Chapter Text
It's Jongho's idea originally. San isn't inclined to get a pet—too much responsibility, too much effort—but Jongho insists it isn't a pet. It's a companion. A hybrid. A pet and a human, rolled into one.
That doesn't make San any less skeptical. They have friends who own hybrids, work with hybrids, and if there's one thing they've learned, it's that hybrids require patience and effort. They're not just pets with a bit more personality; they're people with instincts, animals with emotions. Complex on complex. It's not as simple as picking one out and bringing them home.
Then there's the process. There are certifications, background checks, character references, income proof. A worker even comes to inspect their apartment to make sure it meets the standards for hybrid care. At first, San thinks it's overkill. But the more he looks into it, the more intrigued he becomes. If hybrids need this much regulation, they must be something special. That's when he stops resisting. That's when he starts wanting to see for himself.
He and Jongho are given digital files, a website with endless filters to narrow down what they want. A prey hybrid, a hunter hybrid, something in between? The site is sleek, almost like a dating app. Profiles with names, ages, species, and notes on temperament. They spend two weeks clicking through profiles, answering questionnaires, reading between the lines of the descriptions. Eventually, they settle on a few basic criteria: small to medium-sized, no strict preference for diet, minimal hostility. Hunter or prey—it doesn't matter. They just want someone who fits, someone who can bring a little more life into their home.
They've known each other since college, survived corporate life together, climbed the ladder side by side. Their house is comfortable, their finances stable. They can afford it.
When the day of their appointment arrives, they show up twenty minutes early. Not out of nerves, exactly, but out of anticipation. They step into the facility, both dressed in their usual casual-but-put-together style—plain jeans, a nice T-shirt. Not too formal, but respectable.
The building itself is pristine, the kind of place that smells clean without smelling sterile. The walls are painted in soft neutrals, the floors polished but not uninviting. This isn't a shelter. It's a care center, and it's one of the better ones. That's why they chose it.
The receptionist looks up as they approach. She's a woman in her late thirties, warm smile, professional but relaxed.
"How can I help you?" she asks.
"We have an appointment. Choi." San returns the smile.
It works in their favor, really, both of them being Choi's. The shared last name causes some confusion on paperwork—are they married? Family?—but they never correct the assumption. If people think they're a couple, it smooths the adoption process. A stable home with two adults is seen as more secure, and they don't see any reason to argue with that logic.
A man in blue scrubs arrives a moment later. He's tall, broad-shouldered, carrying a clipboard under one arm. "Choi?"
"That's us," Jongho says.
The man nods.
"I'm Kallem. I'll be showing you around today." He hands them each a clipboard from under his arm. "We've selected a few hybrids for you based on your preferences. If none of them seem like the right fit, don't worry—we have other facilities across the city that would be happy to help."
San glances down at the clipboard.
#6. Ella, Western Coyote
Below the name, there's an empty box for notes.
"I'll be taking you through a few kennels," Kallem continues. His tone is professional but not cold. "My suggestion is to write down anything that stands out—opinions, concerns, anything you want to discuss once you've seen them all."
San exchanges a glance with Jongho. There's an undeniable weight to the moment. The reality of it sinks in. They're about to meet someone who could be living with them, sharing their space, becoming part of their lives.
San tightens his grip on the clipboard and nods.
"Alright," he says. "Let's see them."
The man leads them deeper into the facility, scanning a badge against a reader to unlock a heavy door. It clicks open, revealing a long, sterile hallway lined with metal doors. Each has a small, reinforced window, allowing them a glimpse inside. The air smells faintly of disinfectant and something else—something more organic, something unmistakably alive.
San walks slightly behind Jongho, glancing into the kennels as they pass. Some hybrids they won't be seeing. A feline hybrid lounges in one, golden eyes tracking them through the glass. Another hybrid has a muzzle strapped over their face, their body tense as they sit curled in the corner of the room. San quickly looks away.
On the website, it had all felt like a process of elimination—filtering out traits that didn't suit them, checking off boxes without much thought. But now, seeing the ones they didn't pick, it hits differently. These aren't just profiles on a screen. They're people. People they rejected with a click of a button.
Jongho doesn't seem fazed, or if he is, he doesn't show it.
The handler finally stops in front of one of the doors and gestures for them to look inside.
"This is Ella."
