A raven's wing fluttering against the wind, a dove's sweet song, and the swish of a curious fox's tail.

The black fox's tail brushes against his ear, teasing and playful; begging him to follow into the unknown. Its face scrunches in between the bushes where it guides Jaemin. The boy furrows his brows, chasing after the night-coated creature, feet sinking into the mud and dodging the carefully crafted webs that hang on the leaves.

The fox comes to a halt and tilts its head, curling its lip. Its sharp canine tooth is drenched in blood, and when it moves its body a small, white limp form rests on the murky grounds. Entangled in overgrown roots and body infiltrated with flies and maggots, smeared with blood.

Jaemin gasps, kneeling to the ground and taking the mangled dove in his hands. His fingers tremble as they sinks into the soft, white feathers tainted with blood. The bird coos weakly, soft doe eyes looking up into his own with a sense of betrayal.

Tears begin to fall uncontrollably as he shakes his head, nestling the dying bird to the crook of his neck protectively before turning to the black fox.

"Did you do this?" He mumbled lowly.

The fox lowers his head, feigning sympathy, but Jaemin does not miss the swipe of his tongue against its tooth, savoring the taste of innocence.

In a sudden fit of rage, Jaemin places the dove down and lunges for the fox. Tackling it and choking its neck, they slip and slide in the thick mud. The fox sniggers at him, a coy and cunning smile embellishing its animalistic expression. Suddenly, Jaemin feels a strong pressure against his own neck and cries out. The pressure only grows stronger and he's choking on thin air. His own grasp on the fox has released in favor of holding his own neck, fingertips turning red as he squeezes the sides of his neck.

The fox continues to mock him as he takes his own life, slowly disappearing behind the tallgrass; leaving both himself and the dying dove with fates entwined.

━

Jaemin gasps, sitting up abruptly and clenching his own neck. His fingers slide up and down, pressing for any bruising or pain, and sighs in relief when there is none. He is encompassed in complete darkness, minus a small fairy nightlight in the corner of the room. A nightlight unfamiliar to him, for this is not his own room.

As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he blinks and glances around, nearly jumping at the small lump on the floor. He squints and can make out the faint outline of Yoonah.

His heart is still pounding and he can't help the urge to crawl down to the floor with her, knees colliding with the soft carpet and pressing two fingers to her neck, searching for a pulse. He holds his breath in anticipation until he feels the blood pulse through her veins and the rise and fall of her chest. A sigh of relief escapes his lips.

Flashes of blood and lifeless eyes flood his brain once more, even as he stares at the very much alive sight of Yoonah.

His fingers travel from her neck to her soft jawline—calloused hands against soft skin—to the heat of her warm cheeks until he reaches the silky brown strands that framed her face. With gentle precision, he tucks it behind her ear. He then travels back to the apples of her cheeks and places the back of his palm against the heat, silently admiring the warmth and life it provides.

As he sits there in silence, on the floor and his hand against his enemies cheek, his heartbeat slows. In an attempt to forget about the nightmare, his minds travel to the events that led him to this moment (as if that were any better).

He's not quite sure why he cares about Yoonah but apparently that feeling is prominent enough to fight back against Jeno.

Jeno...the sight of the blood pooling in his collarbones paired with an expression of pure betrayal and hatred. That alone was enough to cause nightmares, but for some reason, he found that Jeno was no longer the center of his dreams, but someone else...

His eyes narrow towards the sleeping girl. Oh, how he wishes his first thought was not of how easy it would be to kill her. A deep sleeper equals easy prey. How he wants to train her to sense when someone is watching her, chasing her, stalking her. But if he were to teach her that, then his facade would fall apart.

In another world, he'd like to just simply admire. Perhaps focus on the way her nose scrunches when she's dreaming or how pretty the downward slope of her nose is.

But alas, he has been trained to be a fighter, not a lover.

━

Jaemin did not sleep for the rest of the night. His thought were clouded with images of a sleeping girl, a lifeless dove, and missing the way his skin burned under that shower head.

He also thought about how Yoonah saw him like that—weak and vulnerable, and yet she said nothing.

She...took care of him.

Oddly enough, that scares him more than her taking advantage of him.

