Chapter Text
“People!” Seungmin grabbed Minho's shoulder, making the car swerve. Not that it mattered, with no other traffic on the road there was nothing to hit, but Minho swore at him anyway.
Standing in the middle of a crossroad ahead were two figures in dark, heavy clothes: one tall with a shaved head, the other short with black shaggy hair.
Minho narrowed his eyes, squinting through the dirty windshield. “Those aren’t people.”
“Don’t be prejudiced.” After everything they’d been through, he thought Minho would be more sympathetic. “Let’s stop.”
“Why? ”
“Because I haven’t talked to anyone but you in weeks and it’s turning my brain to yogurt. Stop the car.”
“God, I miss yogurt.” Minho sighed as if being forced, but it hadn’t passed Seungmin’s notice that his foot was already off the gas. “I wanted to stop in the next town anyway.”
Of course Minho could never admit he was giving in to Seungmin. He always had to find some excuse, some selfish reason he was being nice: he repaired Seungmin’s coat because he was sick of listening to his teeth chatter, he walked for three days to find medicine because burying Seungmin would’ve been annoying, and he trekked across the Waste finding people to perform for because ‘what else are we going to do out here?’
He’d always been like that, even when they were kids. He couldn’t just admit he was a decent person, a caring friend, a good man.
The town—if it could be called that—was just a few buildings sprinkled around the crossroad where the two men stood, staring at the car as if it was the first one they’d seen. Maybe it was. It had only been a few months since the Weres escaped the labs, and it wasn’t like there were many cars in the Waste.
The cold air stung Seungmin’s face as he rolled down the window, but it didn’t seem to bother the men. Now that they were closer, Seungmin saw they were chained together at the wrist… no, not chained together, the taller one was holding onto the chain like a leash.
“Shit,” he said under his breath, but of course Minho heard it.
“Let’s stop. They’re people.” He threw Seungmin the glare he’d perfected over the years. “Any regrets, Kim?”
“No.” Yes, obviously, but he wasn’t about to give Minho the satisfaction of knowing that. Plus, there was no backing out; they were too close, and those two could probably outrun the car if they tried gunning it now. “Hi!”
The shorter one glared, moving his body to block the taller one who seemed wary, but raised his hand to mimic Seungmin’s wave.
“Hi.” His voice was gravely, like it had sat unused for too long, but surprisingly cute in a way Seungmin wouldn’t have expected from someone with such an intense stare.
Okay, so they’d both said hi. Now what? Get out of the car? Commence with pleasantries? What sort of polite questions did one ask a Were raised in a lab? “Um, how are you?”
They shared a look with each other, then the taller one almost smiled. “I fine thank you, and you?”
“We’re… also fine. Thank you.”
Minho shook his head. “Such scintillating conversation.”
He hadn’t cut the engine, so the car still rumbled beneath them. The two men just kept staring, the taller one bending at the waist to look inside the car, his striking blue eyes wide with wonder. It was almost as if the marvel of a moving metal box made him forget his fear. Not the shorter one, though. He looked like one wrong move and Seungmin might lose an arm.
Screw it. Seungmin opened the car door and both men jumped back. The engine died immediately and the other car door slam closed.
Minho rounded the front of the car before Seungmin had even stepped out. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Making new friends, shut up.”
The intensity of Minho’s approach made the shorter one spread his arms to block his friend, crouching low. A rumbling noise came out of him that vibrated through Seungmin, sparking something primal.
Minho grabbed Seungmin’s jacket and pulled him back, then stepped in front of him, almost mirroring the Were. If Seungmin was a weaker man, this would’ve made his heart race and sent warm butterflies fluttering across his skin. But he wasn’t weak. He was strong, and he’d learned to squash those feelings years ago.
Minho’s back arched in an almost perfect curve. “Did that thing just growl at us?”
“Sorry.” The tall one’s sweet voice floated across the cold breeze as he wrapped his arms around his friend’s neck and nuzzled the top of his head with his cheek. Okay… maybe not his friend, then. “Chan protect.”
Chan? Seungmin had never heard of a Were with a name.
