I Just Got The Email That The 4th Chapter Is Up And I Just Want To Let U Know Im So Excited To Read It

i just got the email that the 4th chapter is up and i just want to let u know i’m so excited to read it !! it’s a tragedy i work all day today but know this is gonna be the first thing i read once i get home :) !

Awe, thank you!! I hope you like it then! <33

Kimset (III)

Pairing: ot6 x Jungkook | Jungkook x Everyone

Genre: Witch AU, Soulmate AU, Ex's to Lovers, Angst With a Happy Ending

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: 13k

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

Books in several shapes and sizes stacked each other along Jungkook's desk, from large, bulky, red-spined encyclopedias to thin, flimsy, and old scholarly inquiries. Works from previous predecessors were strewn about, not even properly bound yet, and instead stapled together or set in a binder. Papers nearly covered every remaining inch of his desk, sporting different notes, and annotations, others depicting quick diagrams and botanical illustrations. Jungkook adored it, although, during his apprenticeship, he had access to all kinds of information and documents, Viles reputation of sourcing more, restricted or rather limited information didn't disappoint. The past week had been spent diligently, Jungkook browsing the first day entirely in the university's library, perusing through old archives and records. Anything he deemed useful was then brought back to his growing hoard, some of the stacks on his desk piling up to seven books high. The remaining six days had been spent like this, Jungkook noting down anything he deemed interesting.  

Between the constant sound of his pen scribbling into his notebook was Yugyeom's soft voice. The witch spent a similar amount of time in the laboratory to Jungkook but in a much healthier proportion. Usually, around the evenings, when golden hour would begin to cast the otherwise dim laboratory in an orange warmth, Yugyeom would clock out and have dinner with his coven. Jungkook would usually stay past the point of evening and far into the night instead, not relenting in his pursuits until Balam began to swipe at his scribbling hand. 

But unlike Jungkook, who preferred to note and annotate quietly in his own journals. Yugyeom chose to document verbally, eyes gazing across countless maps as he spoke. Some were clearly weathered, old to touch and even smell, similarly to some of the old archives Jungkook managed to scrape together; Yugyeom's maps shared the same musky, old page scent that came with age and the old varnish the books were bound with. Beside Yugyeom, flouting only a meter or two away, wrote a pen whatever was spoken onto a folded notebook. It was nice , the sound of Yugyeom's voice. It became a constant reminder that Yugyeom was there , a fact that had yet to fully set in. Every morning, when Jungkook turns to open the doors to their shared laboratory, he fully expects to see a vacant desk parallel to his own. No trace of Yugyeom. 

Perhaps, in all the loneliness accompanying him throughout the last years, someone like Yugyeom felt so foreign . What Yugyeom brought in only his presence was remarkable to Jungkook; it brought so much hope. Warmth. 

Jungkook viewed Yugyeom like a fire, passionate and warm, and in all his self-deprecating glory, he couldn't help but wonder when this inferno surrounding him would dwindle out. Inviting the everpresent, all too familiar bitterness to seep back into his limbs. When that welcoming frostbite would wrap around his fingers, sabotaging his pursuit to write another word among his collection of thousands, it would encompass his beating heart and lead the words to escape past his lips to fall frigid and cold. His limbs turning numb, immune to the prick of needles and tourniquets. He had become used to that kind of limbo. 

Present but not really there. 

"Are those the thornvine roots?" 

Jungkook glanced up from his papers at Yugyeom's question, knitting his eyebrows together briefly in confusion before glancing down at Balam, the familiar carrying a small pouch in her mouth. Setting his pen down, he turned his full attention to the arriving cat. Watching her sway with that signature elegance as the feline swiftly hopped from the floor to the marble countertop. 

Balam dropped the pouch with slight disinterest, beginning to lick her left paw before brushing it over her already neatly groomed snout. "It is. Although I believe you're forgetting something?" She hummed, tone stern and laced with slight prodding. 

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook moved over to open and inspect the roots. Smiling gently, he glanced at his helpful familiar. "Thank you, Balam." The cat's intense gaze seemed to waver after being thanked, her tails previous flicking turning languid and lazy. 

"I thought the greenhouse didn't have any in stock?" Yugyeom chimed in, the witch pausing with his menstruation amongst a sea of long, cream-colored maps spread across the countertop as Yugyeom marked the previous migration patterns of Caladrius'. The most recently sighted documentations were old, the records dating back to the 1840s; Yugyeom briefly mentioned trying to accumulate different documentation within the last few decades and trying to illustrate a pattern he could go off of from there.

