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you didn't know your estranged uncle had a son. Not until said son dumps an unusually large, very angry, kangaroo hybrid on your doorstep, claiming it's only for a few days while your uncle is in hospital.
pairing: kangaroo hybrid!jk x f!reader
genre: hybrid au, angst, mild fluff
word count: 8.8k
warnings: still none really besides the ethics of hybrid-keeping (and fighting)
author’s note: i decided to make it into three parts instead of two! i hope you like this, i edited it a tad (but i'll still blame lo from the past for this entire fic lol)
Saturday. As expected, the day doesn’t start very well, but it’s at least… manageable so far. You remember that Jeongguk is supposed to leave for his activity again later, and when you try asking him about it once more, he doesn’t tell you anything. Shocker.
After fixing breakfast for Jeongguk, you return to bed, not knowing if he eats or not. Today, you don’t have the energy to try to force him to eat if he doesn’t want to. Instead, you pop a few pills, writhing in your white sheets. Some months are better than others, and some months, you spend days on end on your bathroom floor, nauseous and desperate for the cool bathroom tiles against your cheek.
When the time comes, you see Jeongguk off again, locking the door behind him and nearly doubling over in pain. Bringing your phone as sufficient entertainment, you retreat to the bathroom.
At two a.m., you hear a tentative knock on the front door, a sound that wakes you out of your half-slumber on the bathroom floor. You get up on shaky legs and approach the door to open it for the hybrid. He looks cautious, as if he’s scared he woke you up although you did tell him to always knock. If you were to guess, you’d say that he probably regrets not taking the key you offered last time.
His eyes trail over you in your sorry state, but he at least doesn’t look angry.
“Are you alright?” you ask, looking over him briefly in turn. You don’t notice any obvious injuries, but he does look spent. His body looks like it feels heavy, and his black hair is still damp with sweat.
He nods and actually opens his mouth to speak. “Are you?”
Damn, you must really look like a mess.
“Yeah. Go take a shower,” you usher him inside, closing the door behind him.
Maybe it’s because you look like you’re on death’s doorstep, but he doesn’t seem to want to argue. Or maybe he does and is glaring at you; you can't tell with your exhausted eyes half closed.
While he’s in the bathroom, you do some of the dishes left out during the day, trying not to cry from the intense bursts of pain. The gods obviously didn’t hear you. Or they just didn’t care.
Silently, you hear the bathroom door open and very quiet footsteps exit. You call for him, drying your hands on your cotton shorts.
“There’s food in the fridge, please eat something,” you instruct when he appears half a minute later, wearing only sweatpants. Even in your weakened state, you definitely take notice of his very muscular and thick physique; how the prominent veins span across his arms and hands. But most importantly, you see the way a large bruise is forming over his right side, just over his ribs.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask quietly.
Luckily, he doesn’t take offense and gives you a small nod. Well, you don’t think there’s anything you can really do to help him at the moment, so you return his nod. Then you leave the kitchen, making your way back to the bathroom—that still bears foggy traces of Jeongguk’s shower—just as another wave of nausea hits you. At least you hear the fridge open, which grants you some mental relief.
The cool tiles against your skin help a lot. It also helps that you’re almost too tired to be nauseous. But it hurts. It hurts so much, and you can’t say that you wouldn’t rather be a man at that moment.
Some time passes. You’re not sure how long. It could be fifteen minutes or it could be an hour, but when you open your eyes, he’s standing there, looking worriedly at you where you're lying on your side, sweaty, tired, and tortured.
“Are you sick?” he asks quietly. “Maybe you should go to the hospital.”
“I’m not sick,” you explain, barely lifting your gaze.
“Then what is wrong with you?”
“You know biology? Women’s anatomy?”
He nods, seemingly realizing.
“Yeah. I have… endometriosis. It’s a condition that makes all of that worse, basically. A whole lot of uterine cells outside the uterus. But it’s usually not very dangerous. If I go to the hospital, they’ll send me home with the same kind of painkillers I already have.”
Not looking convinced, Jeongguk’s eyes flit over your body. If you weren’t so tired and in pain, you’d find it sweet how truly worried and unsure he looks.
“I’ll be fine,” you say, closing your eyes again.
For the remainder of the night, you slip in and out of consciousness there on the bathroom floor, always feeling a lingering presence.
The next few days are easier. The pain and nausea turn more manageable, and your heart warms at how the hybrid also seems more… manageable. Even though you’re doing better, he’s still eating without arguing. Sure, not nearly as much as someone his size and physique should, but it’s something. In turn, you’ve gone back to only talking sweetly to him, no more pretending to threaten him.
And just like that, Jeongguk has been with you for a week.
But when your phone rings one afternoon, it’s Taehyung, asking when he can come pick Jeongguk up.
“Would you sell him to me?” you blurt, realizing that you can’t let them take him back.
“What?”
“I was wondering if you’d sell him to me?” you repeat.
Taehyung still sounds just as confused. “Why?”
You guess you haven’t given off a very interested impression so far.
“Yeah. I actually really like him, and I’ve been thinking about getting a hybrid of my own.”
“Oh. Well, he’s not for sale. At least not for less than 15 000 dollars.”
You blink in shock. That’s not an amount of money you happen to have lying around.
“Oh,” you say, unable to hide your disappointment.
“Yeah, he’s not really one of those pet hybrids. He’s a highly regarded fighter. Brings us extra cash every week.”
“Fighter? I didn’t know that was…. well, legal?”
“It is. Some people just frown upon it, but he’s a kangaroo hybrid; he was bred to fight.”
“Well… I, uh, I’ll see how much I can come up with.”
“Sure. I’ll see you later tonight then.”
“Yeah. Bye.”
Your heart breaks as you end the call because you know for a fact that you don’t have that kind of money. No matter how much you want to remove Jeongguk from his home situation, what can you do? You can’t refuse to return him; Taehyung and his father legally own him, and if you tried to skip town with him, they’d easily track you down due to the GPS tracker in his chip.
When you turn around, shoulders slumping, you spot Jeongguk.
“You want to own me?” he asks, his softer side vanished in favor of his cold, bordering on emotionless one.
“No,” you start, surprised by his conclusion and the distaste for it. “I don’t want to own you. I want to help you and get you away from them, and since you technically don’t have a lot of rights, yeah, I’d have to buy you. But I think that it would be the lesser of two evils.”
“What about what I want then?”
His follow-up question surprises you even more. Of course, you understand that you don’t know each other very well, but… is he implying that he wants to go back? To a place where it seems a luxury to be allowed on the couch? Where you’re convinced he’s made to feel like a burden? Where he’s forced to fight?
You can’t say you have an answer to his question, and so Jeongguk watches you for a few seconds, but when there is no response, he leaves the room.
Just before Taehyung is supposed to arrive to take Jeongguk to his “activity” himself, you approach Jeongguk in the guest room as he’s finishing up packing his stuff.
“Here.”
He looks at your open hand and the key in it and then he looks at you, his dark eyes emotionless.
“No,” is his answer, and after relaying it, he continues to place the last of his stuff inside his duffel bag. He makes the bed, picking up the hot water bottle, and you don't miss the very slight trace of longing in his eyes as he holds it.
“Take it with you,” you offer.
He puts it down on the bed. “Can’t.”
“Why not? I have more.”
“They’ll think I stole it from you,” he argues, and it hurts your heart to hear that they would immediately jump to such conclusions, not believing him.
“I’ll tell Taehyung I gave you some things.”
“You’ll offend them by implying they don’t take care of me.”
“Well, they don’t?” you’re quick to retort. “I’ll say I was going to get rid of it anyway.”
He peers over at it, and you can easily tell that he wants it. “...No.”
He redirects his focus to his bag, continuing his packing.
“At least take this,” you hold the key out again.
“Why? I’m not coming back here?”
“I know. But… I want you to have it. Just in case. And I want you to know that you’re always welcome here. Always. If you want to come here, for any reason, you can.”
He doesn’t take it but doesn’t say anything either, so you reach for his bag, dropping the key into one of its smaller inner pockets and pulling the zipper shut. “Don’t tell them I gave it to you. If they find it, say you didn’t know about it and have them call me to ask about it. I’ll say I sneaked it in there when you weren’t looking or something.”
Almost expecting him to pull the key out and throw it at you, you’re surprised yet definitely relieved when he doesn’t, only looking at you and biting his lip somberly.
When you first met the hybrid, you had no idea it would be so hard to watch him leave. Still, he walks out that door with Taehyung, and your heart aches, knowing that he’s not well cared for and that there’s nothing you can do about it. As far as you know, at least.
It frustrates you because you don’t actually think Jeongguk is hard to care for. Give him a room with a comfortable bed in it, some appropriate clothes, and enough food, and you’d bet he’s good. Maybe entertainment of some kind as well, and a chance to socialize with other hybrids, and he probably wouldn’t complain about a single thing. If you’re going to strip someone of their rights like hybrids have been, you can at least make sure they have everything they need.
Unsurprisingly, you don’t hear anything from Jeongguk—or Taehyung, rather—in the coming months. You wonder about him, if he’s doing alright, and on multiple occasions, you spend entire nights googling hybrid fighting rings. To your disappointment, there are too many to count. Then, one night you find it. A ring that advertises its fighters, one of them familiar looking.
Jeongguk’s name is there, so is his height and weight, and how many wins versus losses he’s accumulated. And you understand why Taehyung wasn’t very eager to sell him to you.
As you scroll the site, you see other kinds of hybrids as well, a lot of which you had no idea even existed. There are not many derived from house pets; no house cat hybrids, but there are a few big dog hybrids as well as a wolf one, two cougars, a bear, and even a few hyenas.
For a while, you debate going to a fight, but then again, what would you even do there? Unfortunately, you can’t just try to locate Jeongguk and grab him since he belongs to the Kims and what they’re doing is supposedly entirely legal. If you were to try anyway, they’d just take him back and probably have you arrested. So you stay home, holding onto the fact that, even if it isn’t much, he at least has a key to your apartment in case he needs it.
Tapping your foot, you wait for the red light to turn green and the driver to accelerate. In your pocket, your phone buzzes, and when you pull it out, there’s a text lit up and waiting for you.
'Had a great time tonight'
You ponder over a reply, before settling for a simple ‘me too’ and hitting send. It was an alright date with an alright dude; you’re just not sure he’s the one for you. Still, you decide to give him one more date to be sure. At least the food was great.
At eleven p.m., the car pulls over outside your apartment complex and with a ‘thanks,’ you step out and close the door behind you. Despite the relatively early hour, you yawn as you twist the key in the lock, opening the door to your dark apartment. Swiftly, you flick the light switch on and start to remove your fall jacket before something catches your eye, and you freeze.
On the little stool you keep in the hallway, there’s a key. One that wasn’t there when you left, and one you’re pretty sure you actually gave away half a year ago.
Carefully, you step further into the apartment, not sure what you’ll find in the dark. What your eyes do fall upon however, is something curled up on the couch.
Your eyes adjust to the darkness slowly, allowing you to discern more. It’s Jeongguk, sleeping on your couch. He’s curled up as much as possible, probably to conserve heat. The weather outside isn’t too cold for late September, but it’s certainly cold if all you’re wearing is jeans and a t-shirt. He’s not even wearing shoes, seemingly intentionally keeping his dirty feet hanging over the edge.
Your heavy heart hurts, and you guess that he’s been kicked out for some reason. From what you gathered when he stayed with you, it’s happened before.
Deciding not to wake him, you pull a blanket off the couch and very, very carefully drape it over his freezing body. Then you exit the living room, leaving the lights there off, and head to the kitchen.
Suspecting that he’s probably hungry, you look through your fridge and freezer in search of something to make him, settling on toasting a couple slices of bread and scrambling some eggs for him. As you do, the kitchen fills with the smell, and you hum to yourself. Despite feeling terrible that he’s obviously still not being treated properly, you’re happy to see him and to get the chance to take care of him for however long he’ll stay.
When you return with the food on a tray, Jeongguk is already awake and sitting up, the blanket wrapped around him. He looks tired and a little less… well, a little less than when you last saw him. It’s no wonder he loses weight when he either doesn’t eat as much as he’s supposed to, or just not being fed what he’s supposed to.
“Hi,” you greet quietly as you place the tray down on the coffee table. Besides a glass of water and a big plate with food for him, it also contains an apple and some water for you. Sure, you just ate at the restaurant, but you figure he’ll be more comfortable eating if you are too.
But he pulls away, diverting his eyes from you and the food as if he’s ashamed. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.”
He goes to stand, but you stop him. “No, no, stay, please. I told you; you’re always welcome here.”
Unsure, he licks his lips but settles back down and pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders again.
“I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it?” you say, trying not to place any value in your assumption. “If you do, I’m all ears, but otherwise… don’t sweat it. The guest room is yours, and you’re free to stay as long as you’d like.”
Jeongguk looks almost relieved, and in turn, it brings your own heart relief. You spend a few minutes preparing some clean clothes for him; a set of lounge wear that originally belonged to your dad, and after he’s eaten and is taking a shower, you prepare the bed for him as well. He doesn’t say much, and you don’t pressure him.
The next day, he’s already awake when you step out of your bedroom to pee. Sitting on the couch, still wearing the outfit you gave him last night, but doing absolutely nothing, he looks at you when you approach.
“I don’t…” he starts, but stops to clear his throat in uncertainty, “I don’t know if I should stay or try to go back.”
“Well, what do you want to do?” you ask, patting your unbrushed hair down and hoping that he’ll decide to stay at least a little while.
“I want to stay, but…”
“Then stay. Keep me company for a while.”
You think you see a hint of a smile forming on his lips.
He does end up staying, at least another night, and you ask him to watch a movie with you, something he agrees to. You let him scroll your streaming services until he settles on Jurassic Park, and you run to the corner store, getting some chips and soda.
“So, how long do you think you’ll stay?” you ask, trying to sound casual and without looking at him directly. “I don’t mind having you here; in fact, it’s more than okay, and I like having you around. I’m just wondering.”
Despite your precaution, you see how his mood turns sour. First angry, then mixed with sadness.
“I don’t know. I didn’t do well at my last fight, and I talked back. Taehyung told me to leave and not come back until I was ready to show some respect. They usually track me down by my chip after a few days and come and get me, wherever I am. So I don’t know.”
“They just leave you to fend for yourself?” you ask, truly shocked.
Jeongguk scoffs. “I’m very capable of surviving on my own. I’m not a child.”
“I know, it’s not… I didn’t mean it like that. Just that they’re making it unreasonably difficult for you. I mean, you didn’t even have shoes on. If you walked here, it probably took you like, half a day? I don’t know how well I would’ve done if I was left alone outside without money or my phone or even appropriate clothes.”
He keeps his eyes on the screen, and you decide to try something he might not like.
“Maybe tomorrow we can go pick out some clothes for you?” you watch his reaction tentatively, placing another chip in your mouth.
He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the TV, but you can see the internal struggle going on inside him. He doesn’t want you to spend money on him, but he doesn’t want to walk around in dirty clothes in case you think he’s stinking up your home.
“Okay,” he mumbles finally, making you smile.
“Okay. We’ll get you some shoes as well.”
“I, uhm, don’t have my collar, though,” he informs.
You pause. Even when Jeongguk stayed with you for a week, you never went outside with him, and so you’d completely forgotten that hybrids need to wear collars when out in public.
“What are the criteria for a collar? Does it only need to contain owner contact information?”
“Yeah. There are a lot of models, but that’s the minimum criteria.”
You contemplate for a second before rising from the couch to look for something in your bedroom. Collecting a few items—one from an old sewing kit—you make your way back, placing them on the coffee table. Jeongguk peers over at the stuff, watching as you place a piece of yellow tape on the inside of a black silk band of about an inch in width. With the ink pen you brought, you write your own name and phone number in small letters and numbers and then blow on the text to dry it.
Curiously but a little carefully, he looks at you when you lift the band toward him. “I don’t know what yours is like, but would this be okay?”
“Uhm… mine is a lot harder.”
“What, like a prong collar?” you joke, realizing quickly that you shouldn’t have.
He nods, “Yeah.”
“I..” you start, unsure of what to say, “I don’t think you need a collar at all, actually, so this would be enough only to comply with the laws. I know I’m not technically your owner but if we were to be separated, I’d rather have someone call me than them.”
Slowly, he moves closer and lets you tie the band loosely around his neck, the information hidden on the inside.
“It doesn’t need to be tighter than this, right?” you ask, inspecting the band that rests at the very bottom of his neck, more like a regular short-chained necklace than a choker.
Jeongguk lifts his hand to judge the tightness. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay. Does this feel alright then?”
You let your eyes travel over him, and sure, it looks a bit like an odd accessory, but the main goal is to make it comfortable and hopefully also remove the humiliation of wearing an obvious collar.
Jeongguk nods again, and you see that almost familiar trace of a smile, something that makes your heart beat with happiness.
“Good. We don’t need a leash, so just try to stay close to me, and I’ll try to stay close to you.”
You let a few moments of silence pass, watching Jeongguk out of the corner of your eye as he unties the band to place it carefully on the table again.
The day after, you knock on your neighbors’ door after you’ve returned from work, asking to borrow some shoes and an appropriate jacket for Jeongguk to wear as you go shopping. The hybrid doesn’t look too excited when you return with the goods, but he doesn’t complain, and you think he just tries to accept it even if he doesn’t really want it. Not your favors and not your kindness.
With you both dressed appropriately for the fall weather, you get inside your old car. The short journey toward the closest mall with a good supply of hybrid clothes is spent in silence, Jeongguk sitting in the passenger seat and looking out through the window.
Just as quietly, he follows you from the car and into the big building, keeping close just like you asked him to. Looking through the shopping list you wrote in your phone’s notes app, you decide to start with the clothes.
Always a step or two behind you, Jeongguk remains quiet as you head toward a specific store, one that’s bigger than any other hybrid-targeted stores you’ve seen but still only a fraction of the stores for humans. There are a few people inside, both with and without accompanying hybrids.
“Go and look. I’ll keep up,” you encourage him softly when you enter the store, calm music playing from the speakers.
Clearly uncomfortable, he looks down at you with hesitancy in his dark eyes. “Are you sure you want to spend money on me?”
“Yes,” you say determinedly. “Please, let me?”
He considers for a few seconds before giving a small nod. “Okay.”
He looks around, seemingly unsure where to start before he takes tentative steps toward a section with shirts. It's clear how he gravitates toward the cheaper options on the racks. You find it sweet—and you’re relieved he’s not looking at the most expensive garments—but it’s also incredibly sad to you. You realize no one’s probably ever really spent money on him, even though you’ve come to understand that the Kims aren’t exactly struggling. Quite the opposite, actually, and from your recent research, it's definitely partially thanks to Jeongguk.
Staying close without hovering, you watch as he picks out a few things: two t-shirts, a pair of shorts, and two pairs of sweatpants. They’re all black or white and simple in design—not that you expected him to go for pink and sparkles or anything. You also suggest he pick out some underwear, socks, and two pairs of shoes—one to keep at yours and the other to bring with him if he wants since he didn’t have any on when he arrived.
“You wanna try them on?” you nod toward the garments in his arms.
“Uh… Okay.”
You look around the store, scanning. “I think the fitting rooms… there they are.”
He follows your line of sight, and you head toward a small cluster of fitting rooms tucked into the back corner of the store. You wait outside while he steps into one of the small rooms, pulling the beige curtain closed behind him. There’s a soft rustle of fabric as he changes.
“They fit?” you ask a few minutes later as he pulls the curtain open.
“Yeah.” He pauses, looking down at the black and white shirts and sweatpants in his arms. “I’m not sure what color, though? What do you think?”
“We’ll take both, don’t worry about it,” you smile reassuringly. “Let’s pay and then get them tailored.”
He follows you to the checkout, where a friendly woman rings you up, and then you head into a smaller section of the store. There, another woman sits behind a table, an industrial sewing machine in front of her. She’s engrossed in a book, a yellow tape measure draped casually around her neck.
“Hello?” you call out.
She looks up, immediately setting the book down with a warm smile. “Oh, hello. What can I do for you?”
“We’d like to get these tailored, please,” you say, placing the sweatpants, shorts, and even the underwear on the table.
The woman glances at the pile, then shifts her gaze to Jeongguk, who lingers a couple of steps behind you.
“Is he alright with me measuring him?” she asks, her tone considerate.
You turn to Jeongguk, waiting for his reply. He meets the seamstress’ eyes briefly before nodding. “Yeah.”
“Good. Come here, please?” she says, gesturing him forward.
Jeongguk listens and steps up, removing his jacket again and standing still as the woman carefully wraps the tape measure around the base of his tail. She notes the number on a piece of paper before measuring the distance from the top of his tail to his waist, jotting that down too.
Although he’s cooperative, you notice the subtle furrow in his brows. He doesn’t seem particularly fond of having his tail touched. Or maybe he just doesn’t like having anyone’s hands on him in general. You’ve definitely been on the receiving end of that dislike.
With the measurements taken, she thanks him and begins working on the pants. The rhythmic hum of the sewing machine fills the small space, and Jeongguk steps away, glancing around the store. He doesn’t wander far from you, still keeping his promise. Meanwhile, you look through your phone again, trying to see if there’s anything you’ve missed on your quest to put together a little kit of necessities for him.
Besides clothes to have at your place, you’ll try convincing him to let you buy him a phone. At least a cheap one so that he can call you if he needs to—or just wants to—and some cash so that he can take a cab to your place if he needs to. If he finds anyone willing to drive an unaccompanied hybrid, that is. Maybe you’ll laminate a card with your info on it so that he can give it to someone if he’s ever in trouble and you can help from a distance, maybe convince people he’s nice and just needs help home. Or maybe that's a bit overboard?
“Finished!”
The seamstress’ voice pulls you from your thoughts only a few minutes later. You look up, locking your phone and sliding it into your pocket as she folds the clothes neatly. She slides the pile toward you, a satisfied smile on her face.
“Do you want to try them on?” she asks. “So I can alter them if needed.”
Jeongguk approaches, looks at you, and nods. He takes the pants from the table, and with you in tow, heads back to the fitting rooms. As he closes the curtain again, you lean against the nearby wall, waiting patiently as he tries them on again.
“Good?” you ask after a few moments when he’s taking a little extra time.
“Yeah,” he replies, emerging a second later with a hint of something you think resembles satisfaction.
“Awesome. I think we’re done here then?” you ask, already giving the seamstress a thumbs-up. She smiles warmly, her fingers lifting in a small wave as you both head towards the exit.
“Now… I’m getting you a phone,” you announce as you step out of the store, already steering toward another shop a few stores down.
“What? Why?” he asks, but you’re not met with the strong dislike you would have a few months ago.
“I want you to have a way to contact me if anything happens,” you explain, hoping that he accepts what very well could be too much for him.
At the entrance to the tech store, he seems to weigh his options before nodding shortly, and so you step inside. It’s definitely a surprise—and a relief—that he doesn’t argue.
His quiet acceptance also fills you with relief that maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to realize that he has a safe place with you and that something like a phone would help him. But you’re also heartbroken, imagining what it must’ve taken for such a strong-headed person like him to accept help he probably didn’t want in the first place.
You walk him through the aisles of displayed devices, each phone looking more expensive under the strong lights. Jeongguk’s eyes dart from screen to screen, a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of options. You can tell he’s unsure, but he’s also doing his best to let you do what you for some reason want to do so badly.
“What about this one?” you ask, picking up one of the older models; something practical but not too expensive. Jeongguk peers at it, his black ears lowering further.
“Isn’t that too much?” he mutters, glancing at you like he’s waiting for you to reconsider. Maybe even hoping. But you shake your head.
“It’s not,” you assure him. “It’s not the flashiest, so it’s still pretty cheap. But you’ll be able to call me.”
You smile, trying to keep things light as you head toward the counter. The employee observes Jeongguk for just a little too long, and you’re reminded of how rare he is. Not only are hybrids as big as him not something you see every day, but you’d never even heard of kangaroo hybrids before you met him.
As you finish up at the counter, you catch Jeongguk sneaking curious glances at the people passing by. There’s another hybrid, a smaller woman, talking to her human. Her long, full tail swishes calmly behind her, and although you can’t see any ears due to her hat, you assume she’s a cat hybrid.
Like most hybrids you’ve seen, she looks… satisfied with her situation. You can’t tell if she’s happy being owned by someone, but you can’t sense any discomfort or anger from her either, at least not in the moment and from your distance. You guess Jeongguk doesn’t see a lot of… normal hybrids, only whatever angry, possibly traumatized hybrid he fights in the ring.
“Ready?” you ask, gesturing toward the door.
He nods, his attention snapping back, and he follows you out of the store. There's a comfortable silence between you as you head home.
“Figuring it out?” your voice is light as you move into the living room.
“Yeah, kinda,” Jeongguk mumbles, not looking up from where he’s sitting on the couch, his new phone held carefully in his hands.
You hold your hand out, sitting down next to him. “Here, let me put my number in.”
Without objection, he hands you the phone, and you tap the screen to create a new contact, adding your name, number, and even address. Then you pause, thinking. Who else could he need to call?
“Okay, I’m putting in Taehyung’s number, just in case you ever need it, but remember that he’ll know of your phone if you do use it to contact him. And maybe… Yoongi’s number, if you can’t reach me. And also the authorities.”
You pull up the contacts in your own phone to copy the numbers into the new one. “You know how it works?”
“Uhm, yeah. Type number or press contact to call. Or you can text, right?”
“Yeah. Just press this icon, and you’ll be able to text. Keep the volume and vibration off, and check it now and again, maybe. Also remember to keep it charged in case you need to leave quickly.”
Jeongguk nods.
“Good,” you press your contact in the list, waiting a second until you hear the ringtone of your own phone. “It works. I’ll pay the bill for it, and you can use it as much as you want and need.”
He accepts it back, his eyes stuck on the device for a short moment. “Thank you.”
You smile even though he’s not looking at you. “You’re welcome,” you say softly. “Call me anytime. Or text.”
He nods, and you get the feeling that you've made meaningful progress today.
“Why are you so nice to me?” he asks suddenly, his voice blunt but with an edge of vulnerability that catches you off guard.
You take a moment to choose what to say, deciding to just get straight to the point. “Because I want to. You deserve to be treated with respect, just like anyone else.”
You don’t say that you wish someone had been there to show him this kindness—that's not even really anything special—a long time ago. You don’t say how badly you want him to see how much he deserves it.
He looks away, and you let the silence settle around you both again. But then you glance at your phone. More specifically, the time.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
Right on cue, his stomach lets out a low, unmistakable growl. You stand up, turning to him with an amused smile.
“Liar,” you say, chuckling. “Also, I’m probably a lot hungrier than that. Do you wanna help me cook?”
“Uh… I don’t know how to?”
“I’ll show you,” you promise, heading toward the kitchen. When you glance over your shoulder, you catch him following you, hesitant but seemingly at least a little curious.
You open the fridge to grab a few ingredients—some eggs, a couple of vegetables, and leftover rice.
“We’ll make… fried rice, if that's okay with you?” you ask, setting everything down on the counter.
"Sure. But I've never…"
Jeongguk hovers nearby, arms hanging loosely at his sides, as though unsure what to do. You grab a knife and a cutting board, holding them out to him. “It's alright. You can chop. I’ll show you how.”
With a few careful instructions, you guide him through slicing the vegetables. His movements are a little stiff at first, but he follows your directions closely, and soon, he’s chopping with a quiet focus.
Meanwhile, you take out a pan and heat some oil. When he's done, Jeongguk brings the vegetables over, watching intrigued as you drop them into the pan.
"Rice?" he suggests when you've stirred a few times and start looking around.
"Yeah."
Without a word, he brings the bowl of rice, and you gesture for him to dump it in. He does, and then takes the spatula when you offer it to him.
His ears twitch slightly as he concentrates on mimicking your motions, stirring the mixture carefully. You watch him for a moment, noticing how the lines of tension in his shoulders seem to soften as he works.
"See? It's very simple. The hardest part is probably the eggs," you say as you approach the carton, picking out a few eggs. "Would you like to crack them? You can do it in a glass first if you're worried about getting shell in the pan."
"Okay."
With a smile, you grab a glass from the cupboard, carefully showing him how you crack the egg against the edge. When it's his turn, he uses too much force, and there's a shard of white egg shell that follows into the glass. He looks at you, unsure, but all you do is hand him a tea spoon and encourage him to fish it out. It takes him a minute, but when he's done, you let him pour the eggs in.
The kitchen is warm, the only sounds being the hiss of the pan and the clink of utensils and plates as you bring them out. It feels peaceful, like you’ve actually found a rhythm together and don't need any words.
That night, you wake to a faint glow seeping under your bedroom door. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you slip out of bed, padding toward the living room. There, you find Jeongguk sitting on the couch, his gaze fixed on the TV. The soft, shifting light casts shadows across his face, revealing the faint traces of exhaustion in his eyes.
“Can’t sleep?” you ask quietly, sitting down beside him.
He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the screen.
“You know,” you start, a smile already growing on your lips. “I read something interesting about kangaroos the other day.”
Jeongguk turns slightly, his brows drawing together in mild curiosity. “Why are you reading about kangaroos?”
“Because I have a partial one living with me? Did you know that joeys like to be swaddled? They’ll practically jump into any dark sack if it’s offered.”
“Are you… suggesting you put me in a dark sack?”
“Maybe,” you grin.
Before he can object, you disappear down the hallway, returning with a spare duvet cover. You hold it up, tying two of the ends together to make it smaller and hopefully, a cozy, enclosed space. “Try this.”
“No,” he says, but the difference is how he says it. His eyes aren’t brimming with anger anymore, they’re almost a little amused instead.
The next morning, you walk past Jeongguk's door, noticing that it’s slightly ajar. It’s pretty dark inside his room, but you’re still able to discern the shape of a… ball through the crack? Upon closer inspection, you see that, yeah, Jeongguk is bundled up in the makeshift "sack," peacefully asleep with only his large, black ears and a corner of the fuzzy blanket peeking out. The sight tugs at your heart, and you continue into the kitchen to make breakfast.
Half an hour later—while you’re getting ready for work—your phone rings. Your stomach drops as you spot the name displayed on the screen.
Taehyung.
Of course, you knew it was just a matter of time, and you take a deep breath as you answer the call, expecting the worst.
“Hello?”
“Hey, so, Jeongguk… Why is his tracker showing he's at your place?” he asks, his tone cold.
You swallow, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine at his bluntness. “Yeah, I told him to come here if he got kicked out. It’s inhumane, Taehyung.”
“I’m picking him up.”
A tense silence follows, and without another word, he hangs up. You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment to collect yourself.
It takes you two minutes to let your boss know that you’re feeling ill and won’t be coming in, something that’s honestly not even that much of a lie. Knowing that Taehyung can and probably will stop by today makes you feel something you can only describe as nausea, and you wouldn’t get anything done at work anyway.
Realizing that you’ll have to break the news to him, you knock gently on Jeongguk's door. When there’s no response, you open it slowly, finding him still curled up inside the duvet cover. You walk over quietly, sitting at the edge of the bed.
