Hellhounds || Chanminsung ✔️

8

I pace through the living room, pulling at my strands of hair. Chan had just left. My only source of contentment was gone, and I could only worry about if they would make it back okay.

I didn't know what to expect. Would Chan be carrying him in his arms? Maybe on his back? Or just helping him stand? What if he couldn't find him? Is that possible? Why the fuck was it taking so long?

Seconds passed by while I stared at the clock on the wall. Where are they? Did the demons decide to have another round? Did Chan get into a fight with them? Did they just leave Minho laying there? How much was he hurting? How long would it take to heal? Was he dying ever so slowly? Was Chan holding his hand while he was dying?

I stepped back into a corner, slowly losing my mind. My arms locked around my legs, my chest heaving painfully. It burned a lot, but I was used to this feeling.

Oh, god, he's dead, isn't he? Why are they not here? What was Chan doing? Could he not get Minho back? Was Chan too weak to pull him back? Did they have to find another way home?

I got on all fours, wheezing out. Red alarms were going off in my head. I had to be calm about this so I could help Minho when they got back. If they got back. Stop it. Don't say that. They're okay. Chan wouldn't let him die like this. He's strong. They're strong.

Tears dribbled down my nose. I screwed my eyes shut tightly. I couldn't think about myself right now. I had to stay focused. They're on their way. They're coming back.

I collapsed on the floor purposefully, pressing my cheek to the cold, wooden floor. The coolness of it sent shivers down my spine. My breath clouded the shininess of the wood.

It's okay. They're coming back. Do not panic. Too late. Do not panic more. They are okay. Just breathe and get up. Get some water. Sit on the couch. Be patient.

I nod to myself, feeling myself come down from my anxiety high. Slowly, I lift myself from the position, crawling to the kitchen. I lean against a counter, taking a moment before reaching forward for the fridge and getting a water.

"Jisung!"

I jump to my feet, running back to the open area in time to see Chan place Minho on the couch only to land on his own knees.

"Oh, thank god," I cry out in relief. The bad thoughts disappeared from my head in an instant, leaving me to almost relax.

I come around to face the injured boy, looking at how he had patches all over him and a lot of bruises and cuts. I... I expected more blood? I grasp his hand gently, looking at his exhausted expression. "What- what took you so long? You cleaned him up? How?"

"I couldn't move him or teleport him back because he was so hurt. It would just weaken him more. I would've called, but-"

"It's okay," I say, grabbing Chan's hand tightly and allowing him to sit next to us. "It's okay. Min, you need rest. We're gonna put you in your cage. Does that sound alright?"

He nods, verbal communication not an option. He was hurt real bad. I could only think of taking care of him properly, but even then, I didn't know how.

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•Sorry for the late update•