"They didn't have any fully grown plants left, but a herbology student still had some roots left from a previous project, and I can germinate a remaining plant from there," Jungkook explained, reaching over and scratching behind Balam's ear as another silent thank you. The cat didn't openly admit to enjoying it, but the occasional traitorous purr gave her away. 

"Why not just get some seeds?" Yugyeom added, glancing up from his maps. A red marker tucked behind his ear. 

Shrugging, Jungkook moved past the purring Balam back to his notes. "It's faster. Sprouting from a seed will take longer. Thornvine can only sprout in August; using an already sprouted plant evades the time requirement." 

It was easy for Jungkook to explain things. For the past week, Yugyeom had stuck to his side. They talked about anything and everything, whether that consisted of idle chatter or the occasional gossip, the eccentric deep dive into his illness; Jungkook would never get tired of it. It was easy to be with Yugyeom. It always had been. Whenever Jungkook found his tongue grow oddly heavy and the little gusto in him quiver, Yugyeom would effortlessly carry the conversation instead. He wasn't necessarily accustomed to so much company; besides his Halmoni or Kwang-son, he didn't go out much. 

"Shit, where did my pen go?" Yugyeom mumbled, doing a little spin as he hurriedly tapped his pockets before coming up short. The witch was notoriously messy, the space along his countertop not leaving a single inch uncovered. Jungkook had to stifle his surfacing laughter, watching the red pen sit snugly behind Yugyeom's ear as the witch searched. 

"Duri, help me!" Yugyeom whined, referring to the witches' own familiar. A little hamster with a mix of brown fur and a white underbelly. Duri, the little round ball of joy, was, simply put— adorable. His little round ears were nearly covered entirely by small tufts of fur, and large brown eyes accentuated the hamster's usually stuffed round cheeks. Long whiskers protruding from each baggy cheek, a little white tail twitching whenever he got too excited. Jungkook had nearly melted at the palm-sized familiar the first time he met Duri, a sharp contrast to his own guide. Duri, unlike Balam—who carried herself with poise and a nurturing sophistication—was always either eating or sleeping . 

Jungkook had made the mistake of bringing a packet of almonds to the laboratory earlier this week, a simple snack to munch on while he worked with Yugyeom. Only to find a small hamster beside a now empty packet, belly slightly protruding and cheeks extended as the familiar had eaten himself into a short food-induced coma. 

Even now, the hamster lay sleepily in one of Yugyeom's cardigans on the windowsill. A small, signature trail of crumbs following the hamster's location. In response to Yugyeom's plea, Duri released a grumbled squeak. Dismissing the witch in favor of a few more minutes of sleep. 

Yugyeom flailed his hands up, utterly exasperated at his familiars response. "You finally get a familiar, and the little bastards trying to outdo Belphegor!" 

Jungkook could only shake his head with laughter, tapping the side of his head by his ear to help Yugyeom out. The witch glanced over, confused as he tilted his head. "What? Got an itch or somethin—" Yugyeom began before brushing his own fingers over the spot, eyes widening to a comical level as he felt the cold metal of his pen. 

"Oh, OH!" Yugyeom barked, grabbing his pen before setting it down on the table with a groan. He covered his face with his hands, hiding his features for a moment before dragging them down his face with a sigh. "Fuck I need some caffeine, I'm an occupational hazard at this point." 

"Well, we could always—"

Jungkook was interrupted by three soft yet clear knocks, the laboratory door opening to reveal Jinyoung, one of Yugyeom's six soulmates Jungkook had briefly met throughout the last week. They were kind from what he had gathered himself; according to Yugyeom, however, they were perfect. 

Yugyeom, just like Jungkook, had never made much of their soul-strings. They never searched, ached, or yearned for their soulmates the way others did. Unlike Jungkook, however, Yugyeom didn't fight the connection like he had. He heard all about it at the cafe they had visited the week prior, from how they met—to how they got here now. Jungkook tried not to brew in the fact that he had missed all of it. Leaving was his decision, after all. 

Jinyoung was older than Yugyeom but hadn't participated in completing the seventh trial; according to Yugyeom, the other witch wasn't very interested. Although there wasn't an age requirement to enter your seventh level, most people either entered the trial right after completing their internship or not at all. Yugyeom was the third of the Im coven to attempt their seventh trial; the rest had already successfully graduated or didn't enlist at all. A personal choice Jungkook would never judge someone for if he didn't intend on curing his illness and pursuing his career in teaching, perhaps he wouldn't be here either. 