“So, it worked?” you ask, your voice light but warm. It's easy to push the thoughts of Taehyung away, at least temporarily, when the kangaroo hybrid is so endearing. It's almost unbelievable that the huge guy even fit inside the sack.
He stirs slightly, still entirely hidden from view with the exception of his black ears and a little bit of black hair.
"Maybe," he mumbles, and you chuckle, reaching over to fluff a pillow nearby. As you do, your bracelet slips from your wrist, brushing lightly against his ear.
“Sorry,” you murmur, carefully picking it up. “I know you don’t like to be touched.”
“Yeah… I don’t like being hurt,” he explains from inside the sheets.
The simplicity of his statement twists something in you. “Is there… anything you do like?” you ask, “when it comes to touch? A scratch behind the ear or something? I read that that's usually enjoyed by most hybrids.”
For a moment, he’s silent. “I don’t know. Isn’t the point that it’s not enjoyable?”
“No,” you shake your head even if he can’t see it, your heart heavy. “Of course, it’s not.”
The quiet lingers, and then, carefully, you offer, “I can try… if you’ll let me?” You keep your tone light, respectful.
To your surprise, he hesitates only briefly before agreeing quietly. “Okay.”
You lean in slowly, hand moving very carefully to his ear, tracing the curve with the lightest touch. His fur is softer than you expected, and as you run your fingers over it very, very gently, you feel him… relax. He even lets out a deep breath. Encouraged, you scratch lightly at the base, heart warmed by the subtle way he almost moves into the touch.
For maybe five minutes, you keep your hand on him; tracing, scratching, and gently massaging his ears, enjoying his slow, relaxed breaths and body language. Then you sigh, deciding to just rip the bandaid off.
“Taehyung called.”
Even though Jeongguk doesn’t move or speak, you feel the mood change as you explain. “He didn’t sound too pleased.”
“He’s probably on his way,” Jeongguk mutters.
Watching as he sheds the cozy "sack," your heart hurts, and you wish this small moment could last longer. He sits up—looking very warm and sweet, yet disappointed—and glances at you.
“Yeah. You should probably consider what you want to bring. Feel free to leave some things here too. In case you need them another time.”
What can you do?
Only an hour later, there’s a firm knock on your door. You and Jeongguk have been sitting together, side by side on the couch, just waiting for the inevitable. His phone, its charger, and your key already lie hidden in the deep pockets of his jacket, and he's not bringing anything else but the clothes on his body.
You look at Jeongguk, trying to stay calm and positive even if you’re anxious and worried. You hope your earlier—quite bold—words to Taehyung won’t make things harder for Jeongguk. The last thing you want is to give Taehyung any reason to retaliate.
Standing up, you head to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.
As expected, it’s Taehyung who stands there. His face is cold, letting you know that he doesn’t care to put on the charming mask he wore when you first met him. He’s not scared of you knowing what kind of person he really is. His eyes scan the room behind you, immediately finding Jeongguk.
“Put your shoes on,” he instructs stoically.
Jeongguk steps forward to do as told, putting the shoes you got him on.
“I can pay you five thousand now,” you offer, the slight panic you feel definitely heard in your voice. You’ve thought through every angle, already decided that selling your car and emptying your savings is a fair trade if it means being able to give Jeongguk a better life. “And I can make monthly payments—eight hundred dollars a month until it’s all paid off.”
Taehyung’s expression doesn’t change. “No.”
“Please, Taehyung,” you plead, your voice softening.
“I said no,” Taehyung repeats, more firmly this time. He nods towards Jeongguk, gesturing for him to follow, and so, Jeongguk steps past you, his face blank and eyes focused straight ahead. He doesn’t look back, not even once.
The door clicks shut behind them, leaving you in silence so thick it feels almost suffocating.
That same night, you find yourself restlessly moving through the apartment, looking through old boxes and drawers to see what you might own that’s just collecting dust. You know it’s a long shot, but you’re determined. If there’s even the slightest chance that you’ll be allowed to buy Jeongguk’s freedom, you’ll have the money.
Among the more valuable items is a camera, a Christmas present from your dad from a few years back. It would hurt to part with it, but you remind yourself that it’s just an object, a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things. As you research its current value, you send Jeongguk a text. You know that maybe you shouldn’t in case Taehyung finds the phone, but you can’t help it.
‘You okay?’
You wait for a response, staring at the screen until your eyes feel dry, but nothing comes. So you close your phone, thinking that he probably keeps his turned off. After all, it’s for him to contact you in case he needs it, not the other way around.
In the weeks that follow, you throw yourself into selling as many things as you can. Every sale feels like a step closer, each dollar a piece of hope you cling to. You sell old electronics, clothes you rarely wear, even some furniture, managing to collect about twelve hundred dollars over the next few weeks. Most of it are things you probably should’ve parted with years ago, but like your camera, some things still sting a little.
You also trim down your expenses, cancel subscriptions you can live without, cut back on groceries you shouldn’t buy anyway, and really think about each new purchase. Your car, though old, is appraised at about three thousand dollars, and you know that selling it would bring you closer to your goal. But you hesitate, knowing it’s a last resort. You’d definitely rather keep it, so you don’t sell it just yet, not unless you absolutely have to.
One morning, you wake to a new notification on your phone.
‘I’m okay.’
Another month or so passes with no other communication, but then, on a Saturday evening just past six, there’s a knock on your apartment door. The sound startles you, and you glance at the clock before setting your laptop aside. Wrapped in a fuzzy blanket on the couch, you definitely weren’t expecting anyone. Rising, you make your way to the door, opening it with curiosity.
Dark eyes meet yours. Jeongguk.
“Hi,” you greet softly, your voice tinged with surprise. You look him over quickly. He looks… okay. Tired, but okay, dressed in a jacket that’s thankfully appropriate for the chill of early November. His hands are tucked into his pockets, and you notice that he doesn’t seem to have a bag of any kind with him.
“Hi,” he replies, his voice quiet, almost unsure. There’s something in his expression that makes you pause, something that doesn’t quite fit the relief you feel at seeing him.
Figuring that something must have happened, and he needs a place to stay, you step back and gesture for him to come inside. He hesitates for a second before stepping over the threshold.
You shut the door behind him, but it confuses you when he doesn’t make any effort to take off his shoes or remove his jacket.
“You okay?” you ask carefully, your voice gentle but laced with concern.
“Yeah, I just came to…” He trails off, searching for something in the pockets of his jacket, “... return these.”
You look at what he’s holding out to you in his big hand. It’s the key and the phone. You meet his eyes, confusion and worry rising quickly.
“What? Why?”
Jeongguk doesn’t answer right away, instead looking a little unsure of how to tell you whatever he’s about to say.
“I won’t be back.”
“Wait, what?” you breathe, stepping closer to him. “Did Taehyung make you do this? Did he find the phone?”
He shakes his head, his expression unreadable. “No. But I won’t be back, so I wanted to return them.”
“But how do you know that you won’t be back? Did he tell you you can’t come here?” The questions spill out in rapid succession, your voice growing increasingly worried.
“No. I…” He falters, looking around before deciding to bend down and gently put the phone and key on the floor when you’re not taking them from him. Straightening up, he licks his lips, seemingly weighing something in his mind before he finally speaks again. “Do you know about the Ultra Games?”
You blink, the term vaguely familiar. “Uh…yeah, isn’t that…”
You rack your brain, searching your memory. You vaguely remember coming across the term—as well as many other championship and competition titles—during your research months ago.
He watches you as you remember what you read about it, your stomach dropping painfully when you do.
“...When hybrids fight to the death?”
Jeongguk’s sad look is the only confirmation you need. He thinks he’ll be dead and that it’s why he’s not coming back.
“Then why won’t he just sell you to me?” you demand, heartbroken desperation bubbling to the surface.
“The prize money is too tempting. This year, it’s a hundred thousand.”
“Then you’ll win,” you say, not even sparing the other hybrids a thought, too upset at the thought of Jeongguk being killed. “I know you can do it. One last time and then maybe Taehyung will let me have you, and you can live here with me.”
“I can’t… kill someone,” he explains slowly and quietly, his head slightly tilted.
The weight of his words settles over you like a heavy blanket. You feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as realization dawns.
“You’re… forfeiting?” you conclude in a whisper.
Jeongguk doesn’t respond, but his silence speaks volumes.
But then, a spark of hope ignites. “Wait. Does Taehyung know that? Won’t he sell you to me if he knows you’ll lose on purpose? There won’t be any money either way if you do?”
“He thinks I’ll fight for my survival when the time comes,” Jeongguk says, his tone soft but certain. “Says it’s impossible not to.”
The spark dies, and the room feels like it’s closing in on you. Your gaze is stuck somewhere in the air between you as you think.
Jeongguk’s eyes shift to the door, like he’s trying to distance himself from the conversation.
“I’m not winning as much anymore,” he admits. “I broke my tail a few months ago, and without it—without it working properly, and being painful—it puts me at a disadvantage. I can't keep up anymore. I cost too much to keep and feed, and if I’m not bringing in money, there’s no use for me.”
“We’ll leave the country,” you burst, taking a quick step forward and reaching for his warm hand. “We’ll leave tonight, okay?”
He gazes at you with understanding, letting you hold his hand, but the way he looks at you also tells you that he doesn’t see how it would work.
“There’s nothing you can do,” he says, his voice gentle but final. He nods toward the items on the floor. “I just came to return these.”
He’s already moving toward the door, and panic surges in your chest. “Jeongguk, wait!”
He pauses. “I can’t,” he says softly. “Jimin’s waiting, and I have a practice to get to.”
He glances at you one last time, his eyes meeting yours with a look that definitely means goodbye. Then he opens the door and steps out, leaving you standing there, tears welling in your eyes as the sound of the door clicking shut echoes in your lonely apartment.
<previous | next>
author's note: oop 🥹💔 i hope you liked it <3
permanent taglist (for all my works), sign up here (as long as the form is open, there are spots open):
you didn't know your estranged uncle had a son. Not until said son dumps an unusually large, very angry, kangaroo hybrid on your doorstep, claiming it's only for a few days while your uncle is in hospital.
pairing: kangaroo hybrid!jk x f!reader
genre: hybrid au, angst, mild fluff
word count: 8.8k
warnings: still none really besides the ethics of hybrid-keeping (and fighting)
author’s note: i decided to make it into three parts instead of two! i hope you like this, i edited it a tad (but i'll still blame lo from the past for this entire fic lol)
Saturday. As expected, the day doesn’t start very well, but it’s at least… manageable so far. You remember that Jeongguk is supposed to leave for his activity again later, and when you try asking him about it once more, he doesn’t tell you anything. Shocker.
After fixing breakfast for Jeongguk, you return to bed, not knowing if he eats or not. Today, you don’t have the energy to try to force him to eat if he doesn’t want to. Instead, you pop a few pills, writhing in your white sheets. Some months are better than others, and some months, you spend days on end on your bathroom floor, nauseous and desperate for the cool bathroom tiles against your cheek.
When the time comes, you see Jeongguk off again, locking the door behind him and nearly doubling over in pain. Bringing your phone as sufficient entertainment, you retreat to the bathroom.
At two a.m., you hear a tentative knock on the front door, a sound that wakes you out of your half-slumber on the bathroom floor. You get up on shaky legs and approach the door to open it for the hybrid. He looks cautious, as if he’s scared he woke you up although you did tell him to always knock. If you were to guess, you’d say that he probably regrets not taking the key you offered last time.
His eyes trail over you in your sorry state, but he at least doesn’t look angry.
“Are you alright?” you ask, looking over him briefly in turn. You don’t notice any obvious injuries, but he does look spent. His body looks like it feels heavy, and his black hair is still damp with sweat.
He nods and actually opens his mouth to speak. “Are you?”
Damn, you must really look like a mess.
“Yeah. Go take a shower,” you usher him inside, closing the door behind him.
Maybe it’s because you look like you’re on death’s doorstep, but he doesn’t seem to want to argue. Or maybe he does and is glaring at you; you can't tell with your exhausted eyes half closed.
While he’s in the bathroom, you do some of the dishes left out during the day, trying not to cry from the intense bursts of pain. The gods obviously didn’t hear you. Or they just didn’t care.
Silently, you hear the bathroom door open and very quiet footsteps exit. You call for him, drying your hands on your cotton shorts.
“There’s food in the fridge, please eat something,” you instruct when he appears half a minute later, wearing only sweatpants. Even in your weakened state, you definitely take notice of his very muscular and thick physique; how the prominent veins span across his arms and hands. But most importantly, you see the way a large bruise is forming over his right side, just over his ribs.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask quietly.
Luckily, he doesn’t take offense and gives you a small nod. Well, you don’t think there’s anything you can really do to help him at the moment, so you return his nod. Then you leave the kitchen, making your way back to the bathroom—that still bears foggy traces of Jeongguk’s shower—just as another wave of nausea hits you. At least you hear the fridge open, which grants you some mental relief.
The cool tiles against your skin help a lot. It also helps that you’re almost too tired to be nauseous. But it hurts. It hurts so much, and you can’t say that you wouldn’t rather be a man at that moment.
Some time passes. You’re not sure how long. It could be fifteen minutes or it could be an hour, but when you open your eyes, he’s standing there, looking worriedly at you where you're lying on your side, sweaty, tired, and tortured.
“Are you sick?” he asks quietly. “Maybe you should go to the hospital.”
“I’m not sick,” you explain, barely lifting your gaze.
“Then what is wrong with you?”
“You know biology? Women’s anatomy?”
He nods, seemingly realizing.
“Yeah. I have… endometriosis. It’s a condition that makes all of that worse, basically. A whole lot of uterine cells outside the uterus. But it’s usually not very dangerous. If I go to the hospital, they’ll send me home with the same kind of painkillers I already have.”
Not looking convinced, Jeongguk’s eyes flit over your body. If you weren’t so tired and in pain, you’d find it sweet how truly worried and unsure he looks.
“I’ll be fine,” you say, closing your eyes again.
For the remainder of the night, you slip in and out of consciousness there on the bathroom floor, always feeling a lingering presence.
The next few days are easier. The pain and nausea turn more manageable, and your heart warms at how the hybrid also seems more… manageable. Even though you’re doing better, he’s still eating without arguing. Sure, not nearly as much as someone his size and physique should, but it’s something. In turn, you’ve gone back to only talking sweetly to him, no more pretending to threaten him.
And just like that, Jeongguk has been with you for a week.
But when your phone rings one afternoon, it’s Taehyung, asking when he can come pick Jeongguk up.
“Would you sell him to me?” you blurt, realizing that you can’t let them take him back.
“What?”
“I was wondering if you’d sell him to me?” you repeat.
Taehyung still sounds just as confused. “Why?”
You guess you haven’t given off a very interested impression so far.
“Yeah. I actually really like him, and I’ve been thinking about getting a hybrid of my own.”
“Oh. Well, he’s not for sale. At least not for less than 15 000 dollars.”
You blink in shock. That’s not an amount of money you happen to have lying around.
“Oh,” you say, unable to hide your disappointment.
“Yeah, he’s not really one of those pet hybrids. He’s a highly regarded fighter. Brings us extra cash every week.”
“Fighter? I didn’t know that was…. well, legal?”
“It is. Some people just frown upon it, but he’s a kangaroo hybrid; he was bred to fight.”
“Well… I, uh, I’ll see how much I can come up with.”
“Sure. I’ll see you later tonight then.”
“Yeah. Bye.”
Your heart breaks as you end the call because you know for a fact that you don’t have that kind of money. No matter how much you want to remove Jeongguk from his home situation, what can you do? You can’t refuse to return him; Taehyung and his father legally own him, and if you tried to skip town with him, they’d easily track you down due to the GPS tracker in his chip.
When you turn around, shoulders slumping, you spot Jeongguk.
“You want to own me?” he asks, his softer side vanished in favor of his cold, bordering on emotionless one.
“No,” you start, surprised by his conclusion and the distaste for it. “I don’t want to own you. I want to help you and get you away from them, and since you technically don’t have a lot of rights, yeah, I’d have to buy you. But I think that it would be the lesser of two evils.”
“What about what I want then?”
His follow-up question surprises you even more. Of course, you understand that you don’t know each other very well, but… is he implying that he wants to go back? To a place where it seems a luxury to be allowed on the couch? Where you’re convinced he’s made to feel like a burden? Where he’s forced to fight?
You can’t say you have an answer to his question, and so Jeongguk watches you for a few seconds, but when there is no response, he leaves the room.
Just before Taehyung is supposed to arrive to take Jeongguk to his “activity” himself, you approach Jeongguk in the guest room as he’s finishing up packing his stuff.
“Here.”
He looks at your open hand and the key in it and then he looks at you, his dark eyes emotionless.
“No,” is his answer, and after relaying it, he continues to place the last of his stuff inside his duffel bag. He makes the bed, picking up the hot water bottle, and you don't miss the very slight trace of longing in his eyes as he holds it.
“Take it with you,” you offer.
He puts it down on the bed. “Can’t.”
“Why not? I have more.”
“They’ll think I stole it from you,” he argues, and it hurts your heart to hear that they would immediately jump to such conclusions, not believing him.
“I’ll tell Taehyung I gave you some things.”
“You’ll offend them by implying they don’t take care of me.”
“Well, they don’t?” you’re quick to retort. “I’ll say I was going to get rid of it anyway.”
He peers over at it, and you can easily tell that he wants it. “...No.”
He redirects his focus to his bag, continuing his packing.
“At least take this,” you hold the key out again.
“Why? I’m not coming back here?”
“I know. But… I want you to have it. Just in case. And I want you to know that you’re always welcome here. Always. If you want to come here, for any reason, you can.”
He doesn’t take it but doesn’t say anything either, so you reach for his bag, dropping the key into one of its smaller inner pockets and pulling the zipper shut. “Don’t tell them I gave it to you. If they find it, say you didn’t know about it and have them call me to ask about it. I’ll say I sneaked it in there when you weren’t looking or something.”
Almost expecting him to pull the key out and throw it at you, you’re surprised yet definitely relieved when he doesn’t, only looking at you and biting his lip somberly.
When you first met the hybrid, you had no idea it would be so hard to watch him leave. Still, he walks out that door with Taehyung, and your heart aches, knowing that he’s not well cared for and that there’s nothing you can do about it. As far as you know, at least.
It frustrates you because you don’t actually think Jeongguk is hard to care for. Give him a room with a comfortable bed in it, some appropriate clothes, and enough food, and you’d bet he’s good. Maybe entertainment of some kind as well, and a chance to socialize with other hybrids, and he probably wouldn’t complain about a single thing. If you’re going to strip someone of their rights like hybrids have been, you can at least make sure they have everything they need.
Unsurprisingly, you don’t hear anything from Jeongguk—or Taehyung, rather—in the coming months. You wonder about him, if he’s doing alright, and on multiple occasions, you spend entire nights googling hybrid fighting rings. To your disappointment, there are too many to count. Then, one night you find it. A ring that advertises its fighters, one of them familiar looking.
Jeongguk’s name is there, so is his height and weight, and how many wins versus losses he’s accumulated. And you understand why Taehyung wasn’t very eager to sell him to you.
As you scroll the site, you see other kinds of hybrids as well, a lot of which you had no idea even existed. There are not many derived from house pets; no house cat hybrids, but there are a few big dog hybrids as well as a wolf one, two cougars, a bear, and even a few hyenas.
For a while, you debate going to a fight, but then again, what would you even do there? Unfortunately, you can’t just try to locate Jeongguk and grab him since he belongs to the Kims and what they’re doing is supposedly entirely legal. If you were to try anyway, they’d just take him back and probably have you arrested. So you stay home, holding onto the fact that, even if it isn’t much, he at least has a key to your apartment in case he needs it.
Tapping your foot, you wait for the red light to turn green and the driver to accelerate. In your pocket, your phone buzzes, and when you pull it out, there’s a text lit up and waiting for you.
'Had a great time tonight'
You ponder over a reply, before settling for a simple ‘me too’ and hitting send. It was an alright date with an alright dude; you’re just not sure he’s the one for you. Still, you decide to give him one more date to be sure. At least the food was great.
At eleven p.m., the car pulls over outside your apartment complex and with a ‘thanks,’ you step out and close the door behind you. Despite the relatively early hour, you yawn as you twist the key in the lock, opening the door to your dark apartment. Swiftly, you flick the light switch on and start to remove your fall jacket before something catches your eye, and you freeze.
On the little stool you keep in the hallway, there’s a key. One that wasn’t there when you left, and one you’re pretty sure you actually gave away half a year ago.
Carefully, you step further into the apartment, not sure what you’ll find in the dark. What your eyes do fall upon however, is something curled up on the couch.
Your eyes adjust to the darkness slowly, allowing you to discern more. It’s Jeongguk, sleeping on your couch. He’s curled up as much as possible, probably to conserve heat. The weather outside isn’t too cold for late September, but it’s certainly cold if all you’re wearing is jeans and a t-shirt. He’s not even wearing shoes, seemingly intentionally keeping his dirty feet hanging over the edge.
Your heavy heart hurts, and you guess that he’s been kicked out for some reason. From what you gathered when he stayed with you, it’s happened before.
Deciding not to wake him, you pull a blanket off the couch and very, very carefully drape it over his freezing body. Then you exit the living room, leaving the lights there off, and head to the kitchen.
Suspecting that he’s probably hungry, you look through your fridge and freezer in search of something to make him, settling on toasting a couple slices of bread and scrambling some eggs for him. As you do, the kitchen fills with the smell, and you hum to yourself. Despite feeling terrible that he’s obviously still not being treated properly, you’re happy to see him and to get the chance to take care of him for however long he’ll stay.
When you return with the food on a tray, Jeongguk is already awake and sitting up, the blanket wrapped around him. He looks tired and a little less… well, a little less than when you last saw him. It’s no wonder he loses weight when he either doesn’t eat as much as he’s supposed to, or just not being fed what he’s supposed to.
“Hi,” you greet quietly as you place the tray down on the coffee table. Besides a glass of water and a big plate with food for him, it also contains an apple and some water for you. Sure, you just ate at the restaurant, but you figure he’ll be more comfortable eating if you are too.
But he pulls away, diverting his eyes from you and the food as if he’s ashamed. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.”
He goes to stand, but you stop him. “No, no, stay, please. I told you; you’re always welcome here.”
Unsure, he licks his lips but settles back down and pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders again.
“I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it?” you say, trying not to place any value in your assumption. “If you do, I’m all ears, but otherwise… don’t sweat it. The guest room is yours, and you’re free to stay as long as you’d like.”
Jeongguk looks almost relieved, and in turn, it brings your own heart relief. You spend a few minutes preparing some clean clothes for him; a set of lounge wear that originally belonged to your dad, and after he’s eaten and is taking a shower, you prepare the bed for him as well. He doesn’t say much, and you don’t pressure him.
The next day, he’s already awake when you step out of your bedroom to pee. Sitting on the couch, still wearing the outfit you gave him last night, but doing absolutely nothing, he looks at you when you approach.
“I don’t…” he starts, but stops to clear his throat in uncertainty, “I don’t know if I should stay or try to go back.”
“Well, what do you want to do?” you ask, patting your unbrushed hair down and hoping that he’ll decide to stay at least a little while.
“I want to stay, but…”
“Then stay. Keep me company for a while.”
You think you see a hint of a smile forming on his lips.
He does end up staying, at least another night, and you ask him to watch a movie with you, something he agrees to. You let him scroll your streaming services until he settles on Jurassic Park, and you run to the corner store, getting some chips and soda.
“So, how long do you think you’ll stay?” you ask, trying to sound casual and without looking at him directly. “I don’t mind having you here; in fact, it’s more than okay, and I like having you around. I’m just wondering.”
Despite your precaution, you see how his mood turns sour. First angry, then mixed with sadness.
“I don’t know. I didn’t do well at my last fight, and I talked back. Taehyung told me to leave and not come back until I was ready to show some respect. They usually track me down by my chip after a few days and come and get me, wherever I am. So I don’t know.”
“They just leave you to fend for yourself?” you ask, truly shocked.
Jeongguk scoffs. “I’m very capable of surviving on my own. I’m not a child.”
“I know, it’s not… I didn’t mean it like that. Just that they’re making it unreasonably difficult for you. I mean, you didn’t even have shoes on. If you walked here, it probably took you like, half a day? I don’t know how well I would’ve done if I was left alone outside without money or my phone or even appropriate clothes.”
He keeps his eyes on the screen, and you decide to try something he might not like.
“Maybe tomorrow we can go pick out some clothes for you?” you watch his reaction tentatively, placing another chip in your mouth.
He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the TV, but you can see the internal struggle going on inside him. He doesn’t want you to spend money on him, but he doesn’t want to walk around in dirty clothes in case you think he’s stinking up your home.
“Okay,” he mumbles finally, making you smile.
“Okay. We’ll get you some shoes as well.”
“I, uhm, don’t have my collar, though,” he informs.
You pause. Even when Jeongguk stayed with you for a week, you never went outside with him, and so you’d completely forgotten that hybrids need to wear collars when out in public.
“What are the criteria for a collar? Does it only need to contain owner contact information?”
“Yeah. There are a lot of models, but that’s the minimum criteria.”
You contemplate for a second before rising from the couch to look for something in your bedroom. Collecting a few items—one from an old sewing kit—you make your way back, placing them on the coffee table. Jeongguk peers over at the stuff, watching as you place a piece of yellow tape on the inside of a black silk band of about an inch in width. With the ink pen you brought, you write your own name and phone number in small letters and numbers and then blow on the text to dry it.
Curiously but a little carefully, he looks at you when you lift the band toward him. “I don’t know what yours is like, but would this be okay?”
“Uhm… mine is a lot harder.”
“What, like a prong collar?” you joke, realizing quickly that you shouldn’t have.
He nods, “Yeah.”
“I..” you start, unsure of what to say, “I don’t think you need a collar at all, actually, so this would be enough only to comply with the laws. I know I’m not technically your owner but if we were to be separated, I’d rather have someone call me than them.”
Slowly, he moves closer and lets you tie the band loosely around his neck, the information hidden on the inside.
“It doesn’t need to be tighter than this, right?” you ask, inspecting the band that rests at the very bottom of his neck, more like a regular short-chained necklace than a choker.
Jeongguk lifts his hand to judge the tightness. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay. Does this feel alright then?”
You let your eyes travel over him, and sure, it looks a bit like an odd accessory, but the main goal is to make it comfortable and hopefully also remove the humiliation of wearing an obvious collar.
Jeongguk nods again, and you see that almost familiar trace of a smile, something that makes your heart beat with happiness.
“Good. We don’t need a leash, so just try to stay close to me, and I’ll try to stay close to you.”
You let a few moments of silence pass, watching Jeongguk out of the corner of your eye as he unties the band to place it carefully on the table again.
The day after, you knock on your neighbors’ door after you’ve returned from work, asking to borrow some shoes and an appropriate jacket for Jeongguk to wear as you go shopping. The hybrid doesn’t look too excited when you return with the goods, but he doesn’t complain, and you think he just tries to accept it even if he doesn’t really want it. Not your favors and not your kindness.
With you both dressed appropriately for the fall weather, you get inside your old car. The short journey toward the closest mall with a good supply of hybrid clothes is spent in silence, Jeongguk sitting in the passenger seat and looking out through the window.
Just as quietly, he follows you from the car and into the big building, keeping close just like you asked him to. Looking through the shopping list you wrote in your phone’s notes app, you decide to start with the clothes.
Always a step or two behind you, Jeongguk remains quiet as you head toward a specific store, one that’s bigger than any other hybrid-targeted stores you’ve seen but still only a fraction of the stores for humans. There are a few people inside, both with and without accompanying hybrids.
“Go and look. I’ll keep up,” you encourage him softly when you enter the store, calm music playing from the speakers.
Clearly uncomfortable, he looks down at you with hesitancy in his dark eyes. “Are you sure you want to spend money on me?”
“Yes,” you say determinedly. “Please, let me?”
He considers for a few seconds before giving a small nod. “Okay.”
He looks around, seemingly unsure where to start before he takes tentative steps toward a section with shirts. It's clear how he gravitates toward the cheaper options on the racks. You find it sweet—and you’re relieved he’s not looking at the most expensive garments—but it’s also incredibly sad to you. You realize no one’s probably ever really spent money on him, even though you’ve come to understand that the Kims aren’t exactly struggling. Quite the opposite, actually, and from your recent research, it's definitely partially thanks to Jeongguk.
Staying close without hovering, you watch as he picks out a few things: two t-shirts, a pair of shorts, and two pairs of sweatpants. They’re all black or white and simple in design—not that you expected him to go for pink and sparkles or anything. You also suggest he pick out some underwear, socks, and two pairs of shoes—one to keep at yours and the other to bring with him if he wants since he didn’t have any on when he arrived.
“You wanna try them on?” you nod toward the garments in his arms.
“Uh… Okay.”
You look around the store, scanning. “I think the fitting rooms… there they are.”
He follows your line of sight, and you head toward a small cluster of fitting rooms tucked into the back corner of the store. You wait outside while he steps into one of the small rooms, pulling the beige curtain closed behind him. There’s a soft rustle of fabric as he changes.
“They fit?” you ask a few minutes later as he pulls the curtain open.
“Yeah.” He pauses, looking down at the black and white shirts and sweatpants in his arms. “I’m not sure what color, though? What do you think?”
“We’ll take both, don’t worry about it,” you smile reassuringly. “Let’s pay and then get them tailored.”
He follows you to the checkout, where a friendly woman rings you up, and then you head into a smaller section of the store. There, another woman sits behind a table, an industrial sewing machine in front of her. She’s engrossed in a book, a yellow tape measure draped casually around her neck.
“Hello?” you call out.
She looks up, immediately setting the book down with a warm smile. “Oh, hello. What can I do for you?”
“We’d like to get these tailored, please,” you say, placing the sweatpants, shorts, and even the underwear on the table.
The woman glances at the pile, then shifts her gaze to Jeongguk, who lingers a couple of steps behind you.
“Is he alright with me measuring him?” she asks, her tone considerate.
You turn to Jeongguk, waiting for his reply. He meets the seamstress’ eyes briefly before nodding. “Yeah.”
“Good. Come here, please?” she says, gesturing him forward.
Jeongguk listens and steps up, removing his jacket again and standing still as the woman carefully wraps the tape measure around the base of his tail. She notes the number on a piece of paper before measuring the distance from the top of his tail to his waist, jotting that down too.
Although he’s cooperative, you notice the subtle furrow in his brows. He doesn’t seem particularly fond of having his tail touched. Or maybe he just doesn’t like having anyone’s hands on him in general. You’ve definitely been on the receiving end of that dislike.
With the measurements taken, she thanks him and begins working on the pants. The rhythmic hum of the sewing machine fills the small space, and Jeongguk steps away, glancing around the store. He doesn’t wander far from you, still keeping his promise. Meanwhile, you look through your phone again, trying to see if there’s anything you’ve missed on your quest to put together a little kit of necessities for him.