San steps closer, peering through the window. At first, she looks like a regular coyote—small, curled up on the floor with a chew bone held between her paws. Her fur is mostly brown, with a streak of black along her back, and her ears flick as she gnaws on the bone.
"Ella is a coyote hybrid," He explains. "She's rather shy, but she tends to play favorites. The only time she's shown any hostility is in human form during physical exams, but that's normal—especially for a female."
San nods, filing the information away. That makes sense. Even regular animals don't like being poked and prodded by strangers.
"She's estimated to be around twenty-one. No previous litters. She likes toys—obviously—but puzzle toys are her favorite. She enjoys figuring things out, so explaining things to her and talking to her regularly would be beneficial. She's fairly independent, handles transitions well, no real issues with separation."
San shifts on his feet, watching the way she chews at the bone with quiet focus. He marks her down as a maybe. He's good at explaining things. At work, he's the one who takes over when coworkers struggle to understand instructions, breaking things down in ways that make sense to different people. If Ella needs explanations, he and Jongho can handle that.
They move to the next kennel.
#9. Dean, Bobcat.
Kellam stops in front of the window, nodding toward the hybrid inside.
"Dean is seventeen. A bit young, but temperament-wise, he's very social. He prefers his human form because of that, but he's incredibly affectionate—he loves attention, so he's easy to corral."
San leans in, watching Dean work through a puzzle. Unlike Ella, he's in human form—short brown hair slightly tousled, black bobcat ears twitching as he focuses. The puzzle in front of him is small but intricate, made up of interlocking wooden pieces. His fingers move quickly, expression scrunched in concentration.
Kellam chuckles. "He's great with people. Very cuddly. The only real challenge is that he doesn't like water. Baths, specifically. If you try to force one, he'll just plant himself."
San lets out a small laugh. "Of course. A cat that hates baths."
Dean suddenly looks up, as if he's heard them through the glass. His ears twitch, eyes locking onto San's for a brief moment before he goes back to his puzzle.
San glances at Jongho, who is already making notes on the clipboard.
This is real. They're picking someone to bring home.
There are four more kennels chosen for them—a rabbit, a dog, a bear, and a cat. San had marked them as maybe, no, maybe, and no. Still, he needs to discuss it with Jongho before making a final decision.
By the time they reach the end of their tour, their guide leads them into a small, private room. It's quiet, with a clean, neutral scent, the kind of space designed to make people feel comfortable. There's a table, a few chairs, and nothing else. San assumes that once they've chosen, a hybrid will be brought in to meet them.
"Ella?" Jongho sinks into the chair beside him, exhaling softly. San stares down at his clipboard, running a finger along the edge as he scans over his notes. Right. They have to pick one. Out of six.
"The bear was interesting," he murmurs, remembering the way she had watched them with wary, dark eyes. Timid, but not hostile. Just unsure of herself. They could handle that. An anxious bear. That seemed manageable.
Jongho leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand along his jaw.
"I just... didn't get the one that spoke to me." His voice is quiet, thoughtful. San exhales. He feels the same. Six hybrids, and yet none of them really stood out. They were fine. Good options, even. But they all felt so... safe.
"Maybe we want a challenge after all," San muses, turning his head to look at Jongho. He raises an eyebrow. "Not aggressive, but..."
Jongho meets his gaze, considering.
Something a little more.
The tour had felt... underwhelming. Not because the hybrids weren't good choices, but because none of them had struck that chord deep in his gut. None of them made him feel something beyond casual consideration.
Jongho leans back in his chair, tapping his pen against his clipboard. "Maybe we should ask if they have anyone off the list."
San arches a brow. "You mean someone we didn't pick?"
Jongho shrugs. "We narrowed down our choices based on a website questionnaire, San. A few clicks, a couple of checkboxes. What if the one that actually fits us isn't someone we thought we wanted?"
San mulls that over. It's not a bad idea. It's not like they're limited to only the hybrids they saw today—Kellamn even mentioned there were other facilities if none of these were a match.
Still, it feels like a strange thing to ask. What if the facility sees it as indecisiveness? What if the hybrid they end up with is more than they can handle?
But... that might not be such a bad thing.
San exhales sharply, dropping his pen onto the clipboard with a soft clack. "Alright. Let's ask."
Jongho is the one who asks, sitting forward slightly with his hands clasped together on the table. San stays quiet beside him, watching as their guide, Kellam, tilts his head slightly, considering their request.
