Kimset - (III) Teaser

Kimset - (III) Teaser

A little somethin for y'all while I wrap up the next chapter

“You were like the sun.” 

“You were my sun.” 

“And—“ 

“—and when you left.” 

“You took the sunlight with you.” 

“I—I spent years in that darkness, not able to see where I’m going, where I’m heading; it was all just empty.” 

“So when I finally—finally managed to light a candle, you show up.” 

“And I don’t care, I don’t care that your presence promises me sunlight.” 

“Because when you took it the first time, you also took my sense of security within you.” 

“When you left, you made it look easy—“ 

“—like, like it was easy to leave me.” 

Ao3 Link => Here

Can we guess who Jks talking too? ;)

Wow, I just hopped back onto Ao3 after its sever maintenance to find that Kimset has officially reached 1,000 kudos???

Seriously guys, that’s so amazing 🥹

I honestly never thought Kimset would grow that popular (are long for that matter lol), but all the love and support I’ve gotten for this fic is so special.

I originally began writing Kimset after being diagnosed with my own chronic autoimmune disorder, and while I was in and out of the hospitals I come up with the concept for Kimset! I just thought I’d be nice to write y’know? My illness may not be fatal but it isn’t curable either, so writing about witchy-healer Jungkook finding himself a cure was a real comfort!

Anyways, thank you guys for all the love and support you show me! It means a lot <33

Kimset - (I)

Pairing: ot6 x Jungkook | Jungkook x Everyone

Genre: Witch AU, Ex's to lovers, Romance

Summary: Jungkook has until the next Witching Moon to develop a cure for his chronic illness. With his race against time, he really doesn’t have the nerve to be constantly pestered by his old coven mates—whom he had left behind after a mission gone wrong. Back as a famous healer and sponsored by a renowned magical society, Jungkook is ready to do what it takes to survive. Now, if only his former coven would back off and stop being so damn persistent in making up for their old mistakes…

Word Count: 14k

Also accessible on ao3 => Here Next Chapter => Here

"Souls are priceless. They exist only once, tied to the nature of our very existence. They thrive when their host does, weep when we do, and wither when we pass. Souls cannot lie. They lack the ability to speak and, therefore, compensate for their silence through the non-negotiable. Emotions. A language in its own right, complex and intricate, and on most occasions, we fail to understand them ourselves." 

The train was more relaxed than it usually was during rush hour but packed enough that some people had to stand and grasp onto the railings to keep themselves from losing balance. A sharp contrast to the near body-to-body contact one would be familiar with during Busan rush hour when businessmen and women would return home from work. Permanent-looking frowns and scowls etched onto their features, their smiles seemingly drained away from the exhausting facade of customer-friendly dedication. 

"People have the innate ability to do what souls cannot, and that is to deceive and lie. Whether to others or ourselves, is a completely normalized aspect of humanity." The woman stated, a natural tut to her voice that lingered with a chiding nature. It was clear she disapproved of dishonesty. "A flower cannot lie about its withering nature nor conceal its yellowing leaves. A cat will never lie about stealing food from the canary; it will simply defend its actions through sharpened claws and ruffled fur." 

Lying is a uniquely human ability. 

"It's this dishonesty that forces souls to weave a more noticeable, irrefutable honesty between each other. People are not meant for solitude, the cumbersome weight of loneliness marrying itself to a melancholy so heavy, it kills. That is why, on every individual, there is a red string. An extension of one's soul, connected to another across some part of the world. Those connected by these red strings are called soulmates."

Jungkook's playlist had run its course a few minutes ago, headphones now resting pointlessly over his ears. He had listened intently to the little lecture the kid's mother provided, his eyes drifting to the red strings attached to his pinky. The tip of his tongue toyed irritably with his lip piercing. Six loops, tied and knotted securely around the little appendage. Secure, occasionally tugging him in one way or the other. 

"So, like you and Appa?" The little kid asked, his voice innocent and cheerful. It had a lilt to its tone. 

The woman laughed, lips creasing upwards and revealing small dimples on each of her cheeks. Small little smile lines were beginning to grow across her features; the woman seemed to smile a lot. Jungkook thought briefly, looking away from the sweet display as if it singed him to look at it. In many ways, it did.

"Mhm, just like me and Appa." Again, that sugared tone made Jungkook cringe. He knew he was being dramatic; he wasn't even supposed to be listening in on this clearly tender moment between mother and son. But the train left little space, or rather, privacy. 

"Soulmates are meant to be together, my little cherub. It's meant to be." 

Bullshit.

Jungkook nearly had to restrain himself from spitting out those words. Memories of Namjoon dragging him to the nearest bookstore off campus because apparently the author of his favorite book series released multiple versions of the same story, but with different endings, and Namjoon just had to have all of them. Even the threat of getting caught by the cynical dean didn't deter Namjoon. Which is what ended up happening. They were stuck in detention for two weeks and had cooking duty for one, but how could he have been mad when all Namjoon could do was beam and gush about the endings, revealing his dimple and shaping his eyes into little crescents?

Or Hoseok, who had bandaged him up after a nasty fight with Ju-won, the academy's grade-A asshole. He had hidden out in the botanical greenhouse, sulking quietly and licking his wounds as he tried to recuperate himself; tears trickled down his cheeks and soaked into his uniform. Jungkook had the nasty habit of hiding his pain rather than seeking comfort in his hyungs. Hoseok was a phenomenally skilled witch, but his greatest skill pertained to finding Jungkook when he didn't necessarily want to be found. It's how he ended up sitting on the edge of the garden's large mahogany work table, Hoseok hiking up his pants and tending to his scratched knees. Kissing his bruised and split knuckles and wiping away his tears one by one. Until his pain felt phantom and eventually disappeared altogether. 

Jin had gone ballistic when he caught word of Jungkook's brawl when he and Hoseok returned to the group's shared dorm. Pacing up and down the room, flailing his arms in a dramatic fashion as he lectured and chided Jungkook. He could still recall the way Jin's eyes melted from stern to a weakening tenderness. Kneeling down in front of Jungkook, an action that nearly gave him a heart attack at the time, pulled him into one of the warmest embraces he'd ever felt. How delicately Jin draped a blanket over his shoulder and pleaded with Jungkook to confide in them in the future if Ju-won became too much. Jin had whispered that once they graduated and were officially able to form a coven, Jungkook's burdens would become theirs as well. 

They never did form a coven. 

The light-recorded voice of the subway station announcer declaring his stop had Jungkook forcing the memories of his past away. Glancing down, he stole a brief look at the six red strings attached to his finger, and his heart squeezed painfully. As if the truth of his situation pained it enough to halt its beating purpose, and weep alongside him. He inhaled sharply, forcing air into his lungs as the metro's tightly sealed doors slid open. Placing one robotic foot in front of the other, he got off the subway and returned to the busy world of Busan. Businessmen shuffled alongside him, shoulders tense and strung uncomfortably straight behind them. Jungkook momentarily remarked how grateful he was to not work in a cubicle all day. 

In the dimly lit depths of the subway station, a sense of unease gradually began to bloom. An unsettling, familiar itch underneath his skin warned him. Practically declared the wrongness inside his body. As the trains rumbled and screeched on their tracks, he felt the tight, spine-curdling sensation—a fleeting brush of something unsettling against his senses. His lungs halted, body tense as he paused his steps. Bracing himself for the approaching horror of his growing symptoms, the city's constant hustle and bustle oblivious to the quiet terror Jungkook fought within himself in public. 

He leaned against a concrete pillar, eyes darting toward the flickering fluorescent lights that cast uneven shadows upon the worn tiles. It was there, in that indistinct interplay of light and darkness, that he sensed the dreaded whisper, a sensation akin to a cool breath upon his neck.

Shifting his gaze over his shoulder, Jungkook felt his fear cement him to the dirty tiles. The shadows around him seemed to move like wraiths seeking form, flickering at the edge of his vision. He blinked, wishing the taunting shadows to leave him be. To abandon their morbid pursuit towards him and return to their rightful place. But then, in the corner of his vision, he caught a glimpse—a shadow that moved, distinct from the others. It was as if it had detached itself from the ordinary play of darkness. Like the outline of a silhouette, a barely perceptible figure materialized for a fleeting instant before fading back into obscurity.

The subway arrived, its doors sliding open with a hiss, and a crowd of commuters shuffled forward. The shadows returned to their rightful place, and only then did he feel his lungs fill with air again. The world stayed oblivious to his dilemma because, of course, they would; they couldn't see what he saw.

Jungkook stood frozen against a directory board, displaying all the subway station stops across Busan. His aura quivered, and the dread torpid pull of experiencing one of his illnesses' symptoms weighed him down immensely. Sometimes, he forgot he was sick to begin with, that the magic inside of him was running rampant and inviting things—shadows, to come and torment him. With a slight push, Jungkook leveled his breathing and began walking again.  

The plastic grocery bags rustled against each other as he navigated his way through the crowds with practiced ease. Upon leaving the station, Jungkook took notice of the soft drizzle from the sky. Littering the ground in small dots before darkening the paved asphalt entirely. It was raining, because of course it had to be. The sky seemed to cry whenever Jungkook lost himself in his reminiscence. 