Besides clothes to have at your place, you’ll try convincing him to let you buy him a phone. At least a cheap one so that he can call you if he needs to—or just wants to—and some cash so that he can take a cab to your place if he needs to. If he finds anyone willing to drive an unaccompanied hybrid, that is. Maybe you’ll laminate a card with your info on it so that he can give it to someone if he’s ever in trouble and you can help from a distance, maybe convince people he’s nice and just needs help home. Or maybe that's a bit overboard?
“Finished!”
The seamstress’ voice pulls you from your thoughts only a few minutes later. You look up, locking your phone and sliding it into your pocket as she folds the clothes neatly. She slides the pile toward you, a satisfied smile on her face.
“Do you want to try them on?” she asks. “So I can alter them if needed.”
Jeongguk approaches, looks at you, and nods. He takes the pants from the table, and with you in tow, heads back to the fitting rooms. As he closes the curtain again, you lean against the nearby wall, waiting patiently as he tries them on again.
“Good?” you ask after a few moments when he’s taking a little extra time.
“Yeah,” he replies, emerging a second later with a hint of something you think resembles satisfaction.
“Awesome. I think we’re done here then?” you ask, already giving the seamstress a thumbs-up. She smiles warmly, her fingers lifting in a small wave as you both head towards the exit.
“Now… I’m getting you a phone,” you announce as you step out of the store, already steering toward another shop a few stores down.
“What? Why?” he asks, but you’re not met with the strong dislike you would have a few months ago.
“I want you to have a way to contact me if anything happens,” you explain, hoping that he accepts what very well could be too much for him.
At the entrance to the tech store, he seems to weigh his options before nodding shortly, and so you step inside. It’s definitely a surprise—and a relief—that he doesn’t argue.
His quiet acceptance also fills you with relief that maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to realize that he has a safe place with you and that something like a phone would help him. But you’re also heartbroken, imagining what it must’ve taken for such a strong-headed person like him to accept help he probably didn’t want in the first place.
You walk him through the aisles of displayed devices, each phone looking more expensive under the strong lights. Jeongguk’s eyes dart from screen to screen, a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of options. You can tell he’s unsure, but he’s also doing his best to let you do what you for some reason want to do so badly.
“What about this one?” you ask, picking up one of the older models; something practical but not too expensive. Jeongguk peers at it, his black ears lowering further.
“Isn’t that too much?” he mutters, glancing at you like he’s waiting for you to reconsider. Maybe even hoping. But you shake your head.
“It’s not,” you assure him. “It’s not the flashiest, so it’s still pretty cheap. But you’ll be able to call me.”
You smile, trying to keep things light as you head toward the counter. The employee observes Jeongguk for just a little too long, and you’re reminded of how rare he is. Not only are hybrids as big as him not something you see every day, but you’d never even heard of kangaroo hybrids before you met him.
As you finish up at the counter, you catch Jeongguk sneaking curious glances at the people passing by. There’s another hybrid, a smaller woman, talking to her human. Her long, full tail swishes calmly behind her, and although you can’t see any ears due to her hat, you assume she’s a cat hybrid.
Like most hybrids you’ve seen, she looks… satisfied with her situation. You can’t tell if she’s happy being owned by someone, but you can’t sense any discomfort or anger from her either, at least not in the moment and from your distance. You guess Jeongguk doesn’t see a lot of… normal hybrids, only whatever angry, possibly traumatized hybrid he fights in the ring.
“Ready?” you ask, gesturing toward the door.
He nods, his attention snapping back, and he follows you out of the store. There's a comfortable silence between you as you head home.
“Figuring it out?” your voice is light as you move into the living room.
“Yeah, kinda,” Jeongguk mumbles, not looking up from where he’s sitting on the couch, his new phone held carefully in his hands.
You hold your hand out, sitting down next to him. “Here, let me put my number in.”
Without objection, he hands you the phone, and you tap the screen to create a new contact, adding your name, number, and even address. Then you pause, thinking. Who else could he need to call?
“Okay, I’m putting in Taehyung’s number, just in case you ever need it, but remember that he’ll know of your phone if you do use it to contact him. And maybe… Yoongi’s number, if you can’t reach me. And also the authorities.”
You pull up the contacts in your own phone to copy the numbers into the new one. “You know how it works?”
“Uhm, yeah. Type number or press contact to call. Or you can text, right?”
“Yeah. Just press this icon, and you’ll be able to text. Keep the volume and vibration off, and check it now and again, maybe. Also remember to keep it charged in case you need to leave quickly.”
Jeongguk nods.
“Good,” you press your contact in the list, waiting a second until you hear the ringtone of your own phone. “It works. I’ll pay the bill for it, and you can use it as much as you want and need.”
He accepts it back, his eyes stuck on the device for a short moment. “Thank you.”
You smile even though he’s not looking at you. “You’re welcome,” you say softly. “Call me anytime. Or text.”
He nods, and you get the feeling that you've made meaningful progress today.
“Why are you so nice to me?” he asks suddenly, his voice blunt but with an edge of vulnerability that catches you off guard.
You take a moment to choose what to say, deciding to just get straight to the point. “Because I want to. You deserve to be treated with respect, just like anyone else.”
You don’t say that you wish someone had been there to show him this kindness—that's not even really anything special—a long time ago. You don’t say how badly you want him to see how much he deserves it.
He looks away, and you let the silence settle around you both again. But then you glance at your phone. More specifically, the time.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
Right on cue, his stomach lets out a low, unmistakable growl. You stand up, turning to him with an amused smile.
“Liar,” you say, chuckling. “Also, I’m probably a lot hungrier than that. Do you wanna help me cook?”
“Uh… I don’t know how to?”
“I’ll show you,” you promise, heading toward the kitchen. When you glance over your shoulder, you catch him following you, hesitant but seemingly at least a little curious.
You open the fridge to grab a few ingredients—some eggs, a couple of vegetables, and leftover rice.
“We’ll make… fried rice, if that's okay with you?” you ask, setting everything down on the counter.
"Sure. But I've never…"
Jeongguk hovers nearby, arms hanging loosely at his sides, as though unsure what to do. You grab a knife and a cutting board, holding them out to him. “It's alright. You can chop. I’ll show you how.”
With a few careful instructions, you guide him through slicing the vegetables. His movements are a little stiff at first, but he follows your directions closely, and soon, he’s chopping with a quiet focus.
Meanwhile, you take out a pan and heat some oil. When he's done, Jeongguk brings the vegetables over, watching intrigued as you drop them into the pan.
"Rice?" he suggests when you've stirred a few times and start looking around.
"Yeah."
Without a word, he brings the bowl of rice, and you gesture for him to dump it in. He does, and then takes the spatula when you offer it to him.
His ears twitch slightly as he concentrates on mimicking your motions, stirring the mixture carefully. You watch him for a moment, noticing how the lines of tension in his shoulders seem to soften as he works.
"See? It's very simple. The hardest part is probably the eggs," you say as you approach the carton, picking out a few eggs. "Would you like to crack them? You can do it in a glass first if you're worried about getting shell in the pan."
"Okay."
With a smile, you grab a glass from the cupboard, carefully showing him how you crack the egg against the edge. When it's his turn, he uses too much force, and there's a shard of white egg shell that follows into the glass. He looks at you, unsure, but all you do is hand him a tea spoon and encourage him to fish it out. It takes him a minute, but when he's done, you let him pour the eggs in.
The kitchen is warm, the only sounds being the hiss of the pan and the clink of utensils and plates as you bring them out. It feels peaceful, like you’ve actually found a rhythm together and don't need any words.
That night, you wake to a faint glow seeping under your bedroom door. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you slip out of bed, padding toward the living room. There, you find Jeongguk sitting on the couch, his gaze fixed on the TV. The soft, shifting light casts shadows across his face, revealing the faint traces of exhaustion in his eyes.
“Can’t sleep?” you ask quietly, sitting down beside him.
He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the screen.
“You know,” you start, a smile already growing on your lips. “I read something interesting about kangaroos the other day.”
Jeongguk turns slightly, his brows drawing together in mild curiosity. “Why are you reading about kangaroos?”
“Because I have a partial one living with me? Did you know that joeys like to be swaddled? They’ll practically jump into any dark sack if it’s offered.”
“Are you… suggesting you put me in a dark sack?”
“Maybe,” you grin.
Before he can object, you disappear down the hallway, returning with a spare duvet cover. You hold it up, tying two of the ends together to make it smaller and hopefully, a cozy, enclosed space. “Try this.”
“No,” he says, but the difference is how he says it. His eyes aren’t brimming with anger anymore, they’re almost a little amused instead.
The next morning, you walk past Jeongguk's door, noticing that it’s slightly ajar. It’s pretty dark inside his room, but you’re still able to discern the shape of a… ball through the crack? Upon closer inspection, you see that, yeah, Jeongguk is bundled up in the makeshift "sack," peacefully asleep with only his large, black ears and a corner of the fuzzy blanket peeking out. The sight tugs at your heart, and you continue into the kitchen to make breakfast.
Half an hour later—while you’re getting ready for work—your phone rings. Your stomach drops as you spot the name displayed on the screen.
Taehyung.
Of course, you knew it was just a matter of time, and you take a deep breath as you answer the call, expecting the worst.
“Hello?”
“Hey, so, Jeongguk… Why is his tracker showing he's at your place?” he asks, his tone cold.
You swallow, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine at his bluntness. “Yeah, I told him to come here if he got kicked out. It’s inhumane, Taehyung.”
“I’m picking him up.”
A tense silence follows, and without another word, he hangs up. You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment to collect yourself.
It takes you two minutes to let your boss know that you’re feeling ill and won’t be coming in, something that’s honestly not even that much of a lie. Knowing that Taehyung can and probably will stop by today makes you feel something you can only describe as nausea, and you wouldn’t get anything done at work anyway.
Realizing that you’ll have to break the news to him, you knock gently on Jeongguk's door. When there’s no response, you open it slowly, finding him still curled up inside the duvet cover. You walk over quietly, sitting at the edge of the bed.
“So, it worked?” you ask, your voice light but warm. It's easy to push the thoughts of Taehyung away, at least temporarily, when the kangaroo hybrid is so endearing. It's almost unbelievable that the huge guy even fit inside the sack.
He stirs slightly, still entirely hidden from view with the exception of his black ears and a little bit of black hair.
"Maybe," he mumbles, and you chuckle, reaching over to fluff a pillow nearby. As you do, your bracelet slips from your wrist, brushing lightly against his ear.
“Sorry,” you murmur, carefully picking it up. “I know you don’t like to be touched.”
“Yeah… I don’t like being hurt,” he explains from inside the sheets.
The simplicity of his statement twists something in you. “Is there… anything you do like?” you ask, “when it comes to touch? A scratch behind the ear or something? I read that that's usually enjoyed by most hybrids.”
For a moment, he’s silent. “I don’t know. Isn’t the point that it’s not enjoyable?”
“No,” you shake your head even if he can’t see it, your heart heavy. “Of course, it’s not.”
The quiet lingers, and then, carefully, you offer, “I can try… if you’ll let me?” You keep your tone light, respectful.
To your surprise, he hesitates only briefly before agreeing quietly. “Okay.”
You lean in slowly, hand moving very carefully to his ear, tracing the curve with the lightest touch. His fur is softer than you expected, and as you run your fingers over it very, very gently, you feel him… relax. He even lets out a deep breath. Encouraged, you scratch lightly at the base, heart warmed by the subtle way he almost moves into the touch.
For maybe five minutes, you keep your hand on him; tracing, scratching, and gently massaging his ears, enjoying his slow, relaxed breaths and body language. Then you sigh, deciding to just rip the bandaid off.
“Taehyung called.”
Even though Jeongguk doesn’t move or speak, you feel the mood change as you explain. “He didn’t sound too pleased.”
“He’s probably on his way,” Jeongguk mutters.
Watching as he sheds the cozy "sack," your heart hurts, and you wish this small moment could last longer. He sits up—looking very warm and sweet, yet disappointed—and glances at you.
“Yeah. You should probably consider what you want to bring. Feel free to leave some things here too. In case you need them another time.”
What can you do?
Only an hour later, there’s a firm knock on your door. You and Jeongguk have been sitting together, side by side on the couch, just waiting for the inevitable. His phone, its charger, and your key already lie hidden in the deep pockets of his jacket, and he's not bringing anything else but the clothes on his body.
You look at Jeongguk, trying to stay calm and positive even if you’re anxious and worried. You hope your earlier—quite bold—words to Taehyung won’t make things harder for Jeongguk. The last thing you want is to give Taehyung any reason to retaliate.
Standing up, you head to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.
As expected, it’s Taehyung who stands there. His face is cold, letting you know that he doesn’t care to put on the charming mask he wore when you first met him. He’s not scared of you knowing what kind of person he really is. His eyes scan the room behind you, immediately finding Jeongguk.
“Put your shoes on,” he instructs stoically.
Jeongguk steps forward to do as told, putting the shoes you got him on.
“I can pay you five thousand now,” you offer, the slight panic you feel definitely heard in your voice. You’ve thought through every angle, already decided that selling your car and emptying your savings is a fair trade if it means being able to give Jeongguk a better life. “And I can make monthly payments—eight hundred dollars a month until it’s all paid off.”
Taehyung’s expression doesn’t change. “No.”
“Please, Taehyung,” you plead, your voice softening.
“I said no,” Taehyung repeats, more firmly this time. He nods towards Jeongguk, gesturing for him to follow, and so, Jeongguk steps past you, his face blank and eyes focused straight ahead. He doesn’t look back, not even once.
The door clicks shut behind them, leaving you in silence so thick it feels almost suffocating.
That same night, you find yourself restlessly moving through the apartment, looking through old boxes and drawers to see what you might own that’s just collecting dust. You know it’s a long shot, but you’re determined. If there’s even the slightest chance that you’ll be allowed to buy Jeongguk’s freedom, you’ll have the money.
Among the more valuable items is a camera, a Christmas present from your dad from a few years back. It would hurt to part with it, but you remind yourself that it’s just an object, a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things. As you research its current value, you send Jeongguk a text. You know that maybe you shouldn’t in case Taehyung finds the phone, but you can’t help it.
‘You okay?’
You wait for a response, staring at the screen until your eyes feel dry, but nothing comes. So you close your phone, thinking that he probably keeps his turned off. After all, it’s for him to contact you in case he needs it, not the other way around.
In the weeks that follow, you throw yourself into selling as many things as you can. Every sale feels like a step closer, each dollar a piece of hope you cling to. You sell old electronics, clothes you rarely wear, even some furniture, managing to collect about twelve hundred dollars over the next few weeks. Most of it are things you probably should’ve parted with years ago, but like your camera, some things still sting a little.
You also trim down your expenses, cancel subscriptions you can live without, cut back on groceries you shouldn’t buy anyway, and really think about each new purchase. Your car, though old, is appraised at about three thousand dollars, and you know that selling it would bring you closer to your goal. But you hesitate, knowing it’s a last resort. You’d definitely rather keep it, so you don’t sell it just yet, not unless you absolutely have to.
One morning, you wake to a new notification on your phone.
‘I’m okay.’
Another month or so passes with no other communication, but then, on a Saturday evening just past six, there’s a knock on your apartment door. The sound startles you, and you glance at the clock before setting your laptop aside. Wrapped in a fuzzy blanket on the couch, you definitely weren’t expecting anyone. Rising, you make your way to the door, opening it with curiosity.
Dark eyes meet yours. Jeongguk.
“Hi,” you greet softly, your voice tinged with surprise. You look him over quickly. He looks… okay. Tired, but okay, dressed in a jacket that’s thankfully appropriate for the chill of early November. His hands are tucked into his pockets, and you notice that he doesn’t seem to have a bag of any kind with him.
“Hi,” he replies, his voice quiet, almost unsure. There’s something in his expression that makes you pause, something that doesn’t quite fit the relief you feel at seeing him.
Figuring that something must have happened, and he needs a place to stay, you step back and gesture for him to come inside. He hesitates for a second before stepping over the threshold.
You shut the door behind him, but it confuses you when he doesn’t make any effort to take off his shoes or remove his jacket.
“You okay?” you ask carefully, your voice gentle but laced with concern.
“Yeah, I just came to…” He trails off, searching for something in the pockets of his jacket, “... return these.”
You look at what he’s holding out to you in his big hand. It’s the key and the phone. You meet his eyes, confusion and worry rising quickly.
“What? Why?”
Jeongguk doesn’t answer right away, instead looking a little unsure of how to tell you whatever he’s about to say.
“I won’t be back.”
“Wait, what?” you breathe, stepping closer to him. “Did Taehyung make you do this? Did he find the phone?”
He shakes his head, his expression unreadable. “No. But I won’t be back, so I wanted to return them.”
“But how do you know that you won’t be back? Did he tell you you can’t come here?” The questions spill out in rapid succession, your voice growing increasingly worried.
“No. I…” He falters, looking around before deciding to bend down and gently put the phone and key on the floor when you’re not taking them from him. Straightening up, he licks his lips, seemingly weighing something in his mind before he finally speaks again. “Do you know about the Ultra Games?”
You blink, the term vaguely familiar. “Uh…yeah, isn’t that…”
You rack your brain, searching your memory. You vaguely remember coming across the term—as well as many other championship and competition titles—during your research months ago.
He watches you as you remember what you read about it, your stomach dropping painfully when you do.
“...When hybrids fight to the death?”
Jeongguk’s sad look is the only confirmation you need. He thinks he’ll be dead and that it’s why he’s not coming back.
“Then why won’t he just sell you to me?” you demand, heartbroken desperation bubbling to the surface.
“The prize money is too tempting. This year, it’s a hundred thousand.”
“Then you’ll win,” you say, not even sparing the other hybrids a thought, too upset at the thought of Jeongguk being killed. “I know you can do it. One last time and then maybe Taehyung will let me have you, and you can live here with me.”
“I can’t… kill someone,” he explains slowly and quietly, his head slightly tilted.
The weight of his words settles over you like a heavy blanket. You feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as realization dawns.
“You’re… forfeiting?” you conclude in a whisper.
Jeongguk doesn’t respond, but his silence speaks volumes.
But then, a spark of hope ignites. “Wait. Does Taehyung know that? Won’t he sell you to me if he knows you’ll lose on purpose? There won’t be any money either way if you do?”
“He thinks I’ll fight for my survival when the time comes,” Jeongguk says, his tone soft but certain. “Says it’s impossible not to.”
The spark dies, and the room feels like it’s closing in on you. Your gaze is stuck somewhere in the air between you as you think.
Jeongguk’s eyes shift to the door, like he’s trying to distance himself from the conversation.
“I’m not winning as much anymore,” he admits. “I broke my tail a few months ago, and without it—without it working properly, and being painful—it puts me at a disadvantage. I can't keep up anymore. I cost too much to keep and feed, and if I’m not bringing in money, there’s no use for me.”
“We’ll leave the country,” you burst, taking a quick step forward and reaching for his warm hand. “We’ll leave tonight, okay?”
He gazes at you with understanding, letting you hold his hand, but the way he looks at you also tells you that he doesn’t see how it would work.
“There’s nothing you can do,” he says, his voice gentle but final. He nods toward the items on the floor. “I just came to return these.”
He’s already moving toward the door, and panic surges in your chest. “Jeongguk, wait!”
He pauses. “I can’t,” he says softly. “Jimin’s waiting, and I have a practice to get to.”
He glances at you one last time, his eyes meeting yours with a look that definitely means goodbye. Then he opens the door and steps out, leaving you standing there, tears welling in your eyes as the sound of the door clicking shut echoes in your lonely apartment.
<previous | next>
author's note: oop 🥹💔 i hope you liked it <3
permanent taglist (for all my works), sign up here (as long as the form is open, there are spots open):
you didn't know your estranged uncle had a son. Not until said son dumps an unusually large, very angry, kangaroo hybrid on your doorstep, claiming it's only for a few days while your uncle is in hospital.
pairing: kangaroo hybrid!jk x f!reader
genre: hybrid au, angst, mild fluff
word count: 8.8k
warnings: still none really besides the ethics of hybrid-keeping (and fighting)
author’s note: i decided to make it into three parts instead of two! i hope you like this, i edited it a tad (but i'll still blame lo from the past for this entire fic lol)
Saturday. As expected, the day doesn’t start very well, but it’s at least… manageable so far. You remember that Jeongguk is supposed to leave for his activity again later, and when you try asking him about it once more, he doesn’t tell you anything. Shocker.
After fixing breakfast for Jeongguk, you return to bed, not knowing if he eats or not. Today, you don’t have the energy to try to force him to eat if he doesn’t want to. Instead, you pop a few pills, writhing in your white sheets. Some months are better than others, and some months, you spend days on end on your bathroom floor, nauseous and desperate for the cool bathroom tiles against your cheek.
When the time comes, you see Jeongguk off again, locking the door behind him and nearly doubling over in pain. Bringing your phone as sufficient entertainment, you retreat to the bathroom.
At two a.m., you hear a tentative knock on the front door, a sound that wakes you out of your half-slumber on the bathroom floor. You get up on shaky legs and approach the door to open it for the hybrid. He looks cautious, as if he’s scared he woke you up although you did tell him to always knock. If you were to guess, you’d say that he probably regrets not taking the key you offered last time.
His eyes trail over you in your sorry state, but he at least doesn’t look angry.
“Are you alright?” you ask, looking over him briefly in turn. You don’t notice any obvious injuries, but he does look spent. His body looks like it feels heavy, and his black hair is still damp with sweat.
He nods and actually opens his mouth to speak. “Are you?”
Damn, you must really look like a mess.
“Yeah. Go take a shower,” you usher him inside, closing the door behind him.
Maybe it’s because you look like you’re on death’s doorstep, but he doesn’t seem to want to argue. Or maybe he does and is glaring at you; you can't tell with your exhausted eyes half closed.
While he’s in the bathroom, you do some of the dishes left out during the day, trying not to cry from the intense bursts of pain. The gods obviously didn’t hear you. Or they just didn’t care.
Silently, you hear the bathroom door open and very quiet footsteps exit. You call for him, drying your hands on your cotton shorts.
“There’s food in the fridge, please eat something,” you instruct when he appears half a minute later, wearing only sweatpants. Even in your weakened state, you definitely take notice of his very muscular and thick physique; how the prominent veins span across his arms and hands. But most importantly, you see the way a large bruise is forming over his right side, just over his ribs.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask quietly.
Luckily, he doesn’t take offense and gives you a small nod. Well, you don’t think there’s anything you can really do to help him at the moment, so you return his nod. Then you leave the kitchen, making your way back to the bathroom—that still bears foggy traces of Jeongguk’s shower—just as another wave of nausea hits you. At least you hear the fridge open, which grants you some mental relief.
The cool tiles against your skin help a lot. It also helps that you’re almost too tired to be nauseous. But it hurts. It hurts so much, and you can’t say that you wouldn’t rather be a man at that moment.
Some time passes. You’re not sure how long. It could be fifteen minutes or it could be an hour, but when you open your eyes, he’s standing there, looking worriedly at you where you're lying on your side, sweaty, tired, and tortured.
“Are you sick?” he asks quietly. “Maybe you should go to the hospital.”
“I’m not sick,” you explain, barely lifting your gaze.
“Then what is wrong with you?”
“You know biology? Women’s anatomy?”
He nods, seemingly realizing.
“Yeah. I have… endometriosis. It’s a condition that makes all of that worse, basically. A whole lot of uterine cells outside the uterus. But it’s usually not very dangerous. If I go to the hospital, they’ll send me home with the same kind of painkillers I already have.”
Not looking convinced, Jeongguk’s eyes flit over your body. If you weren’t so tired and in pain, you’d find it sweet how truly worried and unsure he looks.
“I’ll be fine,” you say, closing your eyes again.
For the remainder of the night, you slip in and out of consciousness there on the bathroom floor, always feeling a lingering presence.
The next few days are easier. The pain and nausea turn more manageable, and your heart warms at how the hybrid also seems more… manageable. Even though you’re doing better, he’s still eating without arguing. Sure, not nearly as much as someone his size and physique should, but it’s something. In turn, you’ve gone back to only talking sweetly to him, no more pretending to threaten him.
And just like that, Jeongguk has been with you for a week.
But when your phone rings one afternoon, it’s Taehyung, asking when he can come pick Jeongguk up.
“Would you sell him to me?” you blurt, realizing that you can’t let them take him back.
“What?”
“I was wondering if you’d sell him to me?” you repeat.
Taehyung still sounds just as confused. “Why?”
You guess you haven’t given off a very interested impression so far.
“Yeah. I actually really like him, and I’ve been thinking about getting a hybrid of my own.”
“Oh. Well, he’s not for sale. At least not for less than 15 000 dollars.”
You blink in shock. That’s not an amount of money you happen to have lying around.
“Oh,” you say, unable to hide your disappointment.
“Yeah, he’s not really one of those pet hybrids. He’s a highly regarded fighter. Brings us extra cash every week.”
“Fighter? I didn’t know that was…. well, legal?”
“It is. Some people just frown upon it, but he’s a kangaroo hybrid; he was bred to fight.”
“Well… I, uh, I’ll see how much I can come up with.”
“Sure. I’ll see you later tonight then.”
“Yeah. Bye.”
Your heart breaks as you end the call because you know for a fact that you don’t have that kind of money. No matter how much you want to remove Jeongguk from his home situation, what can you do? You can’t refuse to return him; Taehyung and his father legally own him, and if you tried to skip town with him, they’d easily track you down due to the GPS tracker in his chip.
When you turn around, shoulders slumping, you spot Jeongguk.
“You want to own me?” he asks, his softer side vanished in favor of his cold, bordering on emotionless one.
“No,” you start, surprised by his conclusion and the distaste for it. “I don’t want to own you. I want to help you and get you away from them, and since you technically don’t have a lot of rights, yeah, I’d have to buy you. But I think that it would be the lesser of two evils.”
“What about what I want then?”
His follow-up question surprises you even more. Of course, you understand that you don’t know each other very well, but… is he implying that he wants to go back? To a place where it seems a luxury to be allowed on the couch? Where you’re convinced he’s made to feel like a burden? Where he’s forced to fight?
You can’t say you have an answer to his question, and so Jeongguk watches you for a few seconds, but when there is no response, he leaves the room.
Just before Taehyung is supposed to arrive to take Jeongguk to his “activity” himself, you approach Jeongguk in the guest room as he’s finishing up packing his stuff.
“Here.”
He looks at your open hand and the key in it and then he looks at you, his dark eyes emotionless.
“No,” is his answer, and after relaying it, he continues to place the last of his stuff inside his duffel bag. He makes the bed, picking up the hot water bottle, and you don't miss the very slight trace of longing in his eyes as he holds it.
“Take it with you,” you offer.
He puts it down on the bed. “Can’t.”
“Why not? I have more.”
“They’ll think I stole it from you,” he argues, and it hurts your heart to hear that they would immediately jump to such conclusions, not believing him.
“I’ll tell Taehyung I gave you some things.”
“You’ll offend them by implying they don’t take care of me.”
“Well, they don’t?” you’re quick to retort. “I’ll say I was going to get rid of it anyway.”
He peers over at it, and you can easily tell that he wants it. “...No.”
He redirects his focus to his bag, continuing his packing.
“At least take this,” you hold the key out again.
“Why? I’m not coming back here?”
“I know. But… I want you to have it. Just in case. And I want you to know that you’re always welcome here. Always. If you want to come here, for any reason, you can.”
He doesn’t take it but doesn’t say anything either, so you reach for his bag, dropping the key into one of its smaller inner pockets and pulling the zipper shut. “Don’t tell them I gave it to you. If they find it, say you didn’t know about it and have them call me to ask about it. I’ll say I sneaked it in there when you weren’t looking or something.”
Almost expecting him to pull the key out and throw it at you, you’re surprised yet definitely relieved when he doesn’t, only looking at you and biting his lip somberly.
When you first met the hybrid, you had no idea it would be so hard to watch him leave. Still, he walks out that door with Taehyung, and your heart aches, knowing that he’s not well cared for and that there’s nothing you can do about it. As far as you know, at least.
It frustrates you because you don’t actually think Jeongguk is hard to care for. Give him a room with a comfortable bed in it, some appropriate clothes, and enough food, and you’d bet he’s good. Maybe entertainment of some kind as well, and a chance to socialize with other hybrids, and he probably wouldn’t complain about a single thing. If you’re going to strip someone of their rights like hybrids have been, you can at least make sure they have everything they need.
Unsurprisingly, you don’t hear anything from Jeongguk—or Taehyung, rather—in the coming months. You wonder about him, if he’s doing alright, and on multiple occasions, you spend entire nights googling hybrid fighting rings. To your disappointment, there are too many to count. Then, one night you find it. A ring that advertises its fighters, one of them familiar looking.
Jeongguk’s name is there, so is his height and weight, and how many wins versus losses he’s accumulated. And you understand why Taehyung wasn’t very eager to sell him to you.
As you scroll the site, you see other kinds of hybrids as well, a lot of which you had no idea even existed. There are not many derived from house pets; no house cat hybrids, but there are a few big dog hybrids as well as a wolf one, two cougars, a bear, and even a few hyenas.
For a while, you debate going to a fight, but then again, what would you even do there? Unfortunately, you can’t just try to locate Jeongguk and grab him since he belongs to the Kims and what they’re doing is supposedly entirely legal. If you were to try anyway, they’d just take him back and probably have you arrested. So you stay home, holding onto the fact that, even if it isn’t much, he at least has a key to your apartment in case he needs it.
Tapping your foot, you wait for the red light to turn green and the driver to accelerate. In your pocket, your phone buzzes, and when you pull it out, there’s a text lit up and waiting for you.
'Had a great time tonight'
You ponder over a reply, before settling for a simple ‘me too’ and hitting send. It was an alright date with an alright dude; you’re just not sure he’s the one for you. Still, you decide to give him one more date to be sure. At least the food was great.
At eleven p.m., the car pulls over outside your apartment complex and with a ‘thanks,’ you step out and close the door behind you. Despite the relatively early hour, you yawn as you twist the key in the lock, opening the door to your dark apartment. Swiftly, you flick the light switch on and start to remove your fall jacket before something catches your eye, and you freeze.
On the little stool you keep in the hallway, there’s a key. One that wasn’t there when you left, and one you’re pretty sure you actually gave away half a year ago.
Carefully, you step further into the apartment, not sure what you’ll find in the dark. What your eyes do fall upon however, is something curled up on the couch.
Your eyes adjust to the darkness slowly, allowing you to discern more. It’s Jeongguk, sleeping on your couch. He’s curled up as much as possible, probably to conserve heat. The weather outside isn’t too cold for late September, but it’s certainly cold if all you’re wearing is jeans and a t-shirt. He’s not even wearing shoes, seemingly intentionally keeping his dirty feet hanging over the edge.
Your heavy heart hurts, and you guess that he’s been kicked out for some reason. From what you gathered when he stayed with you, it’s happened before.
