Destined {𝕄𝕀ℕ𝕊𝕌ℕ𝔾}

Chapter Five

Minho sat up in his bed, a pit of dread forming in the depths of his stomach; he felt as though he was going to be sick. Something was terribly wrong, he could feel it, but he didn't know what. He slowly slid out of his bed, barely noticing the iciness of the floor beneath his bare feet.

He stumbled, his legs nearly giving way under his weight, and he barely managed to catch himself on his dresser as he gasped for air that would not come. Why can't I breathe? Why...

"F-Felix," he called, his voice wavering as his body convulsed slightly. He crashed to the ground, his chest heaving, tears blurring his vision. "Felix!" It was more of a cry than a shout, and a terribly weak one at that, but moments later the door swung open and Felix ran in, his hair sticking up at odd angles, his pyjamas wrinkled from sleep.

He scoured the room before his eyes landed on Minho. His eyes widened and he gasped, flicking on the lights and rushing over to him. He kneeled, wide eyes searching Minho's face. "Minho, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice frantic.

The older man opened his mouth to answer, but all that left his lips was a strange gurgle as his body continued to shake, trembling beneath an invisible weight. All of a sudden, his breathing halted completely, and he clawed at his throat, tears blurring his vision, falling from his eyes in waves.

"Impossible," Felix muttered before he shook his head, taking Minho by the shoulders and effortlessly lifting him; Minho, in the midst of his distraught thoughts, found it strange. As soon as it had come, the thought was whisked away by more delirious feelings, sending him tumbling into hysterical sobs once more.

"Changbin!" Felix yelled as he placed his friend down on the bed, and within moments the boy had burst into the room, too, eyes wide in alarm as he felt the other's distress. He froze, eyes widening when they landed on Minho, a hysterical mess on his bed.

"Is he...?" He swallowed thickly, voice fading slightly towards the end.

Felix grabbed at his hair and tugged. "I don't know. I don't know." He pressed a hand to the older male's forehead and pulled away with a quiet yelp. "Get a soaked cloth. As cold as you can get it," he ordered, and Changbin didn't even question it as he ran out of the room, towards the kitchen.

He reached under the writhing boy's jaw and pressed, hard. In moments he was unconscious, and Felix ruffled his hair with a stressed sigh. He ran a hand down his face, his eyebrows drawing together.

What he'd just seen... it was impossible. Felix's mother had reacted in a similar way when his father had died. By Werewolf Law, they'd been Mated. Marked. But Minho... he shook his head again; he couldn't be Mated. It was just impossible, but what other explanation was there? Humans didn't just have reactions like that to nothing.

He hesitantly let his eyes slide towards his friend's neck; reluctantly, he stuck his nose there and sniffed. No; there was no Mark there. He pulled back and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Worry laid heavy in his heart, and his mind raced with possibilities, each one less logical than the last. When Changbin returned, he stared at the boy questioningly. Felix sighed again and leaned against the bed. "I knocked him out."

Changbin settled down next to him, carefully draping the cloth of Minho's feverish forehead. "He's not Marked," Felix said quietly after a few moments, and the older boy looked up at him in surprise.

"Then what...?" Felix shook his head, unable to answer, because he had no explanation, either. Changbin looked at their friend worriedly and leaned on the other's shoulder. "I've never seen him like that," he whispered, and Felix grimaced, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and drawing him closer.