good boy

DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE VIOLENCE IT TOOK TO BECOME THIS GENTLE? / and the gentleness that comes not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it. kang donggu, familiar.

"⎯The whole world could fall away out there, and I wouldn't really care so long as you were with me." The words carry more weight than she's willing to give credence to in the current setting. Shifting, somewhat uncomfortably, she settles herself more in Donggu's lap, her back to his chest in a small effort to hide her face from his. A sudden fear hits her, one of being found unseemly and strange; a fear of rejection. "You probably think I'm awful for saying that, huh?"

his heart's steady as a steel wall, a concrete floor, a wooden door—all the hard things he's known and done and survived seem like nothing but rough asphalt on the road to her now. a one-way street he'd happily drag his calloused, bloody feet through again if it meant her on the other side again. he wouldn't change a thing if it all meant this, wrapping his arms around her, giving a little squeeze, feeling as snug as a puzzle piece.

"if the world fell away, i'd be with you," he says, like it's a fact of life. he doesn't want the world to fall away, but there's just something about the color of the moon that makes it easy to be really honest about what matters most. he threads his fingers through hers. can't imagine ever leaving, or even moving. 

"you're not awful," he says, nose nuzzled to her neck, like most nights. but in so many ways this night is different—for one, he's not a dog. he smiles and his lips brush her jaw. "it's not awful. it's just nature. right?"

he talks about the bond. he thinks, at the same time, about the food chain, life and death—animals treat some things so differently than humans. dog eat dog world, like that one really good book said. it isn't bad to care about her more than anyone, he thinks. that's just how it is. it's how the world works. this is what feels right. he's a little dizzy from the smell of her shampoo, soap, perfume and alcohol mixing. dizzy is the only thing he wants to be for the rest of his life.

noeul hates this class. he hates this teacher. well, actually... hate's a strong word. he strongly dislikes them. or... not even that. he's just easily frustrated, and the teacher's constant chiding about proper ritual performance really got under his skin. it's not his fault that magic doesn't always agree with him! that's magic's fault... or whatever. he won't take the blame for his lackluster execution (even if he is a bit of a slacker sometimes). what he can't brush off is the fact that he's lost his notebook for this class... yea, alright, fine. maybe that was his bad. instead of letting him sit in in class anyways, he's being ushered out of the classroom with instructions to 'find his notes' and that 'there's someone that can help him just in here, actually!' noeul's not really expecting a dog to be that someone, but... he supposes that makes sense. "uh... hey." he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, a bit awkward as the door clicks closed behind the teacher. "i lost my notebook?" as if that's helpful. "can you... sniff it out, maybe?" brows pinch, slight frown tugging at the corners of his lips. noeul hasn't found his familiar yet— doesn't really know if asking something like that is sorta offensive or not. he cringes. "sorry... or, hey, you can just help me look. i think i need to retrace my steps."

he's anxious to leave his post but happy to help. more uneasy the more distance between himself and— he can't even want to try not to think about it. the shifts back to four paws, the world suddenly bigger but in sharper focus. something about the human mind makes it harder to think.

he sniffs noeul's shoes, jeans, hand, whatever he can. then barks, before trotting off with his nose to the ground. a small whine as he reaches the end of the hall. for a second, he stands at attention and glances back to the door he left behind. he needs to get back quick.

donggu takes off running, without looking back at noeul. the kid's got long legs, he tells himself, he can keep up. he runs across a wide open field, sticking his nose to the ground again as he goes deeper into the trees. 

cute donggu gif for u

the moon is everywhere tonight. dripping off his hair, spread across every inch of his skin and so deep under it, seeping into his shirt and jeans, coloring his eyes. all he can feel is her hand in his, the weight of the past few weeks forgotten, even the weight of the sensibly packed bag on his back forgotten. he smiles all the way through the woods, keeping her steady, helping her over slippery rocks, an arm around her waist or guiding the small of her back before he holds her hand again, until they arrive.

the little cave carved into the bottom of the cliff is a little creepy from the outside, but inside, it's actually pretty cozy. dark, but dry and warm. just out of sight enough that if they don't light a fire, they'll stay out of sight. he spread a blanket and smoothed it over, then sat beside her, elbows brushing, as they talked about everything and nothing. her voice playing, the words fluttering around his heart and head like butterflies.

time flies. or his mind does.

he doesn't check the time.

he'd pulled her legs over his lap sometime after sitting down. he can't remember when now, it must've been the right thing to do at the time. he's only paying attention to her shape in the dark, his hands resting on her knees, listening or staring. they're talking about something, anything under the moon.

