Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It is our promise

No one take you down

Don’t worry, I`ll be there

Shining like a star

-ATEEZ “Promise”

Late summer means both harvest season and monsoon season. The green waves of crops stretch out on three sides of Hongjoong’s square of land, ripe and ready for profit. The sun dips down, hiding behind an onslaught of heavy clouds. The sky weeps for the end of summer, darkening from sweet orange to deep indigo. Hongjoong sits in his mother’s rocking chair on the front porch, iced tea in hand, and basks in the thick smell of rain. The automatic lights near his front door and across the gravel driveway near the barn flare to life, exposing little toads that hop into the safety of the tall grass. 

Hongjoong sighs in contentment, shaking the half-melted ice in his glass. Sweat sticks to the back of his neck and clumps the azure strands of his hair. After a long day gathering tomatoes and melons, he’s confident in his sale tomorrow. He won’t have to worry about the bills for a few weeks if everything goes right. He tips back, the wooden legs creaking under his weight, enjoying the simple feeling. Time is thick like the air, dripping past Hongjoong like honey until it falls fast and hard with the rain. A wave of exhaustion pulls him further down into his chair as downpour ricochets off the edge of the porch and onto his toes. Time for bed.

He lays sprawled for a second longer, enjoying the cooler air. When the hard seat starts digging into his lower back, he groans, righting his posture and cracking his spine. He shivers for a second, the drop in temperature and wet air sending goosebumps up and down his skin. Just as his hand lands on the handle of his screen door, there’s a bright flash out of the corner of his eye.

It’s his motion sensor light on the far end of the barn.

He frowns, debating whether to check it out or not. Usually, it’s a stray raccoon or sometimes even the wind blowing something big enough to trigger the sensor. But what if it’s a coyote? He groans at the thought, dreading the idea of a predator getting close to his chickens when he’s around. The light switches off, the timer expiring with lack of movement. Hongjoong takes it as his cue to ignore it and swings open the screen door. He pushes open the front door just as the white light wakes up again, screaming for his attention.

Whatever it is, it’s still there.

Hongjoong thunks his forehead against the doorframe. Making up his mind, he sets his empty iced tea glass on the nearest table inside and pulls on some sandals. He’s so tired. Whatever animal that interrupted his plan to sleep is going to pay for it. Dearly.

He trudges down the steps, not caring when he’s instantly soaked or when the screen door bangs shut behind him. Maybe that would be enough to scare it away. He kicks at the gravel as he walks, stubbing his toe once on a particularly large pebble. Rounding the side of his red barn, he checks the surrounding field for any animals. But with the heavy rain and harsh lighting, he can’t see past the first few rows.

His chickens better be alright. He just got three new hens last week; he can’t afford for even one to die just yet. As far as he knows, they’re all safe and sound inside, but there’s a little door into the chicken coop from the outside of the barn that would be easy for coyotes to get into. Of course, the animal would have to get into the closed-off pen first.

Hongjoong blinks water out of his eyes, squinting through the chicken wire into the closed-off land. Nothing. So what set off the light twice? Was it a raccoon after all? Was it a stray chicken not getting the memo of sunset? He fidgets in place, fingers tracing the wire. Should he check around just to be sure? His aching bones say no, but his mind says yes. He sighs, dragging his feet as he makes his way to the other side of the pen and subsequently the back of his barn. 

He shivers again, this time with slight fear instead of the cold rain. Hongjoong doesn’t usually hang around outside at night, since he lives alone. He’s really risking it for some goddamn chickens. Those eggs better taste amazing in the morning. He thinks he sees something along the wall, but once again, the light doesn’t reach far enough for him to tell. He inches closer, biting his lip.

“Hey!”

He almost jumps at his own voice bouncing off the painted red wood and echoing into the fields. He swears he sees the black smudge in the dark flinch. It’s definitely too big for a coyote or raccoon. Shit.

He steps even closer. The thing solidifies as his eyes adjust to the darkness. “Stay away from my chickens!”

He doesn’t expect the low growl in return. Hongjoong stifles a yelp, foot splashing in a puddle. Do coyotes sound like that? Do wolves? He gulps, standing his ground and leaning even more.

