Among The Anomalies

The city pulsed with distant neon, but down here, in the back alleys where shadows stuck to your skin like grime, the world was silent.

Jisung ran.

His breath came in ragged bursts, each inhale slicing through his throat like glass. His legs burned with every step, soaked and heavy from the earlier rain. Blood from the gash on his arm mixed with water, trailing down to his fingertips. He clutched his side, ribs protesting with a sharp stab, but he couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not here.

Not when he was this close.

Something fluttered beside him—small, fast, worried.

Quokka.

The little creature zipped around his shoulder in tight, frantic loops, cheeks puffed up as always, but eyes locked on Jisung like a radar. His fur was soaked, his tiny paws muddy. He squeaked in panic, darting forward to block Jisung’s path briefly before circling behind him again.

“I know, I know,” Jisung panted, forcing his legs to keep moving, “We’re almost there.”

He hoped.

He hoped.

The last few hours were a blur—sprinting through narrow alleys, ducking behind dumpsters, fighting off the agents who’d tried to drag him back. His mind kept replaying the cold grip of those hands, the sharp sting of a needle, the sickening words:

You belong to us.

But he didn’t. Not anymore.

Not after everything.

He skidded into an intersection between alleys, eyes wide, heart hammering like a war drum in his chest. Street lamps flickered up ahead, casting pale circles of light on cracked pavement. The distant hum of the city sounded like it belonged to another world.

Quokka hovered protectively closer, pressing his tiny form to Jisung’s shoulder. Jisung was grateful for his little companion. He was the only real thing. The only thing that had ever stayed.

And then—he heard it.

Voices.

They weren’t shouting. Calm, low, like a conversation, but with urgency threaded into the syllables. Jisung’s head snapped in the direction of the sound, body instinctively coiling to run—but then something else tugged at him.

A strange pressure in the air. Like something... warm. Steady. Almost safe.

That was new.

Jisung narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the figures through the haze of exhaustion. Three people, tall and unfamiliar, standing in the mouth of the alley. One of them was crouched, whispering something to the others. Another was looking down at something in his hand, concentrating. The third was scanning the surroundings. Shadows moved beside them—companions.

Jisung didn’t wait.

He launched forward with a sharp burst of speed, forcing Quokka to squeal and scramble to keep up. He didn’t know who they were. Didn’t care. If they tried to take him back—

They were enemies.

They had to be.

Without thinking, he raised one trembling hand, vibrations crackling faintly beneath his skin. It hurt just to activate it. He knew it would cost him, but fear won. It always did.

The three men turned to face him, startled at the sudden interruption but equally on guard.

“Stay away!” Jisung yelled. His voice broke on the words. “You’re not taking me back!”

A voice called out—gentle, calm, not demanding. “Hey—hey, we’re not here to hurt you. You’re safe.”

Liar.

“I said STAY BACK!”

Shockwaves burst from his fingertips—weak, unfocused, but enough to knock over a signpost and send one of their companions flying before yelping and moving behind its owner. The street lit up with startled movement. One of the figures, held up his hands defensively, speaking in a low voice.

“Whoa, okay, okay—listen, we don’t even know who you are, man!”

Jisung ducked low and threw a punch, forcing the man to jump back in surprise. One of them raised a hand, trying to speak to Jisung, but Jisung wasn’t having it. His vision blurred, everything spinning as exhaustion took its toll.

The third one approached slowly, not making a move, just... watching.

Jisung took a deep breath, preparing to lunge again, but his body betrayed him. His legs gave out, and he crashed onto his knees, arms giving way as he fell forward. Quokka squeaked and scrambled to catch him, but being as tiny as he was, it was practically useless and he watched helplessly as Jisung crumpled to the ground.

Jisung could barely register the voice that spoke to him, low and soothing.

"Hey, hey, you're safe now..."

Before everything went dark.

—————————————

Felix was the first to move.

Up close, the boy looked wrecked—clothes torn, face scratched, pale with exhaustion, he looked severely dehydrated too and he was way too thin  His companion—a wide-eyed quokka with bristled fur—immediately sprang between them, landing protectively on the boy’s chest.

“Whoa—easy, we’re not gonna hurt him,” Felix said quickly, crouching with his hands up.