( ... ) it’s on the third day. a familiar face — dog. a familiar dog. quick on his fe— paws. paws. right into the familiar face. the one he has imagined in his head and something washes over him. recognition, a piece of home, comfort. yet, he’s speechless. just a stupid white cat in front of a big dog.

damp fur feels better than wet jeans so donggu sits on the dewy grass as a dog, sun in his eyes and the promise of a great day in the air—that, and... he sits up at attention, gaze locking on a streak of white. the smell catches him so off-guard, he freezes, and he doesn't realize that that streak of white is headed straight to him until it stops being a blur. just a still thing in front of him. a fluffy white cat, with big eyes that look so much like...

barks escape him like caged birds. his big mouth spreads into a smile. all excitement and impulse, forgetting his massive size, he lunges forward. he'll cough up a hairball later, but even the feeling of ignoring the thought is as recognizable as the smell suddenly everywhere—back alleys, bergamot, mint and blood and powder, summer shadows on sun-dried sidewalks and sweetness. the only sweetness he used to know. the only taste that was ever on his tongue besides blood. blood that was never his own. those days he stole from time, all the times he snuck out to fall asleep in the shade with the only friend he had, used to be all he had.

how did he find his way here? donggu wonders in the back of his mind. he always had a sneaking suspicion that the white cat was more than a cat, more like him—but he didn't stick around long enough to find out. he still doesn't know now. what he knows is this smell of fur, and how he'd know it anywhere.

( ... ) "It's nice to see you this way." Eunjae doesn't look at him as she speaks. She's not embarrassed by the admission; she tells herself, there's nothing wrong with telling someone you've missed an aspect of them. Donggu's spent the better part of the last two weeks as a dog, leaving Eunjae reliant upon cocked heads, perking ears, and barks as forms of communication. It's nice to have someone discuss the little minutiae with again. Even still, the sentiment feels too raw and vulnerable to lay out properly. So Eunjae does what she does best: she talks around the matter. "You're handsome as a man. It's nice to see that face again."

he fills up with all the good feelings a human heart is capable of holding. the human heart that can beat a million different ways. it's a wonder that every single way the heart beats has a name. he's still working on his vocabulary. one day, he'll find the word for the way he feels. the cheerful thumping in his ear, his heart singing to him, heartstrings playing, trying to copy the song of her voice so his body can hear. there's a word for how right this all feels, a good way to describe this bond, as they call it.

he hasn't felt this at ease in weeks. instead of thinking about why that is, the empty beds and furrowed foreheads and frustrated glances, he sinks himself completely into the feeling, like a heavy body taking a long day to a mattress. he holds her hand over the table, clearly won't be letting go anytime soon.

he beams, like a direct light. his smile bright and wide. even as a human, his ears twitch in stress or delight.

"seeing me makes you feel better?" he asks, not in the small talk way of a human quickly trying to get to the end of another person, but in the normal way of a dog wanting to get to know someone, everything about someone, endlessly.

no stars in the sky tonight. he likes how the earth speaks for him sometimes. if he gets any sadder, he's sure it'll rain. really, it'll rain because there are too many clouds. but these things aren't coincidence. there's a reason for everything, somehow. there's a reason he's at jiho's door now. he tries not to think about it too much. when he starts thinking of the why's, nothing makes sense.

the look of the light under the door is familiar. the feel of a wrapped sandwich and a packet of juice in one hand as the other wraps against the wood. these are all things he knows, but things from a while ago. he turns the knob, as he always has, and peeks his head in. "teach?"

some classes take forever. donggu sinks his head into the cold wooden floor and sighs his fifth sigh of the hour. (the grandfather clock waiting in the hallway with him says it’s only been five minutes since the door took eunjae.) frustration becomes anger in a blink. he resists a growing urge to open his mouth and let the door know exactly what he thinks. he’s wondered if it’s this body and how much smaller it is, if that makes it harder to hold emotions in. he’s been told that for a human, he’s pretty big. one of the teachers gave him a look and told him, as a human, he’s not as... reactive.

he shifts. the door stops taunting him. 

his clipped ear twitches at the sound of footsteps.

here comes that teacher now, the one he was just thinking about. donggu doesn't believe in coincidence—it’s magic. it has a way of knowing. they come with someone in tow, ask him if he’s busy. he notices the grandfather clock saying it’s only been seven minutes. they tell him this one needs help with something, to take care of them, then they leave.

donggu stands, smiles. “hi. what’d you need?”

