Chapter 3: Threads of Something New
At first, it was survival.
Every morning, the bell would ring through the orphanage halls, and the children would scramble to get ready.
Jungkook hated it — hated the noise, the rush, the rules.
Jiho, though, adapted faster. He learned to brush his teeth when they told him, to make his bed into a neat little rectangle, to bow his head politely to the caretakers.
He did it because it made them invisible.
Safe.
Jungkook, on the other hand, raged inside every time someone barked an order.
He was a prince, not a peasant.
But Jiho was always there — tugging his sleeve when he forgot to say "thank you," kicking his ankle under the table when he scowled too obviously.
"You want to survive?" Jiho hissed one day after breakfast. "Act like them. Blend in."
Jungkook shoved him, but not as hard as he could have. "I don't need lessons from a scavenger."
Jiho's fists clenched, but he said nothing. He was learning too — learning that anger wasted energy.
Instead, that afternoon, he dragged Jungkook outside to play soccer with the other boys.
"You don't have to like it," Jiho said under his breath. "Just pretend."
The ball came flying toward them.
Jungkook caught it with his hands — wrong, wrong — and the other boys burst out laughing.
His face burned with humiliation, a prince mocked by dirt-covered peasants.
He threw the ball down and stalked off toward the edge of the garden.
Jiho caught up with him, breathing hard. "You can punch them later. For now, we survive."
Jungkook stared at him, something bitter on his tongue... but then, for the first time in days, he gave a sharp, reluctant laugh.
It was ugly and full of anger, but it was real.
Jiho laughed too, and for a moment, they weren't prince and servant.
They were just two boys who had lost everything.
They began finding small rituals.
At night, Jungkook would steal an extra slice of bread from the kitchen.
He never said who it was for, but he always left it on Jiho's bed.
Jiho pretended not to notice. He just tucked it under his pillow and slept easier.
In return, Jiho covered for Jungkook when he skipped chores, taking double shifts cleaning the bathroom or folding the endless piles of laundry.
Some nights, they'd lie awake, staring at the cracked ceiling, speaking in whispers so the other kids wouldn't hear.
"Do you think..." Jiho said once, voice barely a breath, "there's anyone left?"
Jungkook didn't answer for a long time.
When he did, his voice was like a blade scraping against stone.
"No. They're dead. All of them."
Jiho turned his face away so Jungkook wouldn't see the tears gathering in his eyes.
School was a battlefield.
The orphanage sent them to the public elementary school downtown.
New uniforms, heavy backpacks, endless rows of bright-eyed human children.
The teachers cooed over them, pity dripping from their voices like honey.
"Poor boys," they'd whisper. "Lost their parents... so tragic."
Jungkook almost snapped the pencil in his hand the first time he heard it.
Jiho elbowed him sharply under the desk, warning him with his eyes.
They learned quickly.
Smile.
Nod.
Pretend.
Jungkook hated math, loved history.
Jiho loved everything — the crisp notebooks, the neat lessons, the idea that knowledge could be gained without bloodshed.
Sometimes they would meet in the stairwell during lunch, eating their sandwiches in silence, shoulder to shoulder against the world.
One rainy Thursday, everything shifted.
Jungkook caught a cold — his first real human sickness.
He refused to tell anyone, shivering miserably under his blanket, sweat dripping down his face.
Jiho noticed immediately.
Without a word, he stole cough syrup from the matron's cabinet, sneaking it into Jungkook's water at night.
When Jungkook realized, he nearly threw the cup across the room.
"You think I need your help?" he rasped, furious at his own weakness.
Jiho just rolled his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, Prince Rotten. If you die, who's gonna open the next portal?"
That night, Jungkook slept deeply for the first time in days.
And when he woke up, feeling a little better, he found Jiho fast asleep in the chair beside him, a book slipping from his hands.
Something twisted in Jungkook's chest — something strange and unwelcome.
He almost reached out to fix the blanket slipping from Jiho's shoulders... but he stopped himself.
Instead, he turned away, pretending not to care.
By the end of the month, they were no longer strangers in Willowbrook.
They weren't human, not really.
But they were something closer now.
Something between wolves and boys.
Something that could almost, almost pass for brothers.
The plan to find the girl still burned in their minds.
Their world still waited for them — broken, bleeding.
But for now, they lived.
They learned.
They endured.
Together.
[End of Chapter 3]
Would you like me to move into Chapter 4 next?
Where maybe they start seeing signs that the girl they've been looking for is near (but they don't know yet that they'll fall for her)?
Or do you want more bonding moments first before the bigger plot starts?
You can tell me the mood you want!