Josh stretched slowly. Coyotes instinctively distinguish between opponents weaker and stronger than themselves. The first thing to do was to visually demonstrate that he was stronger. Unsurprisingly, the coyotes hesitated to attack. They locked their gazes onto Josh, sizing him up. He was much taller than they had expected.
Thanks to this, they hesitated to make a move, but that didn't mean they were willing to give up.
The largest one, who seemed to be the leader, took a step forward and growled in a low tone, baring its teeth. It clearly had no intention of backing down. Engaged in a tense staring contest with the leader, Josh quickly assessed what weapons he could use. Facing a group of wild animals unarmed would be foolish. The first thing that came to mind was a gun, but the bullets had been depleted moments before. Even without one, he needed to find something else to use as a weapon.
Without breaking eye contact with the leader, Josh quickly scanned his surroundings. Fortunately, the trunk was still open. Remembering the wrench inside, he quickly formulated a plan of attack. The problem was Chase. While the car provided some protection, there was only one real opening: the rear glass. The gap was just large enough for a beast to jump through. Josh clenched his jaw, staying tense.
"Mr. Miller."
Still keeping his eyes on the lead coyote, he spoke to Chase in a low voice.
"At my signal, move to the front seat and crouch down as low as you can. I'll handle the rest. Do you understand?"
"…"
"Mr. Miller."
This time, he called more firmly, but Chase still didn't respond. Josh was forced to glance at him quickly, and for a moment, he hesitated in shock.
Unexpectedly, Chase was pale, almost looking unconscious despite his open eyes. He just stared at the coyotes, as if he couldn't hear Josh's voice at all. He wasn't even blinking. Josh wasn't sure if Chase was even breathing. Stunned by the unexpected reaction, he quickly alternated his gaze between the coyotes and Chase.
"Mr. Miller, what are you doing? Wake up!"
"…"
"Mr. Miller!"
Suddenly, Josh remembered Chase's phobia of dogs—the way he would freeze in fear, sometimes even cry. Would it help if he told him they were coyotes and not dogs? Would it make any difference? Since they resembled foxes, should he call them foxes instead? A whirlwind of thoughts rushed through his mind in seconds before disappearing. Now was not the time to calm Chase down.
Keeping his eyes on the leader, Josh slowly shifted his feet to the side and approached the trunk. Sliding his hand under the open trunk door, his fingers brushed against the cool metal of the wrench. He gripped it tightly. Immediately, the leader sensed the shift in atmosphere. Just as it was about to lunge, Josh yelled violently.
"Mr. Miller, move now! Go!"
The coyotes barked fiercely, closing in from all sides. At that moment, Chase screamed and clutched his head.
"Ahhhhh!"
"Mr. Miller!" Josh kept shouting, kicking and swinging at the attacking beasts. "Damn it, move!"
"Ahhhhhhhh!"
"Chase Miller!"
Despite Josh's repeated shouts, Chase remained paralyzed in fear, his screams drowning out all else. Frustrated, Josh cursed under his breath.
"Damn it!"
With a sickening thud, Josh struck a lunging coyote with the wrench, sending it sprawling. He immediately slammed the back door shut, trying to buy time. But the shattered rear glass was still a major threat.
"You stupid bastard! Can't you hear me? What are you doing?! Get a grip!"
Behind him, the leader lunged. Josh barely dodged in time and swung the wrench with force. With a solid impact, the leader was knocked back, but another coyote quickly took its place. Kicking it away, Josh spun around, but the pack wasn't relenting. Then, a cold realization hit him. A coyote had jumped through the open trunk door. He barely managed to grab the door with one hand and slammed it shut while simultaneously kicking the animal away.
Meanwhile, Chase was still trembling in place.
Damn it. Josh gritted his teeth, reassessing the situation. He had no choice but to take down the leader. Protecting Chase while fending off the rest was nearly impossible. The pack had a clear strategy: wear Josh down. The leader seemed certain of victory, waiting for Josh to tire out. And then, it spotted an opening.
As Josh turned to fend off another attack, the leader sprinted straight for Chase.
"CHASE!"
Time seemed to slow. Chase lifted his head and locked eyes with the coyote charging at him, its sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. His body refused to move. His mind went blank.
Maybe it would be easier to just let it happen. Let it bite down and end it all. But the pain never came.
"…"
Slowly, Chase opened his eyes in confusion. The yellow-eyed coyote was still in front of him, baring its fangs. But it wasn't biting him.
It was biting Josh.
Josh had thrown himself between Chase and the beast. Chase finally noticed the horrifying reality—Josh's arm was clamped in the leader's jaws. Blood dripped onto the ground.
The moment of shock didn't last. With a grunt of pain, Josh used his free hand to slam the wrench into the coyote's skull. The leader snarled but didn't let go easily. The others were closing in fast. Josh kicked furiously, sending them flying. His breathing was ragged, his body battered.
Chase stared in disbelief. Josh was protecting him, fighting off the pack alone. And he was covered in blood.
Josh yanked his torn jacket off, revealing his white shirt beneath. For some reason, the sight made Chase's chest tighten painfully. His heart pounded in his ears. His vision blurred. His breathing grew more erratic.
I have to help.
The thought was there, but his body wouldn't move. His mind kept fading in and out. The last thing he saw before blacking out completely was Josh, standing his ground as three coyotes lunged at him at once.
✤✤✤✤✤✤
Somewhere, a child sobbed. His cries were high-pitched and desperate, tears and snot streaming down his face. But no one comforted him.
Grayson's voice was indifferent. Nathaniel barely glanced up from his phone. Stacey's reaction was similarly dismissive. The others were too young to care. But Chase was in agony.
His canary hadn't chirped all morning. It hadn't eaten or drunk any water. He had worried all day at school, rushing home only to find the little yellow bird lying motionless in its cage.