“Whatever or whoever you are, please get off my property!” He tries to yell as assertive-yet-still-polite as possible. The thing growls again, dark grating that permeates the humidity and threatens Hongjoong. He swallows again, running a shaky hand through his hair. He tugs at the ends, trying to figure out what to do. He’s read that if he stays dominant and tries to out-scare things like coyotes, foxes, and bears, they’ll go away, right? Is he supposed to stand or keep moving? He hears the growl again and hastily makes up his mind, dropping his hands and assuming the most authoritative stance he can.

“I won’t tell you again!” He yells, shuffling forward. The growl bursts into a bark. The shadow moves swiftly.

Hongjoong realizes he’s made a grave mistake.

Large hands reach out of the darkness, latching onto Hongjoong’s wrists and wrenching them away from his body. He abruptly loses his balance, wailing when his head cracks dully against waterlogged grass. The body on top of him is heavy and much, much bigger than he thought. He struggles to open his eyes under the rain and darkness, squinting up into an aggressive and entirely too human face. Wild eyes glare back, accompanied by a grimace filled with slightly too sharp teeth. The growls have increased tenfold, deafening Hongjoong’s ears as the other intimidatingly leans in. This isn’t an ordinary coyote or wolf.

This is a hybrid.

“Please don’t hurt me!” Hongjoong cries, shrinking from those teeth. He tries to shield his face with his hands but they’re pinned. He can barely turn his face away, breaths coming in short, stuttered bursts. Oh god. This is how he dies. He should’ve just ignored the light and stayed inside. Hongjoong screws his eyes shut, fearing the worst.

He subconsciously feels the hybrid pause. The other leans in, making Hongjoong gasp and gnaw at his lip in apprehension. What feels like his nose grazes the shell of Hongjoong’s ear and down the side of his neck. The vice grip around his wrists slacken and the other pulls back.

“I’m… sorry.”

Hongjoong coughs in shock, automatically pulling his wrists away and wrestling the other off of him. The hybrid hangs his head, letting himself be shoved away. Hongjoong scuttles back a few paces, breathing heavily with a hand over his heart.

“What the fuck?”

The hybrid lifts his gaze and Hongjoong notices a pair of floppy golden ears on his head. Definitely a dog hybrid.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Are you… hurt?” He asks again.

“Am I hurt ?” Hongjoong laughs incredulously. It devolves into a coughing fit. “Am- am I hurt? What do you think ?”

The hybrid shrinks in on himself and Hongjoong immediately feels bad. “I mean, I am but it’s nothing big,” he assuages, massaging the back of his skull. “I- what are you doing here? Why did you attack me if you’re sorry?”

“I panicked! I’m trying to find shelter in this rain and all of the sudden this human starts yelling at me. I didn’t know what to do and my instincts took over!” The other blurts, tail sagging. He wrings his hands together, dark eyes flitting between Hongjoong and the ground. “Please don’t take me to the pound,” he adds in a pitiful tone.

The human frowns. That didn’t even cross his mind but the words are a wave of reality. A stray hybrid that just attacked him is now hiding behind his barn in the rain. The poor thing must be so cold and tired, even more so than him. He bites his lip, already giving in despite his mind screaming at him to run away.

Hongjoong exhales harshly, unintentionally spooking the other as he pulls himself off the muddied grass and uselessly brushes off his dirty knees. He holds his palms up, attempting to look as non-threatening as possible.

“I promise I won’t take you to the pound. But you owe me an explanation,” he starts slowly. “I’m going to go inside my house. You’re welcome to follow me. I’ll make some tea or something to warm us up.”

Hongjoong waits until the other nods his head before he turns and heads back. The dog hybrid slinks behind out of the corner of his eye. He gnaws at his bottom lip as they scurry through the heavy rain, running through the possibilities of the next few hours. He holds the creaking screen door open for the other, beckoning the shy boy with one hand to enter.

“Please, come in. It’s no use staying out in this weather,” he tries. The other scratches at his dripping ears, hesitating, but quickly ducks into the dry house. Hongjoong carefully closes the door behind him, latching it before shutting the front door as well.