Taehyung and him had missed the bus back to the academy, having gotten separated from the rest. No doubt an intentional act now that he thought about it. Although all seven of them were connected by those red strings of fate, Jungkook and Taehyung took the longest time to bond. Taehyung was bratty and stubborn, and Jungkook was hot-tempered and just as obstinate. The tension between them was usually thick enough to slice, and most of their conversations were spent bickering and annoying each other. Jin used to joke about how their sole purpose in life was to give him gray hairs and premature wrinkles. It wasn't until they had their biggest argument to date and Taehyung had taken to spray painting a local store in Hangawoondae—the town adjacent to the academy—an act of vandalism the store's owner grew livid over. Typically, a breach of rules would be punished through acts of service, but this was Taehyung's third offense. The punishment would have been expulsion. Jungkook still recalled bursting into the Headmaster's office and berating Taehyung for taking credit for his artwork, effectively taking the blame for him. Jungkook had ended up with weeks' worth of detention and unpaid labor at the store Taehyung vandalized. Neither of them talked about that moment, a lingering awkward tension now between them as neither of the two wanted to start the desperately needed conversation. Neither of them wanted to initiate vulnerability. 

The two had decided to walk back to the academy in the rain, fearing the dean's punishment for their tardiness. But the rain had been ferocious, forcing them to seek shelter in a nearby shrine. They were soaked, uniforms drenched and clinging uncomfortably to their skin. Jungkook could still recall the sound of Taehyung's unfiltered laughter and could picture the way his eyes creased and face contorted into one of sheer amusement and happiness. A lot had been said underneath that shrine, a vulnerability blossomed between them, and the red string tying them together had never felt more in place. 

Taehyung and Jungkook returned to the academy that noon, standing beside each other as the dean scolded their existence to the high heavens. Neither of them could force the smile off their lips, hide how their fingers occasionally brushed against each other, and how their relationship seemingly had changed upon their return.  

Ironically, Jungkook had felt the closest to Taehyung. Both of them were troubled, lashed out, and dealt with their emotions in problematic manners; they understood each other's deviant natures. 

Now, in the present, Jungkook refused to shield himself from the rain. The drops darkened his clothes, cooled his skin, and pulled down his hair as it grew wet the longer he walked. A part of him hated the rain, perhaps mainly because it reminded him so mercilessly of the delinquent he fell in love with underneath the cover of a shrine all those years ago. 

The bookstore was a small distance away, half a block, and clearly visible from its location as a corner piece of the street. The brick walls were painted a mat black, while the doors wore a more rundown but still striking auburn color. Over the two red doors, on a black ledge before the bookstore met the classic unpainted bricks of the apartment overtop, stood bold golden letters reading, BOOKS. The name always made Jungkook snicker; his Halmoni was never the creative type. Opting to be direct over some mystical fantasy titles. She sold books and prefered to make that quite clear. The red doors had a similar design to old telephone booths in England; beside them, separated by a black pillar, was the store's display window. Books are neatly organized and spaced, entirely deceiving of the chaotic nature inside the actual store.

Seeing the familiar store always made Jungkook release the tensions residing inside him; he wouldn't be surprised if that was due to some of his Halmonis spells, but she vehemently denied these accusations, boasting about her calming aura instead.  

The inside of the store was a sharp contrast to its outward appearance; the black and reds gave the store an elegant impression. The interior was different, the floorboards an assortment of different woods. Bookshelves overflowed with books to the point that Halmoni had opted to simply start piles on the floor, some nearly beginning to kiss the ceiling. Small lounge chairs were placed by the windows, and plants and ivy snuck around any pillars and support structures within the store, sometimes raining down on bookshelves. The store always smelt acutely of cinnamon and vanilla, depending on what tea Halmoni had chosen to brew herself that day. The aisles were narrow, with occasional floorboards creaking depending on where you stepped. 

Jungkook adored the store, in all its hazardous nature. He felt at peace at the disorganization, the warm scents, and the smell of old pages. The idly chit-chat between patrons, Jungkook loved it all.

"Aish, if I didn't know any better, I'd say your mood was causing this weather," Chae-Won stated casually, pulling Jungkook out of his memories. The hell was going on with him today? He thought bitterly; entering the bookstore he worked at must've become so familiar; not even the calming jingle of the bells attached to the door frame had alerted him to his arrival. 

"Sorry, Halmoni." He muttered half-heartedly, his head filled with too much to really feel any remorse. Quite frankly, Jungkook wasn't even sure what exactly he was apologizing for. He held the plastic bags of groceries loosely, walking around the front counter and into the actual home he shared with Chae-Won, an elderly woman who had practically adopted him and insisted he addressed her as his halmoni. That was approximately six years ago, and now Chae-Won felt like family to him.

He set the groceries down on the kitchen counter, vaguely aware of the soft footsteps that had followed him into the space. He focused on organizing and storing the supplies he got, Chae-won was a very disorganized person. However, most items need to be stored in the lower cupboards to accommodate her small stature. He devoted his sole attention to the rather mundane task, all to avoid the worrisome stare of his halmoni. The elderly witch had the innate ability to detangle Jungkook with a simple look, finding the root of his problem with frightening accuracy. Jimin had that ability, too. 

Jungkook nearly flinched at the thought, his movements halting as he looked at the now spotless kitchen. Vegetables in the fridge and other dry ingredients stored in the pantry. There was nothing else to do, and yet he still struggled to look up and meet his halmoni's gaze. 

A long sigh filled the room, sounding both tired and sympathetic. Jungkook nearly recoiled at the sound, stealing his body as it leaned against the kitchen counter. His eyes were transfixed against the window, watching the raindrops trickle down the glass and race towards the bottom. The sound of shuffling, footsteps, and the kettle being filled and turned on occupied the room. Two mugs clink together as they are grabbed from the top cupboard and placed on the counter, followed by more rustling of clothes. The water began to screech as it boiled; a moment of silence and then the sweet aroma of herbs and oranges filled the small space. 

"Sit with me, honey." Jungkook forced his gaze to part from the window, glancing at Chae-Won, who had already sat down on the couch in the living room. Adjacent to the kitchen, a large archway connected the two rooms. Two cups of tea simmered on the coffee table, and Jungkook pushed himself off his spot against the countertop, walking over at a lethargic pace before sitting down beside her. Grabbing his cup of tea, thanking her quietly, before taking a sip. 

Halmoni was a short, elderly woman. With gray hair that was often tied into a round tight bun atop her head, her body naturally hunched over as she stood and walked. She had smile lines and wrinkles to indicate all the happy years she's experienced. Usually, a wool shawl was draped over her shoulders, as she tended to get cold rather quickly. If one were to picture a sweet, old witch who tends to a bookstore, that'd be his Halmoni.  

"Repressing what has happened will not make it go away, honey." Halmonis's voice cut through the rooms stillness, the pattering of rain against the windows accompanying her gravelly tone. Soft, but a clear indication of her old age. Jungkook inhaled sharply, releasing a shuddering breath as he tried to focus on the tangy smell of oranges, the taste of sweet herbs, and fruitiness. 

Yoongi had loved tea. Exam season was always so stressful for all of them, but Yoongi upheld himself to the strictest regime. He'd burrow himself in books and papers, hold himself up in his room, and pull all-nighters. Jungkook recalled how dark circles always formed underneath Yoongi's soft features during the weeks leading up to the exams. Shoulders permanently tense, a usually relaxed expression contorted into one of exhaustion and concentration. Jungkook, who often struggled with insomnia, would sneak into Yoongi's room with a tray of sweets and tea. He'd coerce him into taking a break, light the fireplace because Yoongi tended to let the flames dwindle and drape a blanket over the both of them as they took a break on the couch. Yoongi would often feel too drained to uphold a conversation during those moments, and Jungkook didn't mind; they basked in the comfortable silence their company provided them with. Yoongi would tend to fall asleep in those moments, head resting against his shoulder. Jungkook couldn't bring himself to mind and would make his late-night visits more frequent. 

"I know," his voice came out raw in tone as if the words were forced out against his will. Despite himself, Jungkook knew. He knew running was fruitless, he knew ignorance was temporary, and that he'd continue to hurt for so much longer. 

"I know, Halmoni." He repeated, voice more stern this time. A weak attempt to convince himself that perhaps if he repeated the words often enough, he could begin to believe them as well.

The sound of small clinking porcelain chimed throughout the room; Chae-wons eyes appeared downcast as she set the cup down and back onto the coffee table. "Emotional healing is a process, just like physical injuries; we have good days, where we can walk on our own, and we can have bad ones, where we are once again confined to our beds." 

I know, the words were itching to escape him. He knew, he knew how futile his attempts at suppression were, how pushing through what had happened wasn't healing him. But sometimes Jungkook just felt so cursed to be one of the only people in the god-damn world whose soulmates didn't end up together. How fortunate it was to have found them all, how much praise they had gotten for their sheer luck; the thought nearly made him snicker. Luck, yeah, he didn't have any of that.  

