Archive of Our Own

Mark didn’t know how it had come to this.

It had started out normal enough. Haechan was sprawled across the couch, legs thrown over the armrest, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. Renjun was seated on the floor, sipping his iced coffee while Jeno twirled a laser pointer between his fingers, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

“I still don’t get how he falls for this every time,” Jeno mused, flicking the tiny red dot onto the floor.

"He's a big kitty after all." Renjun answers,

Mark was across the room, hunched over his laptop, supposedly studying. But the moment that speck of light flickered into his peripheral vision, something deep in his brain clicked into place. His ears twitched, his pupils dilated, and the restless flick of his tail betrayed him.

“You’re really gonna chase that?” Haechan scoffed without looking up.

Mark stiffened. His logical mind told him to ignore it, that it was just one of their plays, but his instincts screamed otherwise. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to return to his notes. He wasn’t going to fall for it. Not this time.

The dot darted closer.

Mark’s fingers twitched. His claws threatened to extend. He swallowed hard.

Jeno, ever the instigator, bit back a laugh and swept the dot toward the coffee table. Mark barely held back the impulse to lunge. His muscles were coiled tight, his whole body tense with the effort of resisting. The dot slid upward, flickering against Haechan’s cheek.

And then it happened.

And it happened too fast.

One second, Mark was recalibrating, tail swishing with barely restrained focus. The next, he was lunging again—

And crashing straight into Haechan.

“Ow. What the hell—”

Jeno and Renjun sat frozen, eyes wide. The room was dead silent save for the sharp hitch in Mark’s breath.

Then, the scent of blood hit him.

A soft drip—

A thin trail of blood slipped down Haechan’s cheek.

Mark’s stomach dropped. He reached out instinctively, fingers trembling, his eyes darting between Haechan’s face and his own hands. His claws were still out, stained red at the very tips. His breath hitched.

"Oh no," Mark whispered, his ears flattening against his head.

"Mark, I'm fine," Haechan assured him quickly, sitting up. But Mark wasn’t listening. "I... I didn’t mean..." Mark’s voice cracked, his tail stiff and curled inward. His gaze locked onto the thin, red lines that now marred Haechan’s cheek—his beautiful, unblemished cheek—now streaked with fresh, crimson welts.

His fault. His claws.

A strangled sound caught in his throat. Panic seized his chest.

Then, before anyone could react, he scrambled back, tripping over his own feet as he fled to his room. The door slammed shut behind him.

Haechan exhaled sharply, pressing his fingers to his temple. “Well that went well.”

Jeno crossed his arms, frowning. “I didn’t think he’d react like that.”

Renjun sighed, shaking his head. “You know how Mark is. He’s always careful with his claws—this probably freaked him out.”

Haechan nodded, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, I know. He’s not gonna let this go easily.” His gaze lingered on the closed door, already thinking of how to coax Mark back out.

Jeno hesitated before speaking again. “Do you want me to talk to him?"

Haechan shook his head. “Nah. I got it.” He turned toward the door, already preparing for the stubborn hybrid curled up inside.

The younger stood, rubbing at his cheek. The scratches weren’t deep, but the sting lingered. More than that, though, was the look on Mark’s face before he ran—pure, unfiltered guilt. Then, without another word, he made his way toward Mark’s room.

The door was locked. Haechan knocked gently.

“Mark? C’mon, open up.”

Silence.

Haechan sighed and knocked again. “Mark, seriously. You didn’t kill me. I’m fine.”

Still nothing.

“Alright, I’m coming in.”

The lock clicked, and Haechan slowly pushed the door open. The room was dim, curtains drawn. Mark was curled up on his bed, blanket pulled tight over his head, only the tips of his ears peeking out. His tail lay limp against the sheets.

Haechan approached carefully, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Hyung.”

Mark didn’t move.

“Mark, look at me."

A long pause, then slowly, reluctantly, the blanket shifted. Mark peeked out, eyes red-rimmed and guilt-ridden. His gaze flickered to Haechan’s cheek, and his face crumpled.

“I hurt you,” he whispered, voice small.

Haechan rolled his eyes, though there was no real bite to it. “It’s just a scratch.”

“Because of me.” Mark's voice is loud now.

Haechan sighed, reaching out to take Mark’s hand. He felt the tremor in Mark’s fingers, the way he curled them inward, like he didn’t trust himself. Haechan frowned.

“Hey, this isn’t the first time you’ve scratched me.”

Mark tensed. “Not like this.”

Haechan exhaled. His gaze dropped to Mark’s hands, where his claws were still slightly extended. Understanding dawned, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small pair of clippers.

Mark stiffened. “I can do it myself.”

“I know,” Haechan said softly. “But let me.”

For a long moment, Mark hesitated. Then, slowly, hesitantly, he let Haechan take his hand.

One by one, Haechan carefully trimmed the sharp tips of Mark’s claws. The soft click of the clippers echoed in the quiet room. With each snip, the tension in Mark’s shoulders seemed to ease. Haechan worked patiently, gentle but firm, and when he finished, he laced their fingers together, giving Mark’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“See? All good now.”

Mark swallowed, still looking unconvinced. His ears twitched slightly, and his tail curled just a little closer to Haechan’s side.

“You’re not dangerous,” Haechan murmured, squeezing his hand again. “Not to me.”

Mark’s throat bobbed, a quiet, broken purr rumbling from his chest. It was faint, hesitant, but it was there.

Haechan smiled. “Now, if you really want to make it up to me, you’re letting me keep the fan on tonight.”

Mark let out a shaky laugh, pressing his forehead to Haechan’s shoulder.

“You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”