At least he got to meet Yugyeom again.

This was Jungkook's second time meeting Jinyoung, as he had gone to dinner with Yugyeom and the remaining Im coven last Wednesday to properly meet everyone. The older witch was broad in stature, hair a natural black but styled neatly with a part leaning towards the left. A large, cream-colored cloak sat on top of a white turtleneck, and simple beige chequered pants fitted with a black belt tied the witch's wardrobe together. Jinyoung gave off a calming aura, peaceful. 

"Hyung?" Yugyeom hummed in a questioning tone, glancing at the wall and reading the time from the small circular clock. Jungkook still couldn't decide if its small ticking drove him absolutely bonkers or somewhat soothed the silence away. "What are you doing here?" Yuygeom followed up, eyebrows knitted in concentration as he tried recalling whether or not he was forgetting something. 

Jinyoung smiled, soft and slightly crooked, as his gaze locked on Yugyeom. It was the kind of smile—under Jungkook's careful observation—that was far from perfect. A type of smile that wasn't swallowable. When that giddy, hyperactive joy danced around your chest, squeezing and swelling your heart, you feared it might just burst out of your body. Jinyoung seemed to have suppressed himself enough not to engulf Yugyeom in a tight hug but seemed unable to keep his lips from curling upwards. Unable to resist some part of his body showing the sheer content he felt. 

Jungkook felt out of place, taking in such a sight. 

It was too intimate. 

Too familiar.  

"Jaebeom says you're spending too much time in the laboratory. He's afraid you might start growing some feathers at this rate," Jinyoung chuckled, eyes crinkling in amusement at the exaggerated sound of outrage from the witch. But Yugyeom seemed to be a bad liar, a smile similar to Jinyoungs betraying his display of offense. 

"Kookie, you see how I'm being treated here, right?" Yugyeom huffed, crossing his arms as he pouted. He looked pointedly at Jungkook, who was entirely taken aback at the old nickname being used— Kookie. 

When was the last time Yugyeom called him Kookie?

Jinyoung seemed to take notice of Jungkook's presence at that moment, something he didn't take much offense to. No, Jinyoung had seemed enraptured by Yugyeom the moment he had walked through their laboratory doors. It made him happy. To see someone, if not all, the Im coven so deeply infatuated with one another. Love spread through their auras, and it silently assured Jungkook that Yugyeom would be well taken care of if he became unable to watch over his friend himself. Jinyoung smiled at Jungkook, more polite and restrained as the two greeted each other. 

"I see it." Jungkook mused, his lips querking into a crooked smirk as Yugyeom scoffed jokingly. "Now go, he's right, y'know. You do spend too much time in here." He added, unable to prevent his eyes from rolling as Yugyeom proceeded to cover his heart and feign a deep-rooted betrayal. 

"Mhm, Jungkook is right, baby; let's go out for some lunch. Jackson hyung and Bambam are already waiting for us in Serenade, so pack up and get that cute little butt of yours going." Jinyoung coaxed, chuckling at the outraged expression and how quickly it melted away as he mentioned which exact restaurant they'd be going to. 

"Fine, fine, I'm going," Yugyeom muttered, packing some of his essentials back into his bag. He grabbed Duri, the little hamster still snoozing but letting out a loud squeak at being picked up. When Yugyeom seemed put together, the witch spun around to glance at Jungkook. "Are you heading out for some lunch now, too, Kookie?"  

Kookie? 

Clearing his throat, Jungkook nodded with a strained smile. "Yeah, I'll just wrap up this last paragraph, and I'll head out too." He swallowed, gulping down brewing feelings as he tried assuring his worried friend. Yugyeom's gaze remained skeptical, partially because Yugyeom could detect when he lied. "Besides, I don't think Balam would let me skip any more meals than I already have," Jungkook added, a little chuckle towards the end of his words as he rubbed his neck self-soothingly at the familiar's accusatory stare. 

Yugyeom's gaze seemed to ease, the witch trusting the strict cat to keep him in line. With a sigh, shoulders drooping as they lost their tension, Yugyeom flashed Jungkook a tender smile. "Alright then, I'll see you tomorrow? I don't think the others are gonna let me off the hook today." Yugyeom mused, his words being backed up by Jinyoung's determined nod. "It's bad enough to have three workaholics in our coven, and our little one is proving to rival even our Jaebeomie's work attitude." 

