Collision

Chapter 10

The words were hesitant, a little shaky, and slightly mispronounced, but they were words and that was something that caused Yoongi's lips to twitch into a genuine smile.

"Yes. Okay. Good job."

Yoongi saw the outline of the boy perk up, similar to a puppy being praised, and he nearly snorted at the mental connection he had made and decided to not tell him that.

"Je-ong-g-uk," the boy continued, choppy and slurred.

Yoongi's brow furrowed, focusing on the sounds and trying to make sense of them. "Jeong-guk?" Two taps. "Jeongguk." Another two quick taps. "Is that your name? Jeongguk?"

"Ye-s."

Surprised at the brief tendrils of relief that touched his racing thoughts, he cleared his throat to try and dislodge the anxiety that began to spark to life in the back of his mind.

The small desire to be able to see clearly itched over his skin as he watched the boy shifting on the blankets but seemed unable to stand. He remained close to the floor, dark hair and rich skin being his only telltale sign.

"Well, um," Yoongi breathes, shifting his weight from one foot to another, "are you hungry? Food is... food is good, yeah."

A snort, more human than the others before, touched his ears. "Fo-ood, yes," he garbled, still attempting his speech that was as rough as it was moments before.

But it was something.

Yoongi lingered. He wasn't sure why he was lingering by the couch, his hand still plastered amongst the cushions and staring in the general area where he saw his shape shifting and wiggling, but honestly had no clue what the kid was attempting to do. But his feet remained there, and his head was still as beaten as blender.

What was the protocol now? Dealing with the wolf, that was easy. Minimal conversation, manageable. Dealing with a human looking boy with low speaking skills? A tad harder, and enough for the sweat to make his shirt stick to his back.

"Yo-Yoongle," the boy managed out, and Yoongi startled when the boy snorted again, blankets rustling. "Yoon-gle. Yoongle."

Yoongi scowled. "The fuck? It's Yoongi not Yoongle," he corrected hastily, a little sharp.

"Yoongle," the boy tried again. Yoongi seriously couldn't tell if the kid was purposely messing up his name, or he really couldn't pronounce it correctly. Yet. "Wrong?"

"Wrong?" he repeated, head cocked to the side. "Oh, you mean, what's wrong?"

"Yes."

You're a very naked kid in my living room, I can't see you, and don't know how to talk to you which has nothing to do with your shitty speech.

"Tired," he grunted, eyes shifting to the floor and falling the trail to the kitchen. He was sure that he felt a pair of eyes following him, watching him go, and he ignored the feeling.

He set into motion the methodical way of getting three eggs from the fridge, cracking them with careful practice to not spill any out of the brightly colored duct-taped bowl, then whisking with simple flicks of his wrist using his chopsticks.

His ears pricked at every sound emitting from the living room, a perk of being mostly blind. He could hear the rustling of blankets, an unused voice that was guttural and slurred mimicking words and growling when they come out too garbled.