"It's not uncommon to want something... more," Kellam says slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. "But if you adopt a hybrid with a stronger temperament, there are additional regulations."
San already feels the weight of bureaucracy pressing down on him.
"There are mandatory monthly check-ups, temperament evaluations, physical exams. You'd be required to follow through on all of them." Kellam's voice remains neutral, but San catches the subtext.
It's to ensure the hybrid thrives in your care.
Or, more bluntly, to make sure they aren't mistreated. San presses his lips together, resisting the urge to comment. He knows why those rules exist. He's read about the cases—hybrids abandoned, mistreated, discarded when they became too much work. He and Jongho would never do that. But he can't just say that to Kellam and expect him to believe it.
"We can handle that," Jongho says smoothly, answering for both of them. Then he tilts his head, considering something before adding, "Are there any hybrids you'd recommend? What about the ones that are overlooked?"
San gives Jongho a sharp glance but doesn't interrupt. He hadn't expected him to phrase it quite that way, but he's glad they're on the same page. They've seen the well-adjusted hybrids, the ones that fit neatly into people's lives. But what about the ones that don't? The ones no one chooses?
Kellam is silent for a moment, assessing them. His gaze flickers between them as if deciding whether or not to share something.
"Typically, we encourage independence in hybrids," he explains after a beat. "Some, like wolves, have natural pack instincts, but most lean into their human side and prefer to be alone."
San raises an eyebrow.
"We don't want a whole herd." Their house is big, but it's not that big.
Kellam's expression shifts slightly.
"What about two?" His tone is careful, almost hopeful. San and Jongho exchange a glance. Two hybrids? That's not unheard of, but if Kellam is bringing them up specifically...
"They're bonded, aren't they?" Jongho asks.
Kellam nods. "They can't be separated."
San exhales slowly, tapping a finger against his clipboard. A bonded pair. That changes things. Hybrids that bonded like that—where one refused to function without the other—came with their own set of challenges. If something happened to one, it could destroy the other. They required more patience, more understanding.
But somehow, he's curious.
Jongho shrugs. "Let's just look at them."
Kellam nods in approval and leads them down the hallway. They pass by more locked doors, more hybrids they won't meet. Some watch them through the reinforced windows, others don't even glance up.
When they stop, Kellam gestures toward a window. "Here."
San steps closer and peers inside.
At first, he only sees one.
A black fox is curled up on the bed, thick fur sleek and dark as ink. His silver-tipped ears twitch as his sharp yellow eyes lock onto the door. He isn't lounging—he's watching, completely motionless, but utterly alert. There's something unsettling about how still he is, his golden eyes unblinking.
Then San notices the second one. A patch of red fur, barely visible beneath the black fox's body.
He's hiding him.
"The black one—Wooyoung—is a silver fox hybrid," Kellam explains. "The red one is Yeosang. Yeosang is about a year older, but Wooyoung..."
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Wooyoung is the one to worry about. He doesn't let anyone near him. Or near Yeosang." Kellam folds his arms. "Growls, barks, does whatever it takes to keep people away. The only time he stops is if you show why you're there—food, water, toys—but even then, he never takes his eyes off you. Sometimes Yeosang can correct him, but that's rare."
San watches the foxes, something tightening in his chest. Wooyoung still hasn't moved. His body is firmly pressed over Yeosang's, shielding him with his own weight. The way his ears are perfectly still and straight, the way his breathing stays slow and measured—it's calculated.
"They were rescued together," Kellam continues. "We don't know all the details, but whatever happened to them before... it left a mark. They don't function separately. They can't."
San glances at Jongho. He doesn't need to say anything. They're both thinking the same thing.
"These two..." Kellam shakes his head, almost in disbelief. "It's like the other comes first before themselves."
San looks at the way Wooyoung keeps Yeosang pressed close, as if daring someone to try and take him away. He wonders what happened to make them like this—scared, but so attached.
Jongho finally speaks up. "What do you mean Yeosang corrects Wooyoung?"
Kellam smiles faintly, as if impressed by the question. "If Wooyoung growls at, let's say, a food delivery, Yeosang nudges him. And just like that, Wooyoung stops. He'll even sit. But he's still just as wary."
San watches them through the glass.
Wooyoung hasn't moved.
Yeosang's body is barely visible beneath him, but his ears twitch, listening. He knows they're being observed.