“So you’re not going after my chickens, then?” Hongjoong tries to joke, kicking off his shoes and running a hand through his damp hair. He turns just as the hybrid shakes his entire body, flinging mud and water everywhere like a… well, like a dog . When he finishes his hair and tail are significantly more puffed up, dry, and lighter-colored. At Hongjoong’s splutter, he freezes, wide-eyed as if to gauge the human’s reaction.

“Oh no, I’m sorry it was a force of habit! I didn’t mean to get water everywhere…” his voice peters out. He winces when Hongjoong chuckles.

“Ugh, it’s no big deal. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tracked mud in here. I’ll clean this up later.” Hongjoong walks past the man into his kitchen, trying to ignore how much taller he is. He shivers. The other would have no problem attacking him if he really wanted to. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem the type, especially with all his fervent apologies.

“So?” He asks, pulling out a kettle and filling it with water. When he gets no response even after setting it on the stove and starting it, Hongjoong looks back. The hybrid stands on his welcome mat in the middle of his front room, appearing lost with his head tilted. “You didn’t answer my question. You’re not going after my chickens?”

The boy shakes his head vehemently. “No, I swear! All I was looking for is shelter. I thought your barn would have enough roof. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten or attack you or even trespass.” His words become slightly louder and faster. “Please don’t take me back to the pound—”

“Woah, woah,” Hongjoong laughs in disbelief. “No worries. Gosh, I don’t mind too horribly. You just surprised me, that’s all. I mean, I do have a slight head injury…” He rubs the growing bruise hidden under cobalt hair.

“I’m sorry!”

Hongjoong holds up a hand, scrounging through his cabinets for two mugs. “I get it. Water under the bridge. You’re fine. Actually, you’re lucky it was my farm you came across and not my neighbor’s. Some of them are pretty mean and probably shoot on sight.” He glances over and catches the other’s face pale as he crosses his arms protectively. Oops. Maybe he went too far. The human sets out two mugs on his counter. After a few seconds of contemplative silence, he turns towards the other.

“Can I at least get a name?” He asks politely.

The hybrid startles like he’d drifted away in thought in those short seconds.

“Uh, Yunho. My name is Yunho,” he responds timidly.

“Nice to meet you, Yunho. I’m Hongjoong,” he says, smiling broadly. The hybrid returns his smile slightly, honey-colored ears lifting. “Well, Yunho, you’re welcome to come in and sit, you know. Don’t worry about tracking mud, I’ve already done it plenty myself.”

Hongjoong watches Yunho slowly make his way to the wooden table in his kitchen, pull out a chair, and perch on the edge. He smiles softly at the over-politeness of his actions.

“Is there a particular tea that you prefer?” He continues, pawing through his collection on the top shelf. “I have all kinds, especially fruit tea since it’s in season. Or perhaps you’d like something soothing like chamomile?”

“I actually have never had tea, so you don’t have to give me anything,” Yunho admits. Hongjoong’s jaw drops in exaggerated shock.

“Never had tea?!” He exclaims, even bringing his wrist to his forehead. The other cracks a smile at his theatrics. “Why, you’re missing out! I insist now, you must try some.”

“Well, if you must,” Yunho’s sharp teeth bite at his bottom lip. “Whatever is your favorite is fine.”

“Chai tea it is, then.” He fishes out the appropriate bags and places them in the empty mugs. As if on cue, the kettle whistles, making the hybrid flinch. Hongjoong rushes to turn off the stove and remove the kettle. He carefully pours the hot water into each of the mugs and sets the kettle in his sink to wash later. Hongjoong gingerly picks up the mugs with both hands and carries them over to the table, sliding into a seat adjacent. The ceramic clinks against solid wood as he slides one to Yunho, who watches him warily.

“Thank you,” he iterates softly, wrapping long fingers around the warm mug. He brings it close, breathing in the steam, and Hongjoong can see the moment he relaxes.

“Don’t drink it just yet, you might burn yourself,” he advises. The other nods, continuing to hold the rim under his chin.

“Are you… willing to tell me why you were hiding out behind my barn?” Hongjoong asks, fumbling when the other locks up again. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me anything, but I would like to know how I can help you.”