Deciding not to wake him, you pull a blanket off the couch and very, very carefully drape it over his freezing body. Then you exit the living room, leaving the lights there off, and head to the kitchen.
Suspecting that he’s probably hungry, you look through your fridge and freezer in search of something to make him, settling on toasting a couple slices of bread and scrambling some eggs for him. As you do, the kitchen fills with the smell, and you hum to yourself. Despite feeling terrible that he’s obviously still not being treated properly, you’re happy to see him and to get the chance to take care of him for however long he’ll stay.
When you return with the food on a tray, Jeongguk is already awake and sitting up, the blanket wrapped around him. He looks tired and a little less… well, a little less than when you last saw him. It’s no wonder he loses weight when he either doesn’t eat as much as he’s supposed to, or just not being fed what he’s supposed to.
“Hi,” you greet quietly as you place the tray down on the coffee table. Besides a glass of water and a big plate with food for him, it also contains an apple and some water for you. Sure, you just ate at the restaurant, but you figure he’ll be more comfortable eating if you are too.
But he pulls away, diverting his eyes from you and the food as if he’s ashamed. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.”
He goes to stand, but you stop him. “No, no, stay, please. I told you; you’re always welcome here.”
Unsure, he licks his lips but settles back down and pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders again.
“I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it?” you say, trying not to place any value in your assumption. “If you do, I’m all ears, but otherwise… don’t sweat it. The guest room is yours, and you’re free to stay as long as you’d like.”
Jeongguk looks almost relieved, and in turn, it brings your own heart relief. You spend a few minutes preparing some clean clothes for him; a set of lounge wear that originally belonged to your dad, and after he’s eaten and is taking a shower, you prepare the bed for him as well. He doesn’t say much, and you don’t pressure him.
The next day, he’s already awake when you step out of your bedroom to pee. Sitting on the couch, still wearing the outfit you gave him last night, but doing absolutely nothing, he looks at you when you approach.
“I don’t…” he starts, but stops to clear his throat in uncertainty, “I don’t know if I should stay or try to go back.”
“Well, what do you want to do?” you ask, patting your unbrushed hair down and hoping that he’ll decide to stay at least a little while.
“I want to stay, but…”
“Then stay. Keep me company for a while.”
You think you see a hint of a smile forming on his lips.
He does end up staying, at least another night, and you ask him to watch a movie with you, something he agrees to. You let him scroll your streaming services until he settles on Jurassic Park, and you run to the corner store, getting some chips and soda.
“So, how long do you think you’ll stay?” you ask, trying to sound casual and without looking at him directly. “I don’t mind having you here; in fact, it’s more than okay, and I like having you around. I’m just wondering.”
Despite your precaution, you see how his mood turns sour. First angry, then mixed with sadness.
“I don’t know. I didn’t do well at my last fight, and I talked back. Taehyung told me to leave and not come back until I was ready to show some respect. They usually track me down by my chip after a few days and come and get me, wherever I am. So I don’t know.”
“They just leave you to fend for yourself?” you ask, truly shocked.
Jeongguk scoffs. “I’m very capable of surviving on my own. I’m not a child.”
“I know, it’s not… I didn’t mean it like that. Just that they’re making it unreasonably difficult for you. I mean, you didn’t even have shoes on. If you walked here, it probably took you like, half a day? I don’t know how well I would’ve done if I was left alone outside without money or my phone or even appropriate clothes.”
He keeps his eyes on the screen, and you decide to try something he might not like.
“Maybe tomorrow we can go pick out some clothes for you?” you watch his reaction tentatively, placing another chip in your mouth.
He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the TV, but you can see the internal struggle going on inside him. He doesn’t want you to spend money on him, but he doesn’t want to walk around in dirty clothes in case you think he’s stinking up your home.
“Okay,” he mumbles finally, making you smile.
“Okay. We’ll get you some shoes as well.”
“I, uhm, don’t have my collar, though,” he informs.
You pause. Even when Jeongguk stayed with you for a week, you never went outside with him, and so you’d completely forgotten that hybrids need to wear collars when out in public.
“What are the criteria for a collar? Does it only need to contain owner contact information?”
“Yeah. There are a lot of models, but that’s the minimum criteria.”
You contemplate for a second before rising from the couch to look for something in your bedroom. Collecting a few items—one from an old sewing kit—you make your way back, placing them on the coffee table. Jeongguk peers over at the stuff, watching as you place a piece of yellow tape on the inside of a black silk band of about an inch in width. With the ink pen you brought, you write your own name and phone number in small letters and numbers and then blow on the text to dry it.
Curiously but a little carefully, he looks at you when you lift the band toward him. “I don’t know what yours is like, but would this be okay?”
“Uhm… mine is a lot harder.”
“What, like a prong collar?” you joke, realizing quickly that you shouldn’t have.
He nods, “Yeah.”
“I..” you start, unsure of what to say, “I don’t think you need a collar at all, actually, so this would be enough only to comply with the laws. I know I’m not technically your owner but if we were to be separated, I’d rather have someone call me than them.”
Slowly, he moves closer and lets you tie the band loosely around his neck, the information hidden on the inside.
“It doesn’t need to be tighter than this, right?” you ask, inspecting the band that rests at the very bottom of his neck, more like a regular short-chained necklace than a choker.
Jeongguk lifts his hand to judge the tightness. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay. Does this feel alright then?”
You let your eyes travel over him, and sure, it looks a bit like an odd accessory, but the main goal is to make it comfortable and hopefully also remove the humiliation of wearing an obvious collar.
Jeongguk nods again, and you see that almost familiar trace of a smile, something that makes your heart beat with happiness.
“Good. We don’t need a leash, so just try to stay close to me, and I’ll try to stay close to you.”
You let a few moments of silence pass, watching Jeongguk out of the corner of your eye as he unties the band to place it carefully on the table again.
The day after, you knock on your neighbors’ door after you’ve returned from work, asking to borrow some shoes and an appropriate jacket for Jeongguk to wear as you go shopping. The hybrid doesn’t look too excited when you return with the goods, but he doesn’t complain, and you think he just tries to accept it even if he doesn’t really want it. Not your favors and not your kindness.
With you both dressed appropriately for the fall weather, you get inside your old car. The short journey toward the closest mall with a good supply of hybrid clothes is spent in silence, Jeongguk sitting in the passenger seat and looking out through the window.
Just as quietly, he follows you from the car and into the big building, keeping close just like you asked him to. Looking through the shopping list you wrote in your phone’s notes app, you decide to start with the clothes.
Always a step or two behind you, Jeongguk remains quiet as you head toward a specific store, one that’s bigger than any other hybrid-targeted stores you’ve seen but still only a fraction of the stores for humans. There are a few people inside, both with and without accompanying hybrids.
“Go and look. I’ll keep up,” you encourage him softly when you enter the store, calm music playing from the speakers.
Clearly uncomfortable, he looks down at you with hesitancy in his dark eyes. “Are you sure you want to spend money on me?”
“Yes,” you say determinedly. “Please, let me?”
He considers for a few seconds before giving a small nod. “Okay.”
He looks around, seemingly unsure where to start before he takes tentative steps toward a section with shirts. It's clear how he gravitates toward the cheaper options on the racks. You find it sweet—and you’re relieved he’s not looking at the most expensive garments—but it’s also incredibly sad to you. You realize no one’s probably ever really spent money on him, even though you’ve come to understand that the Kims aren’t exactly struggling. Quite the opposite, actually, and from your recent research, it's definitely partially thanks to Jeongguk.
Staying close without hovering, you watch as he picks out a few things: two t-shirts, a pair of shorts, and two pairs of sweatpants. They’re all black or white and simple in design—not that you expected him to go for pink and sparkles or anything. You also suggest he pick out some underwear, socks, and two pairs of shoes—one to keep at yours and the other to bring with him if he wants since he didn’t have any on when he arrived.
“You wanna try them on?” you nod toward the garments in his arms.
“Uh… Okay.”
You look around the store, scanning. “I think the fitting rooms… there they are.”
He follows your line of sight, and you head toward a small cluster of fitting rooms tucked into the back corner of the store. You wait outside while he steps into one of the small rooms, pulling the beige curtain closed behind him. There’s a soft rustle of fabric as he changes.
“They fit?” you ask a few minutes later as he pulls the curtain open.
“Yeah.” He pauses, looking down at the black and white shirts and sweatpants in his arms. “I’m not sure what color, though? What do you think?”
“We’ll take both, don’t worry about it,” you smile reassuringly. “Let’s pay and then get them tailored.”
He follows you to the checkout, where a friendly woman rings you up, and then you head into a smaller section of the store. There, another woman sits behind a table, an industrial sewing machine in front of her. She’s engrossed in a book, a yellow tape measure draped casually around her neck.
“Hello?” you call out.
She looks up, immediately setting the book down with a warm smile. “Oh, hello. What can I do for you?”
“We’d like to get these tailored, please,” you say, placing the sweatpants, shorts, and even the underwear on the table.
The woman glances at the pile, then shifts her gaze to Jeongguk, who lingers a couple of steps behind you.
“Is he alright with me measuring him?” she asks, her tone considerate.
You turn to Jeongguk, waiting for his reply. He meets the seamstress’ eyes briefly before nodding. “Yeah.”
“Good. Come here, please?” she says, gesturing him forward.
Jeongguk listens and steps up, removing his jacket again and standing still as the woman carefully wraps the tape measure around the base of his tail. She notes the number on a piece of paper before measuring the distance from the top of his tail to his waist, jotting that down too.
Although he’s cooperative, you notice the subtle furrow in his brows. He doesn’t seem particularly fond of having his tail touched. Or maybe he just doesn’t like having anyone’s hands on him in general. You’ve definitely been on the receiving end of that dislike.
With the measurements taken, she thanks him and begins working on the pants. The rhythmic hum of the sewing machine fills the small space, and Jeongguk steps away, glancing around the store. He doesn’t wander far from you, still keeping his promise. Meanwhile, you look through your phone again, trying to see if there’s anything you’ve missed on your quest to put together a little kit of necessities for him.
Besides clothes to have at your place, you’ll try convincing him to let you buy him a phone. At least a cheap one so that he can call you if he needs to—or just wants to—and some cash so that he can take a cab to your place if he needs to. If he finds anyone willing to drive an unaccompanied hybrid, that is. Maybe you’ll laminate a card with your info on it so that he can give it to someone if he’s ever in trouble and you can help from a distance, maybe convince people he’s nice and just needs help home. Or maybe that's a bit overboard?
“Finished!”
The seamstress’ voice pulls you from your thoughts only a few minutes later. You look up, locking your phone and sliding it into your pocket as she folds the clothes neatly. She slides the pile toward you, a satisfied smile on her face.
“Do you want to try them on?” she asks. “So I can alter them if needed.”
Jeongguk approaches, looks at you, and nods. He takes the pants from the table, and with you in tow, heads back to the fitting rooms. As he closes the curtain again, you lean against the nearby wall, waiting patiently as he tries them on again.
“Good?” you ask after a few moments when he’s taking a little extra time.
“Yeah,” he replies, emerging a second later with a hint of something you think resembles satisfaction.
“Awesome. I think we’re done here then?” you ask, already giving the seamstress a thumbs-up. She smiles warmly, her fingers lifting in a small wave as you both head towards the exit.
“Now… I’m getting you a phone,” you announce as you step out of the store, already steering toward another shop a few stores down.
“What? Why?” he asks, but you’re not met with the strong dislike you would have a few months ago.
“I want you to have a way to contact me if anything happens,” you explain, hoping that he accepts what very well could be too much for him.
At the entrance to the tech store, he seems to weigh his options before nodding shortly, and so you step inside. It’s definitely a surprise—and a relief—that he doesn’t argue.
His quiet acceptance also fills you with relief that maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to realize that he has a safe place with you and that something like a phone would help him. But you’re also heartbroken, imagining what it must’ve taken for such a strong-headed person like him to accept help he probably didn’t want in the first place.
You walk him through the aisles of displayed devices, each phone looking more expensive under the strong lights. Jeongguk’s eyes dart from screen to screen, a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of options. You can tell he’s unsure, but he’s also doing his best to let you do what you for some reason want to do so badly.
“What about this one?” you ask, picking up one of the older models; something practical but not too expensive. Jeongguk peers at it, his black ears lowering further.
“Isn’t that too much?” he mutters, glancing at you like he’s waiting for you to reconsider. Maybe even hoping. But you shake your head.
“It’s not,” you assure him. “It’s not the flashiest, so it’s still pretty cheap. But you’ll be able to call me.”
You smile, trying to keep things light as you head toward the counter. The employee observes Jeongguk for just a little too long, and you’re reminded of how rare he is. Not only are hybrids as big as him not something you see every day, but you’d never even heard of kangaroo hybrids before you met him.
As you finish up at the counter, you catch Jeongguk sneaking curious glances at the people passing by. There’s another hybrid, a smaller woman, talking to her human. Her long, full tail swishes calmly behind her, and although you can’t see any ears due to her hat, you assume she’s a cat hybrid.
Like most hybrids you’ve seen, she looks… satisfied with her situation. You can’t tell if she’s happy being owned by someone, but you can’t sense any discomfort or anger from her either, at least not in the moment and from your distance. You guess Jeongguk doesn’t see a lot of… normal hybrids, only whatever angry, possibly traumatized hybrid he fights in the ring.
“Ready?” you ask, gesturing toward the door.
He nods, his attention snapping back, and he follows you out of the store. There's a comfortable silence between you as you head home.
“Figuring it out?” your voice is light as you move into the living room.
“Yeah, kinda,” Jeongguk mumbles, not looking up from where he’s sitting on the couch, his new phone held carefully in his hands.
You hold your hand out, sitting down next to him. “Here, let me put my number in.”
Without objection, he hands you the phone, and you tap the screen to create a new contact, adding your name, number, and even address. Then you pause, thinking. Who else could he need to call?
“Okay, I’m putting in Taehyung’s number, just in case you ever need it, but remember that he’ll know of your phone if you do use it to contact him. And maybe… Yoongi’s number, if you can’t reach me. And also the authorities.”
You pull up the contacts in your own phone to copy the numbers into the new one. “You know how it works?”
“Uhm, yeah. Type number or press contact to call. Or you can text, right?”
“Yeah. Just press this icon, and you’ll be able to text. Keep the volume and vibration off, and check it now and again, maybe. Also remember to keep it charged in case you need to leave quickly.”
Jeongguk nods.
“Good,” you press your contact in the list, waiting a second until you hear the ringtone of your own phone. “It works. I’ll pay the bill for it, and you can use it as much as you want and need.”
He accepts it back, his eyes stuck on the device for a short moment. “Thank you.”
You smile even though he’s not looking at you. “You’re welcome,” you say softly. “Call me anytime. Or text.”
He nods, and you get the feeling that you've made meaningful progress today.
“Why are you so nice to me?” he asks suddenly, his voice blunt but with an edge of vulnerability that catches you off guard.
You take a moment to choose what to say, deciding to just get straight to the point. “Because I want to. You deserve to be treated with respect, just like anyone else.”
You don’t say that you wish someone had been there to show him this kindness—that's not even really anything special—a long time ago. You don’t say how badly you want him to see how much he deserves it.
He looks away, and you let the silence settle around you both again. But then you glance at your phone. More specifically, the time.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
Right on cue, his stomach lets out a low, unmistakable growl. You stand up, turning to him with an amused smile.
“Liar,” you say, chuckling. “Also, I’m probably a lot hungrier than that. Do you wanna help me cook?”
“Uh… I don’t know how to?”
“I’ll show you,” you promise, heading toward the kitchen. When you glance over your shoulder, you catch him following you, hesitant but seemingly at least a little curious.
You open the fridge to grab a few ingredients—some eggs, a couple of vegetables, and leftover rice.
“We’ll make… fried rice, if that's okay with you?” you ask, setting everything down on the counter.
"Sure. But I've never…"
Jeongguk hovers nearby, arms hanging loosely at his sides, as though unsure what to do. You grab a knife and a cutting board, holding them out to him. “It's alright. You can chop. I’ll show you how.”
With a few careful instructions, you guide him through slicing the vegetables. His movements are a little stiff at first, but he follows your directions closely, and soon, he’s chopping with a quiet focus.
Meanwhile, you take out a pan and heat some oil. When he's done, Jeongguk brings the vegetables over, watching intrigued as you drop them into the pan.
"Rice?" he suggests when you've stirred a few times and start looking around.
"Yeah."
Without a word, he brings the bowl of rice, and you gesture for him to dump it in. He does, and then takes the spatula when you offer it to him.
His ears twitch slightly as he concentrates on mimicking your motions, stirring the mixture carefully. You watch him for a moment, noticing how the lines of tension in his shoulders seem to soften as he works.
"See? It's very simple. The hardest part is probably the eggs," you say as you approach the carton, picking out a few eggs. "Would you like to crack them? You can do it in a glass first if you're worried about getting shell in the pan."
"Okay."
With a smile, you grab a glass from the cupboard, carefully showing him how you crack the egg against the edge. When it's his turn, he uses too much force, and there's a shard of white egg shell that follows into the glass. He looks at you, unsure, but all you do is hand him a tea spoon and encourage him to fish it out. It takes him a minute, but when he's done, you let him pour the eggs in.
The kitchen is warm, the only sounds being the hiss of the pan and the clink of utensils and plates as you bring them out. It feels peaceful, like you’ve actually found a rhythm together and don't need any words.
That night, you wake to a faint glow seeping under your bedroom door. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you slip out of bed, padding toward the living room. There, you find Jeongguk sitting on the couch, his gaze fixed on the TV. The soft, shifting light casts shadows across his face, revealing the faint traces of exhaustion in his eyes.
“Can’t sleep?” you ask quietly, sitting down beside him.
He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the screen.
“You know,” you start, a smile already growing on your lips. “I read something interesting about kangaroos the other day.”
Jeongguk turns slightly, his brows drawing together in mild curiosity. “Why are you reading about kangaroos?”
“Because I have a partial one living with me? Did you know that joeys like to be swaddled? They’ll practically jump into any dark sack if it’s offered.”
“Are you… suggesting you put me in a dark sack?”
“Maybe,” you grin.
Before he can object, you disappear down the hallway, returning with a spare duvet cover. You hold it up, tying two of the ends together to make it smaller and hopefully, a cozy, enclosed space. “Try this.”
“No,” he says, but the difference is how he says it. His eyes aren’t brimming with anger anymore, they’re almost a little amused instead.
The next morning, you walk past Jeongguk's door, noticing that it’s slightly ajar. It’s pretty dark inside his room, but you’re still able to discern the shape of a… ball through the crack? Upon closer inspection, you see that, yeah, Jeongguk is bundled up in the makeshift "sack," peacefully asleep with only his large, black ears and a corner of the fuzzy blanket peeking out. The sight tugs at your heart, and you continue into the kitchen to make breakfast.
Half an hour later—while you’re getting ready for work—your phone rings. Your stomach drops as you spot the name displayed on the screen.
Taehyung.
Of course, you knew it was just a matter of time, and you take a deep breath as you answer the call, expecting the worst.
“Hello?”
“Hey, so, Jeongguk… Why is his tracker showing he's at your place?” he asks, his tone cold.
You swallow, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine at his bluntness. “Yeah, I told him to come here if he got kicked out. It’s inhumane, Taehyung.”
“I’m picking him up.”
A tense silence follows, and without another word, he hangs up. You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment to collect yourself.
It takes you two minutes to let your boss know that you’re feeling ill and won’t be coming in, something that’s honestly not even that much of a lie. Knowing that Taehyung can and probably will stop by today makes you feel something you can only describe as nausea, and you wouldn’t get anything done at work anyway.
Realizing that you’ll have to break the news to him, you knock gently on Jeongguk's door. When there’s no response, you open it slowly, finding him still curled up inside the duvet cover. You walk over quietly, sitting at the edge of the bed.
“So, it worked?” you ask, your voice light but warm. It's easy to push the thoughts of Taehyung away, at least temporarily, when the kangaroo hybrid is so endearing. It's almost unbelievable that the huge guy even fit inside the sack.
He stirs slightly, still entirely hidden from view with the exception of his black ears and a little bit of black hair.
"Maybe," he mumbles, and you chuckle, reaching over to fluff a pillow nearby. As you do, your bracelet slips from your wrist, brushing lightly against his ear.
“Sorry,” you murmur, carefully picking it up. “I know you don’t like to be touched.”
“Yeah… I don’t like being hurt,” he explains from inside the sheets.
The simplicity of his statement twists something in you. “Is there… anything you do like?” you ask, “when it comes to touch? A scratch behind the ear or something? I read that that's usually enjoyed by most hybrids.”
For a moment, he’s silent. “I don’t know. Isn’t the point that it’s not enjoyable?”
“No,” you shake your head even if he can’t see it, your heart heavy. “Of course, it’s not.”
The quiet lingers, and then, carefully, you offer, “I can try… if you’ll let me?” You keep your tone light, respectful.
To your surprise, he hesitates only briefly before agreeing quietly. “Okay.”
You lean in slowly, hand moving very carefully to his ear, tracing the curve with the lightest touch. His fur is softer than you expected, and as you run your fingers over it very, very gently, you feel him… relax. He even lets out a deep breath. Encouraged, you scratch lightly at the base, heart warmed by the subtle way he almost moves into the touch.
For maybe five minutes, you keep your hand on him; tracing, scratching, and gently massaging his ears, enjoying his slow, relaxed breaths and body language. Then you sigh, deciding to just rip the bandaid off.
“Taehyung called.”
Even though Jeongguk doesn’t move or speak, you feel the mood change as you explain. “He didn’t sound too pleased.”
“He’s probably on his way,” Jeongguk mutters.
Watching as he sheds the cozy "sack," your heart hurts, and you wish this small moment could last longer. He sits up—looking very warm and sweet, yet disappointed—and glances at you.
“Yeah. You should probably consider what you want to bring. Feel free to leave some things here too. In case you need them another time.”
What can you do?
Only an hour later, there’s a firm knock on your door. You and Jeongguk have been sitting together, side by side on the couch, just waiting for the inevitable. His phone, its charger, and your key already lie hidden in the deep pockets of his jacket, and he's not bringing anything else but the clothes on his body.
You look at Jeongguk, trying to stay calm and positive even if you’re anxious and worried. You hope your earlier—quite bold—words to Taehyung won’t make things harder for Jeongguk. The last thing you want is to give Taehyung any reason to retaliate.
Standing up, you head to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.
As expected, it’s Taehyung who stands there. His face is cold, letting you know that he doesn’t care to put on the charming mask he wore when you first met him. He’s not scared of you knowing what kind of person he really is. His eyes scan the room behind you, immediately finding Jeongguk.
“Put your shoes on,” he instructs stoically.
Jeongguk steps forward to do as told, putting the shoes you got him on.
“I can pay you five thousand now,” you offer, the slight panic you feel definitely heard in your voice. You’ve thought through every angle, already decided that selling your car and emptying your savings is a fair trade if it means being able to give Jeongguk a better life. “And I can make monthly payments—eight hundred dollars a month until it’s all paid off.”
Taehyung’s expression doesn’t change. “No.”
“Please, Taehyung,” you plead, your voice softening.
“I said no,” Taehyung repeats, more firmly this time. He nods towards Jeongguk, gesturing for him to follow, and so, Jeongguk steps past you, his face blank and eyes focused straight ahead. He doesn’t look back, not even once.
The door clicks shut behind them, leaving you in silence so thick it feels almost suffocating.
That same night, you find yourself restlessly moving through the apartment, looking through old boxes and drawers to see what you might own that’s just collecting dust. You know it’s a long shot, but you’re determined. If there’s even the slightest chance that you’ll be allowed to buy Jeongguk’s freedom, you’ll have the money.
Among the more valuable items is a camera, a Christmas present from your dad from a few years back. It would hurt to part with it, but you remind yourself that it’s just an object, a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things. As you research its current value, you send Jeongguk a text. You know that maybe you shouldn’t in case Taehyung finds the phone, but you can’t help it.
‘You okay?’
You wait for a response, staring at the screen until your eyes feel dry, but nothing comes. So you close your phone, thinking that he probably keeps his turned off. After all, it’s for him to contact you in case he needs it, not the other way around.
In the weeks that follow, you throw yourself into selling as many things as you can. Every sale feels like a step closer, each dollar a piece of hope you cling to. You sell old electronics, clothes you rarely wear, even some furniture, managing to collect about twelve hundred dollars over the next few weeks. Most of it are things you probably should’ve parted with years ago, but like your camera, some things still sting a little.
You also trim down your expenses, cancel subscriptions you can live without, cut back on groceries you shouldn’t buy anyway, and really think about each new purchase. Your car, though old, is appraised at about three thousand dollars, and you know that selling it would bring you closer to your goal. But you hesitate, knowing it’s a last resort. You’d definitely rather keep it, so you don’t sell it just yet, not unless you absolutely have to.
One morning, you wake to a new notification on your phone.
‘I’m okay.’
Another month or so passes with no other communication, but then, on a Saturday evening just past six, there’s a knock on your apartment door. The sound startles you, and you glance at the clock before setting your laptop aside. Wrapped in a fuzzy blanket on the couch, you definitely weren’t expecting anyone. Rising, you make your way to the door, opening it with curiosity.
Dark eyes meet yours. Jeongguk.
“Hi,” you greet softly, your voice tinged with surprise. You look him over quickly. He looks… okay. Tired, but okay, dressed in a jacket that’s thankfully appropriate for the chill of early November. His hands are tucked into his pockets, and you notice that he doesn’t seem to have a bag of any kind with him.
“Hi,” he replies, his voice quiet, almost unsure. There’s something in his expression that makes you pause, something that doesn’t quite fit the relief you feel at seeing him.
Figuring that something must have happened, and he needs a place to stay, you step back and gesture for him to come inside. He hesitates for a second before stepping over the threshold.
You shut the door behind him, but it confuses you when he doesn’t make any effort to take off his shoes or remove his jacket.
“You okay?” you ask carefully, your voice gentle but laced with concern.
“Yeah, I just came to…” He trails off, searching for something in the pockets of his jacket, “... return these.”
You look at what he’s holding out to you in his big hand. It’s the key and the phone. You meet his eyes, confusion and worry rising quickly.
“What? Why?”
Jeongguk doesn’t answer right away, instead looking a little unsure of how to tell you whatever he’s about to say.
“I won’t be back.”
“Wait, what?” you breathe, stepping closer to him. “Did Taehyung make you do this? Did he find the phone?”
He shakes his head, his expression unreadable. “No. But I won’t be back, so I wanted to return them.”
“But how do you know that you won’t be back? Did he tell you you can’t come here?” The questions spill out in rapid succession, your voice growing increasingly worried.
“No. I…” He falters, looking around before deciding to bend down and gently put the phone and key on the floor when you’re not taking them from him. Straightening up, he licks his lips, seemingly weighing something in his mind before he finally speaks again. “Do you know about the Ultra Games?”
You blink, the term vaguely familiar. “Uh…yeah, isn’t that…”
You rack your brain, searching your memory. You vaguely remember coming across the term—as well as many other championship and competition titles—during your research months ago.
He watches you as you remember what you read about it, your stomach dropping painfully when you do.
“...When hybrids fight to the death?”
Jeongguk’s sad look is the only confirmation you need. He thinks he’ll be dead and that it’s why he’s not coming back.
“Then why won’t he just sell you to me?” you demand, heartbroken desperation bubbling to the surface.
“The prize money is too tempting. This year, it’s a hundred thousand.”
“Then you’ll win,” you say, not even sparing the other hybrids a thought, too upset at the thought of Jeongguk being killed. “I know you can do it. One last time and then maybe Taehyung will let me have you, and you can live here with me.”
“I can’t… kill someone,” he explains slowly and quietly, his head slightly tilted.
The weight of his words settles over you like a heavy blanket. You feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as realization dawns.
“You’re… forfeiting?” you conclude in a whisper.
Jeongguk doesn’t respond, but his silence speaks volumes.
But then, a spark of hope ignites. “Wait. Does Taehyung know that? Won’t he sell you to me if he knows you’ll lose on purpose? There won’t be any money either way if you do?”
“He thinks I’ll fight for my survival when the time comes,” Jeongguk says, his tone soft but certain. “Says it’s impossible not to.”
The spark dies, and the room feels like it’s closing in on you. Your gaze is stuck somewhere in the air between you as you think.
Jeongguk’s eyes shift to the door, like he’s trying to distance himself from the conversation.
“I’m not winning as much anymore,” he admits. “I broke my tail a few months ago, and without it—without it working properly, and being painful—it puts me at a disadvantage. I can't keep up anymore. I cost too much to keep and feed, and if I’m not bringing in money, there’s no use for me.”
“We’ll leave the country,” you burst, taking a quick step forward and reaching for his warm hand. “We’ll leave tonight, okay?”
He gazes at you with understanding, letting you hold his hand, but the way he looks at you also tells you that he doesn’t see how it would work.
“There’s nothing you can do,” he says, his voice gentle but final. He nods toward the items on the floor. “I just came to return these.”
He’s already moving toward the door, and panic surges in your chest. “Jeongguk, wait!”
He pauses. “I can’t,” he says softly. “Jimin’s waiting, and I have a practice to get to.”
He glances at you one last time, his eyes meeting yours with a look that definitely means goodbye. Then he opens the door and steps out, leaving you standing there, tears welling in your eyes as the sound of the door clicking shut echoes in your lonely apartment.
<previous | next>
author's note: oop 🥹💔 i hope you liked it <3
permanent taglist (for all my works), sign up here (as long as the form is open, there are spots open):
you didn't know your estranged uncle had a son. Not until said son dumps an unusually large, very angry, kangaroo hybrid on your doorstep, claiming it's only for a few days while your uncle is in hospital.
pairing: kangaroo hybrid!jk x f!reader
genre: hybrid au, angst, mild fluff
word count: 8.8k
warnings: still none really besides the ethics of hybrid-keeping (and fighting)
author’s note: i decided to make it into three parts instead of two! i hope you like this, i edited it a tad (but i'll still blame lo from the past for this entire fic lol)
Saturday. As expected, the day doesn’t start very well, but it’s at least… manageable so far. You remember that Jeongguk is supposed to leave for his activity again later, and when you try asking him about it once more, he doesn’t tell you anything. Shocker.
After fixing breakfast for Jeongguk, you return to bed, not knowing if he eats or not. Today, you don’t have the energy to try to force him to eat if he doesn’t want to. Instead, you pop a few pills, writhing in your white sheets. Some months are better than others, and some months, you spend days on end on your bathroom floor, nauseous and desperate for the cool bathroom tiles against your cheek.
When the time comes, you see Jeongguk off again, locking the door behind him and nearly doubling over in pain. Bringing your phone as sufficient entertainment, you retreat to the bathroom.
At two a.m., you hear a tentative knock on the front door, a sound that wakes you out of your half-slumber on the bathroom floor. You get up on shaky legs and approach the door to open it for the hybrid. He looks cautious, as if he’s scared he woke you up although you did tell him to always knock. If you were to guess, you’d say that he probably regrets not taking the key you offered last time.