“Oh yeah?” Minho stepped closer to Seungmin, letting go of his jacket and grabbing his waist, his eyes still on the Weres. “Me too.”
Alright, Seungmin wasn’t this strong. He slapped Minho’s hand away and stepped to the side. “Quit it, you’re embarrassing me in front of the Weres.”
The tall one cocked his head, still draped over the one called Chan, staring with his uncanny eyes. “He is your mate?”
Minho screwed up his nose in the cute way he did when he was confused. No, not cute, in the dumb and annoying way he did. “Australian Weres? That’s new.” Seungmin had to admit, there was a bit of an accent to the few words he’d said. “Uh, yeah, sure,” Minho nodded, looking at Seungmin briefly, then back to the men, “he’s my mate.”
Seungmin rolled his eyes. “That’s not what he meant, pabo.”
Minho rolled his eyes right back. “And how do you know what they meant, what are you, the Were whisperer?”
Chan watched them closely, taking a deep breath in through his nose, narrowing his eyes in what looked more like curiosity than suspicion.
“He’s not my mate,” Seungmin explained. “We’re friends. And music partners.” It seemed weird to say that while standing in the Waste, but it was what they were, what they’d always been, and Seungmin didn’t want to lose that piece of their relationship just because they’d been cast out.
The tall one’s eyes lit up and he bent to lean over Chan’s shoulder. “Music?”
“Yeah, like… you know, songs and instruments.”
Both Weres blinked at him and Seungmin laughed. “Okay, it’s like…” he began to sing, “when this light goes down, story starts to rise up…”
Chan’s mouth dropped open and he lunged forward. His hands were on Seungmin’s face before he knew what was happening, his fingers prying open his mouth.
“Hey!” Minho grabbed his wrist and tried to pull him off, but Chan was too strong. All Seungmin could do was clamp his jaw shut and make little whining noises until the tall one's arms wrapped around Chan’s shoulders and pulled him back.
Seungmin gasped for air, spitting on the ground as the taller one held onto Chan, whispering something in some growling made-up language of their own. This seemed to soothe Chan, and he stilled, looking at the ground.
The tall one looked at Seungmin almost sheepishly. “Music again?”
Minho huffed, standing between them. “Not if you’re going to attack him.”
“Attack.” His face morphed into scared innocence, his icy eyes imploring. “No attack.” He pushed Chan forward as if presenting a finger painting he was particularly proud of. “Friend.”
“Friend?” The word spit out of Minho’s mouth like a curse.
“Yes.” He nudged Chan, who glowered for a few seconds, then nodded.
“Friend.”
Seungmin almost gasped. The other one had been speaking for them both, he’d just assumed Chan couldn’t talk. His voice was deep and raspy, as if his favourite snack was jagged rocks.
“Okay,” Seungmin said, ignoring Minho’s annoyed glare. “But you have to sit.” He was about to get a blanket from the car, but both men sat on the ground instantly, seeming completely unbothered by the cold. They crossed their legs under them, knees touching, leaning into each other’s shoulders and looking up at him with big, curious eyes. It was so kindergarten that Seungmin was tempted to offer them a sticker before nap time.
“Okay, well…” he was used to singing for crowds, but it was always hard to get started when it was just a few people. He closed his eyes and found the starting note from his memory, then let himself fall into the warm abyss of the music. “When there's nothing by my side, through the dim lights…” he waited, knowing Minho wouldn’t leave him hanging off the edge of a song unfinished.
“You came and sat down next to me, and at that moment, in the blackout, a door opened…”
Their voices fused together like they always did, like they were always meant to be weaving in and out of each other, like the notes were drawn from across time and space itself, from every era, every universe, just for them.
Seungmin’s soul glowed bright—too bright—when they harmonized the final phrase, “Welcome to our cinema.”
The last note lingered in the breeze, brushing their skin as it whirled around them before disappearing. The Weres both had their eyes closed and their fingers laced together, breathing deeply as if they could inhale the music into their bodies. The tall one slowly opened his eyes and blinked against the fading sun as if shocked that the real world still existed.