"Oh, my little cherub." Chae-won sighed, a pained lilt to her tone that made Jungkook gaze harden. Her hand reached out and placed itself atop one of his, her fingers wrapping around his cold hand and giving it a tight squeeze. "With everything that's been going on, the diagnosis—"

Jungkook couldn't prevent his expression from contorting, eyebrows furrowed, and expression scrunched up as he cringed at the words. Delicately chosen, all to avoid hurting him further. Nexus Entropy is a chronic disease that gradually kills the afflicted individual in stages.

Jungkook was dying; his own magic was slowly devouring him. It was a rare illness, genetic apparently, but it seemed to have skipped over both his parents and actual grandparents. To summarize, that meant that Jungkook was once again being fucked over by fate itself. 

"By shunning the world, honey, you're punishing yourself." His Halmoni finished, once again ripping Jungkook from his heavy thoughts. His mind was like a viper, his thoughts snaking around his body, piercing his soul with its venom. A fierce-like grip around his throat and heart, squeezing and seemingly choking him on his own words. 

"Jungkook, you've done so much already. You've contributed priceless information to medical research for supernaturals. For heaven's sake, m'boy!" Jungkook couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze because, at the core of his research breakthroughs, it was all accidental. Jungkook hadn't meant to necessarily cure any other disease, but his own, curing E.E disease was only a successful byproduct of his failed attempts of curing himself. He vaguely recalled the news uproar about his discovery, but Jungkook went by the pseudonym of JJK. He didn't want them to see his discoveries. 

Jungkook was a green witch, meaning that he had a knack for anything pertaining to nature. Most supernatural diseases couldn't be cured by modern human medicine; they needed to be derived from specific mystical ingredients that Jungkook had a tendency to cultivate. His powers were slowly waning from his illness; cultivation, potions, and medicine is what he chose to distract himself with. A sharp contrast to the bellicose habits of his youth. 

Chae-won got up, ignoring Jungkook's questioning gaze as she walked over to a drawer and pulled out a familiar-looking letter. It made his slack body tense, posture straightening, jaw clicking as he ground his teeth together. The red taunting wax seal makes his body cold, hands and feet tingling with wild nerves. His stomach dropped, coiling and clawing inside of him like two meerkats fighting and tussling with each other. 

"Halmoni I–"

"I found it while cleaning your room," She cut him off, giving him a look that quietly scolded him for even leaving his room in such a messy state. Jungkook had grown messy, too tired to force himself to clean. Sometimes, the reality of his situation dawned on him so harshly that he couldn't force himself to even escape the clutches of his bed. Sometimes, those days turned into weeks. Halmoni was very considerate during those times, bringing him newly delivered books before she put them onto her shelves, bringing him tea, and letting him pace himself while still providing her presence as support. Occasionally, she'd cast a spell to clean his room while he was out. She always insisted that a clear space was key to a clearer mind. 

The letter had a wax seal keeping it shut, the wax being indented with the design of a golden eagle. It was clear that Jungkook hadn't even bothered to open it because he had known that it was a letter from the Vesperium Veil University, a place he swore he'd never visit. No, Jungkook swore it all off. Studies, magic, adventures, and love. He wanted to work at his Halmoni's bookstore until he died, peacefully miserable and wallowing in his own puddle of self-pity and remorse. 

"You're hurting, honey. You're allowed to be hurting. But there's a part of you that loved magic, and I know you still do cherub. You worked so hard back then; please don't give all of that up." She pleaded, handing the letter over to Jungkook. Although only a flimsy piece of paper, it felt like the most cumbersome weight he had ever been forced to carry. The sight of that letter choked him. 

"Your hearts hurting—it's been hurting, and the wounds done to our heart take the longest to heal. Sometimes they don't heal at all," 

Jungkook didn't think he'd heal. 

"Eventually, we have to learn how to move forward. Hun, I think it's time for you to take that step." She finished, standing up and gently resting her hand on his head. She petted it, once, twice, before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head before leaving the living room and returning to the front of her store. 

And just like Halmoni, the sun seemed to leave with her. The noon casting the world in a golden glow made the living room look oddly tranquil. A peacefulness that sharply contrasted with his emotional turmoil. Jungkook had grieved for the past six years, had tried coming to terms with his break-up for one, accepting his diagnosis for another, and had stopped moving forward the day he left the academy. In the third year, he began pursuing his education under Kwang-sun in an attempt to cure himself. 

Glancing at the retreating sunlight, a memory of him and Jimin at fourteen flashed before him; the two had known each other since elementary. Since then, Jimin used to call that red string connecting their pinkies his lucky ribbon. Jimin had run up to him, huffing and puffing, cheeks reddening from his galloping pace as he panted before him. Nearly doubling over as he rested his hands on his knees, Jungkook had been so worried, but all his anxieties were stilled when Jimin looked up. Flashing the brightest smile, eyes scrunched together in crescents at his sheer happiness. In his hand was a letter, folded neatly with a silver wax seal. That night, Jungkook and Jimin had both gotten their acceptance letter to the Sable Spire Institute: For Young Witches. There wasn't a more prestigious and well-known wizarding academy in all of Korea. That night, they had snuck onto the rooftops to look at the stars, a woolen blanket draped over them. Jimin had held his hand and made Jungkook promise to always stick together. Jungkook did and, in return, made Jimin swear the same.

Jimin had broken his promise.

They all did.

A bitterness he usually swallowed resurfaced, his eyes refocusing on the letter in his hand. He stared at it for some time, unsure for how long exactly, but by the time he pried away the seal from the paper, the golden hour had long passed. The sky is now covered in dark maroons, purples, and a growing blue. 

Unfolding the letter, he read with a shaky breath:

"Dear JJK,

We are delighted to extend our warmest congratulations to you on behalf of the faculty and administration of Vesperium Veil University. It is with great pleasure that we offer you a place at our prestigious and exclusive magical university for the upcoming academic year…."

Jungkook's eyes skimmed over the acceptance letter half-hazardously, rushed, and partially uncaring. Accepting this invitation would fulfill his seventh ring of education and would provide him with a complete magic permit, subsequently allowing Jungkook to use magic anywhere. But most importantly, it would declare him a Master and enable him to teach. A silent ambition Jungkook would most likely carry to his grave. 

The seventh ring was held back at an establishment, but for non-magicals, it was simply referred to as an exclusive university. The Vesperium Veil was one of these esteemed locations, notorious for its brutal trials but famous witches. Anyone who managed to succeed at Vesperium Veil was bound to become a renowned witch.  

Jungkook scoffed; he never sent in an application. It must've been Kwang-Sun, too hellbent on not letting his "talents" go to waste. But perhaps if Kwang-Sun hadn't, Jungkook wouldn't have been presented with this opportunity; the thought lessened his agitation from not being consulted about this. Vesperium Veil University was famous for its achievements; it was legendary. 

And here Jungkook sat, uncertain if he even wanted to attend. But the nagging voice of his Halmoni beckoning him to move on, ringing throughout his mind on repeat. It made the decision, which would've been much clearer a week ago, uncertain. 

Standing up and promptly ignoring the sharp popping of his knees—something that visually aged him nearly a decade—he left the living room. He headed to the wooden staircase, a crooked assortment of wooden planks that creaked and sang of old age depending on where one stepped. On the second floor were three rooms, one being his bedroom, another being a storage closet, and the one closest to the stairs was Halmoni's room. Jungkook was conveniently the furthest, and it comforted him to be distant. The silence his room carried was comforting, a stillness inside that generously seemed to offer him time to think, to process.

Swinging his door open, he glanced at the cluttered mess that was his room. He had three windows, one on each side of the corner where his bed stood. Both large and tall, giving a clear view of the street before him. The last was against the ceiling, where the roof came down to reach the building's walls. The windows provided ample sunlight, which was necessary for the sheer amount of plants Jungkook had accumulated over his years of living with Chae-won. Over one of the windows was a shelf nailed to the wall, a simple wooden plank upheld by sturdy metal hooks. From the ledge, vines and ivy rained down onto the wall and nearly provided a curtain for the window. There was a bookshelf that mainly held medical books and research he had studied throughout completing the fourth, fifth, and recently sixth level of education. His desk, an abomination to any neat freak, was littered with papers, spread open books, pens, and pencils. A candle resting on an elegant candle stick, for when the old building once again lost power and Jungkook needed to resume his work, was already half melted. Wax dripping onto the wooden tabletop.  

Kicking the door closed with his heel, Jungkook threw the letter onto his desk before promptly flopping himself onto his bed. A queen-sized mattress without a frame, mostly because he couldn't be bothered to buy and build one, was pushed against a corner. Multiple blankets and pillows decorated the surface, and upon all the trouble today brought him, it was all too tempting to just sleep his complexities away. 

But he couldn't; peace wasn't necessarily something he got a taste of often. Sometimes, he entertained the idea that perhaps overthinking was his true talent. 