His eyes trail over you in your sorry state, but he at least doesn’t look angry.
“Are you alright?” you ask, looking over him briefly in turn. You don’t notice any obvious injuries, but he does look spent. His body looks like it feels heavy, and his black hair is still damp with sweat.
He nods and actually opens his mouth to speak. “Are you?”
Damn, you must really look like a mess.
“Yeah. Go take a shower,” you usher him inside, closing the door behind him.
Maybe it’s because you look like you’re on death’s doorstep, but he doesn’t seem to want to argue. Or maybe he does and is glaring at you; you can't tell with your exhausted eyes half closed.
While he’s in the bathroom, you do some of the dishes left out during the day, trying not to cry from the intense bursts of pain. The gods obviously didn’t hear you. Or they just didn’t care.
Silently, you hear the bathroom door open and very quiet footsteps exit. You call for him, drying your hands on your cotton shorts.
“There’s food in the fridge, please eat something,” you instruct when he appears half a minute later, wearing only sweatpants. Even in your weakened state, you definitely take notice of his very muscular and thick physique; how the prominent veins span across his arms and hands. But most importantly, you see the way a large bruise is forming over his right side, just over his ribs.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask quietly.
Luckily, he doesn’t take offense and gives you a small nod. Well, you don’t think there’s anything you can really do to help him at the moment, so you return his nod. Then you leave the kitchen, making your way back to the bathroom—that still bears foggy traces of Jeongguk’s shower—just as another wave of nausea hits you. At least you hear the fridge open, which grants you some mental relief.
The cool tiles against your skin help a lot. It also helps that you’re almost too tired to be nauseous. But it hurts. It hurts so much, and you can’t say that you wouldn’t rather be a man at that moment.
Some time passes. You’re not sure how long. It could be fifteen minutes or it could be an hour, but when you open your eyes, he’s standing there, looking worriedly at you where you're lying on your side, sweaty, tired, and tortured.
“Are you sick?” he asks quietly. “Maybe you should go to the hospital.”
“I’m not sick,” you explain, barely lifting your gaze.
“Then what is wrong with you?”
“You know biology? Women’s anatomy?”
He nods, seemingly realizing.
“Yeah. I have… endometriosis. It’s a condition that makes all of that worse, basically. A whole lot of uterine cells outside the uterus. But it’s usually not very dangerous. If I go to the hospital, they’ll send me home with the same kind of painkillers I already have.”
Not looking convinced, Jeongguk’s eyes flit over your body. If you weren’t so tired and in pain, you’d find it sweet how truly worried and unsure he looks.
“I’ll be fine,” you say, closing your eyes again.
For the remainder of the night, you slip in and out of consciousness there on the bathroom floor, always feeling a lingering presence.
The next few days are easier. The pain and nausea turn more manageable, and your heart warms at how the hybrid also seems more… manageable. Even though you’re doing better, he’s still eating without arguing. Sure, not nearly as much as someone his size and physique should, but it’s something. In turn, you’ve gone back to only talking sweetly to him, no more pretending to threaten him.
And just like that, Jeongguk has been with you for a week.
But when your phone rings one afternoon, it’s Taehyung, asking when he can come pick Jeongguk up.
“Would you sell him to me?” you blurt, realizing that you can’t let them take him back.
“What?”
“I was wondering if you’d sell him to me?” you repeat.
Taehyung still sounds just as confused. “Why?”
You guess you haven’t given off a very interested impression so far.
“Yeah. I actually really like him, and I’ve been thinking about getting a hybrid of my own.”
“Oh. Well, he’s not for sale. At least not for less than 15 000 dollars.”
You blink in shock. That’s not an amount of money you happen to have lying around.
“Oh,” you say, unable to hide your disappointment.
“Yeah, he’s not really one of those pet hybrids. He’s a highly regarded fighter. Brings us extra cash every week.”
“Fighter? I didn’t know that was…. well, legal?”
“It is. Some people just frown upon it, but he’s a kangaroo hybrid; he was bred to fight.”
“Well… I, uh, I’ll see how much I can come up with.”
“Sure. I’ll see you later tonight then.”
“Yeah. Bye.”
Your heart breaks as you end the call because you know for a fact that you don’t have that kind of money. No matter how much you want to remove Jeongguk from his home situation, what can you do? You can’t refuse to return him; Taehyung and his father legally own him, and if you tried to skip town with him, they’d easily track you down due to the GPS tracker in his chip.
When you turn around, shoulders slumping, you spot Jeongguk.
“You want to own me?” he asks, his softer side vanished in favor of his cold, bordering on emotionless one.
“No,” you start, surprised by his conclusion and the distaste for it. “I don’t want to own you. I want to help you and get you away from them, and since you technically don’t have a lot of rights, yeah, I’d have to buy you. But I think that it would be the lesser of two evils.”
“What about what I want then?”
His follow-up question surprises you even more. Of course, you understand that you don’t know each other very well, but… is he implying that he wants to go back? To a place where it seems a luxury to be allowed on the couch? Where you’re convinced he’s made to feel like a burden? Where he’s forced to fight?
You can’t say you have an answer to his question, and so Jeongguk watches you for a few seconds, but when there is no response, he leaves the room.
Just before Taehyung is supposed to arrive to take Jeongguk to his “activity” himself, you approach Jeongguk in the guest room as he’s finishing up packing his stuff.
“Here.”
He looks at your open hand and the key in it and then he looks at you, his dark eyes emotionless.
“No,” is his answer, and after relaying it, he continues to place the last of his stuff inside his duffel bag. He makes the bed, picking up the hot water bottle, and you don't miss the very slight trace of longing in his eyes as he holds it.
“Take it with you,” you offer.
He puts it down on the bed. “Can’t.”
“Why not? I have more.”
“They’ll think I stole it from you,” he argues, and it hurts your heart to hear that they would immediately jump to such conclusions, not believing him.
“I’ll tell Taehyung I gave you some things.”
“You’ll offend them by implying they don’t take care of me.”
“Well, they don’t?” you’re quick to retort. “I’ll say I was going to get rid of it anyway.”
He peers over at it, and you can easily tell that he wants it. “...No.”
He redirects his focus to his bag, continuing his packing.
“At least take this,” you hold the key out again.
“Why? I’m not coming back here?”
“I know. But… I want you to have it. Just in case. And I want you to know that you’re always welcome here. Always. If you want to come here, for any reason, you can.”
He doesn’t take it but doesn’t say anything either, so you reach for his bag, dropping the key into one of its smaller inner pockets and pulling the zipper shut. “Don’t tell them I gave it to you. If they find it, say you didn’t know about it and have them call me to ask about it. I’ll say I sneaked it in there when you weren’t looking or something.”
Almost expecting him to pull the key out and throw it at you, you’re surprised yet definitely relieved when he doesn’t, only looking at you and biting his lip somberly.
When you first met the hybrid, you had no idea it would be so hard to watch him leave. Still, he walks out that door with Taehyung, and your heart aches, knowing that he’s not well cared for and that there’s nothing you can do about it. As far as you know, at least.
It frustrates you because you don’t actually think Jeongguk is hard to care for. Give him a room with a comfortable bed in it, some appropriate clothes, and enough food, and you’d bet he’s good. Maybe entertainment of some kind as well, and a chance to socialize with other hybrids, and he probably wouldn’t complain about a single thing. If you’re going to strip someone of their rights like hybrids have been, you can at least make sure they have everything they need.
Unsurprisingly, you don’t hear anything from Jeongguk—or Taehyung, rather—in the coming months. You wonder about him, if he’s doing alright, and on multiple occasions, you spend entire nights googling hybrid fighting rings. To your disappointment, there are too many to count. Then, one night you find it. A ring that advertises its fighters, one of them familiar looking.
Jeongguk’s name is there, so is his height and weight, and how many wins versus losses he’s accumulated. And you understand why Taehyung wasn’t very eager to sell him to you.
As you scroll the site, you see other kinds of hybrids as well, a lot of which you had no idea even existed. There are not many derived from house pets; no house cat hybrids, but there are a few big dog hybrids as well as a wolf one, two cougars, a bear, and even a few hyenas.
For a while, you debate going to a fight, but then again, what would you even do there? Unfortunately, you can’t just try to locate Jeongguk and grab him since he belongs to the Kims and what they’re doing is supposedly entirely legal. If you were to try anyway, they’d just take him back and probably have you arrested. So you stay home, holding onto the fact that, even if it isn’t much, he at least has a key to your apartment in case he needs it.
Tapping your foot, you wait for the red light to turn green and the driver to accelerate. In your pocket, your phone buzzes, and when you pull it out, there’s a text lit up and waiting for you.
'Had a great time tonight'
You ponder over a reply, before settling for a simple ‘me too’ and hitting send. It was an alright date with an alright dude; you’re just not sure he’s the one for you. Still, you decide to give him one more date to be sure. At least the food was great.
At eleven p.m., the car pulls over outside your apartment complex and with a ‘thanks,’ you step out and close the door behind you. Despite the relatively early hour, you yawn as you twist the key in the lock, opening the door to your dark apartment. Swiftly, you flick the light switch on and start to remove your fall jacket before something catches your eye, and you freeze.
On the little stool you keep in the hallway, there’s a key. One that wasn’t there when you left, and one you’re pretty sure you actually gave away half a year ago.
Carefully, you step further into the apartment, not sure what you’ll find in the dark. What your eyes do fall upon however, is something curled up on the couch.
Your eyes adjust to the darkness slowly, allowing you to discern more. It’s Jeongguk, sleeping on your couch. He’s curled up as much as possible, probably to conserve heat. The weather outside isn’t too cold for late September, but it’s certainly cold if all you’re wearing is jeans and a t-shirt. He’s not even wearing shoes, seemingly intentionally keeping his dirty feet hanging over the edge.
Your heavy heart hurts, and you guess that he’s been kicked out for some reason. From what you gathered when he stayed with you, it’s happened before.
Deciding not to wake him, you pull a blanket off the couch and very, very carefully drape it over his freezing body. Then you exit the living room, leaving the lights there off, and head to the kitchen.
Suspecting that he’s probably hungry, you look through your fridge and freezer in search of something to make him, settling on toasting a couple slices of bread and scrambling some eggs for him. As you do, the kitchen fills with the smell, and you hum to yourself. Despite feeling terrible that he’s obviously still not being treated properly, you’re happy to see him and to get the chance to take care of him for however long he’ll stay.
When you return with the food on a tray, Jeongguk is already awake and sitting up, the blanket wrapped around him. He looks tired and a little less… well, a little less than when you last saw him. It’s no wonder he loses weight when he either doesn’t eat as much as he’s supposed to, or just not being fed what he’s supposed to.
“Hi,” you greet quietly as you place the tray down on the coffee table. Besides a glass of water and a big plate with food for him, it also contains an apple and some water for you. Sure, you just ate at the restaurant, but you figure he’ll be more comfortable eating if you are too.
But he pulls away, diverting his eyes from you and the food as if he’s ashamed. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.”
He goes to stand, but you stop him. “No, no, stay, please. I told you; you’re always welcome here.”
Unsure, he licks his lips but settles back down and pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders again.
“I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it?” you say, trying not to place any value in your assumption. “If you do, I’m all ears, but otherwise… don’t sweat it. The guest room is yours, and you’re free to stay as long as you’d like.”
Jeongguk looks almost relieved, and in turn, it brings your own heart relief. You spend a few minutes preparing some clean clothes for him; a set of lounge wear that originally belonged to your dad, and after he’s eaten and is taking a shower, you prepare the bed for him as well. He doesn’t say much, and you don’t pressure him.
The next day, he’s already awake when you step out of your bedroom to pee. Sitting on the couch, still wearing the outfit you gave him last night, but doing absolutely nothing, he looks at you when you approach.
“I don’t…” he starts, but stops to clear his throat in uncertainty, “I don’t know if I should stay or try to go back.”
“Well, what do you want to do?” you ask, patting your unbrushed hair down and hoping that he’ll decide to stay at least a little while.
“I want to stay, but…”
“Then stay. Keep me company for a while.”
You think you see a hint of a smile forming on his lips.
He does end up staying, at least another night, and you ask him to watch a movie with you, something he agrees to. You let him scroll your streaming services until he settles on Jurassic Park, and you run to the corner store, getting some chips and soda.
“So, how long do you think you’ll stay?” you ask, trying to sound casual and without looking at him directly. “I don’t mind having you here; in fact, it’s more than okay, and I like having you around. I’m just wondering.”
Despite your precaution, you see how his mood turns sour. First angry, then mixed with sadness.
“I don’t know. I didn’t do well at my last fight, and I talked back. Taehyung told me to leave and not come back until I was ready to show some respect. They usually track me down by my chip after a few days and come and get me, wherever I am. So I don’t know.”
“They just leave you to fend for yourself?” you ask, truly shocked.
Jeongguk scoffs. “I’m very capable of surviving on my own. I’m not a child.”
“I know, it’s not… I didn’t mean it like that. Just that they’re making it unreasonably difficult for you. I mean, you didn’t even have shoes on. If you walked here, it probably took you like, half a day? I don’t know how well I would’ve done if I was left alone outside without money or my phone or even appropriate clothes.”
He keeps his eyes on the screen, and you decide to try something he might not like.
“Maybe tomorrow we can go pick out some clothes for you?” you watch his reaction tentatively, placing another chip in your mouth.
He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the TV, but you can see the internal struggle going on inside him. He doesn’t want you to spend money on him, but he doesn’t want to walk around in dirty clothes in case you think he’s stinking up your home.
“Okay,” he mumbles finally, making you smile.
“Okay. We’ll get you some shoes as well.”
“I, uhm, don’t have my collar, though,” he informs.
You pause. Even when Jeongguk stayed with you for a week, you never went outside with him, and so you’d completely forgotten that hybrids need to wear collars when out in public.
“What are the criteria for a collar? Does it only need to contain owner contact information?”
“Yeah. There are a lot of models, but that’s the minimum criteria.”
You contemplate for a second before rising from the couch to look for something in your bedroom. Collecting a few items—one from an old sewing kit—you make your way back, placing them on the coffee table. Jeongguk peers over at the stuff, watching as you place a piece of yellow tape on the inside of a black silk band of about an inch in width. With the ink pen you brought, you write your own name and phone number in small letters and numbers and then blow on the text to dry it.
Curiously but a little carefully, he looks at you when you lift the band toward him. “I don’t know what yours is like, but would this be okay?”
“Uhm… mine is a lot harder.”
“What, like a prong collar?” you joke, realizing quickly that you shouldn’t have.
He nods, “Yeah.”
“I..” you start, unsure of what to say, “I don’t think you need a collar at all, actually, so this would be enough only to comply with the laws. I know I’m not technically your owner but if we were to be separated, I’d rather have someone call me than them.”
Slowly, he moves closer and lets you tie the band loosely around his neck, the information hidden on the inside.
“It doesn’t need to be tighter than this, right?” you ask, inspecting the band that rests at the very bottom of his neck, more like a regular short-chained necklace than a choker.
Jeongguk lifts his hand to judge the tightness. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay. Does this feel alright then?”
You let your eyes travel over him, and sure, it looks a bit like an odd accessory, but the main goal is to make it comfortable and hopefully also remove the humiliation of wearing an obvious collar.
Jeongguk nods again, and you see that almost familiar trace of a smile, something that makes your heart beat with happiness.
“Good. We don’t need a leash, so just try to stay close to me, and I’ll try to stay close to you.”
You let a few moments of silence pass, watching Jeongguk out of the corner of your eye as he unties the band to place it carefully on the table again.
The day after, you knock on your neighbors’ door after you’ve returned from work, asking to borrow some shoes and an appropriate jacket for Jeongguk to wear as you go shopping. The hybrid doesn’t look too excited when you return with the goods, but he doesn’t complain, and you think he just tries to accept it even if he doesn’t really want it. Not your favors and not your kindness.
With you both dressed appropriately for the fall weather, you get inside your old car. The short journey toward the closest mall with a good supply of hybrid clothes is spent in silence, Jeongguk sitting in the passenger seat and looking out through the window.
Just as quietly, he follows you from the car and into the big building, keeping close just like you asked him to. Looking through the shopping list you wrote in your phone’s notes app, you decide to start with the clothes.
Always a step or two behind you, Jeongguk remains quiet as you head toward a specific store, one that’s bigger than any other hybrid-targeted stores you’ve seen but still only a fraction of the stores for humans. There are a few people inside, both with and without accompanying hybrids.
“Go and look. I’ll keep up,” you encourage him softly when you enter the store, calm music playing from the speakers.
Clearly uncomfortable, he looks down at you with hesitancy in his dark eyes. “Are you sure you want to spend money on me?”
“Yes,” you say determinedly. “Please, let me?”
He considers for a few seconds before giving a small nod. “Okay.”
He looks around, seemingly unsure where to start before he takes tentative steps toward a section with shirts. It's clear how he gravitates toward the cheaper options on the racks. You find it sweet—and you’re relieved he’s not looking at the most expensive garments—but it’s also incredibly sad to you. You realize no one’s probably ever really spent money on him, even though you’ve come to understand that the Kims aren’t exactly struggling. Quite the opposite, actually, and from your recent research, it's definitely partially thanks to Jeongguk.
Staying close without hovering, you watch as he picks out a few things: two t-shirts, a pair of shorts, and two pairs of sweatpants. They’re all black or white and simple in design—not that you expected him to go for pink and sparkles or anything. You also suggest he pick out some underwear, socks, and two pairs of shoes—one to keep at yours and the other to bring with him if he wants since he didn’t have any on when he arrived.
“You wanna try them on?” you nod toward the garments in his arms.
“Uh… Okay.”
You look around the store, scanning. “I think the fitting rooms… there they are.”
He follows your line of sight, and you head toward a small cluster of fitting rooms tucked into the back corner of the store. You wait outside while he steps into one of the small rooms, pulling the beige curtain closed behind him. There’s a soft rustle of fabric as he changes.
“They fit?” you ask a few minutes later as he pulls the curtain open.
“Yeah.” He pauses, looking down at the black and white shirts and sweatpants in his arms. “I’m not sure what color, though? What do you think?”
“We’ll take both, don’t worry about it,” you smile reassuringly. “Let’s pay and then get them tailored.”
He follows you to the checkout, where a friendly woman rings you up, and then you head into a smaller section of the store. There, another woman sits behind a table, an industrial sewing machine in front of her. She’s engrossed in a book, a yellow tape measure draped casually around her neck.
“Hello?” you call out.
She looks up, immediately setting the book down with a warm smile. “Oh, hello. What can I do for you?”
“We’d like to get these tailored, please,” you say, placing the sweatpants, shorts, and even the underwear on the table.
The woman glances at the pile, then shifts her gaze to Jeongguk, who lingers a couple of steps behind you.
“Is he alright with me measuring him?” she asks, her tone considerate.
You turn to Jeongguk, waiting for his reply. He meets the seamstress’ eyes briefly before nodding. “Yeah.”
“Good. Come here, please?” she says, gesturing him forward.
Jeongguk listens and steps up, removing his jacket again and standing still as the woman carefully wraps the tape measure around the base of his tail. She notes the number on a piece of paper before measuring the distance from the top of his tail to his waist, jotting that down too.
Although he’s cooperative, you notice the subtle furrow in his brows. He doesn’t seem particularly fond of having his tail touched. Or maybe he just doesn’t like having anyone’s hands on him in general. You’ve definitely been on the receiving end of that dislike.
With the measurements taken, she thanks him and begins working on the pants. The rhythmic hum of the sewing machine fills the small space, and Jeongguk steps away, glancing around the store. He doesn’t wander far from you, still keeping his promise. Meanwhile, you look through your phone again, trying to see if there’s anything you’ve missed on your quest to put together a little kit of necessities for him.
Besides clothes to have at your place, you’ll try convincing him to let you buy him a phone. At least a cheap one so that he can call you if he needs to—or just wants to—and some cash so that he can take a cab to your place if he needs to. If he finds anyone willing to drive an unaccompanied hybrid, that is. Maybe you’ll laminate a card with your info on it so that he can give it to someone if he’s ever in trouble and you can help from a distance, maybe convince people he’s nice and just needs help home. Or maybe that's a bit overboard?
“Finished!”
The seamstress’ voice pulls you from your thoughts only a few minutes later. You look up, locking your phone and sliding it into your pocket as she folds the clothes neatly. She slides the pile toward you, a satisfied smile on her face.
“Do you want to try them on?” she asks. “So I can alter them if needed.”
Jeongguk approaches, looks at you, and nods. He takes the pants from the table, and with you in tow, heads back to the fitting rooms. As he closes the curtain again, you lean against the nearby wall, waiting patiently as he tries them on again.
“Good?” you ask after a few moments when he’s taking a little extra time.
“Yeah,” he replies, emerging a second later with a hint of something you think resembles satisfaction.
“Awesome. I think we’re done here then?” you ask, already giving the seamstress a thumbs-up. She smiles warmly, her fingers lifting in a small wave as you both head towards the exit.
“Now… I’m getting you a phone,” you announce as you step out of the store, already steering toward another shop a few stores down.
“What? Why?” he asks, but you’re not met with the strong dislike you would have a few months ago.
“I want you to have a way to contact me if anything happens,” you explain, hoping that he accepts what very well could be too much for him.
At the entrance to the tech store, he seems to weigh his options before nodding shortly, and so you step inside. It’s definitely a surprise—and a relief—that he doesn’t argue.
His quiet acceptance also fills you with relief that maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to realize that he has a safe place with you and that something like a phone would help him. But you’re also heartbroken, imagining what it must’ve taken for such a strong-headed person like him to accept help he probably didn’t want in the first place.
You walk him through the aisles of displayed devices, each phone looking more expensive under the strong lights. Jeongguk’s eyes dart from screen to screen, a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of options. You can tell he’s unsure, but he’s also doing his best to let you do what you for some reason want to do so badly.
“What about this one?” you ask, picking up one of the older models; something practical but not too expensive. Jeongguk peers at it, his black ears lowering further.
“Isn’t that too much?” he mutters, glancing at you like he’s waiting for you to reconsider. Maybe even hoping. But you shake your head.
“It’s not,” you assure him. “It’s not the flashiest, so it’s still pretty cheap. But you’ll be able to call me.”
You smile, trying to keep things light as you head toward the counter. The employee observes Jeongguk for just a little too long, and you’re reminded of how rare he is. Not only are hybrids as big as him not something you see every day, but you’d never even heard of kangaroo hybrids before you met him.
As you finish up at the counter, you catch Jeongguk sneaking curious glances at the people passing by. There’s another hybrid, a smaller woman, talking to her human. Her long, full tail swishes calmly behind her, and although you can’t see any ears due to her hat, you assume she’s a cat hybrid.
Like most hybrids you’ve seen, she looks… satisfied with her situation. You can’t tell if she’s happy being owned by someone, but you can’t sense any discomfort or anger from her either, at least not in the moment and from your distance. You guess Jeongguk doesn’t see a lot of… normal hybrids, only whatever angry, possibly traumatized hybrid he fights in the ring.
“Ready?” you ask, gesturing toward the door.
He nods, his attention snapping back, and he follows you out of the store. There's a comfortable silence between you as you head home.
“Figuring it out?” your voice is light as you move into the living room.
“Yeah, kinda,” Jeongguk mumbles, not looking up from where he’s sitting on the couch, his new phone held carefully in his hands.
You hold your hand out, sitting down next to him. “Here, let me put my number in.”
Without objection, he hands you the phone, and you tap the screen to create a new contact, adding your name, number, and even address. Then you pause, thinking. Who else could he need to call?
“Okay, I’m putting in Taehyung’s number, just in case you ever need it, but remember that he’ll know of your phone if you do use it to contact him. And maybe… Yoongi’s number, if you can’t reach me. And also the authorities.”
You pull up the contacts in your own phone to copy the numbers into the new one. “You know how it works?”
“Uhm, yeah. Type number or press contact to call. Or you can text, right?”
“Yeah. Just press this icon, and you’ll be able to text. Keep the volume and vibration off, and check it now and again, maybe. Also remember to keep it charged in case you need to leave quickly.”
Jeongguk nods.
“Good,” you press your contact in the list, waiting a second until you hear the ringtone of your own phone. “It works. I’ll pay the bill for it, and you can use it as much as you want and need.”
He accepts it back, his eyes stuck on the device for a short moment. “Thank you.”
You smile even though he’s not looking at you. “You’re welcome,” you say softly. “Call me anytime. Or text.”
He nods, and you get the feeling that you've made meaningful progress today.
“Why are you so nice to me?” he asks suddenly, his voice blunt but with an edge of vulnerability that catches you off guard.
You take a moment to choose what to say, deciding to just get straight to the point. “Because I want to. You deserve to be treated with respect, just like anyone else.”
You don’t say that you wish someone had been there to show him this kindness—that's not even really anything special—a long time ago. You don’t say how badly you want him to see how much he deserves it.
He looks away, and you let the silence settle around you both again. But then you glance at your phone. More specifically, the time.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
Right on cue, his stomach lets out a low, unmistakable growl. You stand up, turning to him with an amused smile.
“Liar,” you say, chuckling. “Also, I’m probably a lot hungrier than that. Do you wanna help me cook?”
“Uh… I don’t know how to?”
“I’ll show you,” you promise, heading toward the kitchen. When you glance over your shoulder, you catch him following you, hesitant but seemingly at least a little curious.
You open the fridge to grab a few ingredients—some eggs, a couple of vegetables, and leftover rice.
“We’ll make… fried rice, if that's okay with you?” you ask, setting everything down on the counter.
"Sure. But I've never…"
Jeongguk hovers nearby, arms hanging loosely at his sides, as though unsure what to do. You grab a knife and a cutting board, holding them out to him. “It's alright. You can chop. I’ll show you how.”
With a few careful instructions, you guide him through slicing the vegetables. His movements are a little stiff at first, but he follows your directions closely, and soon, he’s chopping with a quiet focus.
Meanwhile, you take out a pan and heat some oil. When he's done, Jeongguk brings the vegetables over, watching intrigued as you drop them into the pan.
"Rice?" he suggests when you've stirred a few times and start looking around.
"Yeah."
Without a word, he brings the bowl of rice, and you gesture for him to dump it in. He does, and then takes the spatula when you offer it to him.
His ears twitch slightly as he concentrates on mimicking your motions, stirring the mixture carefully. You watch him for a moment, noticing how the lines of tension in his shoulders seem to soften as he works.
"See? It's very simple. The hardest part is probably the eggs," you say as you approach the carton, picking out a few eggs. "Would you like to crack them? You can do it in a glass first if you're worried about getting shell in the pan."
"Okay."
With a smile, you grab a glass from the cupboard, carefully showing him how you crack the egg against the edge. When it's his turn, he uses too much force, and there's a shard of white egg shell that follows into the glass. He looks at you, unsure, but all you do is hand him a tea spoon and encourage him to fish it out. It takes him a minute, but when he's done, you let him pour the eggs in.
The kitchen is warm, the only sounds being the hiss of the pan and the clink of utensils and plates as you bring them out. It feels peaceful, like you’ve actually found a rhythm together and don't need any words.
That night, you wake to a faint glow seeping under your bedroom door. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you slip out of bed, padding toward the living room. There, you find Jeongguk sitting on the couch, his gaze fixed on the TV. The soft, shifting light casts shadows across his face, revealing the faint traces of exhaustion in his eyes.
“Can’t sleep?” you ask quietly, sitting down beside him.
He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the screen.
“You know,” you start, a smile already growing on your lips. “I read something interesting about kangaroos the other day.”
Jeongguk turns slightly, his brows drawing together in mild curiosity. “Why are you reading about kangaroos?”
“Because I have a partial one living with me? Did you know that joeys like to be swaddled? They’ll practically jump into any dark sack if it’s offered.”
“Are you… suggesting you put me in a dark sack?”
“Maybe,” you grin.
Before he can object, you disappear down the hallway, returning with a spare duvet cover. You hold it up, tying two of the ends together to make it smaller and hopefully, a cozy, enclosed space. “Try this.”
“No,” he says, but the difference is how he says it. His eyes aren’t brimming with anger anymore, they’re almost a little amused instead.
The next morning, you walk past Jeongguk's door, noticing that it’s slightly ajar. It’s pretty dark inside his room, but you’re still able to discern the shape of a… ball through the crack? Upon closer inspection, you see that, yeah, Jeongguk is bundled up in the makeshift "sack," peacefully asleep with only his large, black ears and a corner of the fuzzy blanket peeking out. The sight tugs at your heart, and you continue into the kitchen to make breakfast.
Half an hour later—while you’re getting ready for work—your phone rings. Your stomach drops as you spot the name displayed on the screen.
Taehyung.
Of course, you knew it was just a matter of time, and you take a deep breath as you answer the call, expecting the worst.
“Hello?”
“Hey, so, Jeongguk… Why is his tracker showing he's at your place?” he asks, his tone cold.
You swallow, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine at his bluntness. “Yeah, I told him to come here if he got kicked out. It’s inhumane, Taehyung.”
“I’m picking him up.”
A tense silence follows, and without another word, he hangs up. You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment to collect yourself.
It takes you two minutes to let your boss know that you’re feeling ill and won’t be coming in, something that’s honestly not even that much of a lie. Knowing that Taehyung can and probably will stop by today makes you feel something you can only describe as nausea, and you wouldn’t get anything done at work anyway.
Realizing that you’ll have to break the news to him, you knock gently on Jeongguk's door. When there’s no response, you open it slowly, finding him still curled up inside the duvet cover. You walk over quietly, sitting at the edge of the bed.
“So, it worked?” you ask, your voice light but warm. It's easy to push the thoughts of Taehyung away, at least temporarily, when the kangaroo hybrid is so endearing. It's almost unbelievable that the huge guy even fit inside the sack.
He stirs slightly, still entirely hidden from view with the exception of his black ears and a little bit of black hair.
"Maybe," he mumbles, and you chuckle, reaching over to fluff a pillow nearby. As you do, your bracelet slips from your wrist, brushing lightly against his ear.
“Sorry,” you murmur, carefully picking it up. “I know you don’t like to be touched.”
“Yeah… I don’t like being hurt,” he explains from inside the sheets.
The simplicity of his statement twists something in you. “Is there… anything you do like?” you ask, “when it comes to touch? A scratch behind the ear or something? I read that that's usually enjoyed by most hybrids.”
For a moment, he’s silent. “I don’t know. Isn’t the point that it’s not enjoyable?”
“No,” you shake your head even if he can’t see it, your heart heavy. “Of course, it’s not.”
The quiet lingers, and then, carefully, you offer, “I can try… if you’ll let me?” You keep your tone light, respectful.
To your surprise, he hesitates only briefly before agreeing quietly. “Okay.”
You lean in slowly, hand moving very carefully to his ear, tracing the curve with the lightest touch. His fur is softer than you expected, and as you run your fingers over it very, very gently, you feel him… relax. He even lets out a deep breath. Encouraged, you scratch lightly at the base, heart warmed by the subtle way he almost moves into the touch.