Grayson had poked the bird, then sighed.
Before Chase could fully process the words, Grayson had unceremoniously tossed the bird into the trash.
Chase screamed in horror, scrambling to retrieve it. He cradled the tiny body, sobbing. No matter how much he stroked its feathers, no matter how hard he cried, nothing changed.
Grayson spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Chase turned to his father, desperate for comfort. But his father's voice was as cold as his siblings'.
Chase's breath hitched. Tears welled up again.
That was the only protest that could be made. But the answer was not much different.
"Yes?"
Dad asked with a frown, clearly not understanding—just like all his brothers. At that point, Chase lost all courage and motivation to speak up. His father looked at him with an expressionless face, his eyes unreadable.
"I'll buy you a new one."
That was it. He patted Chase's head once, as if everything was settled, and went upstairs to his room. Chase was alone again. A few hours later, Dad returned, but Chase didn't mention the bird again. Dad acknowledged that Chase's bird had died and that he was sad, but when his son didn't respond, he simply let it go.
It was when Chase lay alone in bed that night that he realized the emptiness in his heart. At that moment, he understood that he had been hoping for someone to notice his turmoil. But no one did.
Then he realized he was a complete stranger in his own family. The tears that had stopped now returned, filling his eyes. He bit his lip to hold them back, but they flowed regardless of his will. The world was the same. People looked at him strangely, smiled without understanding—perplexed. Time passed like that. Now he was tired of these misunderstandings and wanted nothing more. He just wanted to be alone. Someday, it would all end.
✤✤✤✤✤✤
When he opened his eyes, Chase didn't immediately recognize his situation. Blinking, he tried to make sense of the scene before him. He was leaning against the backseat of the car, just as he had been the last time he lost consciousness. It was incredibly quiet. The desperate sounds he had heard earlier were gone, replaced by a heavy silence. All he could hear was ragged breathing, as if the entire world had vanished. His body reacted before he could think—goosebumps ran over his skin, and his eyes gradually widened.
And that man?
It was at that moment that he truly woke up. He gulped instinctively and sat up with a start. The car's shattered rear window let in the cold wind, carrying the faint scent of smoke. Someone was smoking. No way. Chase slowly turned his head. Beyond the car door, a man's silhouette was partially visible. Hesitating, he leaned closer. Through the broken glass, the outside world came into view without obstruction. A few steps away, standing with his back to Chase, was Josh.
The fact that he was smoking was clear from the thin tendrils of smoke curling around him. Chase, mesmerized for a moment, observed him from behind. His white shirt was wrinkled, dirty, and in complete disarray. Yet, even through the thin fabric, the defined muscles of his back were visible. Every slight movement—the way he lifted the cigarette to his lips, the subtle shifts of his shoulders—caused his shirt to crease, accentuating his form.
Chase's gaze drifted downward. He suddenly frowned. The man's legs were incredibly long. He recalled the powerful kick Josh had delivered to the coyote, and a chill ran through him. That kick had been brutal. Only now did Chase fully grasp the sheer force behind it, and the realization made him uneasy.
Just then, Josh brushed the ash from his cigarette and turned his head, meeting Chase's eyes. His expression shifted—his eyes widened briefly before his lips curved into a familiar, easy smile.
"Did you sleep well?"
Chase panicked for a moment at the sight of that quiet smile and the warmth in Josh's eyes. Shouldn't he be angry? Irritated? Why was he smiling? His entire appearance was a wreck—his clothes torn in multiple places, dried blood covering his body, his arms marked with clear evidence of coyote bites, revealing raw, red flesh. There wasn't a single untouched spot on him. Even his handsome face was smeared with blood and dust, and a deep scratch ran along one side.
Chase couldn't look at him any longer. He lowered his gaze. Josh, misunderstanding his reaction, exhaled a stream of smoke and spoke again.
"I borrowed one. I'm sorry."
His tone was light, his smile completely unapologetic. But it wasn't mocking—just shamelessly casual. Chase found himself thinking that it suited him.
"Didn't you say you were quitting?" Chase asked.
Josh laughed softly, amusement flickering across his face. Unexpectedly, his expression held a kind of exhaustion that caught Chase's attention. Josh exhaled another slow breath of smoke before answering.
"I have a bleeding episode. Cigarettes are harmless, but they help narrow the blood vessels."
Josh took another drag, letting the smoke curl through the cold air. Chase watched him silently.
"…Your face… you're hurt…"
He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but the words slipped from his lips before he could stop them. Josh's reaction, however, was completely indifferent.
"Really?" he muttered, tapping the ash from his cigarette. That was his entire response.
Chase blinked in disbelief. "…That's it?"
Josh tilted his head slightly, as if confused by the question. Was he really being serious? His face might end up scarred, yet he didn't seem to care in the slightest. He even added casually, "It can happen while I'm working."
Chase was stunned. Then, suddenly, Josh laughed—bright and genuine. The unexpectedness of it left Chase momentarily breathless.
Why is he laughing? Is this something to laugh about? I don't understand… but his smile… his smile is surprisingly cold. I don't think I'll ever get tired of seeing it.
Josh lifted the cigarette to his lips again. The thin line of smoke rose before dispersing into the night air. As he exhaled, he moved closer, resting his hand against the roof of the car. He leaned in slightly, his upper body tilting forward until their faces were just inches apart. The space between them was almost nonexistent.
Chase didn't flinch. He didn't turn away. He didn't frown or glare. He simply stared back, locked in the moment.
Josh studied him silently before speaking, his voice smooth and quiet.
"Mr. Miller."
The sound melted into Chase's ears and disappeared. A chill ran down his spine, but it wasn't from the cold.
Josh smiled, his gaze unwavering.
"Can I kiss you?"