Perhaps it was time to come to terms with what had happened; their mission had failed, his soulmates had broken their promises, they never became a coven, and Jungkook suffered from a chronic illness that would one day kill him. In many ways, the letter in his possession felt like the last opportunity he held for tasting magic again. To indulge in the pleasures of learning, discovery, adventure, and intimate connections with other witches. He'd never have to see them again, and although his soul seemed to sob at the thought, it brought him relief.  

Glancing towards his desk, the folded letter sat like an elephant in the room. His gaze lingered before drifting upwards towards the decorated walls. Newspaper clippings were framed, along with specific certificates, that illustrated his achievements throughout the past years. Jungkook hadn't been the one to suggest or even collect evidence of his accomplishments. It was his  Halmoni's idea; the old woman was hellbent on celebrating him. 

If only he could share those same sentiments. Jungkook thought, a strange heaviness taking form inside him at the sight of the cut-out articles, once again celebrating the anonymous JJK. They branched out from small achievements like developing a more obtainable medicine for the common witching flu by substituting newt syrup with a subclass of thistle. To extend the life expectancy of someone diagnosed with Draemori Flux and his most prized achievement: providing a curing for Faerune S. Fever. A brutal disease with even more terrorizing fatalities. 

But despite the evidence of his good deeds, Jungkook couldn't bring himself to be proud. Because he knew, he knew that those discoveries weren't intentional. They were byproducts of his selfish pursuits and desperate attempts to cure himself. It hadn't ever been his intention to heal others; he came into this field because it used little to no actual magic and relied upon knowledge instead. It was something Jungkook's depleting body could still do without causing harm. When he looked at that wall, eyes lingering on the testimonies of his supposed selflessness, all he could really feel was guilt. 

Despite what has happened, losing his coven to the third level trial, Jungkook still loved life. The uncertainty of existing, not knowing when or where the next change will emerge. The raw purity of morning dew, the charming melodies of singing birds at the crack of dawn. The purity of emotion, hate, love, despair. Despite its pain, Jungkook loved living. 

He wanted to continue living.

"Hello, sweetheart. Jung-so is in his usual spot." The sweet barista—Han—mused as she set his coffee on the counter. After completing his apprenticeship, Jungkook had begrudgingly decided to take a year off. He now focuses his efforts on small jobs like helping out in the bookstore and occasional tutoring. 

Tutoring, by far, was his favorite job. Teaching kids, watching them learn, and taking in new information brought him joy. Perhaps because he had met some inspirational teachers throughout his childhood and wanted to return the same level of care he had received as a kid to the next generation. Besides, kids were cute. 

He tutored a small batch of kids, ranging from anywhere from elementary to high school. He had to silently thank his strict parents to value his grades above anything else; when showing his academic history and apprenticeship under Kwang-sun, parents seemed more than eager to accept his cheap labor. Jungkook didn't do it for the money, sometimes even offering to teach for free if the parents seemed hard on cash. After all, education shouldn't have a price. 

Jung-so was one of the kids he tutored for free; he had met his mother—Iseul—in Halmoni's bookstore trying to barter on a zoology book for her son. They exchanged more frequently when she visited and eventually she disclosed her situation. A single mother working at a twenty-four-hour convenience store to keep them afloat. When she mentioned her ten-year-old son, Jung-so, struggling in school, Jungkook offered without thinking. 

It was only supposed to be a short session until Jung-so got caught up in math, but upon seeing how eager Jung-so was to learn, it quickly became a long-term arrangement of meeting every Wednesday and Sunday to go over anything the kid needed. They met at a cafe across the street from the convenience store where his mom worked; after each tutoring session, Jungkook would walk the kid back there to ensure he got to his mother safely.  

Grabbing his coffee and the kid's hot chocolate he always ordered, he walked to the back of the cafe and greeted the usually hyper boy. Only he wasn't acting hyper today. 

No, Jung-so was a cute kid. Normally cheerful and a little hyper, unable to sit still for long and shifting his focus constantly. But today, he sat still. Head lowered and gaze focused on his restless hands that played with the hem of his school uniform. Something was clearly wrong, and it worried him deeply. 

"Hey kid, what's wrong?" He asked softly, setting his bag down and shuffling into the booth beside Jung-so. 

"The MCA came to our school today," Jung-so all but mumbled, not even bothering to reach out for the warm hot chocolate he usually leeched off the moment he set it on the table. Okay, now he was really worried. 

"What happened?" He asked worriedly, the MCA were government officials who worked for magicals, but usually, they were very friendly. It took a moment for him to realize that the MCA must've conducted the annual magical testing to see if students were part of the magical community or remained null. People presented with magic throughout elementary school, which is why during those three years the MCA came to test the students. Still, that didn't explain why Jung-so was so upset. 

"Well.. my eomma isn't magical, but it turns out I am," Jung-so mumbled, playing with a loose button on his school uniform. 

Jungkook's eyes widened, nodding dumbly as he processed the information. Of course, witches didn't necessarily need to be related to a witch to develop magic; mana could build within anyone really. But perhaps Jung-so's father could have had mana, but Jungkook didn't know. It wasn't his business to pry. 

"Ah, and you're upset over that?" He asked carefully, watching as his little question seemingly unleashed the dam of tears the little kid was trying to hold back. The sight broke his heart, Jung-so hiccuping and rubbing his eyes harshly with his sleeve out of frustration. Without sparing it a second thought, Jungkook pulled the kid into a comforting hug. Rubbing his back in soothing circles, letting the kid freely express himself as he held him. 

At first, Jung-so was just some kid he tutored, but throughout their time together, Jungkook really began seeing him more as a little brother. Someone Jungkook wanted to protect. 

When Jung-so calmed down, his eyes were a little puffy, his hair a tangled mess, and nose a little leaky. Jungkook got up, went to the cafe counter, and grabbed a few tissues before returning. Besides his gentle reassurances, he didn't say much until he was sure Jung-so had calmed down. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" He finally asks, silently hoping Jung-so would accept his offer. Jungkook, after all, was a witch himself. 

"Everything's gonna change," Jung-so admitted, sniffling. 

"It is. Magicals go through a different system than humans do." 

"I don't want things to change." 

Ah. There was the actual problem. Jungkook nodded, beginning to gently rub small circles onto Jung-so's back. 

"Change is constant. Even for humans. You won't be able to escape it either way," He began, keeping his voice light and soothing. Gentle—a little scared to make Jung-so cry again if he was honest. "But it can also bring a lot of good things; you'll get to do cool stuff now that others can't." He added, trying to cheer the kid up a little. 

He assumed that Jung-so and Iseul didn't know much about magic, mostly because he could recall how the stressed-out mom marveled at their magically self-organizing bookshelves. A sense of responsibility washed over him, feeling like it was somehow his job to gently introduce them to the upcoming changes they'd be facing. 

Still, on the pursuit of cheering Jung-so up, Jungkook focused on the hot chocolate still left untouched on the table. Focusing on the object, zeroing in, and recalling the simple levitation spell every witch learns during their first year at a magical cratered school. He makes the warm beverage begin to float, watching observantly the way the corner of Jung-so's lips curve upwards. The little boy watched with slight fascination as the cup floated around him, making him chuckle before landing back on the table. 

He ignored the dull ache that erupted within him, his core upset at the usage of magic. Technically Jungkook shouldn’t even be using it, not if he wanted to extend the little life expectancy he had left. But seeing Jung-so cheer up made the uncomfortable pressure oddly worth it, so he opted to ignore the throbbing and simply massage the sore spot over his chest instead. 

"Can I do that too?" Jung-so asks, mimicking Jungkook's earlier gaze on the cup and joyfully exaggerating his actions with displayed hands. It was Jungkook's turn to laugh at that. 

"You'll learn how to levitate objects during your first year; pretty cool, huh?" He mused, leaning in and covering his mouth with his hand as he mimicked telling Jung-so a secret. "But don't tell anyone I used magic in public, okay? I'm not exactly allowed." 

"You're not allowed to use magic in public?" 

Jungkook shakes his head, leaning back against the soft booths padding with a small but amused smile. "Well, not yet. I'm not qualified yet." He explained, trying to uphold his smile as he thought of that abysmal letter. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he took a sip of his coffee. It had been a week since his Halmonis had confronted him with it, and the folded paper still remained blissfully untouched on his desk. 

"Let me explain," He began, setting the cup back down. "Unlike humans, us magicals—"

"Why don't you just say witches?" Jung-so interrupts. 

Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head at the boy's impatience. "Well, magicals is an all-inclusive term. Witches are only one aspect of a much larger community." He could practically see the next question forming on the boy's lips and held up his hand to pause him. "There's all kinds of people out there that carry magic, such as demons, Dokkaebis, vampires, fairies, Selkies, sirens, and so much more. Us witches are the most like humans; the only difference is that we contain mana." 

Jungkook didn't want to overwhelm the boy, but he also wanted him to understand that he wasn't nearly as alone as Jung-so thought. A brief sound of acknowledgement and Jung-so continued on with his questioning. "What's mana?" 