It's unfamiliar; unknown. An advantage she's decided to keep—the upper hand. Jaemin has no clue when she will use his breakdown against him, but he's sure she will. Why else would she stay silent if not to use it at a more convenient time?

(Silly Jaemin. If only you were in a different universe, you'd understand that not everything is a transaction; and you certainly are not to be used at others convenience).

When the clock hit six sharp and the sun begins to filter in between the tiny slivers of open curtains and casts the girl beside him in a rose and tangerine taint, he gently shakes her shoulders.

The girl groans and mumbles a few in-cohesive words before her eyes flutter open. They widen slightly before she pushes herself into a sitting position.

"Why aren't you asleep?"

"Why aren't you?" Jaemin tilts his head.

Yoonah groans and rubs her eyes with her palms. "It's too early for this."

The ghost of a smile rests on Jaemin's lips as he watches the girl pull herself from her sleep-driven state. Her hair is messy and stuck out in random places, and the oversized tee she is wearing nearly falls off her right shoulder. Goosebumps litter her skin and the boy fights the urge to slip the material back over her shoulder; to protect her and keep her warm.

For a split second, Jaemin thinks it would be nice to just soak in the warm sun and ask her about her dreams; if she had any about him.

But he knows that can't happen.

Pushing himself off the floor and standing, he extends his hand. Yoonah raises a brow and takes it.

He pulls her up and smirks, knowing it'll irk her more than anything. "Early training sesh. Put on a jacket."

Yoonah gapes. "You're serious—? Oh-hell no."

"Or you can just go in shorts. But I don't think you'll enjoy that. It's supposed to be 35 degrees today." He shrugs.

The girl points accusingly towards the window, which is covered in fog and frost. "The sun is barely rising!"

"Early bird gets the worm—"

"Oh, shut up," Yoonah stomps towards her dresser and snatches a pair of sweatpants and a brown zip up sweater. She glares at him the entire way to the bathroom before pointing towards him. "If you dare rush me, you risk loosing a a toe."

It was meant to be intimidating, but Jaemin can't help but imagine an angry bunny doing angry stomps.

Jaemin raises his hands. "Whatever, princess."

A hairbrush is thrown at him (and narrowly misses) before the bathroom door is slammed shut.

━

The weather is cold and bitter when they walk outside. Cast in hues of fiery reds and oranges, and at least Yoonah can cast aside her hatred for mornings to appreciate this lasting sunrise. She looks up at the sky as they walk side by side, dewy grass squelching underneath their feet. A hazy mist sinks to their knees and sends goosebumps down their spines.

Jaemin's hands twitch with anticipation as the memories of his nightmare keep repeating in his mind; eager to change their fates. Or at least, what he thought them to be.

Their shallow breaths come out in white puffs, and their shoulders occasionally brush as they reach the Snake Pit. Similar to the other times they've trained, no one is in sight. Only the sounds of a crow's call can be heard as they set up inside, flicking on the dangling light and pulling out the blood-covered mats.

"Remind me again why we have to do this?" Yoonah asks again as Jaemin pulls her up to the ring, his fingers tingling once he lets go and steps back.

Jaemin cracks his neck and stretches his arms, watching as the girl does the same. "Do you want to die?"

A huff escapes her mouth as she narrows her gaze towards him, a tired expression wearing her out. "Can you stop with the cryptic messages and just say what you mean? It's growing old."

He giggles slightly, finding her temper quite amusing. Yoonah is always a little feisty when it comes to him, but never to this extent. Mornings really are not her thing. He shrugs, "We have a week until December, and finals are growing closer," he struts closer and elbows her arm, resulting in a surprised yelp from the girl. He raises his brow cockily, "and you are far from ready."

She scoffs, "Did you wake me up just to make fun of me?"

Jaemin bites his lip anxiously, finding her attitude quickly slipping from cute to irritable. Perhaps the images of the dead dove rummaging through his mind doesn't help, especially when its lifeless eyes reminded him too much of a certain someone. "Take this seriously, Yoonah. We're running out of time." He nearly begs.