( . . . ) "i don't-" she hesitated, then a beat later said, "at least i don't think so." she didn't know. she didn't remember. juwon closed her notebook, spell casting practice done for the night. "but if you want to go outside, i can join you," she offered, already standing up. she zipped up the hoodie she was already wearing and put the hood over her head. "a lap or two would be a good way to stretch." a walk would be good to put her mind at ease, she hoped it would be the same for donggu with eunjae not being around for the night.

he nods, picking up folded jeans out of a neat pile on the floor and digging into the front pocket for a half-full pack of cigarettes and a lighter. he tucks them into his sweats and waits until they're outside to pull a stick loose. he holds the pack out to her in offer.

outside, the moon is as bright as the sun and the air smells like old flowers—flowers from his past, jasmine and farms and fields and fallen leaves. the hands of a careful girl and her sweet smile once she realized he wouldn't bite and helpless eyes in so much light. one last look at summer before a lifetime in the ice. she looks so much like…

( . . . ) juwon sits by the window of their dorm room, the moonlight casting shadows to their otherwise dark space. the rest of her roommates were sleeping and although her familiar was lying on her bed, she knew he was half-asleep, half-listening to her movements. so when she felt a presence beside her, she had half the thought that it was her familiar finally joining her. upon looking up from her notebook of spells, she was surprised to see donggu instead. "oh, have a seat," she said, pointing at the chair beside hers. "can't sleep too?"

a moonbeam rips through the curtain and stabs him like a sharp edge. it tickles or it hurts or it's itchy. he keeps scratching behind his ear. he can't sleep. he's alone tonight and he tries not to think about it but eunjae's absence is heavier than her. the emptiness is a weight on the mattress.

he's put some human skin between him and magic—a hand catching a knife—and he's laying on his side, perfectly still in an imaginary sweltering, when he sees movement. harder to see in the dark with human eyes, and harder to figure out what's inside, but at least behind his ear isn't as itchy.

he walks into the shadows—tonight, they're cold and comforting. he just wanted to give his mind something to do, see what juwon was doing. but she offers the seat beside her and he smiles. he scratches at his shoulder. the shirt is itchy or the light is. he'd put the shirt on to keep from sweating on the sheets, not noticing that the heat is all in his mind. he can't do anything about the light.

he gets a glance at her notebook as he sits down. now his hands are a little too cold and he wishes he had pockets to stuff them into. he takes a deep inhale and catches jasmine in the air, a watery balm that spreads itself over his mind. it won't last long but it's nice.

what's that? he wants to ask, but he can't stop scratching his palms and cracking his knuckles. there's a restless rat running around his heart. there are a few ways to put it to sleep before it starts eating through his ribs.

"I feel like we could catch the redritch, y'know?" she says, in a slightly more sober tone. Call it Dutch courage or sheer stupidity, she's not sure which but there's a level of conviction bordering on arrogance that tells her it could be the pair of them. They might be the ones to catch the beast.

Her nails continue to skate along his back gingerly, and she sighs.

"What do you think, Donggu? Should we go for it tonight?" She looks up at him and smiles somewhat stupidly, before taking a drink from her cup. "Do you like our luck tonight or no?"

what a perfect night. she feels good enough to try. he feels so good he could fly. he doesn't want to be anywhere but here. but if she wanted to go somewhere, he really thinks he could do it, he could grow a pair of wings and take her there. he feels… he doesn't have the word for it. he feels full of light but it's not enough to say that. there's a word for this. this feeling of pure light, like he's the moon himself. he's been a lot of things. meeting her has made him so much more than what he was.

he's a mirror now, eyes following her, reflecting everything she does. she laughs, he smiles. her hand on his back, his hand on her arm. a brief touch, fingers brushing peach fuzz. he just wants to touch her now and all the time. he needs her around. he looks at her to see her looking back. her nails on his spine. he wants this to be the rest of his life.

she drinks and he watches a strand of spit go from her teeth to her lips to the cup's rim, and it's shiny like a cobweb string in the moonlight, and he's caught in it. her lips are shiny and sweet and he leans in to kiss her because he wants to taste it. chaste and quick, then he drinks. he swears he got two cups of the same thing, but they don't taste the same at all. 

"i feel lucky," he says, brushing his knuckle against her cheek. "all the time."

he smiles. the music is a funny beat. the irony is lost in all of it. it's so noisy and nice.

"last one," he lightly taps her cup with his. "gotta keep our heads a little clear if we really wanna catch this thing." he presses a kiss to her forehead, like a period at the end of a sentence. he just doesn't know what to do with his hands sometimes. 

clouds sit in his mind. they float in front of his eyes, blurring his vision, dulling everything and making the world sharper at the same time. he should be used to nameless things he can't touch telling him where to go and what to do and how to feel by now, but he still scrunches his nose. again. purses his lips as he pours sweet drink into two plastic cups.

he's careful not to spill, mindfully not bumping his hips to the song playing, though he does walk to the beat. he's only been to one of these things before, but there really is something in the night. this night, all the red and orange in the air, the moon coming up and the fire burning. he hands her a drink and smiles.

"this should be our song," he says. he doesn't know what the song is called. 

her eyes are as bright as suns in all that deep, dark night—and he never got a first-grade education. never learned not to look directly at the yellow thing in the sky. he walks directly into her warmth, that rare and good thing he can't get anywhere else, sipping on the sweet from his cup and in front of his eyes, all that light. late winter chill leaves his bones, leaves him warm and pleasant all over.