A bonded pair. One aggressive. One passive.
San watches the pair in the kennel, noting the way Wooyoung's golden eyes stick to the door. He doesn't blink much, and San wonders if it's exhaustion keeping him still or sheer determination. He's a fox, after all—restless creatures by nature. But right now, he's all stone and stillness.
"Have they bitten anyone?" San asks, glancing at Kellam. He isn't even sure what he would do with the answer. He just needs to know.
Kellam shifts his weight slightly, arms crossing over his chest.
"Wooyoung threatens to bite. He'll lunge. He'll snap. But he doesn't bite down." His gaze flicks toward the black fox as if making sure nothing has changed. "We think he understands we're trying to help, but he doesn't like it. And explaining things to him doesn't work—not because he doesn't understand, but because it doesn't matter to him."
San frowns slightly. "So what do you do?"
"We have to sedate him more often than not," Kellam admits, his tone grim. "And that... upsets Yeosang." He presses his lips together, clearly not liking the fact that it's necessary. "But there isn't much of a choice. Wooyoung fights, and it stresses him out to the point of making himself sick. Sedation is the safest option."
San exhales slowly, shifting his weight. The idea of having to sedate their hybrid regularly isn't exactly appealing, but he understands why it happens. Still, it makes him uneasy.
"What about Yeosang?" Jongho asks.
Kellam's expression softens slightly. "Yeosang is fine with everything. He just wants to know what's happening. He'll sniff, inspect, try to understand, but he won't bite. He's cautious, but not hostile."
Jongho tilts his head toward the window, where Wooyoung's black fur still shields Yeosang from view. "Does Yeosang stand watch when Wooyoung's sedated?"
San turns to look at him, impressed by the question. Kellam must agree because a small, approving smile crosses his face.
"That," Kellam says, "is the only time Yeosang will growl."
San glances back at the pair, heart heavy with something he doesn't quite have a name for. Yeosang, the quiet one, the passive one—he growls when Wooyoung is down.
The only time he lets aggression slip is when Wooyoung can't do it for himself.
San doesn't know what kind of life these two had before coming here, but he knows one thing for certain.
They only have each other.
"If we take them, there are monthly evaluations?" Jongho asks, his voice steady.
San wants to laugh. They're so in sync, so on the same page—it's almost ridiculous. They want these two. Attachment issues and all.
Kellam exhales slowly.
"In human form and hybrid form," he confirms, his tone slightly downturned, like he knows this is the nail in the coffin. The final hurdle. "Yeosang can shift between them both, it just takes a little longer. Wooyoung..."
"Will fight tooth and nail," San finishes for him, watching the black fox through the window.
Kellam nods. "Exactly. He's more comfortable in fox form, and that will be noted in his chart. If he fights during evaluations, you won't be penalized for it."
San exchanges a glance with Jongho. It makes sense, but it still feels like a red flag waving in front of them. Wooyoung isn't just resistant—he's defiant.
"And what will we be penalized for?" Jongho asks, his voice sharper now, more protective.
Kellam doesn't hesitate.
"Extensive injuries. If they run away. Neglect." He meets their eyes, expression serious. "If they show signs of malnutrition, if they're afraid of you, if we suspect abuse, you'll be reported. The facility will take them back."
San swallows, nodding. That's fair. That's good.
But the idea of these two being taken back to a place like this, locked away again, makes his stomach twist.
"We're not worried about that," Jongho says, firm. "If anything, we're more concerned about them adjusting to us."
Kellam studies them for a moment, then nods. "That's the right mindset to have. If you're sure, I can start the final paperwork. But be certain—because once they bond with you, separating them again would do more harm than good."
San looks through the window again. Wooyoung hasn't moved. Yeosang is still tucked beneath him, red fur barely visible beneath black.
They only have each other.
But maybe—maybe—they could have San and Jongho too.
He glances at Jongho, who raises an eyebrow at him, waiting.
San exhales and nods.
"Let's take them home."
"You'll fill out the paperwork and be introduced to them," Kellam says, nodding before stepping away to gather what they need. "A nurse will go in with you since they're familiar with them."
San and Jongho remain by the window, watching the foxes in silence. Wooyoung still hasn't moved from his position, his body draped protectively over Yeosang. His eyes are locked onto the door as if he can will it to stay shut, as if sheer force of will could keep them out.