His smile was one of the most beautiful things Seungmin had ever seen in his life. He lifted his long finger and pointed at his own chest. “Hyunjin.”
“Hyunjin,” Seungmin repeated, and the Were’s smile got even wider at the sound of his own name. "I'm Seungmin. That's Minho."
“Music more?”
“Um…” the cold may not have been affecting Chan and Hyunjin, but Seungmin could feel himself starting to shiver, and the tip of Minho’s nose was already pink.
Chan leaned forward, his intense dark eyes following Seungmin’s movements as he walked in a circle, looking around the small town. “Music.”
“Yes,” Seungmin said, pointing to a building down the street. “There.”
Hyunjin stood, backing up, his eyes filling with fear. “Go?”
Chan was up beside him in a second, holding his hand, his eyes darting between Minho and Seungmin. Minho just stood passively, watching them right back.
“Here,” Seungmin pointed to the ground, “cold,” he shivered and rubbed his arms, then pointed to the building. “There, warm.” He didn’t know how to convey warmth, so he just sort of shook his body and smiled.
Chan took a slow step toward him, taking another long breath through his nose. Then another step. Then another. Then he reached out and took Seungmin’s arm, pulling him close.
Minho hissed beside him, but Seungmin shot him a look to back off.
Chan leaned in, taking short breaths around Seungmin’s face and neck, then he stepped back, his eyes boring into Seungmin’s, reading his mind. Was that something Weres could do? Why did Seungmin feel so exposed?
Chan’s voice commanded attention. Commanded truth. “Friend?”
Seungmin nodded. He had no idea why, but the word really did feel like the truth. “Friend.”
Hyunjin bounded up behind Chan, leaning on his tip-toes and smelling the air around them as if Seungmin and Minho were a bouquet. “Go?”
Chan looked at Hyunjin, his eyes soft, then back to Seungmin. He nodded once.
“Go.”
* * *
The building itself wasn’t as run-down as others Seungmin had seen in the Waste. It was impossible to tell what some of them used to be, but this had obviously been some kind of cafe, judging by the overturned tables and ripped couches. He wandered behind the counter, running his hands along the dusty machines. He’d seen pictures of them before, and even heard what they were called: ex-pressed-on machines. They used to make tiny coffees that people would drink while sitting at the tables and typing on their on-the-lap computers.
The cities had a few computers, but Seungmin had never actually seen one in person. They were only for Officials, and even then, they had to be highly ranked. Electricity was pretty stable in the cities, but that didn’t mean they could waste it on things like tiny coffees or computers for your lap.
He flicked a switch on the machine, imagining what the whir of the gears would’ve sounded like, the spinning of the tiny blades. It didn’t turn on, of course, there was no electricity in the Waste.
Minho dropped his bag on the couch, coughing as a cloud of dust swirled around him.
“You do that every time,” Seungmin said, shaking his head.
Minho glowered at him. “Because you always make me carry the heavy stuff.”
“Because you’re strong.”
Minho opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but then closed it tight, trying to hide the hint of a smile pulling at his lips.
“Besides,” Seungmin continued as Chan walked in carrying three bags, the tent, an amp, and a suitcase filled with notebooks, “you did not carry the heavy stuff.”
They didn’t actually need everything brought inside, but Seungmin wasn’t about to tell Chan that. They’d driven the car to the back of the building with Chan and Hyunjin hanging off the sides, their arms open to the wind and huge grins on their faces. The speedometer had barely reached twenty. If they thought that was fun, Seungmin was excited to see how they’d react to the open road.
The thought surprised him. That would mean they’d be traveling together. Why did that feel so right? It couldn’t just be that he craved companionship. He and Minho had met other people in the Waste, and he’d never wanted to join their groups before.
“Tree?” Hyunjin walked in carrying bags of firewood, his eyebrows pushed together in confusion.
“For fire,” Seungmin said. “Not today. For outside.”
Hyunjin stuck his bottom lip out as he set the wood down next to Chan’s pile, and Seungmin sputtered a laugh. Did this beautifully dangerous Were just pout? “Fire tomorrow?”
