𝐀𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫 || 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐖𝐨𝐧

Chapter 5

Wonwoo woke with a start, the yells of his team leader echoing in his ears. It took a moment to remember where he was and for the fear to fade. Except it didn’t so much fade as change, anger curling hot and heavy inside him when his thoughts turned to Sungwoon and the others. He rolled onto his side and shut his eyes, trying to force the memories from his head, but as the minutes ticked by and sleep didn’t come, he gave up. He threw off the blanket and climbed out of bed, going to the window to open the curtains. Bright, cheerful sunlight poured through, the last of the nice weather as fall set in. Wonwoo almost slammed the curtains shut just to get away from it. Bright and cheerful used to be terms that reverberated with his soul.

Now they were weak, watery words that meant nothing to him.

He dressed and headed downstairs, listening carefully at the door to the kitchen before he entered. It wasn’t that he was avoiding anyone, not really. Junhui wasn’t very social anyway, and Seungcheol was never much for small talk. If he wanted a conversation with Wonwoo, he’d come find him. Of the three alphas, Mingyu was the outlier, the one that made Wonwoo uneasy. It wasn’t anything he was doing, exactly. In fact, he seemed to go out of his way to give Wonwoo space.

But now and then, he found Mingyu watching him with a knowing gaze. He felt like the alpha saw through him, saw more than Wonwoo wanted people to see. It was nonsense, of course, his own mind working against him, but it unnerved him. He worked twice as hard to keep as much distance between them as possible.

The kitchen was busy and chaotic, as it always was in the mornings. Wonwoo struggled a lot with that. Everything in the army was enshrined in order and routine, and meals were no exception. But when Wonwoo ventured into the kitchen, he was as likely to be handed a hungry baby or a can of cat food as he was a cup of coffee.

That morning was no different. He’d barely got through the door when Jeonghan was calling his name urgently.

“Can you take Yunjin? She’s only had half her bottle, but Yeonjun has spit up all over himself, and I need to change him.”

There was no time to think, let alone answer, as Yunjin was pushed into his arms. He caught hold of her, spying her red face and clenched hands a second before the screaming started.

“Don’t cry, Yunjinnie,” Minghao sing-songed from nearby. “It’s just Uncle Wonwoo.” He tossed Wonwoo a half-full bottle.

“See if you can get that down her.”

Yunjin in one arm, the bottle held tight in his hand, he tried awkwardly to rock her and calm her down. How could someone so small make so much noise?

“Shh, Yunjin. You’re okay. Daddy will be back any minute. You must be hungry, huh?”

He tapped the teat of the bottle against the edge of her mouth like Minghao had shown him. She quietened and opened her mouth. He relaxed a little as he nudged the bottle closer…

She turned her head sharply and shrieked so loudly that he almost dropped her. He glanced pleadingly at Minghao, hoping the beta would take pity on him and step in, but Minghao had Seungkwan in one arm and a slice of toast in the other.

He seemed completely oblivious to Yunjin’s screaming when it was all Wonwoo could hear. There was no escape from it, and no amount of shushing or offering of bottles put a dent in her cries. He tried walking her up and down the room, but that only seemed to make things worse.

One of the cats wound around his ankles, crying incessantly, and adding to the chorus of noise surrounding him. Panic set in, a bead of sweat running down the middle of his back as the sound grated on his ears. The anger from that morning sparked up again, burning steadily and gaining ground. His heart sped up, his breath caught with each inhalation, and he started looking for an escape. In desperation, he looked to Minghao again, opening his mouth to say something, to plead with him. But then Junhui and Mingyu came in from outside, sweaty and breathing hard from their morning’s training.