Jungkook scolded the human education system for that because why didn't they at least prepare the students, even just a little? Magicals and humans were separated after elementary school, not for any segregational purposes but to fulfill more specific educational needs.

"Mana is the magic inside you; it's what witches like us harness to perform magic. Without mana, we'd be just like everyone else. The more mana, the stronger spells you can perform." Jung-so nodded, letting out another sound of acknowledgment. 

It made Jungkook hum in amusement, trying to recall his earlier point before he was derailed by the boy's question. "Ah! Yes, unlike humans, we magicals diverge from the traditional education system after elementary. This is why the MCA—Magicals Class Association—tested you. It's to make sure you get the education you need." He explained. 

Jungkook never got tested by the official governmental process; he was the son of two powerful witches and, therefore, got tested privately. He only knew about the actual happenings during the testing from Jimin, who had also found out about his new abilities during elementary. Although Jimin was much more aware of witches due to his association with Jungkook. A fact his strict witching parents were most unhappy about. 

"Instead of attending a regular high school, you'll go to one specifically for magicals and—"

"What if I don't want to go? I have friends now, and none of them tested as a witch." 

Jungkook couldn't even be mad at getting interrupted; this was a lot to take in, after all. He ruffled Jung-so's hair, chuckling softly. "You'll have three full years until you do that; I'm sure you'll find magical friends throughout that time. Even if you don't, you'll make lots there! I promise Jung-so, you won't be lonely." 

"Promise?" That timid, insecure voice once again violently tugged at Jungkook's heartstrings. He nodded quickly, pulling the kid into his arms once more. "I promise, buddy." 

"Now, let me finish before you interrupt again. I might lose my point completely if you do," He jokingly chided, pulling away and playfully nudging his pointer finger against Jung-so's arm. The kid laughed, letting him continue. 

"I want to explain this to you so you know what's going to be different in your life; uncertainty is only going to let that mind of yours go wild, and lord knows what'll happen then." He teased, rolling his eyes before continuing. Unable to hide his smile at the giggles his exaggerations earned him. 

"Magicals follow a seven-level system. From preschool to high school is a total of three levels. These are the only necessary levels you need, they are mandatory.” He explained. “If you want to pursue a human career after that, you’ll simply attend a human university. However, you won’t be allowed to use magic in public or apply for magical jobs.” He glanced at Jung-so, waiting for an approving nod that the kid was indeed—still following along. 

“However, if you want to work in the magical community things will go differently.”

“How different?” 

“After you're done with high school, you won't be attending university—" He watched Jung-so's mouth open for a question and shook his head to keep the kid quiet. "Instead, you'll get an apprenticeship with another magical. For me, that was an old, pruney but kind man who studied medicine. Apprenticeships range from three to six years; mine lasted five. A completed apprenticeship will take you to level six. The seventh is an extra level, not necessarily needed—but advised if you want to involve magic in your profession or use it outside in public." 

The thought of the letter currently sitting on his desk flashed through him, haunting him like a ghost. That was his ticket to completing his seventh level, and then he could become a teacher. He could gradually teach little kids like Jung-so about magic instead of giving them a crash course in over an hour. 

"Have you completed your seventh level, hyung?" 

I might, I have the letter, I could, but I won't. Right? 

"No, buddy, I haven't." 

Instead of redirecting the attention back to math or science, Jungkook spent his tutoring hour purely on magicals. He wanted Jung-so to be knowledgeable about his own community, and every moment he spent gushing about his own experiences made him feel more and more like an utter hypocrite. 

After having a chat with Iseul, Jungkook returned home to the bookstore. Unable to look at the letter waiting on his desk, instead hopping into his bed and trying to tune the rest of the word out. 

He wasn’t very successful. 

It took three more days of avoiding his own bedroom until he caved. Glancing at the letter, Jungkook made the rash decision of accepting. By the time he was done, an odd feeling emitted in his chest. It wasn't negative, no—it felt similar to when one would plant a seed and stare at the tilled soil expectantly. Anticipation. 

Glancing at the window as he stood, Jungkook marveled at the night-cloaked sky. Walking back downstairs to the bookstore section of their home, he pushed open the door and glanced at his Halmoni, standing a few meters away from him by the cash register. Sending off a customer with her signature smile, Jungkook waited as the man left. Silence seemed to drag between them, even as the store's usual customers wandered about. 

"So?" Her nasally voice dragged out curiously. 

"I'm moving forward, Halmoni." 

Her sigh was quivered, a look of relief washing over her wrinkled face. Shoulders sagging as she released the breath Jungkook hadn't even noticed she was holding. 

"Good. That's very good, Kookie." 

"We can salvage this," Jungkook's voice trembled, a shaky quiver to his words that hinted at the raw turmoil being erupted within him at the moment. His heart was frantic, clawing inside him—reaching, all because he was currently losing the only thing in his life that mattered. Tears pricked at his eyes, unyielding as he tried pushing them back. But the anguish inside him was rampant and wild. Because this was his nightmare, sparking such a guttural clenching as his soul coiled inside himself. 

"Speak for yourself; I'm not the one who ran off like some dog with its tail between its legs." Seokjin huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as a scowl etched its way onto his usually calm features. Eyes, usually holding such devotion, were now clouded with contempt. Seokjin's gaze was focused on Taehyung. 

The boy previously sitting hunched on the couch looks up sharply, gaze narrowed, and nose flared in barely contained anger. "Who the hell are you calling a dog?" He spat, the sheer venom in Taehyung's voice making Jungkook swallow. No, none of this was right. Taehyung only used that voice with rude people, people he brawled with, people he cussed out before vandalizing their dorm rooms. Not one of his soulmates. 

"Taehyung–" Jungkook knew what they saw wasn't real; the Deep toyed with their minds. Made them envision and hallucinate their worst fears in one another; they were angry at each other over nothing. 

"Shut it, Kookie." Jungkook's words got caught in his throat, eyes widening at the bitter tone. It was a tone so painfully familiar that its presence nearly sent him back to his childhood. A time filled with neither happy endings nor warmth. A place in his past his hyungs had promised to keep him from, to help him heal from.  

Taehyung had stood up, taking quick, forceful steps towards Seokjin. When in reach, he began jabbing his pointer finger into Seokjin's chest as he spat every word. "I'm not some snobby princeling who only validates their existence solely through mommy and daddys praise–"

"Oh please, what do you know about responsibility?" Seokjin had cut him off with a burst of cold, empty laughter from his own rebuttal. The rudeness and unfamiliarity of such actions made Jungkook cringe internally, but he wasn't sure how schooled he was in keeping his expression. No, not when what was happening felt so devastating. No, this wasn't like their previous bickering; this felt like more—this fight would have consequences. 

"Enough! Clearly more than you." Taehyung nearly barked, eyes narrowed and jaw tense as he clenched his fist so tightly it began turning a pale white. 

"Let's not kid ourselves here, Taehyung; I think we're far past the point of lying." Namjoon's oddly arrogant tone chimed in, laced with disapproval usually reserved for Namjoon's parents. 

This was getting so out of hand Jungkook needed to find a way to stop this. "Namjoon, not you too." Their leader, usually a gentle and patient staple of their soon-to-be coven. Namjoon would never talk to any of them like this, so why now? Why, why, why, why?

"Ha! Calling me a liar—that's rich coming from you, Namjoon." Taehyung was livid, it was apparent. Jungkook reached out, placing a hand on his lover's shoulder, only for Taehyung to brush him off roughly. The rejection stung; it was too familiar. 

They had been passed this.

"Oh, and what's that supposed to mean?" Namjoon's eyes narrowed, silently analyzing and challenging Taehyung to go on. To put it simply, a look like that from Namjoon was demeaning. As if you were the product of insubordination itself. 

"You know exactly what I mean, Namjoon. Whatever it takes to remain in charge, em' I, right?" Namjoon tensed, shoulders pulled back and back straightening. 

Jungkook didn't understand that reaction but didn't want to delve deeper into it. He wanted this to stop. It wasn't real; the Deep was at fault. "Lets all just calm down, take a moment to ourselves—"

"Jungkook, stop playing pacifist here." Jimin's voice cut through his desperate pleas, making Jungkook's words catch in his throat like a noose. Eyes flicker over to his childhood friend, his first love, his soulmate.

"Jimin?" The words escaped Jungkook the moment he found his voice again, although the tone he used was pained and hoarse. Jimin no longer met his gaze. No, no, no, no, no.

"Don't let this out on Jungkook, Jimin." Yoongi's baritone voice berated, and a part of Jungkook was grateful for it while another winced. Yoongi's voice sounded just as raw and uncertain as Jungkook's. 

"Oh, yeah. I should just bottle everything up until I accidentally implode on someone. Or, maybe just lock myself away all day long—" Jimin and Yoongi were complete opposites, while Jimin was open and vocal about his thoughts and feelings. Yoongi struggled; he handled his emotions differently. A way that may be different than what they'd prefer, but it was a way Yoongi felt was best. They understood this, so why was it being brought back up? 

"Fuck off." A defensive tone Jungkook hadn't heard since they'd met Yoongi. No, they were going backwards.