Seungmin nodded. “Sure.”
Minho shot him a curious look from across the room where he’d started pulling out their sleeping bags. Shit, he’d done it again: assuming they’d still be together by then.
Chan picked up one of the sleeping bags and sniffed it, then held it to his face, rubbing the shiny fabric against his skin.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Minho tried to take it back, but Chan held on, glaring at him. Minho sighed. “Do you want music?”
Chan dropped the bag and turned to Seungmin. “Music?”
Seungmin opened his case and pulled out his guitar, wrapping the strap around his shoulders. The instant he strummed a chord, the Weres were on him, their mouths open, eyes wide, and their fingers plucking at the strings. Hyunjin laughed at the notes, every single one a surprise, and Chan stroked the guitar like it was a living thing, whispering the word ‘music’ over and over in reverence.
Even Minho couldn’t hide his amusement. “If you don’t back off, he can’t play the music.” They continued as if he hadn’t spoken, which made him laugh. The sound was shockingly fond and it made Seungmin glance at him in surprise. It’d been so long since he’d seen him lit up with laughter like that, the sight made his chest ache. For some reason, Hyunjin’s eyes snapped to Seungmin and his lips twitched into a small smile, but his attention was captured by Chan running his finger across all the strings.
“Hey.” Minho got his amusement under control quickly—he always did—and snapped his fingers in their faces. “You, there,” he pointed to the couch, “or no music.”
Chan gave a little growl, but backed off, and Hyunjin looked up at Minho with probing eyes.
“What?” To Minho’s credit, he didn’t look uncomfortable. In fact, he seemed genuinely curious about what Hyunjin was seeing in him.
Hyunjin sniffed him, tilting his head as he looked him up and down. Then he pointed at Chan. “Same,” then Seungmin, “same,” then himself, “little same. You…” his gaze lingered on Minho as if he was trying to slot him into a category, but couldn’t, “no same.”
“Yeah,” Minho’s jaw clenched and Seungmin’s heart broke, “I get that a lot.”
Hyunjin’s curious eyes turned sad and Seungmin strummed the guitar to pull his attention away. Minho hated being pitied.
“Which song should we do?” He walked around the space, lazily strumming, loving the way their eyes followed him. Seungmin would never admit it to Minho, but he missed the crowds, missed the cheers and the sound of hundreds of voices blending together to sing along with him. But he didn’t miss singing alone. Minho had always been beside him for every song, until they got noticed by the ‘right’ people, and Seungmin was told he had to go solo if he wanted to succeed. Minho had insisted Seungmin do it, but it wasn’t the same. He wanted their voices together, weaving in and out of each other the way their bodies never would.
“You pick,” Minho said, his earlier pain already shucked off. At least on the outside.
Seungmin smoothly changed the chords to start one of the first songs they’d written together. “Remember the first day we met, a shy smile and the sunlight falling …”
Minho jumped in easily. “I knew, just by looking into your eyes, that we're one.”
They never spoke about their lyrics; where they came from, what they meant, who they might be about. Seungmin didn’t want to know if Minho was singing about someone else, and he didn’t want Minho to know he was singing about him.
Their harmonized words fit together perfectly, embracing before floating around the small shop, filling the space with their meaning and weight.
“Never say goodbye, because we are one, because we will walk together in the same dream, Continue smiling by my side just like this moment, Longer than tomorrow, farther than eternity, I love you.”
Seungmin hovered in the air with the notes for a few moments before coming back to his body, and when he did, Minho was staring at him with eyes so adoring that they broke Seungmin open. How could someone so scarred look so healed?
“Mate.” Hyunjin leaned forward, looking like he wanted to crawl into their moment.
Minho cleared his throat. “Is that the only word they know?”
Seungmin needed to close himself off, shut his heart up tight so it didn’t leak out and paint a clear picture on his face.
“How did you guys learn to speak?” From everything he’d heard about Weres, he'd thought they were deliberately denied language to prevent them from organizing themselves. Not that that strategy worked.
“Felix friend.” Hyunjin smiled warmly and Chan nodded, adding, “Jisung friend.”