Yunho sighs, his floppy ears drooping. Hongjoong scrutinizes the hybrid’s appearance under better lighting. He’s tall, handsome, and too nice to be scrounging for cover. Sure, the other’s sandy hair is matted with mud and his clothes are plain and stained, but his face is too handsome and he bears no scratches or signs of abuse. He wears the stiff gray shirt and trousers that are provided at the local animal shelter and seems more of a runaway or stray than anything. Yet, he begs Hongjoong to not take him back.

In the quiet minute of contemplation, the human realizes that as he’s been staring at Yunho, the other has also been sizing him up. Hongjoong blushes slightly under the mutual scrutiny, going to sip at his mostly cooled off tea. Yunho, coming to a conclusion, huffs to himself.

“I… it’s not that I’ve been horribly mistreated or anything, but I’d rather not go back there ,” he starts. Mimicking Hongjoong, he tastes the tea in his hands, momentarily lighting up at the flavor and warmth. Hongjoong notices a small thumping noise and upon looking down, sees that the other’s tail is wagging. He covers his grin with another sip of tea.

“I don’t know how you feel about us hybrids, but already you’ve been the kindest human I’ve met. So I’m more inclined to trust you and your judgment. If you decide I need to leave, I will do so immediately.”

Hongjoong’s heart sinks at the finality of his tone. “Wait, don’t worry about that right now. I’ll assume the best of you unless you prove to me otherwise.”

Yunho’s gaze darts from him, to his mug, to the dark, stained grain of the tabletop, to the brightly painted cupboards, to the unlocked front door, and back to him.

“Right. I was dropped off at the pound because my previous owners didn’t want me anymore. This isn’t the first time it’s happened, either. I’ve been a little kid’s birthday present four times now and every time they’ve grown bored of me in a matter of years. Either that or I’m too big or too much work for them,” he explains, voice dripping with bitterness. Hongjoong purses his lips, willing himself to stay silent for the other.

“I decided I’d had enough. I’m not going to wait around for another kid to treat me as less than human and then hope I end up at another no-kill shelter. It’s only a matter of time before I get unlucky and die if I continue like this. It’s gotta be better this way, right?” He slides down in his chair a little, resting his chin heavily in his hands. 

“So I got out. Jumped the door the moment someone opened it and ran into the fields. And then it rained. And I stumbled here somehow. Met you. The rest is history.” He glances up apologetically. “Sorry, my life story is really depressing.”

Hongjoong hums. He taps the handle of his mug, pondering what to say and do. Yunho’s backstory does help matters, but he’s unsure on how to proceed. The hybrid has no reason to lie, and he’s been genuine thus far.

“I want to ask you,” the other starts, biting his lip again, “If I’m not overstepping, could I stay with you for a while?” At Hongjoong’s surprised stare, he quickly continues. “I would work for it, of course! You mentioned chickens, right? I can help you take care of them! Or-or wash clothes. Or, um, I don’t know, plant seeds? You can make me sleep outside if you don’t want to see me in the house.”

The certainty of his last sentence strikes a chord in Hongjoong’s heart. He imagines a younger Yunho curled up outside, chained to a fencepost while a faceless family berates him for even showing his face inside. The human forces himself to drink half his cup before answering.

“Yunho-ah.” He’s tempted to reach for one of his hands but refrains. “You’re more than welcome to help around my farm. If you think that’s the best you can do for me in exchange for staying, then by all means. But I would never let you sleep outside, god. That sounds awful.”

Maybe he has too much of a bleeding heart. Maybe Yunho’s natural puppy eyes are too convincing. But the increased thumping of his elated tail is too cute and rewarding. Sue him.

“Really? Oh, thank you so much. I promise I’ll make it up to you as best I can. Thank you so, so much ,” Yunho gushes, completely melting into a grateful mess. Hongjoong suppresses the urge to pat his head.

“Don’t mention it,” he mutters, face red. “Now finish your tea and I’ll show you where you can sleep for tonight.”

Honestly, the hybrid’s proposal works out in Hongjoong’s favor as well. Being the only man on his farm for so long, some duties have been lackluster as of late. Having a new farmhand who he only has to pay in food and shelter is more than worthwhile. As he shows Yunho to his mudroom, he plans what activities are easy enough for the other to pick up on. He pulls out a change of clothes for the boy and sets them nearby while he instructs him on how to use the built-in shower. Sure, Hongjoong invited him to stay but that doesn’t mean he gets to use his nice upstairs bathroom shower!