Jongho sighs. "We only have one crate."
San shrugs. "We can get another. Even if they end up only using one, it's better to have a backup."
"They'll probably share a room too," Jongho muses, tapping the clipboard Kellam left them with against his thigh.
San smirks.
"Having two foxes will make Hongjoong jealous." His gaze remains fixed on Wooyoung, watching the way the black fox's tail twitches subtly.
Jongho chuckles. "You think they'll get along with Seonghwa?"
San exhales, shaking his head.
"Once they're well adjusted." A small laugh escapes him. "Seonghwa will finally have someone to play with."
A new voice breaks through their quiet conversation. "You must be the Chois."
Both San and Jongho turn to see a tall nurse in blue scrubs approaching, a warm smile on his face. He hands them each a clipboard.
"I'm glad you chose these two," the nurse says. "They're complicated—not on the highest level of hostility, but their bond makes them unique. Having two owners will be good for them."
San takes the clipboard, glancing over the paperwork. It's all standard information—emergency contacts, housing details, medical responsibility. He skims it quickly while Jongho starts filling his out, their movements synchronized from years of working together.
The nurse stands beside them, his gaze drifting toward the small window where Wooyoung is still watching the door like it might disappear if he glares hard enough. Yeosang remains underneath him, barely moving, just a small patch of them giving away that he's there.
"They've been together since they were brought in?" Jongho asks without looking up.
"Yes. We don't know much about what happened before that, but separating them was never an option." The nurse's voice is calm, but there's an underlying weight to his words. "Wooyoung is... fiercely protective. He trusts Yeosang, but that's about it."
San watches the black fox through the window, the intensity of his stare, the way his body shields Yeosang. Fiercely protective was an understatement.
"And Yeosang?" San asks, signing his name at the bottom of the form.
The nurse smiles a little. "He's different. Observant, patient, quieter than Wooyoung but still stubborn in his own way. He won't fight you the way Wooyoung will, but he won't let you push him around either."
He takes the clipboards from them, flipping through the pages to make sure everything is in order.
"Alright, let's introduce you properly. Just remember—Wooyoung is going to push back. Don't take it personally. Yeosang will watch how you react. If you panic, he'll panic. If you're calm, he'll be calm."
San and Jongho exchange a look. They're good under pressure. They've handled high-stakes meetings, demanding bosses, projects with impossible deadlines. They can handle this.
The nurse swipes his badge, and the door unlocks with a soft beep.
Wooyoung doesn't flinch. Doesn't startle.
He just stares.
San steps inside first.
"Hi, Wooyoung and Yeosang. You remember me? I'm Yunho." The nurse's voice is gentle, a soft cadence that seems to calm the space between them. He pulls a treat from his pocket, a small, enticing morsel, and tosses it to the far end of the cot, right in front of where Wooyoung is lying. But neither fox moves, neither lifts a paw. They stay exactly where they are, unmoving, silent.
Yunho turns to San and Jongho, his expression unreadable. "Just sit on the floor, give them space."
San and Jongho exchange a brief glance before they both follow the nurse's instructions. They sit on the floor across from each other, leaving a wide gap between themselves and the foxes. Yunho leans against the wall between them, making it feel like a quiet, slow game of chess, with the foxes as the pieces.
Wooyoung doesn't know where to look—his eyes flicker to them for a second, then dart to Yunho, as if calculating what their next move is. Yeosang doesn't even bother to lift his head, his body curled tightly around itself and Wooyoung.
"I'm San," San says after a moment, giving a soft, friendly smile in the hopes of softening the tension. Wooyoung's eyes blink at him, considering, and then turn to Jongho. It's clear he's trying to figure them out. He's cautious, which San can't blame him for.
"Jongho." Jongho nods slightly, making his presence known. Wooyoung's gaze flickers to Yunho next, studying him like an expert, like a clever little fox that knows the game.
"We want to take you home," San continues, his voice steady but warm, "Our home."
"They're very nice people," Yunho adds, his voice laced with quiet reassurance, "You and Yeosang get to go."
At last, Yeosang raises his head a little, just enough to reveal the hint of his fiery red fur. His eyes lock with theirs for a fleeting moment before he looks away, glancing down at the cot again. Wooyoung, still over him, watches them too, but with a guarded, calculating expression. San can see the protective stance in the way Wooyoung's body is positioned, like he's keeping watch.