"Please, spare us the noble-knight facade, Yoongi; we all know who you really are." 

“And who am I, Jimin?”

"Stop–" Jungkook felt desperate, his own soul weakly tugging on the strings around his finger. Something that had always made him smile, something that he cherished more than the stars in the sky. This coven was Jungkook's world, and he was watching it go off in flames at the moment. 

"A lying, secretive, deceptive son of a—"

"Stop It!" Jungkook's voice boomed for a moment, the arguing halting. Namjoon, Seokjin, and Taehyung stilling. Jimin and Yoongi paused, and Hoseok turned his attention to Jungkook. Hoseok hadn't said a word since they came back from their debriefing. But he had a distant, calculating look in his eyes. It unsettled Jungkook to his core, acutely anxious about what was happening inside the witch's head. Why wasn't he trying to contain the situation with him?

Jungkook wanted this to stop; all of their emotions were too strung up. Another sharp tug or pull, and he was afraid they'd snap. "Stop it! Can't you hear yourselves? Fucking—stop, please. This isn't how we handle things." 

“I’m sorry, Jungkook.” Jimin's voice filled the room, sounding apologetic but strained. Stealing a glance, Jungkook can see the remorse in the boy's eyes. The way they looked so unhappily at him, it took that string of fate between them and wrapped it around his heart—tugging painfully. 

"But I can't be a part of this coven anymore, not with these people," Jimin whispered, single-handedly crushing Jungkook's heart to pieces. 

"What?" He pleaded—begged, that he had misheard. 

"I second that. You make me sick." Hoseok's voice cut through the room, and Jungkook felt tears cascading down his cheeks. This couldn't be happening, no, no, no, no. 

"No—"

"Fuck all of you, honestly. I can't believe I fell for any of this bullshit in the first place." Taehyung spat, turning around and walking towards the door. He swung it open, not sparing the rest of them a glance as he stormed out. Seemingly taking the sunshine with him, Jimin scoffed another last insult towards them before leaving, too. Jungkook's eyes darted towards the remaining members, his own lip wobbling pathetically as his mind wailed for the two to return. They could sort this out.

"This was such a mistake," Seokjin muttered, unearthing his breath. Brushing his fingers through his hair and successfully tussling up the messy strands further as he, too, walked out the door. 

Jungkook couldn't do it; he couldn't bring himself to look up at the remaining three. Not when all he'd get to see was them leaving—leaving him. 

"Please." He whispered.

Neither Namjoon, Hoseok, or Yoongi had the decency to look him in the eyes. Something Jungkook was both grateful for and hated. Because he deserved to be looked at, for them all to confront him while they left.

"Sorry, Kookie, but I can't do this anymore either. It was nice while it lasted." Yoongi sighed, hands in his pockets as his slouched figure retreated from the room and left, too. 

Namjoon and Seokjin remained silent before they, too, left. 

Seven turned to one, and one turned to none. 

The sun stopped shining that day, and his world stopped spinning. Jungkook had lost all that mattered to him in a single day. They had completed the third trial, but at what cost?

Eyes fluttering open, Jungkook slowly returned to the present. Watching the trees move past as the train moved, the tracks provided a nearly soothing thumping soundtrack. Rich green fields, occasional patches of grass that remained unattended and therefore let the blades reach impressive heights. Farmer fields, dirt patches, agriculture, fenced cows and horses. Jungkook took his time getting lost in the present beauty around him, his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he suppressed a dry chuckle. 

He was hopeless. 

He was constantly returning to the past, unable to stay, and haunting himself with the possibility provided by two simple, daunting words: What if? 

His six soulmates left, but they never really left. 

Watching the world pass by him, he gradually lets go of the Jungkook, whose nickname became Kookie, a nickname he hates nowadays, and slowly accepts that he is someone new. 

That's what all this was for, anyway, for him to move on. To hopefully complete his seventh trial and begin teaching; if he failed, then Jungkook wouldn't really have much time to do anything else regardless. The two options were oppressive in nature, but somehow, they still provided him with a strange sense of hope. 

This year would change everything, better or worse; Jungkook was ready to be himself again. Despite the past, who he lost, Jungkook wanted and will move on. 

The train halted thrice before it settled on his stop, his back cracking as he stood up. A small grunt escaped him as he rubbed his sore muscles. He preferred train rides over flying, but sitting in one spot for several hours resulted in soreness no matter what he did. Grabbing his backpack and slinging it over one shoulder, he pulled his suitcase from its resting spot above his seat before hopping off the train. Other students wandered around the station, a little chaotic as everyone tried navigating their own way through the busy crowds. 

To say he was a little overwhelmed was an understatement; tired from the trip and hungry, all he could be bothered with was a meal and a bed. 

"Mr. Jeon?" 

Perking up, Jungkook looked around before something tugged on his pants. Looking down, his eyes widened at the sight of a Siamese cat, an elegant blue bow tied around its neck like a collar. It sat before him, tail swishing irritably as it looked up at him in mild annoyance. 

Of course, how could he forget? At VVU, students were assigned familiars; guides to help them through the process of their seventh level. Glancing around, he saw that some students were greeted with all kinds of animals. Sheep, deer, and an assortment of birds, from pigeons to hawks. Others got significantly more intimidating—cooler, familiars. A tiger walked past him; a short blonde student even got a bear. 

"They gave me a cat?" 

A sharp swipe at his ankle made Jungkook drop, hissing at the painful scratch just delivered to his exposed skin.

"Ungrateful bastard, I'll have you know I'm the prettiest familiar here." The feline hissed, cold blue eyes peering up at him with a judging look. 

"I won't have myself be judged by someone who dresses like they've only ever heard of the word fashion through a dictionary. Honestly, just because something is on sale doesn't mean you should buy it." The cat's voice was high-pitched, an accent to her tone that made her sound oddly formal. As if she crowned herself royalty. 

"I should leave you here." Her voice chided, tail flicking. Somehow, Jungkook managed to feel a little small in front of the feline's scrutiny. 

"But I won't, Mr. Jeon. Now follow me," Without another word, the cat turned around and began walking off. Leaving Jungkook slightly stunned because he had just been told off by a cat, scrambling to compose himself and follow. 

"And for the love of all, straighten your posture." 

Straightening his back and lifting his chin, he followed the authoritative cat. It was amusing seeing a tiger familiar lead another student down the same gravelly path from the train station. Comparing the cat and the tiger, one would think the cat had more power. She carried herself with a natural prowess, not even sparing others a glance. 

"And before you address me as just some cat again, I'll have you know my name is Balam, and I have overseen several royal witching generations." 

Ah, so he was correct about the cat treating herself like royalty. A practiced snobbish attitude that one would usually imagine when engaging with royalty was very present in the small feline. 

"I'll be your guide throughout this year. I'll help and aid you wherever I can; however, I will not do things for you." She continued, not even glancing at him. Simply assuming the newcomer and her new witch would follow. "You'll do well to remember that." She finished, walking up to the university entrance. 

Upon handing in his acceptance, the university's familiars could choose which student they'd like to guide for the respective year. It was one part choice, and the other was instinct. It made him wonder why Balam seemed to have chosen him; by simply glancing around, there were a lot more posh looking students wandering around. People who might've been a much brighter fit for Balam, compared to him, of course. They carried themselves with the same aristocratic arrogance Balam did. 

"Of course; if I gave you my full name, we'd still be standing at the train station. The one I gave you shall suffice," she stated bluntly. Completely ignoring the slight stupor Jungkook gave in response, proving his suspicion right that the familiars sole intention throughout this year was to scold him. 

Upon entering the actual campus, Jungkook quickly realized that University was a light term; it was more of a gothic European castle. Large winding towers point to the sky, a courtyard filled with chatting and bickering students. If it weren't for the fashion and students littered with electronics, Jungkook might've assumed they had entered another time period altogether. 

There was a courtyard in front of the building, enclosed by open stone hallways leading to other parts of the building. A gravelly path began from the front gate and snared itself around the fountains in the center of the field before splitting off and leading towards the stone steps towards the—castles—main entrance. A set of large, impregnable wooden doors that led into the university. Although the architecture was imposing and a lot to take in at its naturally dark demeanor. Jungkook didn't actually find himself halted because of the building but because of the abundance of magic in the air. 

Throughout the lovingly tended to courtyard, pruning shears seemed to magically float about. Skillfully trimming, tending, and aiding the bushes, flowers, and trees throughout the space. Two students had carelessly plucked one of the white roses from the lining rose bushes and began shrieking as a subsequent pruning shear began chasing him. Water cans also seemed to be flying about, tending to the flowers diligently. 

Jungkook had nearly forgotten what it was like to be present around active magic, visible incantations, flying objects, and other notable hexes. It was refreshing, and an odd part inside himself felt oddly rejoiced at the sight. 

The inside of the university did not disappoint either, although filled with winding hallways he'd surely get lost in later. The entire space—no matter what room—felt special. Rich and purposeful. 