The girl pauses, taking in his depleted expression before slowly nodding and squaring up. Jaemin sighs in relief and replaces his frown with a look of determination, copying her position. They circle each other like predator and prey, one hungry to prove something and the other eager to take.

Her expression is like an open book--eyes wide in anticipation and mouth open in excitement. It makes Jaemin cringe and pauses just as Yoonah throws the first punch, which he easily catches between his palms. He stares at her with a raised brow, disappointment evident that it makes Yoonah falter like a kicked puppy.

"What?" She whines.

"Your face." He dead-pans.

She blinks and scrunches her nose, and if Jaemin weren't so caught up in how that face would look covered in blood, he'd think it was cute.

"...is breath-taking beautiful? I know, how sweet of you but," she reaches up to pat his shoulder mockingly. "You have to focus, sweetie, no matter how distracting my looks are."

A playful smirk embellishes her expression but is quickly struck with shock and concern when Jaemin grabs her wrist roughly and wraps his arm under her armpit with the other and flips her over his body. A surprised gasp escapes her lips as she lands on the mat with a harsh thud directly under Jaemin who looks at her with cold eyes.

He swiftly hovers over her, thighs wrapped around her arms and waist and lifts his shirt slightly, revealing a sliver of skin where a black band wraps around his abdomen, and pulls out his favorite red dagger. The cold metal rests threateningly close to her neck, sending shivers down her skin.

"Jaemin-" she nearly cries.

Jaemin shakes his head and tightens his thighs around her body, almost painfully so until he hears her whimper.

Then, as fast as he brought her into this painful position, he releases her and is on his feet, shoving the small dagger back into the garter.

"That's how easy it is to kill you in this current state. Tell me, Yoonah" he offers her his hand, which she hesitantly takes. He pulls her up to her feet with ease. "Do you enjoy being weak?" He pulls her close to him, hand still in his as their chests brush against each other. He applies more pressure to her hand, and watches as her face cringes in pain; the way her breath quickens and her eyes dart around like lost prey, searching for an exit.

And he hates that. He needs to drive that helpless part of her away, even if it hurts her.

"Do you like the feeling of being rescued? Is that it?"

She attempts to pull herself away, struggling against her grasp. "No-w-what has gotten into you?"

His free hand grasps her chin, albeit much more gently than the way he holds her arms, and forces her to look into his eyes. She blinks rapidly, fear filling those doe eyes. He tilts her chin in his hands, eyes raking down her terror-stricken face. It pains him to see her like this, but if she were to ever realize the reality of this school, he'd rather her learn it from him than anyone else. His voice deepens a few octaves as he whispers in her ear, "There is nothing for you in this school but death if you do not start changing."

Her breath falters as she stares up into his eyes and suddenly, those doe eyes narrow and turn predatory as she locks her leg around his, bending his knee in a sharp angle. They both fall onto the mat with a heavy groan, but this allows the girl to slip from his grip and wiggle out from underneath him, using her size to her advantage.

She places her foot over his back as he looks over his shoulder.

She tilts her head and smirks. "Come and give me a real fight then, pretty boy." She prods.

Jaemin's heart flutters at the sight of her in control and dominating, not even in a sexual manner, but purely because this is what he wants. Not a dead dove to control, but a real threat. One so violently alive and with fight pumping through their veins, prepared to tear anyone who dares get in her way apart.

At least then he won't feel so guilty when he sets her free.

Mirroring her expression and with the white flash of a feral canine, blood coursing through his veins, he grabs her ankle and pulls her beneath him.

"Block," he shouts as his hand comes down at her face, which she successfully shields from.

She flinches for a split second, hesitance evident in her expression—normal for an untrained fighter—but continues blocking his advances.

"Come on princess," he teases. "I'm not even using my full strength."

She glares at him and in a singular off moment manages to get a jab against his chest. He heaves slightly but only shakes his head.

His eyes sparkle with something he's never felt before, a foreign sense of pride from seeing her fight back. "Don't be afraid," he says. "Play dirty."

She pants underneath him, her bare arms quickly reddening from his advances. With a determined look, she knees him straight in the gut. Jaemin wheezes and topples over, and with a swift smoothness, she rolls out from underneath him. She manages to get a few more kicks to his stomach during his moment of weakness and bounces around excitedly, waiting for his next move as he groggily pushes himself up.