The quokka let out a sharp breath, fur fluffed up, eyes locked on Felix like a threat was seconds away from being made real.

“He’s protective,” Seungmin observed, arms crossed from behind. “Understandable.”

Chan knelt beside Felix, scanning the unconscious boy with sharp eyes. “He’s running from something.”

“No kidding,” Seungmin muttered.

Wolf Chan hovered beside his owner, eyes narrowed, tail twitching as he studied the unfamiliar creature. He didn’t growl, but his stare was intense, assessing every movement.

BbokAri floated into view behind Felix, glowing softly as always. He circled them slowly, a quiet presence, like ambient light trying to calm the tension. Puppym bounced in closer, eyes curious and sparkling, hovering upside-down for a second just to get a better look at the unfamiliar companion.

New guy, his look said. You’re intense.

“Poor thing,” Felix murmured, brushing the boy’s damp bangs from his forehead. “He’s terrified.”

Chan’s jaw tightened. “We need to get him out of here. It’s too dangerous, and whatever’s chasing him might still be nearby.”

He reached forward to help lift the boy—

The quokka lunged, swatting at Chan’s hand with a surprising amount of force for something so small. He landed back over the boy’s chest, arms out like a shield.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Chan pulled back instantly, blinking. “You don’t want us touching him. Noted.”

Felix held his palms out. “Hey, we’re not here to take him somewhere bad. We just wanna help, alright?”

The quokka stared at them, fur bristling, his entire body language screaming don’t you dare.

BbokAri floated over slowly, moving gently to not spook him further. He hovered nearby, arms out like he was saying it’s alright, we’re friends, glowing a little brighter in comfort. The quokka’s eyes flicked to him, then to Puppym, then to the boy again—he didn’t relax, but he didn’t strike again either.

“He gets it,” Felix said softly.

“And he comes too,” Chan said. “He’ll feel safer if he stays close.”

With slow, careful movements, Felix lifted the unconscious boy into his arms. The quokka floated beside them like a silent, prickly shadow. Puppym circled him curiously while BbokAri stayed close, occasionally nudging gently like he was trying to offer some peace. Wolf Chan remained beside Seungmin, watching the boy like a hawk.

“Didn’t even get a name,” Seungmin muttered as they began moving. “Wonder who he is.”

“No idea,” Chan said, his tone thoughtful. “But if he fought like that when he could barely stand… he’s not ordinary.”

“Or he’s been afraid for so long that fighting’s all he has left,” Felix said quietly.

They moved quickly through the street, the glow of the orbs above dimming as they left. The night was still thick and heavy, and none of them said it aloud, but they could all feel it—

Something was still watching.

And in Felix’s arms, the boy’s hand twitched faintly.

Like even unconscious, he wasn’t done running.

———————————

In the living room, peace reigned… for about two seconds.

Dwaekki zoomed past the couch, trailing pink sparkles (from who knows where) as he struck an over-the-top pose in front of Jiniret, who floated lazily above the coffee table with his usual elegance. With a dramatic spin, Dwaekki shot finger-guns at him and made kissy faces.

Jiniret clapped—actually clapped—tiny paws together, his ears bouncing with theatrical enthusiasm. Whether it was genuine or mockery, no one knew. Dwaekki took it as genuine, obviously.

He lives to impress me, Jiniret thought with a sigh and a flip of his imaginary hair. Can’t blame him.

FoxI.Ny floated nearby, tail swishing, silently judging them both while simultaneously amused. His gaze flicked to Leebit, who was perched like a king atop the bookshelf, legs crossed dramatically, ears twitching in time with the chaos.

Leebit gave a lazy blink, unimpressed but entertained. He’s been doing this every day for a week. You’d think Jiniret would stop encouraging him.

But it’s kind of cute, FoxI.Ny grinned with a shrug of thought, eyes half-lidded.

Jiniret offered Dwaekki a slow spin and a small, elegant bow. Dwaekki let out a silent squeal, twirling midair like he'd just won an award.

The humans, meanwhile, were actually doing normal people things.

Hyunjin was half-lounged on the couch, head tilted back dramatically as he groaned, “I’m just saying, if we keep getting missions this close together, I’m going to dissolve into goo. Literal goo. You’re gonna step on me in the hallway one day and not know what happened.”