Jungkook hadn't even been aware his mouth sat slightly ajar until Balam’s sharp hiss, "Close your mouth before you begin to catch flies." Perhaps if he wasn't so tired or in awe of his new situation, he would've sent a snarky or sarcastic remark right back at her. 

"I'll show you to your dorm now. Considering that you are in your seventh level, you'll be sharing your space with students on the same level as yourself. You'll have a total of six students—" 

"Seven people all in one room?" 

"If you'd let me finish." She huffed irritably. 

"Sorry." 

There was an awkward pause, and Jungkook was sure that if he looked down, he'd be burnt to a crisp from Balams scolding glare. Eventually, she cleared her throat before continuing, "In total, there are seven bedrooms; you won't be sharing a bedroom with anybody, but what you will be sharing is a living room, two bathrooms and a kitchen." 

Jungkook nodded, not necessarily surprised. It was a similar living situation during his time at the academy, only that the bedrooms were meant for two people instead of one. He had been bunked with Taehyung, something Jimin and him had been devastated over when they first arrived. Of course, Jimin had grown all too fond of the idea when he realized they were soulmates. But Jungkook had remained devastated for much longer. Taehyung and him had been in constant competition with one another over Jimin's attention. Something Jimin revealed later to have been utterly amusing. 

When confronted with the front door to his dorm, he stood in front of it silently. Shifting his weight anxiously from one foot to another. He grabbed his phone, opening the camera and quickly fixing his hair to the best of his abilities. 

“Will you stop that? You’re worse than a fish out of water.” 

“Ok, ok. I’ll open it.” 

Entering his new living quarters became both nerve-wracking and exciting, leaving a mixture of giddy anxiety to settle within him. Silently, Jungkook prayed to whatever god would hear him that his new roommates for the year would like him. Balam seemed to have little regard for his own nervousness, walking past the shoe rack that seemingly already had six pairs of shoes neatly resting against the wooden storage. A neat set of pale yellow house slippers were set out for him, and Jungkook carefully took his own shoes off before slipping into the more appropriate houseware. 

"Hyung, I think that's them!" An excited voice chimed out; the nature of its tone sounded strangely familiar to Jungkook. 

"Jimin, calm down. You'll scare them off before they're even properly inside." 

Jungkook recognized that voice. 

Park Jimin 

That was Jimin-ssi getting lectured by Seokjin-ssi. 

As if being able to sense something was off, Balam sent Jungkook an inquisitive albeit concerned look. Ah, Jungkook hadn't spent much time with familiars. His Halmoni had one when she was younger; she would talk vaguely about the owl with a deep nostalgic melancholy that didn't let Jungkook question why the familiar wasn't physically summoned anymore. Familiars couldn't necessarily die; when they became close to death, their physical bodies would depart, but their spirits would continue living in the spirit realm. They only needed time until they could be summoned again. The bond between a witch and their familiar was inseparable, and it was the familiar that chose the witch. They'd form a bond, and the familiar would eventually die alongside the witch. 

It was why familiars only ever bonded to one person, and even then, it was a rare occasion. Despite that, Balam seemed rather in tune with Jungkook's current emotions, and her tail changed its pace from a gentle swaying to a rather cautious flicking. 

Spinning out from the corner, Jungkook's thoughts came to a screeching halt. His throat locked itself in place, and his body froze. Before him stood his oldest friend, the love of his life, and the creator of so many firsts. 

Jimin looked older—it had been several years, after all—now having dyed his hair a warm bleach blonde, some of his roots still hinting at the natural color of his hair. His face, as strikingly stunning as it had always been, looked back at him with pure shock. Eyes wide, flicking over his entire body rather rapidly before zeroing in on his own face. As if confirming Jungkook's very presence to himself as well.

Jimin wore a dark beige cardigan, the knitted and oversized garment looking cozy and warm. Underneath was a loose white shirt that complimented a silver necklace around his neck, leading Jungkook's eyes to Jimin's piercing. Ah, that was new. He thought, being able to recall Jimin's lingering gazes on the earring jewelry in stores. Always claiming that one day, he'd get one. 

Both of them stood frozen, eyes taking in the form of the other. Perhaps if he wasn't dealing with years worth of emotional heartbreak suddenly getting figuratively thrown at him, Jungkook would cuss himself out for only wearing a simple black hoodie and some gray sweatpants. The trip from Halmoni's bookstore to Viel was lengthy, a nearly ten-hour trip. So he had chosen comfortable instead of fashionable; he hadn't expected to meet one of them again, regardless.

But he couldn't bring himself to waste much attention on the fact, now that he was being assaulted by a past he had just come to leave behind.  

Footsteps seemed to be approaching from a distance, soft and slow, as the person seemed unaware of the silent moment transpiring between himself and Jimin. Every emotion he had refused to acknowledge for years was bubbling inside him, fighting for dominance, leaving him stunned and unable to pick one to actually go with. 

"Jimin, what did I tell you about bombarding our new roommate—"

Kim Seokjin. 

Kim fucking Seokjin stood before him now, too. 

Seokjin stood just as still as Jimin as if he was being confronted with a wild animal. Seokjin had dyed his hair as well, a brown color with a reddish warm tint to it. It was nicely styled with the part off to the side, complimenting the turquoise satin sweater he wrote that loosely shaped his upper body before being tucked into some white pants. It was simple but painfully familiar. 

The eyes of his older hyung—friend? Ex—flickered over him, but unlike Jimin, Seokjin seemed to find his voice much quicker. 

"Jungkook?" 

Again, that voice he hadn't heard in forever addressed him like a deer caught in headlights. As if he was about to make a break for it, and the thought seemed all the more tempting now than ever before. This wasn't what he came here for; the plan was to come to Veil to move on from his past, find new people, and build new relationships. They weren't supposed to be here. 

Jungkook was pulled out of his stupor by the nudging of Balam against his leg; the familiar must be tuning in with his emotions. Even if it was just surface level, Jungkook's entire being felt heavy. A glance down seemed to answer a question of hers she hadn't even asked, prompting the familiar to step in front of Jungkook and redirect the attention of the room. 

"How rude, a new guest enters, and you neither offer to take his coat nor provide some refreshments." She scolded, and oddly enough, that familiars chiding tone seemed to provide him an odd sense of comfort at the moment. He watched as both Jimin and Seokjin straightened at the scolding, unable to form words as they stammer and stumble over themselves like baby giraffes. 

It would've been an amusing sight if Jungkook didn't have a hundred-and-one things to think about at the moment. 

"Now, my witch is tired after his travels and needs to be shown to the remaining available room to be given time to recuperate and freshen up before dinner." 

Being redirected by the strict familiar once again, Jimin rushed to grab Jungkook's suitcase, and Seokjin carefully ushered him inside. He decided to ignore the lingering gazes, the hovering touches; he couldn't think about any of it. Especially not when the entrance hall led to the open-spaced living room, where the rest of his past resided. 

Yoongi had large, clunky headphones on and was nodding his head off to some music. Sitting on the floor by the coffee table, sheet music sprawled about in utter disarray, with a laptop resting on top of some of the papers, his headphones connected to the device. He had kept his hair black, slightly longer, as his bangs threatened to slightly cover his eyes. Yoongi's back leaned against Hoseok's legs, who was sitting on the couch mindlessly scrolling on his phone. He also kept his hair a natural black; however, Hoseok's hair had more of a natural wave to it. Compared to Yoongi, whose clothes resembled a dark academic style, Hoseoks seemed more light and summery. Much like his personality, Jungkook noted. 

His eyes lingered on the sight for a moment, soaking up the sheer domesticity surrounding the two. It was a sight he had taken for granted all those years ago, something that would've warmed his heart now cultivated an uncomfortable bitterness inside his chest. 

Namjoon sat not too far off, a steaming mug of what he assumed to be coffee in his hand with a book in the other. Unlike the rest, Namjoon was the only one who had dyed his hair an unnatural shade of gray. With the sunlight hitting it, making those natural highlights practically glow—his hair nearly looked silver. A warm, black sweater covered him. He sat comfortably on a cushioned windowsill, reading silently as he took occasional sips from the mug. 

It felt strangely surreal like nothing had happened to them, making Jungkook acutely angry. Another nudge against his leg had his momentary rage return to a simmer, a strangled sigh escaping him, sounding shakier than he'd have liked. 

"Jimin, have you seen my hairbrush—" Taehyung had come out from a hall down the left side of the living space. No doubt where the actual bedrooms were. 

Wide fox-like eyes met his own, widening and ironically also taking on the expression of a deer caught in headlights. Just like the rest, Taehyung's hair had been dyed as well. A medium shade of brown, complimenting his soft features despite the messy nature of his hair. He wore a mustard colored wool sweatshirt, with a white dress shirt seemingly underneath. Its white collar and sleeves folded over the sweater, and his pants were a light beige. Glancing at Jimin, Jungkook noted that both Jimin and Taehyung wore a rather light academic style of clothing. 

"Jungkook?" 

Taehyung gasped a name that seemingly grabbed the attention of all the others inside the room. He could feel their eyes on his body, practically bolting him to the ground with how much he hated this situation. None of this was supposed to happen; he wasn't ever supposed to see them again. The sound of a mug drooping pulled his attention towards the windowsill, Namjoon stood practically frozen as he had dropped his mug and stumbled onto his feet. 