They begin circling each other once more and Jaemin couldn't be more relieved by the excitement and life in the girls eyes as she analyzes his next move.

She throws a punch and lands it square on his jaw. He hisses as she squeals in excitement. He scoffs and smiles darkly. "So you like hurting me? Didn't take you for a sadist."

Her head shakes and she throws another punch to his cheek. "You wanted this, you masochist."

A surprised chortle leaves his lips as he shrugs. "Call me dirty." He blocks another one of her throws and uppercuts her jaw.

She whimpers but her eyes never lose that sheer determination. She huffs and raises her foot and shoves it into his chest, to which he grabs her leg and twists her around hastily. She shrieks as he shoves her face first into the mat. He falls with her, chest against her back and arms around hers restrictively before she taps three times.

He releases her, falling flat on his back beside her as both pant rapidly, attempting to catch their breath.

Vision hazy as he stares up at the flickering light above them, and he can't help the crazed smile that adorns his chapped lips.

Yoonah groans. "What're you smiling at?" She huffs.

He chuckles and turns to look at her. "That was our first real fight."

The girl rolls her eyes and pushes herself up before offering a hand to the other. His eyes flicker to her knuckles, which are bright red and bloodied. He furrows his brows and takes her hands in his once he stands, examining them carefully. "Your hands," he mumbles.

Yoonah takes them away, shrugging. "It's fine."

Jaemin ignores her and hops off the mat until he comes in front of a locker, digging through its contents before pulling out a small bag. He brings it back up to the ring and pulls out a roll of brown gauze from it.

The brunette grimances. "I don't need that, seriously."

Shaking his head, Jaemin sits down crisscrossed beside her and reaches out his hands to which Yoonah reluctantly places her own in his. Forearms are still slightly red from his attacks, and Jaemin is sure he never went that rough, but perhaps innocent skin is easier to taint. He bites his lip in concentration as his fingers wove the gauze around each of her knuckles. It's so silent in the gym that Jaemin is sure he can hear her beating heart.

Once he clips the gauze in place, he looks up into her already awaiting eyes. Guilt takes over his emotions, and he finds it hard to keep eye contact, so he opts to stare at her limp hands in his lap.

"I'm sorry for hurting you." He mumbles.

"You were just training me." The girl argues softly.

Jaemin shakes his head in disagreement. There was truth in her statement, but Jaemin knew it was deeper—more sinister—than that.

During those moments when he had her struggling in his grasp, something emerged from the depths of his soul and sunk into his heart like an evil seed, planting a darkness inside of him that he never knew existed. A kind that he had only seen resting in the eyes of his childhood best friend, and nothing scared him more than seeing that reflecting in his own.

Yoonah pats his hand with his own and smiles. "We made progress today," she nods her head encouragingly. "Thank you."

"For what?" Jaemin asks softly.

She looks at him with the utmost earnest eyes. "For pushing me."

"I couldn't control myself today," he furrows his brow and looks down into his lap, a feeling of shame and disappointment in himself pooling in his stomach.

A part of him knows that he should have had more strength in himself. He has been trained with skill in composure, and he lost it today over a meager dream that was all a part of some distant, poor future--if it were to come true at all. Another weak portion of himself wonders why he cared so much about that cursed nightmare in the first place. He slowly looks up and meets her eyes with a tender look, "Forgive me, if I scared you."

Yoonah lifts one side of her mouth in a solemn smile. "Me? Never," she lifts her hands from his lap and holds it over her body like a shield. "Don't you see these hands of steel? Nothing can get past these." She shakes them like a butterfly flutters its wings, showing off its impressive colors and wingspan.

Except hers are covered in blood and gauge, and it's all Jaemin's fault.

Jaemin chuckles bitterly, head lolling to the side as his eyes take in her hunched-over state, an expression feigned with counterfeit confidence, a feeble attempt in comforting the other. Her cheeks are flushed red from exhaustion and her eyes flutter shut in silence, as if in the dangerous line between consciousness and non-consciousness.

Sweet little dove; enemies at nature, how could you be placid in the presence of a killer?

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