Yeosang's fur is a vivid red, with a splash of white by his eye that gives him an almost playful look, but his demeanor is anything but playful. It's like he's trying to assess them with his gaze, working out whether they're worthy of his trust. The coloring looks almost like a birthmark, a spurt of white amongst all of the red.
"We have a big yard, a room for both of you, but you can sleep together," Jongho says, his voice slow and deliberate. He's being careful, making sure they understand every word. "And me and San work different hours, so one of us will always be home."
But still, no movement. Wooyoung just blinks at Yunho, waiting, as if the answer isn't quite enough. Yeosang keeps his gaze on the floor, not bothering to respond. The silence is heavy, the tension between them and the foxes palpable.
"It's like they're not impressed," Jongho mutters, looking over to San for a moment of guidance. San shrugs in return, unsure what else to do. Wooyoung is playing it how they thought, but Yeosang—Yeosang is almost unreadable.
"Wooyoung hasn't growled at you, so that's a good sign," Yunho offers with a small smile, watching the black fox closely. As soon as those words leave his mouth, Wooyoung's ears flicker, and San can feel the shift in the air. It's like the fox is suddenly aware of what was just said, and he doesn't like it.
"Can I get a treat?" Jongho asks suddenly, his voice light, and he reaches out to Yunho for one of the small pieces of food. The treat looks like soft, bite-sized pieces of meat—small enough for even the foxes to handle. He takes one in his hand, eyes still on the foxes.
His hand moves slowly, so slow that it almost seems exaggerated, deliberately not threatening. His focus is on Wooyoung, whose yellow eyes are laser-focused on him, tracking his every movement.
San can't help but watch closely as Jongho inches forward, eyes still locked on Wooyoung's. The tension in the air thickens, and then—Wooyoung growls. Low. Low enough to rattle San's bones but not loud enough to shatter the fragile peace in the room. The sound reverberates through the small space, and it feels like time slows as San holds his breath.
"Just going to put the treat on the floor," Jongho says, his voice calm and even. "I won't touch you."
Jongho doesn't flinch. He continues with his slow, careful motions, placing the treat on the floor beside the one Yunho had thrown earlier. Wooyoung watches him, unwavering, but doesn't growl again. San breathes a little easier, though he's still on edge. Wooyoung's eyes don't leave him, but his body remains still, almost predatory in its calmness.
After a long moment, Yeosang stretches his neck, inching forward. His movements are slower, more calculated, as he reaches the treat Jongho placed on the floor. His fur, bright and fiery, shimmers in the light as he nibbles at the treat, chewing with deliberation, while Wooyoung remains perfectly still—still watching.
"Progress," San murmurs under his breath, half to himself. He smiles, despite the lingering tension. This feels like the first step, even if it's small.
And then, in a surprising shift, Yeosang nudges Wooyoung with the top of his head, lightly, coaxing him. Wooyoung huffs in annoyance but doesn't resist. Yeosang leans down to take the other treat in his mouth.
"He offered," San says softly, his smile widening. "Yeosang offered him the treat."
Yunho chuckles lightly. "That's typical. Wooyoung views treats as trickery."
At that, Wooyoung's ears flicker again, clearly annoyed.
"Will you two get in your carrier?" Yunho asks, his tone light and casual, but there's an edge to it that suggests he's used to coaxing stubborn hybrids into submission. "I don't want any fuss, no growling or snapping."
Wooyoung blinks slowly in response, his yellow eyes barely leaving Yunho's face, but he doesn't move otherwise. Yeosang doesn't even acknowledge the command. He's as still as stone, his posture closed off, his eyes trained on the floor like he has no interest in the proceedings.
Yunho sighs, standing up. "I'll be back."
The door closes behind him with a soft clink, and the room is left in an unsettling silence. San and Jongho exchange a panicked glance. Alone? With the hybrids? The air between them feels thick with uncertainty. San shifts uncomfortably, looking at the foxes who haven't moved an inch. Wooyoung remains unmoving, still on guard, and Yeosang stays curled up, distant and unapproachable.
"What do we do?" Jongho whispers, his voice laced with nervousness.
"What do you mean, what do we do? They're coming home with us," San responds quickly, his voice a little higher than usual, the edge of panic barely hidden. It's obvious he's trying to convince himself as much as Jongho.