Seokjin had muttered something under his breath at Namjoon, something along the lines of 'you clutz’ as he walked over, grabbing a towel from the kitchen and hurriedly beginning to dry the floor. That sheepish look on Namjoon was strikingly familiar, from the blush that dusted his cheeks to the way he rubbed his neck to relieve a phantom pain. It was too familiar; it hurt. 

"Goodness, sake! Has everyone here lost their manners?" Balam exclaimed, promptly pulling whoever was still in a daze back to reality. Hoseok stood up, grabbing Yoongi's forearm and helping him stand as well. 

"My room," Jungkook finally muttered out. Cringing internally as those were the first words he had managed to say in all of, well, this. "I'd like to settle in," he added. 

Jimin perked, clearing his throat. "Oh. Yeah, right. Follow me!" He cheered softly, ushering Jungkook down the hall and into the last room. Opening the door for him, Jimin set his luggage down by the closet. The room was nice and simple. Veil was a very rich institute, and it showed. Especially in housing, as the room was set out with a queen bed in the left corner. A bookshelf, a desk, and a closet built into the wall covered by a mirror. 

"Ah, Jungkook I—"

"Jungkook needs some time to freshen up from his travels." Balam's strict voice chimed in, effectively shutting Jimin up as the blonde halted, mouth ajar before promptly shutting it with a lowered head before closing the door. 

For the first time throughout that entire encounter, Jungkook felt himself regaining the ability to breathe. Balam hopped from the ground onto the chair and eventually to the desk, sitting down and looking at Jungkook with a prodding look. However, Jungkook couldn't bring himself to care. He walked over to his bed and sat down, a long, shaky sigh escaping him. 

The edge of the bed dipped under his weight, his head in his hands as he breathed sharply, trying to process everything that had just happened to him. 

None of this should be happening. 

He wasn't ever supposed to see them again; he was supposed to move on. What was he to do now? He couldn't possibly live with them for an entire year! Frustration seemed to catch flame inside him, flickering and growing as he sadistically delved further into his own misery because he had been improving—slowly. He had been returning to a normal rhythm and had carried himself out of the thick of his regret and anger. Only for them to be back and look at him again—stand before him. Flooding his mind and heart with all the feelings, the memories he had tried so desperately to suppress. 

It wasn't fair, it didn't feel fair—

"Mind telling me where that mind of yours is wandering off to?" Balam mused, her tone uncharacteristically sweet. Ah, he had nearly forgotten that he wasn't alone in his little spiel. Balam reminded him of a strict guardian, someone who didn't hesitate to smack their young across the back of the head after doing something idiotic, but also the type that would hug and console their pupil if they were upset with open arms.

"I—" What exactly was the best way to approach this conversation? He didn't need to tell Balam anything; she wasn’t entitled to his past. But Balam was his familiar and would continue to be throughout the duration of his year. Familiars could tune into their witches' emotions, and although his and Balam's bond was very brittle and new, the cat could still feel a small amount of what he felt. Glancing at the change of demeanor from the feline, it was enough. 

"We knew each other." He said, inhaling sharply as he tried to steady his own heartbeat. Mind searching for words, simple but capable of conveying the depth of the broken bond between the other six men in the shared complex. Silence filled the room, the only sound consisting of Jungkook's quivering breaths. Glancing at Balam, those icy blue eyes stared back at him quizzically, silently telling him to continue. 

"Soulmates—we, we were soulmates." 

"Were?"

Soulmates. A word that has haunted Jungkook throughout his entire life. From childhood, he didn't make much of the term nor the red string around his pinky; it had been Jimin who sparked his own anticipation for the others they were connected to. It was Jimin's senseless rambling about true love, princes and trolls, love at first sight, and happy endings. Jungkook had always just been content with Jimin by his side; having that red string connecting them was all he really needed or wanted. But it wasn't just Jimin's fault; the media romanticized the living hell out of soulmates. Through songs, literature, art, dance, cinematography, photography, the list was endless. And everyone had fallen for it. 

Including Jungkook. 

Pinpointing any specific emotion inside Jungkook at the moment would be like trying to shoot for a bullseye with a blindfold on. Like a circus of wild raging monkeys, his feelings switched between hate, hurt, conflict, anxiety, and so much more he couldn't put a name on. 

He slowly pulled his face out of his hands, the weight of the world suddenly feeling like too much on his shoulders. Pressing onto his chest, misting his eyes, and with choked words, he muttered a simple response.

"Yeah, were."

Balam didn't ask for more, eyes narrowing incrementally as she took in the implication and meaning of those words. It was clear that without asking for much more, that Jungkook hadn't expected nor necessarily wanted to see those other witches. Fortunately, Balam wasn't their familiar and, therefore, had no obligation to the other witches or their feelings. Her main focus would remain on her witch. 

"I see," She muttered, prompting Jungkook's eyebrows to knit together in slight confusion. 

He wasn't sure what the familiars next steps would be, how Balam would try and approach this situation. He already hated this enough as it was that he had to be vulnerable so quickly in front of his otherwise strict familiar. That all too familiar embarrassment washed over him, prompting him to wipe away any rebellious tears from his eyes and straighten up. He didn't meet her gaze, a slight fear that those eyes might have turned patronizing throughout his little display of weakness. 

"Well, wallowing won't do us any good." She stated, tone softer but returning to its regular sternness. Jungkook nodded meekly, lifting his head to try and glance at the cat's general direction. She seemed to have waited, staying silent until Jungkook finally decided to meet her waiting gaze.

"In moments like these, it is easier to take one step at a time. Looking at the bigger picture will get us lost in its details; it is an invitation to become overwhelmed." She explained, hopping off the table with a nonchalance usually associated with cats. "So, let us take our steps slowly." 

Again, Jungkook found himself nodding. Watching as his familiar stopped beside his suitcase, sitting down beside it before glancing at him again. "You have traveled far today; I suggest you go take a shower. I will go and arrange for your dinner to be brought to your room in the meantime; I think it is best you fully collect yourself before facing any of your roommates again."

"So, three steps in total. Freshen up, eat, and rest. Tomorrow will be another day; we shall figure out how to proceed then." She hummed. 

Jungkook nodded a final time, finding those short instructions manageable. He got up slowly, going to his suitcase and opening it carelessly. It would have prompted a scolding from Balam, but she remains oddly quiet at the moment. He grabbed some clothes, simple but comfortable, grabbing his toiletries afterward. Taking a deep breath and bracing himself, he felt Balam brush against his leg silently before opening the door. The hall and living room were deathly quiet; one could hear a pin drop, and it gave him the impression that he wasn't the only one holding his breath at the moment. Balam was familiar with the dorm layout, so she guided him to one of the two bathrooms. 

The first thought of sharing two bathrooms between seven men unnerved Jungkook about the potential mess he’d find inside, despite this being only the first week of everyone moving in and settling. He had met his fair share of messy people, but upon opening the door, Jungkook found a very tidy space. Three baskets were laid out on a shelf, and two seemed filled while one remained empty. 

"We decided to split the bathrooms between us hyungs and the maknaes." Yoongi's calm tone explained, and Jungkook's shoulder instinctively tensed. The voice was painful; it caused an ache inside himself that Jungkook had thought was healed, or at most scabbed over—but hearing Yoongi's voice made it feel raw. Turning around, he took in Yoongi's figure, leaning against the bathroom door frame, arms crossed over his chest. His expression seemed twisted, eyes holding a look he couldn't quite place. 

"Okay," was all Jungkook was really able to say at the moment. A part of him wished he could fake some more nonchalance like he didn't care, but he did, and he couldn't force his voice to sound dull in front of one of the men he had loved. Yoongi shifted, clearly uncertain how to continue the conversation, and Jungkook silently prayed he'd just walk away.

 "Will you be coming to dinner?" Yoongi asked.

"No."

Before Yoongi opened his mouth, Balam let out a small hiss, "The boy wants to freshen up now." She stated, ushering Yoongi away from the bathroom and letting Jungkook lock it. He exhaled a breath he hadn't noticed he had been holding, trying to forget those familiar eyes peering through him. His mind threatened to run off again, and the previous instructions from Balam pulled him back in. Three steps: Shower, eat, sleep. He could do that. 

Was finally able to take home my service dog today!! I cannot wait to freak people out whenever he sits down beside them—

Hey guys! I know Kimset hasn’t been updated in a while, but please be patient with me; I’m currently going through the previous chapters and fine-tuning/editing some things before I post the next chapter.

I’m always open to hearing suggestions from you guys, and since it was such a popular suggestion from the previous chapter, I’ve included a few extra scenes focusing solely on the hyungs POVS. So, there is a bit more to the next chapter than I originally planned!

I still love hearing from you guys, and all of your support and comments really make a difference for me! Please be patient with me as I try to make Kimset the best I can for you all~ <3

under no circumstances will i be persuaded to part with the use of italics for emphasis