While Yunho cleans up, he ambles into his living room, assessing his meager furniture. After his parents died and left the house and farm to him, much of his decor has been sold off to make ends meet. However, he still has a nice patterned sofa and an antique coffee table with a floor lamp. Next to the sofa is a wicker basket teeming with blankets he usually reserves for the colder months. He can turn the area into a simple sleeping area.

Hongjoong pulls out a majority of the blankets, laying his grandmother’s thick indigo crocheted one first over the sofa. While the cushions are comfortable, Hongjoong wouldn’t want to sleep on the rough fabric. He positions the others around in a way suitable. He sets down the decorative pillows just as Yunho exits the mudroom, padding through the kitchen to the living room. He tilts his head in question, watching silently.

“Here, I made a sleeping space for you.” When the other opens his mouth, he cuts him off. “No, this is the least I can do. I don’t use this space very often anyway. I’m glad you’re getting some use out of these blankets this time of year.”

Yunho ducks his head shyly, muttering his gratitude. Hongjoong smiles sweetly, turning on the lamp next to the sofa. He steps over to the light switch, turning off all overhead lights and leaving the hybrid in a soft glow. He smiles even more at the way his normally oversized mismatched pajamas fit Yunho a little too well. The pants sit lower on his hips to make up for his golden tail, a problem Hongjoong is sure to remedy another day. His hair is much lighter and fluffier now that it is clean and dry. His face is full of quiet disbelief as he studies the mound of blankets before him.

“I’m going to bed, okay?” Hongjoong calls out, shuffling to the stairs in the middle of the space. “If you really need me, my room is the first one on the right.” Yunho nods in understanding.

“Goodnight,” Hongjoong chuckles at his reaction.

“Uh, goodnight?”

The human traipses up the stairs, debating whether he should shower or go straight to bed. After peeling off his sticky clothes he relents to shower in his master bathroom. The entire bedtime routine his brain is either running a mile a minute or filled with cotton. He sighs when he finally falls into bed in fresh pajamas and damp hair. He leaves his window open, enjoying the fresh humid air. The rain has thinned to a mist and looks to stay that way until morning. He’s about to turn his bedside lamp off and call it a night when his door creaks open.

“Gah— Yunho!” He yelps, needlessly pulling the sheets up to cover himself. The dog hybrid pokes his head in, wide eyes searching for something. “W-what is it?”

“I’m really sorry but, if it’s no trouble, could I sleep at the edge of your bed?”

Hongjoong, in his tiredness, must not have been able to control the several emotions of shock, confusion, and slight annoyance on his face. Immediately, Yunho shies behind the cracked white door, his ears barely poking out.

“I’m sorry, I overstepped, didn’t I? Please ignore that and go to sleep, I’ll leave—”

“No, no, Yunho, wait,” Hongjoong sighs, running a hand down his face. “Why do you want to sleep here instead of downstairs? Do you really trust me that much?”

“I just, well, I thought, um,” Yunho takes a deep breath. “I’m uncomfortable by myself downstairs knowing you’re up here and I thought that part of my contribution could be to guard your bed at night while you sleep and I’ll stay on the floor!”

Hongjoong can’t help his laugh. When it’s clear the other isn’t joking he stops. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Very.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. After a moment he shrugs, settling back down in his bed. “Sure, Yunho. Whatever floats your boat. If you’d feel more comfortable on the floor at the end of my bed rather than a sofa , I suppose it won’t hurt.”

The other, clearly not catching his underlying gripe, beams and pushes the door further open. Hongjoong spies three of the blankets pulled from downstairs in his hands. He pulls them in, dropping them into a pile at the bottom of Hongjoong’s king-sized bed. At least he closed the door behind him. When it sounds like the hybrid has gotten himself situated, Hongjoong shakes his head again and reaches to turn off his light. His room plunges into darkness and immediately he’s drifting off. He thought, with his new companion, he would have a harder time falling asleep. But with his weary body and newfangled security alarm in the form of a dog hybrid, he finds himself embracing sleep within seconds.