"Yeah, but they're like stone," Jongho murmurs, glancing back at the foxes who are still barely acknowledging them. San scoffs, trying to project confidence.
"They met us less than ten minutes ago. Of course, they're unfriendly. We aren't going to hold their hands on the way out."
Just as he finishes speaking, a soft exhale—a sound that could almost be mistaken for a laugh—escapes from one of the foxes. Both San and Jongho freeze, looking between the two of them, unsure who made the sound. It's the first sign of any kind of response they've gotten since they walked into the room.
Before either of them can comment, the door opens again with a soft squeak. Yunho walks back in, holding a large pet carrier, the kind big enough for two. He steps forward, placing it gently in the center of the room, between them and the foxes.
"This is made for two," Yunho says, his voice still calm and matter-of-fact. "You two have to get them in there."
San and Jongho exchange a glance again, both of them silently agreeing that this is the moment where everything will either fall into place—or completely fall apart. They've got to get them in there, somehow.
"Get them in, sign out at the front desk, and their first eval is a month from today if there are no incidents," Yunho says, his voice lighter but still carrying a hint of nervousness. He looks to San and Jongho, his expression almost apologetic. "Good luck."
With that, Yunho exits, leaving San and Jongho staring down at the green carrier in the middle of the room. It's a bright shade of green, like that would make the task ahead any easier. The silence returns, thick and heavy, and the foxes seem just as unmoving as before.
San exhales slowly, trying to shake off the tension.
"Any ideas?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at Jongho, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. His voice is tight, the uncertainty creeping through. Jongho looks back at him with a skeptical frown.
"Why is it all on me?" he shoots back, crossing his arms. "You're the one who was so confident they'd come home with us."
San holds up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just asking you. I didn't think we'd get two hybrids."
Jongho rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He runs a hand through his hair and glances over at the foxes again, their eyes still avoiding him. "Well, they're both in there, aren't they? We've got to figure it out together."
San gives a half-hearted chuckle, still looking at the foxes, but the tension hasn't left his body. The task ahead still feels impossible, even with Jongho by his side.
"Alright," San says, finally pushing himself off the wall and heading toward the carrier. He kneels down in front of it, eyeing Wooyoung and Yeosang carefully. "Let's do this. Slowly."
Jongho follows suit, leaning against the opposite wall, watching their every move. Neither of them wants to rush this, not with how protective Wooyoung is over Yeosang. It's not just a matter of getting them in the carrier—it's about earning their trust.
Yeosang remains sprawled out on the bed, Wooyoung still hovering over him like an ever-watchful guardian. The two foxes seem like statues, unmoving, almost eerily still.
"Their coloring is so pretty," San says, his eyes fixed on them, admiring the striking contrast between Wooyoung's sleek black fur and Yeosang's fiery red. They almost look like they were designed to complement one another.
"Complimenting them won't get them into the carrier," Jongho deadpans, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
San sighs, glancing back at him.
"We can't exactly just grab them and put them in." He motions toward the foxes again, both still lying motionless on their cot, their attention not on them but just... quiet.
Jongho's gaze softens slightly, a glimmer of frustration flashing behind his eyes.
"They laughed at us earlier," he says, almost under his breath, his head tilting toward the foxes as if remembering the moment. "Oh man..."
San can't help but chuckle at the thought. The quiet, almost mocking air they carried. They laughed. It felt like a small victory, even if they didn't know if it was intentional.
But the moment quickly turns serious as Jongho pushes himself off the wall and inches closer to Wooyoung. Immediately, the black fox tenses, his ears shooting up, and his eyes fix on Jongho with a laser-sharp intensity. He's on high alert, the hairs on his back subtly raised as he watches every small movement.
Jongho stops, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "I want to pet you, okay? Not Yeosang, you."
San winces, instinctively taking a step back. He's pretty sure Jongho's hand is about to become dinner for Wooyoung if he keeps this up.
"Careful, Jongho," he murmurs under his breath, not wanting to provoke the fox more than necessary.
Jongho doesn't seem phased.
"I'll be fine," he mutters, but his voice lacks the usual confidence. He inches a little closer again, the space between him and Wooyoung shrinking with each slow, calculated movement. Wooyoung's gaze doesn't waver, still locked on Jongho's hand. There's a moment of silence, then—
Wooyoung growls.