For maybe five minutes, you keep your hand on him; tracing, scratching, and gently massaging his ears, enjoying his slow, relaxed breaths and body language. Then you sigh, deciding to just rip the bandaid off.
“Taehyung called.”
Even though Jeongguk doesn’t move or speak, you feel the mood change as you explain. “He didn’t sound too pleased.”
“He’s probably on his way,” Jeongguk mutters.
Watching as he sheds the cozy "sack," your heart hurts, and you wish this small moment could last longer. He sits up—looking very warm and sweet, yet disappointed—and glances at you.
“Yeah. You should probably consider what you want to bring. Feel free to leave some things here too. In case you need them another time.”
What can you do?
Only an hour later, there’s a firm knock on your door. You and Jeongguk have been sitting together, side by side on the couch, just waiting for the inevitable. His phone, its charger, and your key already lie hidden in the deep pockets of his jacket, and he's not bringing anything else but the clothes on his body.
You look at Jeongguk, trying to stay calm and positive even if you’re anxious and worried. You hope your earlier—quite bold—words to Taehyung won’t make things harder for Jeongguk. The last thing you want is to give Taehyung any reason to retaliate.
Standing up, you head to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.
As expected, it’s Taehyung who stands there. His face is cold, letting you know that he doesn’t care to put on the charming mask he wore when you first met him. He’s not scared of you knowing what kind of person he really is. His eyes scan the room behind you, immediately finding Jeongguk.
“Put your shoes on,” he instructs stoically.
Jeongguk steps forward to do as told, putting the shoes you got him on.
“I can pay you five thousand now,” you offer, the slight panic you feel definitely heard in your voice. You’ve thought through every angle, already decided that selling your car and emptying your savings is a fair trade if it means being able to give Jeongguk a better life. “And I can make monthly payments—eight hundred dollars a month until it’s all paid off.”
Taehyung’s expression doesn’t change. “No.”
“Please, Taehyung,” you plead, your voice softening.
“I said no,” Taehyung repeats, more firmly this time. He nods towards Jeongguk, gesturing for him to follow, and so, Jeongguk steps past you, his face blank and eyes focused straight ahead. He doesn’t look back, not even once.
The door clicks shut behind them, leaving you in silence so thick it feels almost suffocating.
That same night, you find yourself restlessly moving through the apartment, looking through old boxes and drawers to see what you might own that’s just collecting dust. You know it’s a long shot, but you’re determined. If there’s even the slightest chance that you’ll be allowed to buy Jeongguk’s freedom, you’ll have the money.
Among the more valuable items is a camera, a Christmas present from your dad from a few years back. It would hurt to part with it, but you remind yourself that it’s just an object, a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things. As you research its current value, you send Jeongguk a text. You know that maybe you shouldn’t in case Taehyung finds the phone, but you can’t help it.
‘You okay?’
You wait for a response, staring at the screen until your eyes feel dry, but nothing comes. So you close your phone, thinking that he probably keeps his turned off. After all, it’s for him to contact you in case he needs it, not the other way around.
In the weeks that follow, you throw yourself into selling as many things as you can. Every sale feels like a step closer, each dollar a piece of hope you cling to. You sell old electronics, clothes you rarely wear, even some furniture, managing to collect about twelve hundred dollars over the next few weeks. Most of it are things you probably should’ve parted with years ago, but like your camera, some things still sting a little.
You also trim down your expenses, cancel subscriptions you can live without, cut back on groceries you shouldn’t buy anyway, and really think about each new purchase. Your car, though old, is appraised at about three thousand dollars, and you know that selling it would bring you closer to your goal. But you hesitate, knowing it’s a last resort. You’d definitely rather keep it, so you don’t sell it just yet, not unless you absolutely have to.
One morning, you wake to a new notification on your phone.
‘I’m okay.’
Another month or so passes with no other communication, but then, on a Saturday evening just past six, there’s a knock on your apartment door. The sound startles you, and you glance at the clock before setting your laptop aside. Wrapped in a fuzzy blanket on the couch, you definitely weren’t expecting anyone. Rising, you make your way to the door, opening it with curiosity.
Dark eyes meet yours. Jeongguk.
“Hi,” you greet softly, your voice tinged with surprise. You look him over quickly. He looks… okay. Tired, but okay, dressed in a jacket that’s thankfully appropriate for the chill of early November. His hands are tucked into his pockets, and you notice that he doesn’t seem to have a bag of any kind with him.
“Hi,” he replies, his voice quiet, almost unsure. There’s something in his expression that makes you pause, something that doesn’t quite fit the relief you feel at seeing him.
Figuring that something must have happened, and he needs a place to stay, you step back and gesture for him to come inside. He hesitates for a second before stepping over the threshold.
You shut the door behind him, but it confuses you when he doesn’t make any effort to take off his shoes or remove his jacket.
“You okay?” you ask carefully, your voice gentle but laced with concern.
“Yeah, I just came to…” He trails off, searching for something in the pockets of his jacket, “... return these.”
You look at what he’s holding out to you in his big hand. It’s the key and the phone. You meet his eyes, confusion and worry rising quickly.
“What? Why?”
Jeongguk doesn’t answer right away, instead looking a little unsure of how to tell you whatever he’s about to say.
“I won’t be back.”
“Wait, what?” you breathe, stepping closer to him. “Did Taehyung make you do this? Did he find the phone?”
He shakes his head, his expression unreadable. “No. But I won’t be back, so I wanted to return them.”
“But how do you know that you won’t be back? Did he tell you you can’t come here?” The questions spill out in rapid succession, your voice growing increasingly worried.
“No. I…” He falters, looking around before deciding to bend down and gently put the phone and key on the floor when you’re not taking them from him. Straightening up, he licks his lips, seemingly weighing something in his mind before he finally speaks again. “Do you know about the Ultra Games?”
You blink, the term vaguely familiar. “Uh…yeah, isn’t that…”
You rack your brain, searching your memory. You vaguely remember coming across the term—as well as many other championship and competition titles—during your research months ago.
He watches you as you remember what you read about it, your stomach dropping painfully when you do.
“...When hybrids fight to the death?”
Jeongguk’s sad look is the only confirmation you need. He thinks he’ll be dead and that it’s why he’s not coming back.
“Then why won’t he just sell you to me?” you demand, heartbroken desperation bubbling to the surface.
“The prize money is too tempting. This year, it’s a hundred thousand.”
“Then you’ll win,” you say, not even sparing the other hybrids a thought, too upset at the thought of Jeongguk being killed. “I know you can do it. One last time and then maybe Taehyung will let me have you, and you can live here with me.”
“I can’t… kill someone,” he explains slowly and quietly, his head slightly tilted.
The weight of his words settles over you like a heavy blanket. You feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as realization dawns.
“You’re… forfeiting?” you conclude in a whisper.
Jeongguk doesn’t respond, but his silence speaks volumes.
But then, a spark of hope ignites. “Wait. Does Taehyung know that? Won’t he sell you to me if he knows you’ll lose on purpose? There won’t be any money either way if you do?”
“He thinks I’ll fight for my survival when the time comes,” Jeongguk says, his tone soft but certain. “Says it’s impossible not to.”
The spark dies, and the room feels like it’s closing in on you. Your gaze is stuck somewhere in the air between you as you think.
Jeongguk’s eyes shift to the door, like he’s trying to distance himself from the conversation.
“I’m not winning as much anymore,” he admits. “I broke my tail a few months ago, and without it—without it working properly, and being painful—it puts me at a disadvantage. I can't keep up anymore. I cost too much to keep and feed, and if I’m not bringing in money, there’s no use for me.”
“We’ll leave the country,” you burst, taking a quick step forward and reaching for his warm hand. “We’ll leave tonight, okay?”
He gazes at you with understanding, letting you hold his hand, but the way he looks at you also tells you that he doesn’t see how it would work.
“There’s nothing you can do,” he says, his voice gentle but final. He nods toward the items on the floor. “I just came to return these.”
He’s already moving toward the door, and panic surges in your chest. “Jeongguk, wait!”
He pauses. “I can’t,” he says softly. “Jimin’s waiting, and I have a practice to get to.”
He glances at you one last time, his eyes meeting yours with a look that definitely means goodbye. Then he opens the door and steps out, leaving you standing there, tears welling in your eyes as the sound of the door clicking shut echoes in your lonely apartment.
<previous | next>
author's note: oop 🥹💔 i hope you liked it <3
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you didn't know your estranged uncle had a son. Not until said son dumps an unusually large, very angry, kangaroo hybrid on your doorstep, claiming it's only for a few days while your uncle is in hospital.
pairing: kangaroo hybrid!jk x f!reader
genre: hybrid au, angst, mild fluff
word count: 8.8k
warnings: still none really besides the ethics of hybrid-keeping (and fighting)
author’s note: i decided to make it into three parts instead of two! i hope you like this, i edited it a tad (but i'll still blame lo from the past for this entire fic lol)
Saturday. As expected, the day doesn’t start very well, but it’s at least… manageable so far. You remember that Jeongguk is supposed to leave for his activity again later, and when you try asking him about it once more, he doesn’t tell you anything. Shocker.
After fixing breakfast for Jeongguk, you return to bed, not knowing if he eats or not. Today, you don’t have the energy to try to force him to eat if he doesn’t want to. Instead, you pop a few pills, writhing in your white sheets. Some months are better than others, and some months, you spend days on end on your bathroom floor, nauseous and desperate for the cool bathroom tiles against your cheek.
When the time comes, you see Jeongguk off again, locking the door behind him and nearly doubling over in pain. Bringing your phone as sufficient entertainment, you retreat to the bathroom.
At two a.m., you hear a tentative knock on the front door, a sound that wakes you out of your half-slumber on the bathroom floor. You get up on shaky legs and approach the door to open it for the hybrid. He looks cautious, as if he’s scared he woke you up although you did tell him to always knock. If you were to guess, you’d say that he probably regrets not taking the key you offered last time.
His eyes trail over you in your sorry state, but he at least doesn’t look angry.
“Are you alright?” you ask, looking over him briefly in turn. You don’t notice any obvious injuries, but he does look spent. His body looks like it feels heavy, and his black hair is still damp with sweat.
He nods and actually opens his mouth to speak. “Are you?”
Damn, you must really look like a mess.
“Yeah. Go take a shower,” you usher him inside, closing the door behind him.
Maybe it’s because you look like you’re on death’s doorstep, but he doesn’t seem to want to argue. Or maybe he does and is glaring at you; you can't tell with your exhausted eyes half closed.
While he’s in the bathroom, you do some of the dishes left out during the day, trying not to cry from the intense bursts of pain. The gods obviously didn’t hear you. Or they just didn’t care.
Silently, you hear the bathroom door open and very quiet footsteps exit. You call for him, drying your hands on your cotton shorts.
“There’s food in the fridge, please eat something,” you instruct when he appears half a minute later, wearing only sweatpants. Even in your weakened state, you definitely take notice of his very muscular and thick physique; how the prominent veins span across his arms and hands. But most importantly, you see the way a large bruise is forming over his right side, just over his ribs.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask quietly.
Luckily, he doesn’t take offense and gives you a small nod. Well, you don’t think there’s anything you can really do to help him at the moment, so you return his nod. Then you leave the kitchen, making your way back to the bathroom—that still bears foggy traces of Jeongguk’s shower—just as another wave of nausea hits you. At least you hear the fridge open, which grants you some mental relief.
The cool tiles against your skin help a lot. It also helps that you’re almost too tired to be nauseous. But it hurts. It hurts so much, and you can’t say that you wouldn’t rather be a man at that moment.
Some time passes. You’re not sure how long. It could be fifteen minutes or it could be an hour, but when you open your eyes, he’s standing there, looking worriedly at you where you're lying on your side, sweaty, tired, and tortured.
“Are you sick?” he asks quietly. “Maybe you should go to the hospital.”
“I’m not sick,” you explain, barely lifting your gaze.
“Then what is wrong with you?”
“You know biology? Women’s anatomy?”
He nods, seemingly realizing.
“Yeah. I have… endometriosis. It’s a condition that makes all of that worse, basically. A whole lot of uterine cells outside the uterus. But it’s usually not very dangerous. If I go to the hospital, they’ll send me home with the same kind of painkillers I already have.”
Not looking convinced, Jeongguk’s eyes flit over your body. If you weren’t so tired and in pain, you’d find it sweet how truly worried and unsure he looks.
“I’ll be fine,” you say, closing your eyes again.
For the remainder of the night, you slip in and out of consciousness there on the bathroom floor, always feeling a lingering presence.
The next few days are easier. The pain and nausea turn more manageable, and your heart warms at how the hybrid also seems more… manageable. Even though you’re doing better, he’s still eating without arguing. Sure, not nearly as much as someone his size and physique should, but it’s something. In turn, you’ve gone back to only talking sweetly to him, no more pretending to threaten him.
And just like that, Jeongguk has been with you for a week.
But when your phone rings one afternoon, it’s Taehyung, asking when he can come pick Jeongguk up.
“Would you sell him to me?” you blurt, realizing that you can’t let them take him back.
“What?”
“I was wondering if you’d sell him to me?” you repeat.
Taehyung still sounds just as confused. “Why?”
You guess you haven’t given off a very interested impression so far.
“Yeah. I actually really like him, and I’ve been thinking about getting a hybrid of my own.”
“Oh. Well, he’s not for sale. At least not for less than 15 000 dollars.”
You blink in shock. That’s not an amount of money you happen to have lying around.
“Oh,” you say, unable to hide your disappointment.
“Yeah, he’s not really one of those pet hybrids. He’s a highly regarded fighter. Brings us extra cash every week.”
“Fighter? I didn’t know that was…. well, legal?”
“It is. Some people just frown upon it, but he’s a kangaroo hybrid; he was bred to fight.”
“Well… I, uh, I’ll see how much I can come up with.”
“Sure. I’ll see you later tonight then.”
“Yeah. Bye.”
Your heart breaks as you end the call because you know for a fact that you don’t have that kind of money. No matter how much you want to remove Jeongguk from his home situation, what can you do? You can’t refuse to return him; Taehyung and his father legally own him, and if you tried to skip town with him, they’d easily track you down due to the GPS tracker in his chip.
When you turn around, shoulders slumping, you spot Jeongguk.
“You want to own me?” he asks, his softer side vanished in favor of his cold, bordering on emotionless one.
“No,” you start, surprised by his conclusion and the distaste for it. “I don’t want to own you. I want to help you and get you away from them, and since you technically don’t have a lot of rights, yeah, I’d have to buy you. But I think that it would be the lesser of two evils.”
“What about what I want then?”
His follow-up question surprises you even more. Of course, you understand that you don’t know each other very well, but… is he implying that he wants to go back? To a place where it seems a luxury to be allowed on the couch? Where you’re convinced he’s made to feel like a burden? Where he’s forced to fight?
You can’t say you have an answer to his question, and so Jeongguk watches you for a few seconds, but when there is no response, he leaves the room.
Just before Taehyung is supposed to arrive to take Jeongguk to his “activity” himself, you approach Jeongguk in the guest room as he’s finishing up packing his stuff.
“Here.”
He looks at your open hand and the key in it and then he looks at you, his dark eyes emotionless.
“No,” is his answer, and after relaying it, he continues to place the last of his stuff inside his duffel bag. He makes the bed, picking up the hot water bottle, and you don't miss the very slight trace of longing in his eyes as he holds it.
“Take it with you,” you offer.
He puts it down on the bed. “Can’t.”
“Why not? I have more.”
“They’ll think I stole it from you,” he argues, and it hurts your heart to hear that they would immediately jump to such conclusions, not believing him.
“I’ll tell Taehyung I gave you some things.”
“You’ll offend them by implying they don’t take care of me.”
“Well, they don’t?” you’re quick to retort. “I’ll say I was going to get rid of it anyway.”
He peers over at it, and you can easily tell that he wants it. “...No.”
He redirects his focus to his bag, continuing his packing.
“At least take this,” you hold the key out again.
“Why? I’m not coming back here?”
“I know. But… I want you to have it. Just in case. And I want you to know that you’re always welcome here. Always. If you want to come here, for any reason, you can.”
He doesn’t take it but doesn’t say anything either, so you reach for his bag, dropping the key into one of its smaller inner pockets and pulling the zipper shut. “Don’t tell them I gave it to you. If they find it, say you didn’t know about it and have them call me to ask about it. I’ll say I sneaked it in there when you weren’t looking or something.”
Almost expecting him to pull the key out and throw it at you, you’re surprised yet definitely relieved when he doesn’t, only looking at you and biting his lip somberly.
When you first met the hybrid, you had no idea it would be so hard to watch him leave. Still, he walks out that door with Taehyung, and your heart aches, knowing that he’s not well cared for and that there’s nothing you can do about it. As far as you know, at least.
It frustrates you because you don’t actually think Jeongguk is hard to care for. Give him a room with a comfortable bed in it, some appropriate clothes, and enough food, and you’d bet he’s good. Maybe entertainment of some kind as well, and a chance to socialize with other hybrids, and he probably wouldn’t complain about a single thing. If you’re going to strip someone of their rights like hybrids have been, you can at least make sure they have everything they need.
Unsurprisingly, you don’t hear anything from Jeongguk—or Taehyung, rather—in the coming months. You wonder about him, if he’s doing alright, and on multiple occasions, you spend entire nights googling hybrid fighting rings. To your disappointment, there are too many to count. Then, one night you find it. A ring that advertises its fighters, one of them familiar looking.
Jeongguk’s name is there, so is his height and weight, and how many wins versus losses he’s accumulated. And you understand why Taehyung wasn’t very eager to sell him to you.
As you scroll the site, you see other kinds of hybrids as well, a lot of which you had no idea even existed. There are not many derived from house pets; no house cat hybrids, but there are a few big dog hybrids as well as a wolf one, two cougars, a bear, and even a few hyenas.
For a while, you debate going to a fight, but then again, what would you even do there? Unfortunately, you can’t just try to locate Jeongguk and grab him since he belongs to the Kims and what they’re doing is supposedly entirely legal. If you were to try anyway, they’d just take him back and probably have you arrested. So you stay home, holding onto the fact that, even if it isn’t much, he at least has a key to your apartment in case he needs it.
Tapping your foot, you wait for the red light to turn green and the driver to accelerate. In your pocket, your phone buzzes, and when you pull it out, there’s a text lit up and waiting for you.
'Had a great time tonight'
You ponder over a reply, before settling for a simple ‘me too’ and hitting send. It was an alright date with an alright dude; you’re just not sure he’s the one for you. Still, you decide to give him one more date to be sure. At least the food was great.
At eleven p.m., the car pulls over outside your apartment complex and with a ‘thanks,’ you step out and close the door behind you. Despite the relatively early hour, you yawn as you twist the key in the lock, opening the door to your dark apartment. Swiftly, you flick the light switch on and start to remove your fall jacket before something catches your eye, and you freeze.
On the little stool you keep in the hallway, there’s a key. One that wasn’t there when you left, and one you’re pretty sure you actually gave away half a year ago.
Carefully, you step further into the apartment, not sure what you’ll find in the dark. What your eyes do fall upon however, is something curled up on the couch.
Your eyes adjust to the darkness slowly, allowing you to discern more. It’s Jeongguk, sleeping on your couch. He’s curled up as much as possible, probably to conserve heat. The weather outside isn’t too cold for late September, but it’s certainly cold if all you’re wearing is jeans and a t-shirt. He’s not even wearing shoes, seemingly intentionally keeping his dirty feet hanging over the edge.
Your heavy heart hurts, and you guess that he’s been kicked out for some reason. From what you gathered when he stayed with you, it’s happened before.
Deciding not to wake him, you pull a blanket off the couch and very, very carefully drape it over his freezing body. Then you exit the living room, leaving the lights there off, and head to the kitchen.
Suspecting that he’s probably hungry, you look through your fridge and freezer in search of something to make him, settling on toasting a couple slices of bread and scrambling some eggs for him. As you do, the kitchen fills with the smell, and you hum to yourself. Despite feeling terrible that he’s obviously still not being treated properly, you’re happy to see him and to get the chance to take care of him for however long he’ll stay.
When you return with the food on a tray, Jeongguk is already awake and sitting up, the blanket wrapped around him. He looks tired and a little less… well, a little less than when you last saw him. It’s no wonder he loses weight when he either doesn’t eat as much as he’s supposed to, or just not being fed what he’s supposed to.
“Hi,” you greet quietly as you place the tray down on the coffee table. Besides a glass of water and a big plate with food for him, it also contains an apple and some water for you. Sure, you just ate at the restaurant, but you figure he’ll be more comfortable eating if you are too.
But he pulls away, diverting his eyes from you and the food as if he’s ashamed. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.”
He goes to stand, but you stop him. “No, no, stay, please. I told you; you’re always welcome here.”
Unsure, he licks his lips but settles back down and pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders again.
“I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it?” you say, trying not to place any value in your assumption. “If you do, I’m all ears, but otherwise… don’t sweat it. The guest room is yours, and you’re free to stay as long as you’d like.”
Jeongguk looks almost relieved, and in turn, it brings your own heart relief. You spend a few minutes preparing some clean clothes for him; a set of lounge wear that originally belonged to your dad, and after he’s eaten and is taking a shower, you prepare the bed for him as well. He doesn’t say much, and you don’t pressure him.
The next day, he’s already awake when you step out of your bedroom to pee. Sitting on the couch, still wearing the outfit you gave him last night, but doing absolutely nothing, he looks at you when you approach.
“I don’t…” he starts, but stops to clear his throat in uncertainty, “I don’t know if I should stay or try to go back.”
“Well, what do you want to do?” you ask, patting your unbrushed hair down and hoping that he’ll decide to stay at least a little while.
“I want to stay, but…”
“Then stay. Keep me company for a while.”
You think you see a hint of a smile forming on his lips.
He does end up staying, at least another night, and you ask him to watch a movie with you, something he agrees to. You let him scroll your streaming services until he settles on Jurassic Park, and you run to the corner store, getting some chips and soda.
“So, how long do you think you’ll stay?” you ask, trying to sound casual and without looking at him directly. “I don’t mind having you here; in fact, it’s more than okay, and I like having you around. I’m just wondering.”
Despite your precaution, you see how his mood turns sour. First angry, then mixed with sadness.
“I don’t know. I didn’t do well at my last fight, and I talked back. Taehyung told me to leave and not come back until I was ready to show some respect. They usually track me down by my chip after a few days and come and get me, wherever I am. So I don’t know.”
“They just leave you to fend for yourself?” you ask, truly shocked.
Jeongguk scoffs. “I’m very capable of surviving on my own. I’m not a child.”
“I know, it’s not… I didn’t mean it like that. Just that they’re making it unreasonably difficult for you. I mean, you didn’t even have shoes on. If you walked here, it probably took you like, half a day? I don’t know how well I would’ve done if I was left alone outside without money or my phone or even appropriate clothes.”
He keeps his eyes on the screen, and you decide to try something he might not like.
“Maybe tomorrow we can go pick out some clothes for you?” you watch his reaction tentatively, placing another chip in your mouth.
He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the TV, but you can see the internal struggle going on inside him. He doesn’t want you to spend money on him, but he doesn’t want to walk around in dirty clothes in case you think he’s stinking up your home.
“Okay,” he mumbles finally, making you smile.
“Okay. We’ll get you some shoes as well.”
“I, uhm, don’t have my collar, though,” he informs.
You pause. Even when Jeongguk stayed with you for a week, you never went outside with him, and so you’d completely forgotten that hybrids need to wear collars when out in public.
“What are the criteria for a collar? Does it only need to contain owner contact information?”
“Yeah. There are a lot of models, but that’s the minimum criteria.”
You contemplate for a second before rising from the couch to look for something in your bedroom. Collecting a few items—one from an old sewing kit—you make your way back, placing them on the coffee table. Jeongguk peers over at the stuff, watching as you place a piece of yellow tape on the inside of a black silk band of about an inch in width. With the ink pen you brought, you write your own name and phone number in small letters and numbers and then blow on the text to dry it.
Curiously but a little carefully, he looks at you when you lift the band toward him. “I don’t know what yours is like, but would this be okay?”
“Uhm… mine is a lot harder.”
“What, like a prong collar?” you joke, realizing quickly that you shouldn’t have.
He nods, “Yeah.”
“I..” you start, unsure of what to say, “I don’t think you need a collar at all, actually, so this would be enough only to comply with the laws. I know I’m not technically your owner but if we were to be separated, I’d rather have someone call me than them.”
Slowly, he moves closer and lets you tie the band loosely around his neck, the information hidden on the inside.
“It doesn’t need to be tighter than this, right?” you ask, inspecting the band that rests at the very bottom of his neck, more like a regular short-chained necklace than a choker.
Jeongguk lifts his hand to judge the tightness. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay. Does this feel alright then?”
You let your eyes travel over him, and sure, it looks a bit like an odd accessory, but the main goal is to make it comfortable and hopefully also remove the humiliation of wearing an obvious collar.
Jeongguk nods again, and you see that almost familiar trace of a smile, something that makes your heart beat with happiness.
“Good. We don’t need a leash, so just try to stay close to me, and I’ll try to stay close to you.”
You let a few moments of silence pass, watching Jeongguk out of the corner of your eye as he unties the band to place it carefully on the table again.
The day after, you knock on your neighbors’ door after you’ve returned from work, asking to borrow some shoes and an appropriate jacket for Jeongguk to wear as you go shopping. The hybrid doesn’t look too excited when you return with the goods, but he doesn’t complain, and you think he just tries to accept it even if he doesn’t really want it. Not your favors and not your kindness.
With you both dressed appropriately for the fall weather, you get inside your old car. The short journey toward the closest mall with a good supply of hybrid clothes is spent in silence, Jeongguk sitting in the passenger seat and looking out through the window.
Just as quietly, he follows you from the car and into the big building, keeping close just like you asked him to. Looking through the shopping list you wrote in your phone’s notes app, you decide to start with the clothes.
Always a step or two behind you, Jeongguk remains quiet as you head toward a specific store, one that’s bigger than any other hybrid-targeted stores you’ve seen but still only a fraction of the stores for humans. There are a few people inside, both with and without accompanying hybrids.
“Go and look. I’ll keep up,” you encourage him softly when you enter the store, calm music playing from the speakers.
Clearly uncomfortable, he looks down at you with hesitancy in his dark eyes. “Are you sure you want to spend money on me?”
“Yes,” you say determinedly. “Please, let me?”
He considers for a few seconds before giving a small nod. “Okay.”
He looks around, seemingly unsure where to start before he takes tentative steps toward a section with shirts. It's clear how he gravitates toward the cheaper options on the racks. You find it sweet—and you’re relieved he’s not looking at the most expensive garments—but it’s also incredibly sad to you. You realize no one’s probably ever really spent money on him, even though you’ve come to understand that the Kims aren’t exactly struggling. Quite the opposite, actually, and from your recent research, it's definitely partially thanks to Jeongguk.
Staying close without hovering, you watch as he picks out a few things: two t-shirts, a pair of shorts, and two pairs of sweatpants. They’re all black or white and simple in design—not that you expected him to go for pink and sparkles or anything. You also suggest he pick out some underwear, socks, and two pairs of shoes—one to keep at yours and the other to bring with him if he wants since he didn’t have any on when he arrived.
“You wanna try them on?” you nod toward the garments in his arms.
“Uh… Okay.”
You look around the store, scanning. “I think the fitting rooms… there they are.”
He follows your line of sight, and you head toward a small cluster of fitting rooms tucked into the back corner of the store. You wait outside while he steps into one of the small rooms, pulling the beige curtain closed behind him. There’s a soft rustle of fabric as he changes.
“They fit?” you ask a few minutes later as he pulls the curtain open.
“Yeah.” He pauses, looking down at the black and white shirts and sweatpants in his arms. “I’m not sure what color, though? What do you think?”
“We’ll take both, don’t worry about it,” you smile reassuringly. “Let’s pay and then get them tailored.”
He follows you to the checkout, where a friendly woman rings you up, and then you head into a smaller section of the store. There, another woman sits behind a table, an industrial sewing machine in front of her. She’s engrossed in a book, a yellow tape measure draped casually around her neck.
“Hello?” you call out.
She looks up, immediately setting the book down with a warm smile. “Oh, hello. What can I do for you?”
“We’d like to get these tailored, please,” you say, placing the sweatpants, shorts, and even the underwear on the table.
The woman glances at the pile, then shifts her gaze to Jeongguk, who lingers a couple of steps behind you.
“Is he alright with me measuring him?” she asks, her tone considerate.
You turn to Jeongguk, waiting for his reply. He meets the seamstress’ eyes briefly before nodding. “Yeah.”
“Good. Come here, please?” she says, gesturing him forward.
Jeongguk listens and steps up, removing his jacket again and standing still as the woman carefully wraps the tape measure around the base of his tail. She notes the number on a piece of paper before measuring the distance from the top of his tail to his waist, jotting that down too.
Although he’s cooperative, you notice the subtle furrow in his brows. He doesn’t seem particularly fond of having his tail touched. Or maybe he just doesn’t like having anyone’s hands on him in general. You’ve definitely been on the receiving end of that dislike.
With the measurements taken, she thanks him and begins working on the pants. The rhythmic hum of the sewing machine fills the small space, and Jeongguk steps away, glancing around the store. He doesn’t wander far from you, still keeping his promise. Meanwhile, you look through your phone again, trying to see if there’s anything you’ve missed on your quest to put together a little kit of necessities for him.
Besides clothes to have at your place, you’ll try convincing him to let you buy him a phone. At least a cheap one so that he can call you if he needs to—or just wants to—and some cash so that he can take a cab to your place if he needs to. If he finds anyone willing to drive an unaccompanied hybrid, that is. Maybe you’ll laminate a card with your info on it so that he can give it to someone if he’s ever in trouble and you can help from a distance, maybe convince people he’s nice and just needs help home. Or maybe that's a bit overboard?
“Finished!”
The seamstress’ voice pulls you from your thoughts only a few minutes later. You look up, locking your phone and sliding it into your pocket as she folds the clothes neatly. She slides the pile toward you, a satisfied smile on her face.
“Do you want to try them on?” she asks. “So I can alter them if needed.”
Jeongguk approaches, looks at you, and nods. He takes the pants from the table, and with you in tow, heads back to the fitting rooms. As he closes the curtain again, you lean against the nearby wall, waiting patiently as he tries them on again.
“Good?” you ask after a few moments when he’s taking a little extra time.
“Yeah,” he replies, emerging a second later with a hint of something you think resembles satisfaction.
“Awesome. I think we’re done here then?” you ask, already giving the seamstress a thumbs-up. She smiles warmly, her fingers lifting in a small wave as you both head towards the exit.
“Now… I’m getting you a phone,” you announce as you step out of the store, already steering toward another shop a few stores down.
“What? Why?” he asks, but you’re not met with the strong dislike you would have a few months ago.
“I want you to have a way to contact me if anything happens,” you explain, hoping that he accepts what very well could be too much for him.
