jo’s shoulders like they are the only thing tethering him down to earth. 

“Kiss me,” he whispers up at Jo, and the first beams of the sun peaking from behind the buildings behind him, through the window, cast a halo around Jo’s head. It does make sense. If there was ever a human on earth closest to an angel, it would be Jo, with his careful hands and his soft lips. Soft lips, which he uses to kiss Yuma thoroughly.

Yuma comes almost as soon as Jo puts his hand around his cock and starts stroking him in time with his thrusts. The orgasm is almost an afterthought, just a heightening of the bliss that has already spread through Yuma’s body and fills him from the inside out. Jo is not far behind him, biting down where Yuma’s neck meets his shoulder as he shudders through his orgasm, his face scrunched up in the most devine form of ecstasy. 

After they’ve cleaned themselves up, they curl up in bed together, Yuma’s head on Jo’s chest, right above his heart. The sun has continued its steady trek across the sky, but it’s only now that Yuma feels settled enough to be tired. 

“Harua told me he wants to run with us sometime,” Jo tells him, suddenly. “Like, the entire pack.”

Yuma scowls, raising his head slightly. “Harua told you something before he told me? That heathen! You raise a cub for fifteen years and this is the thanks you get?” 

Jo just smiles and smoothes Yuma’s hair back, the movement soothing and enough for Yuma to settle down again, even if he grumbling a little bit. “Just think about it,” he says. “I think I want to run and explore that part of the pack with them, but only if you’re there.” 

“What even are you saying,” Yuma says, sleepy all at once. “Of course I’ll go wherever you are. To the end of the earth if I have to, and even further than that.” 

It is with that thought and Jo’s answering, brilliant smile on the back of his eyelids that he falls asleep.