Yeosang's head rises from its resting place, and without hesitation, he nudges Wooyoung's chin. Instantly, the low growl that had been vibrating in Wooyoung's throat dies out completely. San blinks, his surprise clear. Wooyoung, still visibly upset and tense, looks less hostile but clearly uncomfortable, yet he doesn't pull away as Jongho's hand cautiously hovers between his ears.
"It's not so bad, see?" Jongho whispers gently, almost as if trying to reassure both Wooyoung and himself. Wooyoung blinks, his expression cold, still agitated. "Will you let me touch Yeosang?"
A growl, more definitive this time, rumbles from Wooyoung's throat, and he turns his head slightly away, an unmistakable "no" in his body language. This one, Yeosang doesn't correct.
"Okay," Jongho murmurs, slowly pulling his hand away. He lets out a long, quiet breath, relief washing over him as Wooyoung's growl fades the moment he backs off enough. The space between them all grows quiet again, tension lingering in the air.
Then, as if on cue, Yeosang stands. His red fur is vivid and striking, a beautiful contrast to Wooyoung's darker coat. Yeosang, still unsure, moves with calculated slowness, his head lowered, eyes fixed on Jongho. Wooyoung huffs, a low, gruff sound, but doesn't stop him from moving.
Yeosang steps off the cot and inches forward, his movements tentative but purposeful. His gaze locks onto Jongho, and despite the wariness in his posture, he moves closer.
"Hi," Jongho whispers softly, unsure how to proceed but doing his best to remain calm. He extends his palm toward Yeosang, offering the same gesture he used with Wooyoung. Yeosang pauses, sniffing the air, then his nose moves to Jongho's palm. There's a moment of stillness, and then Yeosang looks up, his dark eyes meeting Jongho's for the briefest of seconds.
San watches quietly, but then—Yeosang turns away. His eyes shift to San, and the air thickens in an instant.
Uh-oh.
San swallows, his throat dry. He extends his hand, palm open, trying to mimic the calmness Jongho had shown. Yeosang's head lowers again, still unsure, perhaps sensing something about San's hesitation. San holds his breath, staying completely still.
Yeosang sniffs, his cool nose brushing across San's palm, leaving behind a faint wetness. It's brief—only a few seconds—but before San can process what's happening, Yeosang pulls back, his expression still guarded. Without another glance, Yeosang walks around the carrier, sniffing at it curiously.
San exhales, hoping they're making progress, but Yeosang pauses by the carrier's entrance, his eyes fixed on the opening. It's like he's deciding something, contemplating whether or not to go in. Whether or not it's worth it.
Then, Yeosang turns to Wooyoung, who's still lying by the bed, his posture rigid and his eyes narrowed. His ears are flattened against his head—San hadn't noticed that until now, but it's unmistakable. Wooyoung is not happy, clearly agitated, his tail flat against the ground. He is not moving, not doing anything. He probably doesn't want to go.
Yeosang lets out a small huff, an almost imperceptible sound, as if he's trying to communicate with Wooyoung. They probably do understand each other, they're the same breed and have been together for a long time. But Wooyoung doesn't move, his ears still flat.
Neither of them move. San and Jongho exchange a quick, uncertain glance, both silently wondering what will happen next.
To their surprise, Yeosang walks forward again, and with a swift movement, he opens his mouth, his jaw wrapping around Wooyoung's neck in a gentle yet firm grip. Wooyoung doesn't resist; instead, he allows Yeosang to pull him toward the carrier. It's not aggressive—more like a tug, like a reminder of their bond.
They don't function separately.
Once by the carrier, Yeosang climbs in first, settling himself down inside, and Wooyoung follows, his weight shifting as he climbs in after him. The moment they're inside, Wooyoung positions himself over Yeosang, curling his body around him like a shield. San watches, a quiet understanding settling in his chest. It's clear now: Wooyoung isn't just protective—he's instinctively guarding Yeosang, the way he always has.
San wonders, with a small pang of curiosity, how long this habit of lying like this has been part of their routine.
"I'm going to zip up the door," Jongho says softly, stepping forward, the pet carrier now their main focus. He lifts the door, his movements deliberate as he gently closes it behind the two foxes.
San watches as Wooyoung's body stiffens for a moment, but he doesn't protest. The door slides shut, and for a moment, the room falls quiet again, save for the soft rustling of fur inside the carrier.
It's done. They're going home.