STRAY // JJK x HYBRID (bunny)✔️ Re-Writing

·CHAPTER 2·

BO-YOUNG

I dart away in my rabbit form, aiming to reach the dense shrubbery around the park where the man can't find me. I can hear him running to catch me. I push forwards, each leap feeling like it'll be my last as exhaustion robs me of my speed. I pant, each breath stinging as I breathe in the cold air. I slow more with each step until I fall to the ground limply, my legs refusing to move despite the bush being so close. I see the man get closer, rushing towards me. Desperately, I try to lift myself once more, only to fall back down.

Alas, after years of running away, someone has caught me.

The man arrives at my side, kneeling beside me and reaching out to pick me up. My chest rises and falls quickly as his hands near. I'm too exhausted to bite at him—all I can do is watch as he takes me, hoping that my eyes convey my desperation for him to leave me be. He stops, his doe-eyes staring right back into mine, understanding my plea.

"I won't hurt you, I promise," he tells me softly, his hands hovering mere centimetres away from me. "Please, let me help you."

I consider his offer, watching as he anxiously waits for me to relent, his eyes pleading as much as mine. I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, weakly nodding my head. He relaxes, releasing a deep sigh as he gently scoops me off the ground and into his arms.

"Here," he mutters as he carefully wraps his scarf around my trembling body.

He makes his way out of the park and down the street, past the alleyway I came from. He walks quickly, his steps long as he rushes towards wherever his destination may be. I suspect he's bringing me to the nearest Hybrid Rescue Center, which I know to be only two blocks away. Either that, or he's bringing me to the Anti-Hybrid Organization's headquarters six blocks away, where I'll have no hope of escaping after rehabilitation.

I adjust my position slightly, turning to look at where we're going. Ahead, I see the glowing sign of the Hybrid Rescue Center. He approaches it quickly. It gets closer and closer, but when I expect him to turn to go in, he continues forwards, walking down another block before stopping in front of a residential building. He holds me with one arm as he types in the door code, walking inside the weathered brick building and up the stone steps. He jogs up five floors before opening a door and stepping inside. When he turns on the lights, I can see his face properly for the first time.

He looks young—I'd guess around 21. His face is soft, yet sculpted, and dare I say close to perfect. He looks slightly dishevelled. His longish dark hair is wet from the rain, and the exhaustion is unmistakable in his eyes.

He kicks off his shoes, leaving them in the vestibule as he enters the first room on the right of the front door. He sets me down on the ground, still wrapped up in his scarf.

"I'll go get you a spare towel and some clothes. Take a warm shower—we'll talk after," he says calmly, crouching down to my level. I nod my head.

He's only gone for a moment, returning swiftly with a folded towel and a small bundle of clothes before leaving me again, closing the bathroom door behind him. The room is modest and small, with a bathroom shower fusion in the corner. It's impeccably clean, basically spotless, and nothing like what I'd expect a man's bathroom to look like.

The grotesque sounds of my bones snapping and rearranging fills the bathroom, and before long, I'm human again. I struggle to stand, my knees buckling beneath me as I reach over and lock the door. Once I turn the shower on, I sink to the ground, unable to keep myself up any longer.

The dried mud and dirt wash off me in the pleasantly warm water. I can't remember the last time I had a warm shower. Hell, I can't remember the last time I had a proper shower at all. The only recent time I've been able to bask in any type of heat was back in the summer, but even then, it was as much of an enemy as the cold during the winter.

My fingertips tingle and regain feeling, but they do not stop trembling. I hold the lather with both hands, afraid I'll drop it.

The surface-level cuts on my skin sting as I lather myself with soap, reddening in irritation. I look beat up, covered in both scratches and bruises, each stinging uniquely. The shampoo, which smells of pine, hardly does anything the first time I rub it in. It washes out of my mucky matted hair as a dark brown colour.

By the time I'm clean, the bathroom smells strongly of men's body wash and artificial pine. I try to run my fingers through my hair to no avail—it's still monstrously tangled, but at least there are no twigs in it anymore. I slip on the clothes provided by the stranger—a white t-shirt and shorts that hang off my malnourished body, almost making me feel like I'm drowning in them.

I peek at the fogged up mirror above the sink to see a blur of myself. My hand hovers over the mirror, ready to wipe it, but I can't seem to build the courage to see what I look like after so many years. I sigh and drop my hand, deciding instead to slip on the pair of woollen socks provided by the man and open the door.

When I step out, I can't keep my eyes from lingering at the front door. There's nothing between me and freedom—I could run. I take a step towards the door when I stop, my nose twitching as the smell of food hits me. Suddenly, he appears at the end of the vestibule, spatula in hand.

"Look, I know you want to run, but please trust me when I say I mean you no harm. I'm making food, join me?" he offers, a polite smile on his face.

I gingerly nod, knowing that I have no reason to be so mistrustful of the human—so far, he's done nothing but help me, and no matter how hard I try, I can't find a single trace of malice or deception in his eyes. If I eat a full meal and get a full night of sleep, I'll be back on my feet tomorrow when I return to the streets.

As I step into the living room, he invites me to sit on the couch. I happily oblige, sinking into the soft cushions. Silence falls between the two of us as he disappears into the kitchen alcove, which is separated from the rest of the apartment by a small island.

"So," I hear him start, though I can no longer see him. "Do you have a name?" he asks. I don't reply. He lets out a quiet sigh. "Well, I'm Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook..."

Jungkook. It's a nice name.

I look in his direction for a moment, debating on whether to give him my name in return. 

"My name is Bo-young."