Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
TAE-MIN
The walk back to the dorm felt like it took forever and no time at all.
I kept replaying the conversation in my head, turning each moment over like a precious stone I was afraid I might drop.
The way she'd looked at me — really looked, not through me the way so many people did.
The way she'd admitted she was curious about us.
The way she'd let me help her stand, let me walk her home, let me in just a tiny bit through those massive walls she'd built.
The bond pulsed in my chest with every step, a warm thread connecting me to her even as the distance between us grew.
I could still smell her on my hands where I'd touched her elbows, could still feel the phantom weight of her leaning against me as we'd walked.
She was so light. Too light. The soul sickness was eating her alive, and she'd still been trying to push me away even as her legs gave out beneath her.
But she hadn't run.
That was the important part. She'd collapsed, she'd struggled, she'd asked me not to touch her — but she hadn't run. She'd stayed. She'd talked. She'd let me see behind the fear to the person underneath, and that person was...
Ours, my alpha rumbled contentedly. Our omega. Pack.
I quickened my pace, suddenly desperate to get home and tell the others. They needed to know. They needed to know she was trying, that she wasn't running anymore, that there was hope even if everything still felt fragile and uncertain.
The dorm building came into view, familiar and welcoming, and I took the stairs two at a time despite my legs screaming at me to slow down.
I'd been out for hours — first wandering aimlessly because Jae-won-hyung had banned us from going to her place, then stopping at the convenience store for ramyeon I didn't actually need, then finding her, then walking her home, then standing on the sidewalk like an idiot for ten minutes after she'd gone inside because I couldn't make myself leave.
The hyungs were going to kill me for being gone so long without checking in.
I burst through the door of our dorm and immediately felt four sets of eyes lock onto me.
They were all there — scattered around the living room in various states of anxious waiting.
Jae-won-hyung sat in the armchair by the window, his posture rigid, his phone clutched in his hand like he'd been about to call me.
Min-jun-hyung was in the kitchen, the smell of something cooking wafting through the air even though it was nearly ten at night.
Hwan-hyung was sprawled on the couch but sat up the moment I entered, his usual brightness dimmed by worry.
And Jin-ho-hyung was curled in the corner of the couch with his notebook, though the pen in his hand hadn't moved in what looked like hours.
"Where the hell have you been?" Jae-won-hyung demanded, rising from his chair, his thunderstorm scent crackling with barely contained frustration. "You were supposed to be back three hours ago. We were about to send out a search party."
"I found her," I blurted out, and watched the words land like stones thrown into still water.
Silence.
Then everyone was moving at once.
"What?" Hwan-hyung was on his feet, crossing the room toward me, his golden eyes wide with desperate hope. "You found her? Where? Is she okay? Did you—"
"Let him talk," Jin-ho-hyung interrupted quietly, but his notebook had fallen to the floor and he was leaning forward with an intensity that belied his calm tone, his dark eyes sharp and searching.
"Tae-min." Jae-won-hyung's voice was steadier now, controlled, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands had curled into fists at his sides. "Start from the beginning. Tell us everything."
So I did.
I told them about the convenience store, about turning the corner and walking straight into her scent.
About the bond triggering — crimson red, bright and burning and absolutely certain.
About the way she'd stumbled backward, the way she'd asked me to stay back, the way I could see her fighting every instinct to run.
"But she didn't run," I said, and I couldn't keep the wonder out of my voice. "She stayed. We talked. Really talked, hyung. Not just me chasing her while she fled. An actual conversation."
"What did she say?" Min-jun-hyung had emerged from the kitchen, a dish towel slung over his shoulder, his forest-and-cedar scent warm with cautious hope. "Is she okay? She looked so sick when Jin-ho described her, and that was days ago—"
"She's worse," I admitted, and watched the hope in their faces flicker. "She can barely stand. The soul sickness is really bad. But she's..." I searched for the right word. "She's trying. She said she talked to her friend — Jeni, the beta — and the friend made her realize something."