Seungmin immediately looked to Minho, whose hands had clenched to fists. “You know them?”
They both sensed the shift in his voice and tensed, Chan once again moving in front of Hyunjin, though this time not so obviously. “Felix, Jisung, Friend.”
“Right, but to who?”
“Minho.” Seungmin put a warning in his voice. The last thing they needed was to get in a fight about right or wrong with a couple of Weres who could rip them to shreds if they chose to. “We agreed they did the right thing.”
Minho let out a frustrated breath. “The right thing, but not the smart thing. If they’d waited, if they’d made a plan, then none of it would have—” he ran a hand across his face and turned away from them, walking towards the door. “I need some air.”
The door closed behind him before Seungmin could remind him that it was a bad idea to walk around the Waste alone. But Minho was like that. When things got too real, he needed time to cool off.
Chan and Hyunjin were still on the couch huddling close, but their bodies were hunched, ready to attack if needed. Seungmin had no idea why he felt the need to smooth things over, to explain, to make sure these two men they’d just met didn’t think badly of him or Minho.
Their muscles tensed as he walked closer, taking off his guitar and setting it on the ground before getting on his knees before them.
“He’s angry,” he said in the most soothing tone he could manage. “But not at you. He- he had it hard. He’s, um…” he searched for a word they might understand, a word two caring scientists with a moral compass may have taught them, “hurt.”
“Hurt.” Hyunjin repeated, putting his hand on his own shoulder, likely remembering some past trauma.
“When Lee Felix and Han Jisung set the Weres free, they attacked the cities. Did you know that?”
Hyunjin cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, but Chan only stared at Seungmin’s lips, likely trying to put together what he was saying. “City. Big fight. Lots of… hurt. Minho’s father…” his throat closed, not allowing him to say the words.
The Were experiments had been outlawed generations ago when the populations in the cities lobbied for human rights. But the Officials didn’t want all that work to go to waste, so the Weres who didn’t die in cages were bred with humans. Eventually even that was stopped, and they attempted to assimilate the half-human offspring into society. Seungmin’s grandfather had been a full Were, but he never knew him or his half-Were mother. In fact, most descendants never knew their parents.
Minho was different. He was Second Gen, which meant he could apply for special permission to visit his father in the facility. He’d gotten to know him, even loved him, which was what made the betrayal that much more devastating when his father turned on the humans during the attacks. He’d been killed on the streets like a rabid animal.
“After the attack, the people in charge, the, um… the leaders?” They nodded. “The leaders decided anyone with a certain amount of Were blood needed to go out of the city.”
Banished. To the Waste.
Chan reached his hand out and placed it on Seungmin’s chest. “Hurt.”
His dark eyes were filled with an almost paternal warmth that called out to something deep within Seungmin. He nodded, his voice cracking. “Hurt.”
Seungmin knew these two understood more than anyone. He’d seen the scars on their wrists where they were still chained, and could imagine the scars he couldn’t see beneath their clothes.
“We didn’t know.” The explanation started tumbling out of him, and even though they couldn’t understand the exact words, he knew they were feeling the emotion behind it. “We didn’t know the experiments were still happening. We– everyone in the cities, we thought it was all shut down. We didn’t know you were out here being…” he wanted to avoid it, but he couldn’t, he shouldn’t. He felt like he owed it to them to say the words out loud. “We didn’t know you were being tortured.”
Hyunjin took Seungmin’s hand and brought it to his face, rubbing his cheek against it, a single tear meeting Seungmin’s palm. Chan pulled Seungmin closer, then placed his forehead on his, breathing deep. Seungmin knew it was the Were part of himself that longed for this, longed for a pack. But maybe it was some other part of him, too, that longed for a family.
The door slammed open and quick footsteps halted just behind them. Seungmin turned, ready to explain, ready to defend what it must’ve looked like, but Minho’s face was flushed with more than just cold.
“Hide,” he said, breathless. “You have to hide.” Seungmin didn’t ask what was wrong, he knew only one thing would get Minho this scared, but his heart still exploded with panic at the sound of the word.
“Hunters.”