At the entrance to the tech store, he seems to weigh his options before nodding shortly, and so you step inside. It’s definitely a surprise—and a relief—that he doesn’t argue.
His quiet acceptance also fills you with relief that maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to realize that he has a safe place with you and that something like a phone would help him. But you’re also heartbroken, imagining what it must’ve taken for such a strong-headed person like him to accept help he probably didn’t want in the first place.
You walk him through the aisles of displayed devices, each phone looking more expensive under the strong lights. Jeongguk’s eyes dart from screen to screen, a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of options. You can tell he’s unsure, but he’s also doing his best to let you do what you for some reason want to do so badly.
“What about this one?” you ask, picking up one of the older models; something practical but not too expensive. Jeongguk peers at it, his black ears lowering further.
“Isn’t that too much?” he mutters, glancing at you like he’s waiting for you to reconsider. Maybe even hoping. But you shake your head.
“It’s not,” you assure him. “It’s not the flashiest, so it’s still pretty cheap. But you’ll be able to call me.”
You smile, trying to keep things light as you head toward the counter. The employee observes Jeongguk for just a little too long, and you’re reminded of how rare he is. Not only are hybrids as big as him not something you see every day, but you’d never even heard of kangaroo hybrids before you met him.
As you finish up at the counter, you catch Jeongguk sneaking curious glances at the people passing by. There’s another hybrid, a smaller woman, talking to her human. Her long, full tail swishes calmly behind her, and although you can’t see any ears due to her hat, you assume she’s a cat hybrid.
Like most hybrids you’ve seen, she looks… satisfied with her situation. You can’t tell if she’s happy being owned by someone, but you can’t sense any discomfort or anger from her either, at least not in the moment and from your distance. You guess Jeongguk doesn’t see a lot of… normal hybrids, only whatever angry, possibly traumatized hybrid he fights in the ring.
“Ready?” you ask, gesturing toward the door.
He nods, his attention snapping back, and he follows you out of the store. There's a comfortable silence between you as you head home.
“Figuring it out?” your voice is light as you move into the living room.
“Yeah, kinda,” Jeongguk mumbles, not looking up from where he’s sitting on the couch, his new phone held carefully in his hands.
You hold your hand out, sitting down next to him. “Here, let me put my number in.”
Without objection, he hands you the phone, and you tap the screen to create a new contact, adding your name, number, and even address. Then you pause, thinking. Who else could he need to call?
“Okay, I’m putting in Taehyung’s number, just in case you ever need it, but remember that he’ll know of your phone if you do use it to contact him. And maybe… Yoongi’s number, if you can’t reach me. And also the authorities.”
You pull up the contacts in your own phone to copy the numbers into the new one. “You know how it works?”
“Uhm, yeah. Type number or press contact to call. Or you can text, right?”
“Yeah. Just press this icon, and you’ll be able to text. Keep the volume and vibration off, and check it now and again, maybe. Also remember to keep it charged in case you need to leave quickly.”
Jeongguk nods.
“Good,” you press your contact in the list, waiting a second until you hear the ringtone of your own phone. “It works. I’ll pay the bill for it, and you can use it as much as you want and need.”
He accepts it back, his eyes stuck on the device for a short moment. “Thank you.”
You smile even though he’s not looking at you. “You’re welcome,” you say softly. “Call me anytime. Or text.”
He nods, and you get the feeling that you've made meaningful progress today.
“Why are you so nice to me?” he asks suddenly, his voice blunt but with an edge of vulnerability that catches you off guard.
You take a moment to choose what to say, deciding to just get straight to the point. “Because I want to. You deserve to be treated with respect, just like anyone else.”
You don’t say that you wish someone had been there to show him this kindness—that's not even really anything special—a long time ago. You don’t say how badly you want him to see how much he deserves it.
He looks away, and you let the silence settle around you both again. But then you glance at your phone. More specifically, the time.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
Right on cue, his stomach lets out a low, unmistakable growl. You stand up, turning to him with an amused smile.
“Liar,” you say, chuckling. “Also, I’m probably a lot hungrier than that. Do you wanna help me cook?”
“Uh… I don’t know how to?”
“I’ll show you,” you promise, heading toward the kitchen. When you glance over your shoulder, you catch him following you, hesitant but seemingly at least a little curious.
You open the fridge to grab a few ingredients—some eggs, a couple of vegetables, and leftover rice.
“We’ll make… fried rice, if that's okay with you?” you ask, setting everything down on the counter.
"Sure. But I've never…"
Jeongguk hovers nearby, arms hanging loosely at his sides, as though unsure what to do. You grab a knife and a cutting board, holding them out to him. “It's alright. You can chop. I’ll show you how.”
With a few careful instructions, you guide him through slicing the vegetables. His movements are a little stiff at first, but he follows your directions closely, and soon, he’s chopping with a quiet focus.
Meanwhile, you take out a pan and heat some oil. When he's done, Jeongguk brings the vegetables over, watching intrigued as you drop them into the pan.
"Rice?" he suggests when you've stirred a few times and start looking around.
"Yeah."
Without a word, he brings the bowl of rice, and you gesture for him to dump it in. He does, and then takes the spatula when you offer it to him.
His ears twitch slightly as he concentrates on mimicking your motions, stirring the mixture carefully. You watch him for a moment, noticing how the lines of tension in his shoulders seem to soften as he works.
"See? It's very simple. The hardest part is probably the eggs," you say as you approach the carton, picking out a few eggs. "Would you like to crack them? You can do it in a glass first if you're worried about getting shell in the pan."
"Okay."
With a smile, you grab a glass from the cupboard, carefully showing him how you crack the egg against the edge. When it's his turn, he uses too much force, and there's a shard of white egg shell that follows into the glass. He looks at you, unsure, but all you do is hand him a tea spoon and encourage him to fish it out. It takes him a minute, but when he's done, you let him pour the eggs in.
The kitchen is warm, the only sounds being the hiss of the pan and the clink of utensils and plates as you bring them out. It feels peaceful, like you’ve actually found a rhythm together and don't need any words.
That night, you wake to a faint glow seeping under your bedroom door. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you slip out of bed, padding toward the living room. There, you find Jeongguk sitting on the couch, his gaze fixed on the TV. The soft, shifting light casts shadows across his face, revealing the faint traces of exhaustion in his eyes.
“Can’t sleep?” you ask quietly, sitting down beside him.
He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the screen.
“You know,” you start, a smile already growing on your lips. “I read something interesting about kangaroos the other day.”
Jeongguk turns slightly, his brows drawing together in mild curiosity. “Why are you reading about kangaroos?”
“Because I have a partial one living with me? Did you know that joeys like to be swaddled? They’ll practically jump into any dark sack if it’s offered.”
“Are you… suggesting you put me in a dark sack?”
“Maybe,” you grin.
Before he can object, you disappear down the hallway, returning with a spare duvet cover. You hold it up, tying two of the ends together to make it smaller and hopefully, a cozy, enclosed space. “Try this.”
“No,” he says, but the difference is how he says it. His eyes aren’t brimming with anger anymore, they’re almost a little amused instead.
The next morning, you walk past Jeongguk's door, noticing that it’s slightly ajar. It’s pretty dark inside his room, but you’re still able to discern the shape of a… ball through the crack? Upon closer inspection, you see that, yeah, Jeongguk is bundled up in the makeshift "sack," peacefully asleep with only his large, black ears and a corner of the fuzzy blanket peeking out. The sight tugs at your heart, and you continue into the kitchen to make breakfast.
Half an hour later—while you’re getting ready for work—your phone rings. Your stomach drops as you spot the name displayed on the screen.
Taehyung.
Of course, you knew it was just a matter of time, and you take a deep breath as you answer the call, expecting the worst.
“Hello?”
“Hey, so, Jeongguk… Why is his tracker showing he's at your place?” he asks, his tone cold.
You swallow, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine at his bluntness. “Yeah, I told him to come here if he got kicked out. It’s inhumane, Taehyung.”
“I’m picking him up.”
A tense silence follows, and without another word, he hangs up. You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment to collect yourself.
It takes you two minutes to let your boss know that you’re feeling ill and won’t be coming in, something that’s honestly not even that much of a lie. Knowing that Taehyung can and probably will stop by today makes you feel something you can only describe as nausea, and you wouldn’t get anything done at work anyway.
Realizing that you’ll have to break the news to him, you knock gently on Jeongguk's door. When there’s no response, you open it slowly, finding him still curled up inside the duvet cover. You walk over quietly, sitting at the edge of the bed.
“So, it worked?” you ask, your voice light but warm. It's easy to push the thoughts of Taehyung away, at least temporarily, when the kangaroo hybrid is so endearing. It's almost unbelievable that the huge guy even fit inside the sack.
He stirs slightly, still entirely hidden from view with the exception of his black ears and a little bit of black hair.
"Maybe," he mumbles, and you chuckle, reaching over to fluff a pillow nearby. As you do, your bracelet slips from your wrist, brushing lightly against his ear.
“Sorry,” you murmur, carefully picking it up. “I know you don’t like to be touched.”
“Yeah… I don’t like being hurt,” he explains from inside the sheets.
The simplicity of his statement twists something in you. “Is there… anything you do like?” you ask, “when it comes to touch? A scratch behind the ear or something? I read that that's usually enjoyed by most hybrids.”
For a moment, he’s silent. “I don’t know. Isn’t the point that it’s not enjoyable?”
“No,” you shake your head even if he can’t see it, your heart heavy. “Of course, it’s not.”
The quiet lingers, and then, carefully, you offer, “I can try… if you’ll let me?” You keep your tone light, respectful.
To your surprise, he hesitates only briefly before agreeing quietly. “Okay.”
You lean in slowly, hand moving very carefully to his ear, tracing the curve with the lightest touch. His fur is softer than you expected, and as you run your fingers over it very, very gently, you feel him… relax. He even lets out a deep breath. Encouraged, you scratch lightly at the base, heart warmed by the subtle way he almost moves into the touch.
For maybe five minutes, you keep your hand on him; tracing, scratching, and gently massaging his ears, enjoying his slow, relaxed breaths and body language. Then you sigh, deciding to just rip the bandaid off.
“Taehyung called.”
Even though Jeongguk doesn’t move or speak, you feel the mood change as you explain. “He didn’t sound too pleased.”
“He’s probably on his way,” Jeongguk mutters.
Watching as he sheds the cozy "sack," your heart hurts, and you wish this small moment could last longer. He sits up—looking very warm and sweet, yet disappointed—and glances at you.
“Yeah. You should probably consider what you want to bring. Feel free to leave some things here too. In case you need them another time.”
What can you do?
Only an hour later, there’s a firm knock on your door. You and Jeongguk have been sitting together, side by side on the couch, just waiting for the inevitable. His phone, its charger, and your key already lie hidden in the deep pockets of his jacket, and he's not bringing anything else but the clothes on his body.
You look at Jeongguk, trying to stay calm and positive even if you’re anxious and worried. You hope your earlier—quite bold—words to Taehyung won’t make things harder for Jeongguk. The last thing you want is to give Taehyung any reason to retaliate.
Standing up, you head to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.
As expected, it’s Taehyung who stands there. His face is cold, letting you know that he doesn’t care to put on the charming mask he wore when you first met him. He’s not scared of you knowing what kind of person he really is. His eyes scan the room behind you, immediately finding Jeongguk.
“Put your shoes on,” he instructs stoically.
Jeongguk steps forward to do as told, putting the shoes you got him on.
“I can pay you five thousand now,” you offer, the slight panic you feel definitely heard in your voice. You’ve thought through every angle, already decided that selling your car and emptying your savings is a fair trade if it means being able to give Jeongguk a better life. “And I can make monthly payments—eight hundred dollars a month until it’s all paid off.”
Taehyung’s expression doesn’t change. “No.”
“Please, Taehyung,” you plead, your voice softening.
“I said no,” Taehyung repeats, more firmly this time. He nods towards Jeongguk, gesturing for him to follow, and so, Jeongguk steps past you, his face blank and eyes focused straight ahead. He doesn’t look back, not even once.
The door clicks shut behind them, leaving you in silence so thick it feels almost suffocating.
That same night, you find yourself restlessly moving through the apartment, looking through old boxes and drawers to see what you might own that’s just collecting dust. You know it’s a long shot, but you’re determined. If there’s even the slightest chance that you’ll be allowed to buy Jeongguk’s freedom, you’ll have the money.
Among the more valuable items is a camera, a Christmas present from your dad from a few years back. It would hurt to part with it, but you remind yourself that it’s just an object, a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things. As you research its current value, you send Jeongguk a text. You know that maybe you shouldn’t in case Taehyung finds the phone, but you can’t help it.
‘You okay?’
You wait for a response, staring at the screen until your eyes feel dry, but nothing comes. So you close your phone, thinking that he probably keeps his turned off. After all, it’s for him to contact you in case he needs it, not the other way around.
In the weeks that follow, you throw yourself into selling as many things as you can. Every sale feels like a step closer, each dollar a piece of hope you cling to. You sell old electronics, clothes you rarely wear, even some furniture, managing to collect about twelve hundred dollars over the next few weeks. Most of it are things you probably should’ve parted with years ago, but like your camera, some things still sting a little.
You also trim down your expenses, cancel subscriptions you can live without, cut back on groceries you shouldn’t buy anyway, and really think about each new purchase. Your car, though old, is appraised at about three thousand dollars, and you know that selling it would bring you closer to your goal. But you hesitate, knowing it’s a last resort. You’d definitely rather keep it, so you don’t sell it just yet, not unless you absolutely have to.
One morning, you wake to a new notification on your phone.
‘I’m okay.’
Another month or so passes with no other communication, but then, on a Saturday evening just past six, there’s a knock on your apartment door. The sound startles you, and you glance at the clock before setting your laptop aside. Wrapped in a fuzzy blanket on the couch, you definitely weren’t expecting anyone. Rising, you make your way to the door, opening it with curiosity.
Dark eyes meet yours. Jeongguk.
“Hi,” you greet softly, your voice tinged with surprise. You look him over quickly. He looks… okay. Tired, but okay, dressed in a jacket that’s thankfully appropriate for the chill of early November. His hands are tucked into his pockets, and you notice that he doesn’t seem to have a bag of any kind with him.
“Hi,” he replies, his voice quiet, almost unsure. There’s something in his expression that makes you pause, something that doesn’t quite fit the relief you feel at seeing him.
Figuring that something must have happened, and he needs a place to stay, you step back and gesture for him to come inside. He hesitates for a second before stepping over the threshold.
You shut the door behind him, but it confuses you when he doesn’t make any effort to take off his shoes or remove his jacket.
“You okay?” you ask carefully, your voice gentle but laced with concern.
“Yeah, I just came to…” He trails off, searching for something in the pockets of his jacket, “... return these.”
You look at what he’s holding out to you in his big hand. It’s the key and the phone. You meet his eyes, confusion and worry rising quickly.
“What? Why?”
Jeongguk doesn’t answer right away, instead looking a little unsure of how to tell you whatever he’s about to say.
“I won’t be back.”
“Wait, what?” you breathe, stepping closer to him. “Did Taehyung make you do this? Did he find the phone?”
He shakes his head, his expression unreadable. “No. But I won’t be back, so I wanted to return them.”
“But how do you know that you won’t be back? Did he tell you you can’t come here?” The questions spill out in rapid succession, your voice growing increasingly worried.
“No. I…” He falters, looking around before deciding to bend down and gently put the phone and key on the floor when you’re not taking them from him. Straightening up, he licks his lips, seemingly weighing something in his mind before he finally speaks again. “Do you know about the Ultra Games?”
You blink, the term vaguely familiar. “Uh…yeah, isn’t that…”
You rack your brain, searching your memory. You vaguely remember coming across the term—as well as many other championship and competition titles—during your research months ago.
He watches you as you remember what you read about it, your stomach dropping painfully when you do.
“...When hybrids fight to the death?”
Jeongguk’s sad look is the only confirmation you need. He thinks he’ll be dead and that it’s why he’s not coming back.
“Then why won’t he just sell you to me?” you demand, heartbroken desperation bubbling to the surface.
“The prize money is too tempting. This year, it’s a hundred thousand.”
“Then you’ll win,” you say, not even sparing the other hybrids a thought, too upset at the thought of Jeongguk being killed. “I know you can do it. One last time and then maybe Taehyung will let me have you, and you can live here with me.”
“I can’t… kill someone,” he explains slowly and quietly, his head slightly tilted.
The weight of his words settles over you like a heavy blanket. You feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as realization dawns.
“You’re… forfeiting?” you conclude in a whisper.
Jeongguk doesn’t respond, but his silence speaks volumes.
But then, a spark of hope ignites. “Wait. Does Taehyung know that? Won’t he sell you to me if he knows you’ll lose on purpose? There won’t be any money either way if you do?”
“He thinks I’ll fight for my survival when the time comes,” Jeongguk says, his tone soft but certain. “Says it’s impossible not to.”
The spark dies, and the room feels like it’s closing in on you. Your gaze is stuck somewhere in the air between you as you think.
Jeongguk’s eyes shift to the door, like he’s trying to distance himself from the conversation.
“I’m not winning as much anymore,” he admits. “I broke my tail a few months ago, and without it—without it working properly, and being painful—it puts me at a disadvantage. I can't keep up anymore. I cost too much to keep and feed, and if I’m not bringing in money, there’s no use for me.”
“We’ll leave the country,” you burst, taking a quick step forward and reaching for his warm hand. “We’ll leave tonight, okay?”
He gazes at you with understanding, letting you hold his hand, but the way he looks at you also tells you that he doesn’t see how it would work.
“There’s nothing you can do,” he says, his voice gentle but final. He nods toward the items on the floor. “I just came to return these.”
He’s already moving toward the door, and panic surges in your chest. “Jeongguk, wait!”
He pauses. “I can’t,” he says softly. “Jimin’s waiting, and I have a practice to get to.”
He glances at you one last time, his eyes meeting yours with a look that definitely means goodbye. Then he opens the door and steps out, leaving you standing there, tears welling in your eyes as the sound of the door clicking shut echoes in your lonely apartment.
<previous | next>
author's note: oop 🥹💔 i hope you liked it <3
permanent taglist (for all my works), sign up here (as long as the form is open, there are spots open):
you didn't know your estranged uncle had a son. Not until said son dumps an unusually large, very angry, kangaroo hybrid on your doorstep, claiming it's only for a few days while your uncle is in hospital.
pairing: kangaroo hybrid!jk x f!reader
genre: hybrid au, angst, mild fluff
word count: 9.2k (the entire fic is 23.3k)
warnings: none besides the inherent ethics of hybrid-keeping and roo!jk's furious stares
author’s note: to be clear, i first started this fic in 2020/2021 (and i will claim to have been first on the kangakoo agenda with my whole chest 😤 even before bts themselves likened jk to a roo) and finished it over the years, so this is all on lo from the past, current lo is innocent
From what you can remember, there was always a sort of sanity that orbited around your mother. It stemmed from her, and it seeped into everyone around her. Her sister, her brother, her child—you.
She had that thing that made you want to respect her. You don't think you ever heard her raise her voice at anyone, never saw her lose it, and that quiet, comforting understanding is what made her such a great parent. Even your father felt the strings of reason pull on his mind.
But it wasn't always like that. Not for him.
Your father doesn't speak to his brother anymore, hasn't for a long time since he tied the knot with your mother, and honestly, it's for the best. At least according to the vague things you've heard through the years. If your mother was logic, then your father came from the opposite, raised by the chaotic hand of insanity.
Having another cousin—this time on your father's side—hadn't crossed your mind until the little notification bell pinged on Facebook, but nonetheless, there he was, same last name and everything.
Through a few surprisingly polite messages, it became clear that he needed your help. And since there was always that chance of him being nothing like his father, you accepted. After all, insanity can clearly skip a generation.
"It's so great to finally meet you. I'm Taehyung," the blonde-haired man exclaims when you meet him outside the predetermined café. He wears an infectious smile as he enters the building and shows you to a table. Right away, you're caught by surprise because, although his Facebook pictures showed a handsome man, he wasn't this good looking. How is he related to your uncle?
You take off your winter jacket, hands finally thawing as you place the coat over the back of your chair. The small café is not an unfamiliar place; Taehyung offered to come to you since you ‘so graciously’ agreed to help. The place is just a few minutes away from your apartment complex.
"You too," you mumble, watching him start to back away with his wallet raised in his hand. At his question concerning your order, you simply recite your usual: coffee and a blueberry muffin.
"I didn't even know you existed," you admit sheepishly when Taehyung returns to place the little tray down on the table.
"Well, it's not that weird, considering my mom only married your uncle a few years ago. I've heard that he doesn't have the best relationships with the rest of the extended family so..."
You nod, taking a bite out of the fluffy muffin. Makes sense. And if your father knows about the marriage, then he never told you. You didn't exactly consult him before you agreed to help Taehyung either, so it's not like it was brought up.
"And now he's sick?"
"Yeah. Well, he actually had a heart transplant two days ago, but they'll keep him at the hospital for a while since it’s a, you know, heart transplant. So that's why this was all on such short notice; you can't pass up a heart just because no one can watch the hybrid, you know?"
"Yeah, no, of course," you're quick to reassure. "I was just surprised, and well, I don't really have any experience with hybrids. I mean, caring for them."
"Yeah, once again, I'm sorry for the short notice. I would've taken him myself if I could, but I can't, and I knew you lived close by," Taehyung explains, large hands wrapped around the coffee as he sips on it. "But it'll only be for a few days until I can find someone else."
You nod hesitantly, wishing you won't have to take care of the hybrid for long because, truth is, it makes you a bit uncomfortable.
"So, you said before that it's a male? What kind of hybrid is he?"
"Oh, yeah. It's a kangaroo hybrid, and his name is Jeongguk. Rescued as a puppy, or whatever they're called, and had a few families before he ended up with us. Can be a bit of a brat if you spoil him, so make sure he knows you're in charge," a confident smile graces his joking lips.
Despite what you first believed, Taehyung isn't actually related to you or your uncle, and that in itself makes it easier to trust him. The other contributing factor is that smile, the somewhat innocent confidence with which he carries himself.
"And I'd keep him inside if I were you, just to be on the safe side, but if you have to go somewhere with him, then remember that he has to wear his collar and never be more than a few feet from you."
If he can see the look on your face, Taehyung doesn't acknowledge it. You know that hybrids can't be left unsupervised by their owners when out in public, but you’d forgotten about the collar.
"So, are you ready to meet him?" Taehyung raises his eyebrows over the drink he's just about to finish up. With his free hand, he’s collecting his wallet and phone to put in his pocket, and then, he’s rising from the chair.
"What? Now?" you ask, still chewing the last bits of the muffin. When Taehyung had been the only one to show, you assumed the hybrid would arrive later. Like, in a day or something.
"Yeah, he's in the car. Unfortunately, he can’t stay with me any longer, so I really have to drop him off today."
You wonder why he didn't bring the hybrid inside the café since they are welcome and it's cold, literally snowing, outside. But you don't say anything, just grab your things—half full paper mug included—and follow the tall man outside.
Hybrids are normally slightly smaller than the average human, mainly derived from house pets such as cats and dogs, although there are definitely other kinds. But the hybrid that steps out of Taehyung's sleek, black car is anything but small.
He's wearing a winter jacket similar to his owner's, only a bit thinner because 'hybrids run warm,' according to Taehyung. It makes it hard to describe his body shape, but it appears they are roughly the same height and size, at least.
He's got the black jacket zipped up to right beneath his chin, and after grabbing a duffel bag from the car, he remains standing there, dark and cold eyes staring you down. You gulp at his intensity.
"H–hello," you stutter nervously, obviously surprised and intimidated but not stunned enough to be rude. However, if you thought it would warm him up, perhaps even grant you a greeting in return, you’re mistaken; the hybrid just glares at you. Until Taehyung intervenes.
"Gguk, be nice," he voices sternly, making Jeongguk soften his glare a tad and bow his head reluctantly in your direction.
While Taehyung introduces the two of you, one thing keeps occupying your mind. Or, well, two things. Jeongguk's ears.
If Taehyung hadn't already told you beforehand what kind of hybrid the dark-haired male was, then the ears would've made you think donkey. And you mean that in the best way. They're big, longer than those of a regular horse but rounder than a rabbit's. And they're dark, almost black. Jeongguk keeps them turned back, a little lowered. He's not scared; they don't convey submission, more... suspicion. He doesn't trust you.
This isn't your first time seeing a hybrid or anything; you've met some of them before, although very briefly. You still consider yourself pretty knowledgeable; you're one of those people who know a little bit about everything, and hybrids aren't an exception. The thing is just that you've never had to put that hybrid knowledge to the test. Besides, the ones you met previously were all mellow, well-behaved, and with their owners. You'd expected a golden retriever puppy but were met with a wolf.
“It’s a birth defect,” Taehyung explains casually after catching your gaze. “They’re not supposed to be black.”
It throws you off, how he speaks of the hybrid, but since neither of them seem to share your opinion, you don’t question it.
Taehyung keeps chatting all the way up to your apartment, his voice becoming elevator music as you glance at the pair through the mirror in front of you.
It's not only the fact that Jeongguk already seems to despise you that makes you lower your gaze quicker than ever when it's met by his sharp, dark eyes.
Taehyung is gorgeous. Dark blonde hair covers most of his forehead except for a little sliver, and he's blessed with dark eyes, framed by long lashes, and that infectious smile. But Jeongguk is more than that; he has something else that catches your eye more so than Taehyung, and it's not his animal features.
When the elevator reaches the fifth floor with a 'ding,' you step out and take the lead. The sound of your keys jingling echoes through the hallway and intensifies when you reach up to unlock the door to your apartment.
"Here it is," you say, back turned against the others as you open the door wide and step inside.
"Cozy," you hear Taehyung compliment even before he's seen more than the first part of your hallway.
"Thank you."
You show Jeongguk where to hang his jacket and put his shoes while Taehyung remains dressed for the outdoors.
"He's not very complicated. Eats anything, sleeps anywhere. He has his clothes and other necessary stuff with him."
As Taehyung speaks, your eyes drift to the male in between you. He's facing you, still in the hallway, and he's wearing a hoodie and sweatpants. It's like he doesn't even hear that he's being talked about, his eyes staring into the air, and his face blank.
You don't think Taehyung is lying. Well, not intentionally. But you hesitate because Jeongguk still hasn't said a single word to you, and it's obvious he does not want to be there.
Taehyung reaches for the door handle.
"Wait!"
He stops to look at you.
"Are you sure?" you ask. It's Taehyung who you're speaking to, but your eyes are still carefully watching Jeongguk. "He doesn't... are you sure this is okay?"
"Look, I really need your help," Taehyung pleads, suddenly way more serious. "It'll be fine, and I'll try to find someone else as soon as possible, so hopefully it's only for a few days."
"Yeah, but he..."
What are you going to say? You won't lie and say the hybrid's hostility doesn't make you uncomfortable, because it does, but you're mostly asking for his sake. He doesn't want to be left with you.
Taehyung's eyes follow yours, but while you watch Jeongguk with worry, Taehyung's gaze burns holes in his head from behind.
"Don't worry, he'll behave. He knows he's not coming home otherwise."
There's a second of silence before Jeongguk gives one determined nod to show that he got it. You're left speechless, and Taehyung reaches for the door handle once again. But before he actually opens the door, he turns back one last time.
"Oh, I almost forgot. He has activities on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. I'll send a friend to pick him up and drive him, but just so you know, he'll be back late." With that, and a small wave your way, Taehyung leaves. And you're all alone with a strange hybrid.
"Well, uh, feel free to look around," you gesture around you before bending down to take off your shoes that you'd forgotten.
Jeongguk does that same kind of nod again, and then he walks past you, giving a clear view of something you didn't see before. His dark tail. Your fingers let go of the laces as you stare up at it in awe. It's huge, could easily sweep the floor after him if he didn't keep it up. Unlike the tails of other animals like, say lions, it's thick and looks a lot stiffer. But it’s still not as thick as the ones you’ve seen on real kangaroos.
Suddenly, Jeongguk stops. He's caught you staring. And now, he's glaring at you. Cheeks tinged pink, you return your attention to your boots, and you can hear Jeongguk disappear further into the apartment.
It doesn't feel good. This whole thing leaves a bad taste in your mouth. You think back to Taehyung's words, even those he said at the café, those you thought were meant as a joke.
Make sure he knows you're in charge? Those practices are outdated and were disproven years ago, even for raising dogs. And if Jeongguk doesn't behave? He's not allowed back home? What does that mean? Where would he go?
Minutes later, you find him in the living room, standing beside your large, gray couch.
"What are your rules?" he asks stoically. "I'm allowed to sleep on the couch back home, just so you know."
You can't help but furrow your eyebrows in confusion. Why does it sound a little like he's bragging?
"Rules? I don't know, uh, don't... intentionally break anything? And I already prepared the guest room for you. Clean sheets in the bed."
"Bed?" Now it's Jeongguk's turn to draw his eyebrows together, although he appears more skeptical. "I prefer the couch."
The way he says it is so confident that it sways you. But you still don't understand why he'd choose the couch over a bed.
"Uh, okay... Well, you can sleep wherever you want, I guess, but you're more than welcome to use the guest room and sleep in the bed there."
Jeongguk seems insistent, but after a very brief tour of your apartment, mostly you pointing to the kitchen and bathroom and assuring that he can take and use whatever he wants, he eventually does retreat to the guest room.
The closed door has you on your toes in the beginning, scared that he’ll appear at any moment and glare you to death, but he never does. You ask through it what he likes to eat, but you don't get an answer, and when you've gone ahead and cooked your favorite food, he doesn't come out to eat, either.
It doesn't feel very good to go to bed without having seen your guest eat anything, but your alarm will go off earlier than you'd really want the morning after, and you think Jeongguk would value being left alone without food higher than being nagged at.
After shutting the alarm off, you stretch your arms over your head and blink the sleep from your eyes. Slowly, you get up to head towards the bathroom, and just as slowly, yesterday’s events come back to you. On your way there, you have to pass by the living room, and when you do, you see him.
If you thought that the kangaroo hybrid locking himself in the guest room meant that he decided to sleep in there too... then you were absolutely wrong. He's tall, but even if he’d chosen to lie straight and not curled up like he is, he’d fit. One of the decorative pillows is under his head, but he doesn't have anything covering him. Not even though there are two soft blankets folded up and draped over the couch.
Your apartment is on the chillier side, and seeing Jeongguk in only a t-shirt and basketball shorts sends a shiver down your spine. Taehyung did say that hybrids run hotter, so you guess it's fine...
It doesn't take you long to get ready. A quick shower, clean clothes, some make-up, and then you're ready to go. You've never been one to eat breakfast, but when you fill a huge bowl with apples, bananas, and oranges, you grab an apple for yourself. You have a feeling that Jeongguk is the type to never want to owe anyone anything, even when there is no debt, but you're hoping he'll at least take some fruit. If he's going to stay multiple days, then he definitely needs to eat.
You could write a note, telling him that you've left for work. You should write the note. But your brain, still half asleep, tiptoes into the living room.