"Realize what?" Jin-ho-hyung asked, his quiet voice cutting through the tension.
"That her mom broke her bond. That Keira is running from completing hers.
That those are opposite things." I ran a hand through my hair, trying to remember exactly how she'd said it.
"She said she's been hiding and calling it preparing.
Pushing everything down instead of actually feeling it. But she wants to try. Really try."
The silence that followed was different than before — charged with something that felt almost like hope.
"She said that?" Hwan-hyung's voice came out rough, cracked around the edges. "She said she wants to try?"
"She asked for more time," I continued quickly.
"A few more days. She's not ready to meet all of us at once, not ready to have a real conversation with everyone.
But she..." I paused, remembering her face when I'd offered to write letters.
The way her walls had cracked just a little bit more.
"She said she wants to get to know us. The real us.
Not from interviews and articles. I suggested maybe we could write her letters. Leave food at her door."
"Letters?" Min-jun-hyung repeated, something brightening in his expression. "She'd let us leave food?"
"She said she'd think about it." I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. "But I think she meant yes. She admitted she hasn't been eating properly."
Min-jun-hyung was already moving back toward the kitchen, his mind clearly racing with meal plans and nutrition requirements. "I'll make her something tonight. Something easy to eat, gentle on the stomach if she's been sick—"
"Wait." Jae-won-hyung held up a hand, stopping him. His expression was unreadable, but I could see the gears turning behind his eyes. "What else did she say? You were gone for hours, Tae-min. That's more than a few minutes of conversation."
I felt heat creep up my neck. "We... talked for a while.
In the convenience store. She asked me to tell her something real about myself, something that wasn't the idol version.
" I swallowed, remembering the vulnerability of admitting how much I hated being treated like the baby.
"So I did. And she listened. Really listened. "
"Something real like what?" Hwan-hyung asked, curiosity bleeding through the worry in his voice.
"I told her I hate being the youngest," I admitted, and watched understanding flicker across Min-jun-hyung's face. "That everyone treats me like I'm fragile, like I can't handle hard things. She... she understood. She said she could relate."
"And then?" Jae-won-hyung pressed.
"Then she collapsed." The memory made something twist in my chest — the way her legs had buckled, the way she'd caught herself on her hands, the way she'd looked up at me with tears gathering in her eyes.
"She couldn't stand anymore. I asked to help her up, and she.
.." My voice cracked slightly. "She let me.
She let me touch her, just to help her stand. And then she let me walk her home."
Hwan-hyung made a sound that was half laugh, half sob. "She let you walk her home?"
"She was too weak to argue," I said honestly.
"But she also... I don't think she wanted to argue.
She was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of running.
" I met Jae-won-hyung's eyes. "She's not running anymore, hyung.
She's just scared. She needs time to figure out how to stop being scared.
" The room was quiet for a long moment, all of us processing.
Then Hwan-hyung spoke, his voice smaller than I'd ever heard it. "Did she... did she say anything about me?" I'd been waiting for this question. Had been dreading and anticipating it in equal measure.
"She apologized," I said softly, watching hope and pain war across his features. "She asked me to tell you she was sorry for running. She said she knows it hurt you."
Hwan-hyung's face crumpled. He didn't cry — not quite — but his whole body seemed to fold in on itself, his shoulders hunching forward and his head dropping into his hands.
Jin-ho-hyung was beside him in an instant, one hand on his back, a steady presence as Hwan-hyung processed years of sunshine mask cracking under the weight of being seen, being acknowledged, being apologized to by the omega who'd run from him twice.
"She said that?" Hwan-hyung's voice was muffled by his hands. "She actually said she was sorry?"
"She meant it," I confirmed. "You should have seen her face when she said it, hyung. She felt bad. Really bad. She didn't want to hurt you — she was just scared."
"I know." Hwan-hyung lifted his head, his eyes red-rimmed but dry, his jaw set with determination. "I know she was scared. I just... I didn't know if she cared. If hurting us even registered when she was running."