Jeongin laughed, twirling a pen between his fingers. “You say that every week, and every week you’re somehow still intact.”

“Barely,” Hyunjin mumbled as he stretched his arms behind his head, Jiniret, floating down now to land gracefully on his lap, kicking his tiny feet like a little prince.

“We could ask for a few days off,” Changbin offered as he came into the room, having heard the conversation. “Chan-hyung listens.”

“Chan-hyung also runs on espresso and responsibility. He doesn’t sleep. He recharges through positive reinforcement.”

Hyunjin snorted. “Unfortunately for him, I do sleep and I haven't done that properly in days thanks to all the missions we've been getting. It's tiring”. He groaned flopping backwards and startling jiniret.

Jeongin shook his head, “Yeah, well, today's your off day and you've been watching movies since you woke up. Clearly you don't need that sleep you're whining about.”

Hyunjin flung a pillow at him.

It missed.

Behind them, Changbin was rummaging in the kitchen, clattering through cabinets like a man on a mission. “Who ate all the protein bars? I swear—was it you, Innie?!”

Jeongin held up his hands. “Hey, hey, I had like one.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “You had four.”

Before Jeongin could defend himself, the front door opened with a soft creak.

Their companions all went still. Even Dwaekki stopped mid-dramatic swoon. Leebit sat upright, ears flicking toward the sound. FoxI.Ny raised his head, alert.

BbokAri floated in first, his expression not sunshine for once. Behind him came Chan, carrying someone in his arms—someone unconscious, bruised, worn thin. Felix followed, face tense, with Seungmin right behind.

But what stole everyone’s attention wasn’t just the boy—it was his companion.

The quokka.

Ruffled fur. Eyes blazing. Protective, sharp and visibly exhausted—but not giving an inch of ground.

Leebit froze.

Their eyes locked across the room. One second. Two.

And then—recognition.

He shot off the couch like a spark, ears high, paws halfway raised before he caught himself. The quokka froze mid-float, eyes wide in shock. They stared, stunned, frozen in the air like ghosts from a past nobody remembered talking about.

Jiniret slowly blinked. Puppym floated in behind the group, expression unreadable for once.

Chan glanced at Leebit, then at the quokka. His eyes narrowed.

“You know him,” he said quietly.

Leebit didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The answer was already in the air.

Chan turned to Seungmin. “Get Minho.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes with a sigh and turned on his heel. “Of course he’s asleep.”

Leebit still hadn’t moved from mid-air. The quokka hadn’t either. It was like time held its breath.

Upstairs, Seungmin marched down the hallway and barely knocked on the door before barging in.

“Hyung”.

A groggy grunt came from the lump on the bed.

Seungmin flipped the light switch.

Minho groaned, squinting one eye open. “I just finished training, you menace.”

“Well, un-train your exhaustion. Chan needs you downstairs. Urgently.”

Minho dragged a pillow over his face. “Unless someone’s dying—”

“It’s serious.”

That made him pause.

Minho sat up slowly, rubbing at his eyes. “What happened now? Did Jeongin break the fridge again?”

“Nope.”

Minho pulled on a hoodie and followed Seungmin back downstairs, yawning as he went. “You guys are so dramatic. If this is about Dwaekki rearranging the furniture again I—”

He paused at the bottom of the stairs.

The room was dead silent. Eyes were on him—all of them.

He raised a brow. “Okay, what the hell is going on?”

Chan, standing near the couch, didn’t say a word. He simply moved to the side.

Revealing the unconscious boy.

Minho blinked confused, and then his heart stopped.

No.

No way.

It couldn’t—

But the moment he saw the face, pale and bruised but unmistakably familiar, time caved in.

Every memory hit like a wave: laughter in treehouses, shared snacks, fireworks on birthdays. That look in his eyes when Minho hadn’t spoken up. That expression when he walked away.

The air thinned.

Minho took one step forward, then froze.

Leebit floated silently beside him, expression unreadable now—but not surprised.

Minho looked like he’d seen a ghost.

Because he had.

One that bled and breathed.

His voice cracked when he finally managed, “...Jisung?”