When he's sleeping, Jeongguk looks much nicer. Not at all the harsh looks and mean clench of his jaw. Black locks fall into his face, and the ears look so incredibly soft that you just want to reach out and touch. But that would be weird and not cool. And even if his face looks softer, his choice of sleep attire reveals that, physically, he’s very much capable of beating you to death. He lies on his side, facing you, but it’s still obvious how broad his shoulders are and how the muscles bulge under his skin. There are a few prominent veins stemming from the inside of his biceps and reaching all over his forearms and the backs of his hands.
The apartment really is cold at the moment, and despite Taehyung's words, you notice goosebumps lining the hybrid's naked arms. You step away to reach for the warmest blanket you own, unfolding it and gently draping it over Jeongguk's body. Luckily, it's big enough to even cover the tip of his tail.
And lastly, before you leave, you make the mistake.
"Jeongguk," you speak softly, putting your hand on his shoulder to gently wake him up. But it doesn't quite go as planned when he wakes and immediately slaps your hand off him.
"Don't touch me!" he growls, in a half-seated position and with his ears pinned back. "Don't ever touch me!"
Your blood freezes as you retract your hand and step back as quickly as you can. "I–I'm sorry," you whisper in a panic, so caught off guard, it's not even funny. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to say that I'm leaving for work."
He looks so angry, and the thought that it was you who made something so miscalculated and wrong makes your eyes tear up. But you don't think he notices because you're quick to turn away, and he lies back down again without a word.
You spend the next few hours at work completely thrown off. Black eyes haunt your mind, the way he jumped back to put more distance between you, and his snarled words... It's all burnt into your memory.
You can definitely say you're not in a hurry to get home. Grocery store, clothing shops, you even stop by a florist on your way. But food is the only thing in your bags as you unlock the door to your apartment.
It’s quiet when you enter, except for the sound of the tv, and when you step further into the apartment, your eyes meet. He's on the couch, staring at you. Well, at least he's not trying to end you with his fists. And so you offer him a small smile before you take the bags to the kitchen to unpack.
The fridge looks just as it did when you last checked it; the only sign of the hybrid eating anything is the fruit bowl that seems to be missing a few pieces. You chew on your lip, trying to decide what to cook for dinner. It's already eight p.m.
"Do you have a favorite dish?" you voice without even entering the living room, only approaching to the point you can see Jeongguk’s face.
He keeps his eyes on the tv where some old movie is playing. "No, I eat anything."
"Yeah, but... nothing you like the most?" You hold your breath, desperately wanting to make the morning's misstep up to him but hopefully without angering him again.
"No."
Well, you're not going to push him any further, so you nod and retreat into the kitchen. You just hope he wasn't lying and that you won’t accidentally cook him something that’ll make him hurl.
You end up making a stew, going through your emails while it cooks. The room fills with the smell of food, and you realize how hungry you are. When it’s done, you carry a large bowl of it along with some toasted garlic bread and a glass of water into the living room on a tray.
You notice Jeongguk discreetly sniffing the air as you put the tray down onto the coffee table. It's not directly in front of him due to what happened earlier, you don't want to make him feel suffocated by being too close. Not in any way. He shows no emotions, just looks at you, and you avert your gaze, feeling... embarrassed?
"Can't return you in bad shape," you smile awkwardly and mumble so quietly you doubt he even hears it before you turn around and leave, going back to eat your portion in the safety of the kitchen.
Spoonful after spoonful, you chew the meat while looking out the kitchen window. Most of all, you see the reflection of your own face.
What is Jeongguk's life like at home? You're aware that there are lots of bad hybrid owners who abuse the ones that need them the most, but except for Taehyung's parting words and that joke, there aren't any indicators that Jeongguk is being mistreated. Right?
He seems healthy. He might not have the hugest of appetites at your place, but he looks far from malnourished. It's not like he's small and defenseless either. However Jeongguk is treated, the fact that he despises you remains. You just don't understand why.
Jeongguk doesn't lock himself away inside the guest room that night, but he doesn't sleep in there either, still preferring the couch for some reason. At least he ate everything you put on that tray.
And when you leave for work the next morning, you don't make the same mistake again. You simply leave without saying anything to the hybrid curled up on the couch.
It isn't quite as late when you return home as it was the day before, and when you step into the hallway, you see Jeongguk bent over his duffel bag, seemingly... packing?
He zips it closed and stands up, eyes meeting yours. No greeting, but you honestly don't expect anything of the kind anymore.
"Are you going somewhere?" you ask, confused but minding your tone as to not sound accusing.
"It's Tuesday. Jimin is waiting." He walks around you where you stand, reaching for his jacket from the hanger. You step away, maybe too fast and too noticeable, but you really don't want to anger him by accidentally brushing against him. If he notices, he doesn't show it.
"Oh," you look away, embarrassed because you’d definitely forgotten. "When will you be back?"
“Don’t know.”
“Oh, okay. Be safe,” you speak, but he’s almost entirely out the door before you’ve finished. It’s not like you even know where he’s going or what he’s doing, and you certainly don’t think he’d appreciate you asking.
With a sigh, you lock the door behind him.
Taehyung said that Jeongguk would be late, but as movie after movie ends, and there’s still no sign of the hybrid, you begin to worry.
He left at around six p.m., and midnight passed an hour ago when you send a somewhat panicked text to Taehyung, asking if Jeongguk shouldn’t have returned by now.
‘Yeah, he should.’
You lick your lips as your anxious heart beats faster. What if something’s happened to him?
Before you’re able to ask what you’re going to do, Taehyung sends another text.
‘The gps in his chip shows he’s at yours, though?’
What?
You watched Jeongguk leave, and if he returned, you would’ve heard it. Still, with phone in hand and Taehyung’s messages open, you look through all the rooms.
No kangaroo hybrid to be seen.
The very last thing you do before you’ll admit defeat is to check the stairwell. There’s absolutely no reason Jeongguk would be there, but when the door glides open… he is. He sits on the stairs leading a floor up, with his bag beside him, jacket folded over his lap, and blood coming from his mouth.
“Oh my god, what happened?”
For a brief second, Jeongguk meets your eyes and looks… surprised? But it soon evolves into that familiar look of irritation as he regains control over the muscles of his face.
“Nothing.”
It’s clearly not nothing, and still very much worried, you open the door all the way and motion for him to enter.
“Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.”
But of course, you should’ve expected him to fight.
“It’s just a busted lip,” he argues quietly but still rises from the stairs and grabs his duffel bag by its handles.
“But you’re bleeding…”
When you peer back at him, you notice that he’s put the sleeve of the jacket he’s not wearing pressed to his mouth as if he hadn’t known the red liquid was still seeping from the wound. Also like he rather stains his jacket than your floor.
The first thing you do is head to the kitchen to retrieve some tissues, offering them up to Jeongguk when you return to the hallway.
“Why don’t you take a quick shower, and I can take a look at your lip after?” you suggest because not only is the hybrid injured, but he looks to have sweated a lot.
Reluctantly, he accepts the tissues, replacing the sleeve of his jacket with them and putting pressure on his lip. The jacket gets hung on a hanger, and then Jeongguk leaves, gathering a change of clothes and a towel from the guest room before he enters the bathroom, huffing angrily the entire time.
With the sound of the shower running as background noise, you sway from foot to foot in the kitchen, biting at your nails. What happened that resulted in such an injury? Why was he so sweaty? And what kind of friend was this ‘Jimin’ if he didn’t bother to clean Jeongguk up? Make sure he got home properly? Well, not home home, but still.
The sound of the bathroom door unlocking and opening is what snaps you out of your thoughts, and you go to meet him right outside. He’s wearing a new set of sleep attire, although the same style as yesterday; a black t-shirt and some gray shorts. His hair is wet but it doesn’t drip, and you fight the urge to just… stare at his ears. They’re partially pinned back like they always are, but when they and his black locks are wet, they’re more prominent and, well, cute.
Jeongguk observes you with suspicion and with paper still pressed to his mouth.
“Let me see?” you ask, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible.
“It’s nothing,” he grumbles the same words from earlier.
“Please?” You’re no expert on wounds but what if he needs professional care? How are you supposed to sleep without knowing?
“No,” he answers strictly and makes an attempt to walk around you. But you step in front of him, blocking his way.
Jeongguk stares down at you, but you can’t let it go. Not if he’s in pain and it could be somewhat serious.
“Weren’t you supposed to behave?” you remind sternly, and you can see the way a flash of surprise washes over his face before he’s pressing his lips together and clenching his jaw. You would never tell Taehyung, or anyone, that Jeongguk was misbehaving, not when you still don’t know what the consequences might be, and certainly not for something so insignificant.
But Jeongguk doesn’t know that.
With a cold glare, he lowers the tissue. But it’s too dark in the hallway, so you ask him to follow you back inside the bathroom where the ceiling lights are bordering on surgical.
Without touching him, you motion to the spot where you want him to stand, in front of the washing machine, and then, you rise to your toes to get a better look, trying to ignore the way his glare makes your intimidated heart beat faster.
You have to stop yourself from grasping his chin and so instead, your hand floats a few inches from his face. It makes it more difficult to see how deep the gash is when you can’t move his face around, but it will have to do. After all, you haven’t forgotten how he reacted to your touch the first time. First and last time.
“Does it hurt?”
“No,” he grumbles.
You lace your voice with that sternness again while looking him straight in the eye. “Are you lying?”
Your courage surprises you because Jeongguk is a lot bigger than you. He towers over you, and he’s fit and muscular, you’ve already established that. He’s also not very happy or fond of you, but glaring at you is the farthest he will go, you’re already a hundred percent certain of that. It doesn’t matter that his lip is wounded and that someone else might also be sporting injuries and bruises. If he wanted to hurt you, he would’ve done so already.
When he doesn’t say anything, only keeps his cold stare on you, you know two things. What the answer to your question is, and how to handle him. If necessary, that is, you don’t particularly enjoy threatening him.
Even though his lip is painful, Jeongguk’s wound doesn’t look too serious. And by that, you mean not serious enough for you to drag him to your car and speed toward the closest hybrid doctor. But you sink down from your toes as your eyebrows draw together.
When you open your mouth this time, your voice is softer. “So… what happened?”
He’s so pretty, he really is. You think back to the vision of him sleeping and how innocent and carefree he seemed. You’ve never seen him be anything besides angry while awake, and you absolutely hate that he feels the need to always be so guarded and hostile. And, of course, you also hate that someone, a few hours ago, split his skin open and made him bleed.
Taking advantage of the way you’ve softened, Jeongguk mutters, “Nothing,” and sidesteps you, disappearing through the door.
But you follow.
He’s about to pull back one of the blankets on the couch when you catch up, and you immediately gather all of that determination again.
“Nuh-uh, you’re not sleeping there.”
He halts his movements, standing there with the corner of the blanket in his hand, and you can see, even from the distance, how his grip tightens and jaw clenches. Then, he drops the blanket, still looking at it where it lies on the couch.
“When should I be back? Or should I not bother?” he mutters.
You don’t give yourself time to absolutely break at his words. “Guest room. Now.”
You turn on your heel, not staying to make sure he’s actually following, but as you open the door to the guest room, there he is, right behind you and obeying.
“This is where you’re sleeping.”
“No.”
“Yes, you are. I’ll lock you in here, I don’t care.”
“I can’t. There will be hair on the sheets. Maybe blood as well.”
“You listen to me. I don’t care. You’re sleeping in here, and if I wake up tomorrow to find you sleeping somewhere else other than in that bed, I will not be happy.”
For a few seconds, Jeongguk seems to believe that if he challenges you to an angry stare-off–and wins–you’ll surrender. However, you don’t give up that easily, and when those seconds have passed, you still gesture determinedly towards the bed.
“Get in. Now.”
Huffing, he passes you, and you watch as he reaches the bed and reluctantly pulls the white covers back like he had tried to do with the blanket, and gets inside. He doesn’t lie down, just sits there, watching you.
You point your finger at him. “Stay there, I’ll be back in a second.”
Without waiting for any kind of answer you don’t think he’d give you anyway, you return to the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet in search of some painkillers. You pop a pill into your palm and on your way back to the guest room, you stop by the kitchen to get a glass of water as well.
Jeongguk remains in the same exact position you left him in, and he follows your figure with his eyes as you approach him to place the two things on the bedside table.
The second you straighten up, you suddenly remember something. Not used to sounding so harsh, you almost slip back into your usual voice and choice of words but manage to stop yourself at the last second. You clear your throat.
“Did you eat today?”
You’re taller than him when you’re standing and he’s sitting, but his eyes hold the same hostility as when he’d been towering over you previously.
“Yes,” he grits.
“When?” you push.
He stares at you with those eyes of death before he finally gives up. “Eleven,” he grits, staring right into your soul.
“A.m.? P.m.?”
“A.m.”
To be honest, it doesn’t surprise you, even if you feel terrible. But you don’t allow yourself to soften now either, knowing he won’t listen if you do.
“Okay. Here’s the deal, you’re going to sleep in here, in this bed, but not after you’ve eaten. Get it?”
Jeongguk doesn’t give you an answer, not even a nod of his head until you urge further. “Understood?”
And when he does, you march out of that room and into the kitchen where you’re pulling out the rest of what you cooked for dinner, the portion of lasagna he didn’t get to eat when he didn’t come home and that you forgot all about when the worry had started to set in.
It’s only when the microwave beeps that Jeongguk shows up, not exactly ecstatic but what’s new? You place the plate, a set of utensils, and another glass of water on the table, and then you wait until he turns the chair sideways and sits down.
You won’t deny how cute you find it that he prefers to sit like that, with his tail hanging towards the floor behind him. It makes sense that it’s more comfortable for him though, the tail isn’t as flexible as that of something like a cat.
You might be pretending to be mean—you wouldn’t think you’re doing a great job if it weren’t for the way Jeongguk is actually obeying—but even then, you decide to not be so weird as to stand and watch him eat.
Instead, you turn your back to him and busy yourself with the few plates needing to be washed, and you boil some water.
While he eats, Jeongguk doesn’t pay you any attention as you come and go. He just sits there and eats, and you can’t even tell if your cooking is the best he’s ever had or if it tastes like something out of a dumpster.
Before he’s finished, you have: done some dishes, taken out the trash, cleaned the microwave and wiped down the counter, and lastly, filled a hot water bottle and hidden it between the sheets in Jeongguk’s bed.
It’s not like you’ve missed the seemingly always-present goosebumps on his skin or the way he’ll sometimes rub at his arms when he thinks you aren’t looking. One Google search quickly informed you that, yeah, hybrids typically do run warmer, but it depends on the species, and Jeongguk, well, he’s a kangaroo hybrid. Not exactly an animal usually found at the poles. And since your apartment is chillier than average, you retrieved the blue hot water bottle from its forgotten place in your little storage closet.
When you return to the kitchen, Jeongguk has finished eating and is washing the plate and utensils in the sink. You would’ve gladly done it for him, but since he hasn’t spotted you, you back away quietly.
After a minute or so, he exits the kitchen, and you—typing a text to a friend despite the late hour—call out when he passes the guest room.
“Was gonna brush my teeth first…” he informs arrogantly, and you feel your cheeks heat up.
“Alright, do that. And then, straight to bed.”
You choose to wait a few minutes after he’s retreated into the guest room to follow him, knocking on the closed door. “Jeongguk?”
As expected, he doesn’t answer, so you wait a few more seconds—enough for him to cover himself if he happened to be naked—and then you open the door slowly.
He’s watching you from the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard and the white covers over his lap.
“Why were you in the stairwell earlier?” you ask, not bothering to beat around the bush.
Again, to no one’s surprise, he just stares harshly at you until you raise your eyebrows expectantly.
“I can’t disturb you.”
Oh, how your heart hurts. You let go of the door handle, stepping into the room to sit on the edge of the bed, as far away from the hybrid as you can.
“Were you going to stay there? All night?”
The pain in your voice is evident, and in that moment, something happens. Jeongguk doesn’t answer you, but he also turns his head away, tired eyes looking at the floor.
“Do you really think I’d go to bed without knowing where you were? That you were safe? I was waiting for you.”
Your eyes become glassy as you take in the being before you. Someone forced to be dependent on others, and who has learned not to make noise. He was going to sleep in the stairwell because he knew he shouldn’t bother you if you were sleeping already.
“You’re not a bother. Not to me.”
You don’t wait for an answer this time, feeling like the day has been emotional and draining enough, and after leaving the guest room with a whispered ‘good night,’ you spend an hour trying to fall asleep.
He hadn’t stretched his legs out enough to feel the hot water bottle when you sat with him, and you smile sadly as you try to imagine his reaction to the warmth. One thing’s for sure; Jeongguk deserves better.
In contrast to the letters you’re scribbling down, you’re smiling, and it’s with light hands and a quietly hummed melody you’re attaching the yellow sticky note to the pile of plastic wrapped waffles.
‘EAT!!!’
The plate goes into the fridge since you don’t know when Jeongguk will be up, and you’ll soon head to work.
Thirty more minutes roll by, until all that's left to do is to relay some information to Jeongguk. Softly, you knock on his door, opening it slightly when half a minute passes with no reply.
Instantly, you smile to yourself. The hybrid is all cuddled up in the bed; a surprisingly small ball covered in white. And at the top, his peaceful face, black locks and ears, and just a little bit of blue stick out.
The hot water bottle. He looks to be hugging it close to his body, content even though it’s long lost its heat.
“Jeongguk?”
He stirs at your quiet call of his name, but he doesn’t wake. And in the process, his arm peeks out from under the covers. You were going to call for him again, but his name dies on your tongue.
There are bruises lining his arm. You didn’t see them last night, and they’re still only a purplish red, meaning that they’re not very old.
The discovery leaves a bad taste in your mouth, and you close the door, looking for a piece of paper, preferably a bit larger than the sticky notes.
Despite starting off with a bit of sadness, your day at work is better than the previous ones, mostly because of the small break-through you think you witnessed the night before. It felt as if, without even really saying anything, Jeongguk opened up a little bit, and that makes you happy.
The moment you step back inside the apartment, you hear the telltale sound of Mario Kart, and you smile to yourself as you remove your jacket and shoes.
On your way to the living room, you stop by the kitchen to see the plate that held the waffles empty and beside it, the note you left.
‘Jeongguk, a friend of mine called Yoongi will stop by and install something for us today. He’s really nice, so I hope you’ll be nice to him as well!’
You hope that some entertainment might make Jeongguk’s stay a little more pleasant, and from what you see when you enter the living room, you’re happy with your decision.
Very briefly, dark eyes meet yours before they’re back on the screen to pause the game.
“Oh, I don’t mind if you play,” you exclaim, guessing that telling him that you specifically asked Yoongi to install it for him, wouldn’t be the best of ideas, even if Jeongguk surely knows it.
However, Jeongguk keeps it paused, watching you. He doesn’t look friendly, nor does he smile, but he... doesn’t look furious. Not like you just murdered his entire family.
“So, it went alright? When Yoongi stopped by?”
The hybrid gives his typical short nod, and you make a mental note to ask your friend as well. Mostly for your own curiosity.
Still satisfied with the albeit short exchange, you exit the living room to head into the kitchen, pulling out ingredients and tools onto the counter. You’ve been craving your grandmother’s homemade bread for literal weeks but haven’t had the time to bake until now.
A few minutes later, while you’re elbows deep into mixing the dough, two things happen almost simultaneously.
Jeongguk walks into the kitchen and with his polite but still somewhat stoic voice asks, “Can I have some water?”
To which you step aside to give him access to the tap, ensuring, “Of course! Just take whatever you want or need.”
And your phone rings.
It lies on the kitchen table, and with your relatively clean pinky, you answer the call, putting it on speaker.
“Hello?” you greet, sticky hands held in the air.
“Hi, it’s Taehyung!”
You freeze at the friendly voice. To say that your feelings and thoughts of Taehyung have changed during the past few days is an understatement. Or... well, you think. No one’s really explicitly told you anything, it’s mostly just signs, implications, and your own gut feeling.
You hope he’s just calling to check in.
“Oh, hi. How are you? And Jihoon?”
“We’re good! He’s still recovering. You know, a procedure of that kind is tough on the body, not to mention if you’re over fifty. They’re keeping him a bit longer, even if he tries to make them let him go earlier,” Taehyung laughs.
“Yeah,” you agree politely, “He should listen to the doctors and take it easy.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell him. But anyway, I’ve got some good news for you!”
You glance worriedly at the phone. Good news?
“Oh?”
“Yeah! I spoke with a friend earlier, and he offered to take Jeongguk. He had some things to do out of town, but seems like he’ll be able to reschedule and take him after all. And I just spoke with Jimin; he’s close by and can pick Jeongguk up in half an hour if that works for you?”
“Half an hour?” you repeat with your heart falling.
When you turn around, Jeongguk stands behind you, sipping water from a glass and staring out the window. You don’t even see his entire profile, but he, as usual, doesn’t show very much emotion.
“Yeah.”
“And this friend...? Who... What’s his name?”
It’s not like you expect to know the person, but you can’t help it. You feel like you need to know.
“Namjoon,” Taehyung answers, and you see Jeongguk’s shoulders falling slightly, and what little you see of his face loses whatever tiny little glimpse of emotion it had before. “Don’t worry, he and Jeongguk know each other.”
It doesn’t take very long for you to come to a decision. The hybrid might not like you, but... you can at least guarantee he’s being looked after properly. That he has a bed to sleep in, all the food he can eat, and... someone who cares for him. And most importantly, you don’t know this Namjoon, but you guess that Jeongguk would rather stay with you judging by his reaction.
“It’s okay, I don’t mind if he stays.”
Taehyung is silent for a second, and you’ve turned away from Jeongguk, so if he reacts in any way, you don’t see it.
“Really? Are you sure? I mean, I know he can be a handful,” he chuckles.
“I promise, it’s fine. He’s not so bad.”
It’s not even a lie. Or maybe he is just a tad bit difficult sometimes, but you’ve already come to the conclusion that if anything, it’s not Jeongguk’s fault. The image of the kangaroo hybrid, all snuggled up to the hot water bottle in bed, flashes before your eyes. That alone is worth it.
“Oh... Well, okay then. That’s very generous of you, so thank you. I’ll let Jimin and Namjoon know.”
You don’t like Taehyung’s words or how surprised and even grateful he sounds. No wonder Jeongguk thinks he’s a burden, and you don’t even know how they treat him at home.
“Yeah, no problem.”
There are a few more sentences exchanged before you hang up—Jeongguk long gone from the kitchen by then—and you can resume your baking. It hits you then just how little you want Jeongguk to go home. To go anywhere. But you don’t think there’s really anything you can do; hybrids have few rights and are basically nothing more than possessions in the eyes of society.
“Can I play?”
Jeongguk looks at you where you stand beside the couch, and immediately, he pauses the game and holds the controller out to you. All while looking... stoic. There’s still almost always that underlying anger. Like he loathes humans so much, and that yes, he will obey, but only because he has to. A part of you wonders how his ‘caretakers’ succeeded in making someone so stubborn and strong comply; another part doesn’t even want to imagine it.
“Oh, I meant with you? There’s another controller, right?”
Stepping in front of the tv, you crouch to look through the little box Yoongi left with games. And, yeah, there it is. You pull it out, fiddling a little with it in your hands as you move to sit down on the couch. With adequate space between you and the hybrid, of course.
“So, I’ve only played Mario Kart once and that was like... years and years ago. Do you think, maybe you could... teach me?”
Jeongguk looks at you, a softer than usual look of surprise on his face. His eyebrows are a tiny bit raised and his lips just slightly parted.
“I’ve never played before today.”
“Really? It certainly looks like you know what you’re doing,” you chuckle, noticing how his eyes flicker subtly in something other than anger?
“Uh, yeah... Yoongi showed me the controls.”
You make a mental note to send flowers and some kind of gift basket to Yoongi’s home. In a way, it doesn’t surprise you that the calm and almost somber-looking man was able to interact with the very suspicious hybrid. Yoongi doesn’t ponder too much; he’s more straight—but calmly so—to the point.
“Will you show them to me, then?”
He nods, and with the controller in his hands, shows you what the buttons do and when to press them. When you feel like you’ve refreshed your memory enough to give it a shot, Jeongguk restarts the game. Of course, the hybrid’s superior reflexes and the few hours he already spent playing lead to his victory. The first time, you can see that he isn’t sure how to act, almost as if he knows not to seem satisfied with winning, but when all you do is complain about your own performance in a lighthearted way and compliment his, he smiles.
The thirty minutes you spent gaming influence the rest of the night, and you smile to yourself as you refill the hot water bottle for Jeongguk right before bed time. He doesn’t acknowledge the gesture, but he doesn’t argue it either, and that’s a win in your book, at least.
However, the next day—thursday—he’s back to being a grump, and at first, you have no idea why. Then it hits you. Thursdays mean ‘activity,’ which probably in turn means fighting. As a result, he’s holed up in the guest room for most of the day, eating only an apple and a banana after you open the door and physically place them and a big water bottle inside.
A few minutes before Jimin is supposed to pick Jeongguk up, you approach the tall hybrid in the hallway.
“So, what is it that you do? Are you… fighting?” you ask, trying to keep your worry and distaste out of your words.
He doesn’t answer, but you can feel his irritation grow and see his ears swivel back, which you by now can tell means that he’s not happy. Maybe you weren’t very successful.
“Are they making you fight?”
Again, he remains quiet, zipping the bag shut.
“Can’t you just answer me for once?” you question, sounding more frustrated than you intended to.
“No.”
You lick your lips, silently cursing at yourself. Things were going so well. If you hadn’t asked—almost accused him—maybe his anger would’ve dwindled naturally.
“Do I come back?” he asks instead, staring at the wall, and you feel the heat radiating as his blood boils. He’s wondering if you’re kicking him out to the street for not answering your question.
“Come back? Of course,” you assure him, your own frustration exchanged for heartache and your voice taking on a softer tone once more. “I have an extra key you can have if that makes you more comfortable?”
“No,” he declines.
“Okay, but promise me you’ll knock, no matter the time?”
You think he’s about to nod, or at least give you some sort of answer, but you’re interrupted by the doorbell.
You linger just inside the closed front door after they’ve left, wondering what you should do to pass the time. Whether you want to or not, you worry a whole lot about Jeongguk, hoping desperately he won’t come back injured.
While you wait, you decide to take the opportunity to cook for him. You’ve tried googling what kangaroo hybrids typically like to eat, but it hasn’t given you a very clear answer, so you settle on a pasta dish. You make sure to use extra cream and to also make him a dessert of banana slices with peanut butter. If he doesn’t want to eat like he should, you can at least try to pack as many calories into what he does eat.
Then, you retrieve the first aid kit, just in case, and the last thing you do before sinking down on the couch to wait in front of the TV is to fluff his pillows and place the filled hot water bottle between the sheets. Hopefully his bed will be warm and ready whenever he returns.
Despite finding a very interesting documentary to watch, you can’t stop yourself, checking your watch as well as the stairwell outside your apartment now and again.
Whether he’d actually knock or try to stay outside again, you won’t actually know because at two-thirty a.m., you hear the slightest of noise from outside and go to open the door, seeing Jeongguk approach.
If you hoped whatever he’s doing with Jimin would’ve made him more at ease, well, it didn’t. He doesn’t greet you, stepping inside and placing his duffel bag on the floor. You try to get a good look at him to see if he is injured, but he appears to move smoothly and without pain, and there’s nothing on his face that seems hurt either.
Unfortunately, Jeongguk doesn’t appreciate the things you did for him while you waited. He scoffs at the bowl of pasta you bring him when he comes out of the shower, and you won’t deny that it breaks your heart a little bit. Even more so when he peers into the guest room, seeing the fluffed pillows.
“I’m not a human nor a baby.”
Unsure of what to do, you give sternness another try. “Eat, Jeongguk.”
But he turns fully toward you, looking down at you like he doesn’t care if you live or die. Although his black eyes and hostile body language honestly do scare you a bit, you try not to show it.
“No,” he grits. “Kick me out, I don’t care.”
His words catch you off guard, and you open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out.
“Can I go to sleep now or do I leave?” he asks stoically when you don’t say anything.
You manage to mutter something about how he can go to sleep, and after he closes the bedroom door behind him, you stand there for a few seconds, stunned.
When you return from work the next day, Jeongguk is still in the guest room with the door shut like he was when you left. With a sigh, you contemplate your best course of action, until you decide on an approach. Perhaps you should’ve really considered what he wants.
“Jeongguk?” you knock on his door, “...I understand that you don’t really want to be here. If you want me to, I can call Taehyung and ask if Namjoon is still free to take you?”
You wait a few seconds, not surprised when there is no answer. Letting a few more seconds pass, you then open the door carefully.
“Jeongguk?”
As the gap in the door widens, you spot him, sitting on the bed with his back toward you.
“No.”
His voice sounds like it often does; informative and not very emotional. But you’ve come to know him and his language well enough to know that there’s a lot of feelings inside; he’s just not allowed to express them.
“‘No’ as in…?”
“I don’t want to go.”
You’re relieved. Both because he answered you and because of what that answer was.
“Okay,” you reply softly, “That’s alright. I baked more bread, do you think you could eat something?”
To your relief, he turns his head a little toward you and nods slightly, and a few minutes later, he comes out of his room to eat some home-baked bread.
That same night, you wake up at three a.m., feeling the telltale signs of something approaching; a very familiar sensation that happens once a month, and you pray to the gods to let you off easy this time. It’s hard enough when you’re alone and not caring for a mostly raging hybrid.
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author's note: i hope you liked it!! <3<3
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I wanted more hybrid fics after "Match," but accidentally reread one I'd already finished. Took me getting halfway through to notice! 💀 We definitely need more bunny/kangaroo hybrid fics for Kook.
I don't think it's a very common au anymore but there's a ton of them out there still! I'll see if i can put together a rec list when/if i have the time! 🤩
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hey !! i was wondering if you were really active on patreon bcs i was thinking if i should give it a try, when i was reading the faq i saw that is was a way for to make money as a student but it was 6y ago so ifk if i would still be an actual help or if i should just wait for the chapters to come out like everyone😭
Hello!! Do you mean the faq here on tumblr? I don't think I've updated that in a while (but at least like 2 years ago?) 😅 I'll do that during the week! 🤩 I am active on patreon as i still post on average 10k of writing a month (usually split between two fics). As to whether you should sign up, that's entirely up to you and maybe depends on what chapters you're waiting for? 😄 Of course, I'm always grateful but there's no pressure to join and i definitely understand that not everyone wants to/is able to and that's totally fine!
I loooooooove youuuuuu..thankyouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu for always making a masterpiece..i’ve known you since dextrocardia and have followed you ever since until now....i just read match, your newest masterpiece, and you never disappoint me. #udeservetheworld #ihopeyourpillowscoldatnight #thankyou #loveyu 💗💗💖💖💖💖
❤️❤️❤️❤️ love you too 🥺 ❤️❤️❤️❤️ thank you so, so much!! It means so much to me to have readers stay over the years! ❤️❤️