Yugyeom huffed, pouting as he shook his head. Unable to wipe the mirthful smile off his crooked lips. Good , Jungkook thought, smile like that forever, okay? Jungkook came to the same conclusion during his dinner with the Ims, but he felt like Yugyeom was in good hands. Yugyeom would be okay, no matter what happened. The thought comforted him greatly despite the building tightness in his throat and the weight on his chest, forcing his own smile to grow tighter. Responses reduced to a tight-lipped grimace and occasional nod, fond eyes forced to speak on his behalf. 

"Little one?" Yugyeom repeated, nose scrunching up in feigned disgust. "I'm taller than most of you." He added, making Jinyoung scoff and shake his head playfully. "That was not the part you were supposed to focus on, babe." 

Yugyeom was about to retort when his phone dinged with a notification; Jungkook only assumed it was a message from the aforementioned waiting Jackson and BamBam. Sighing, Yugyeom turned his attention back to Jungkook. Walking over, he pulled the silent witch into a quick embrace. Yugyeom had grown more touchy throughout their time apart, not like Jungkook necessarily minded; he welcomed the warmth it gave him. Rubbing his back in soothing circles, Yugyeom reluctantly pulled away. "You have another appointment tomorrow?" He asked, voice soft and fairly quiet. 

Although, it wasn't necessarily a secret from the Im coven. Yugyeom had asked him earlier, after their meeting, whether he was able to tell his coven about Jungkook's condition. Jungkook agreed under the condition that his illness was brushed over and that his more— unpleasant symptoms were kept between them. It was bizarre how Jungkook finally had them now. But the interaction between Yugyeom and Jinyoung left a kind of led-like feeling on his tongue, a tension in his throat that made him uneasy, and in Yugyeom's embrace, all he could do was nod. 

But Yugyeom smiled nonetheless, those caring, nurturing eyes falling on him with a level of care Jungkook was barely used to. Jungkook was thankful that, no matter what, Yugyeom's gaze never turned into something akin to pity. It didn't matter if Jungkook had to go to the hospital once a week; Yugyeom would never feel sorry for him in that way. 

"Okay, same time as last time?" Yugyeom asked, the sound of their clothes rustling filling the room as the witches slowly pulled apart from each other. Nodding, Jungkook silently arranged his internal schedule to fit around the appointment. "Okay, I'll pick you up again. Let's have lunch at the cafe, too; I really liked that strawberry shortcake." Nodding again, Jungkook's strained smile eased slightly. He was about to let Yugyeom leave until he perked up, recalling his actual plans for tomorrow. "Actually, I was going to go see my Halmoni tomorrow afterward. You don't need to pick me up this time; I can't fast-travel, so it'll be a pretty long train ride." He explained, internally frowning as he had to reject the gentle doting Yugyeom was giving him. 

The witch, however, only perked up in interest. "Can I meet her?" He asked curiously. 

"You want to go on a ten-hour train ride just to meet my Halmoni?" Jungkook honestly hadn't expected that; Chae-won's back had been bothering her lately, so Jungkook wanted to stop by and help out. Check up on her and the bookstore, along with giving Jung-so another hour or two of tutoring upon his mom's request. There was also a small level of homesickness he felt. Although he now had Yugyeom and Balam and superficial relations with the Im coven, he missed her. She was all he had for such a long time. 

"Of course, Kookie. I want to meet the woman who took you in and took care of you for the past six years!" Yugyeom laughed, ruffling Jungkook's hair in a playfully scolding manner. 

Kookie? 

"I'll pick you up tomorrow after your appointment. I'll stop by the cafe first and grab us something to go, and then we'll head to the train station together, okay?" Smiling, Jungkook's eyes felt wetter than before. 

"Okay." 

Yugyeom's eyes turned into little crescents, his smile brighter than before. Jungkook wasn't exactly sure what he had done to deserve Yugyeom, but he was thankful for it. For him, despite the efforts of his Halmoni, Jungkook hadn't been aware how much he needed the other witch back in his life. Clearing his throat, Jungkook bashfully averted his gaze, silently embarrassed for growing emotional again. He had been doing that a lot lately. 

Nudging Yugyeom off towards Jinyoung carefully, "Now go eat something," he mused. Promptly ignoring the other's pout. Jinyoung walked over, snaking his arm around Yugyeom's waist. "He's right, let's go now, little one. Before the others eat without us." 

Little one? That used to be Seokjin's and Namjoon's go-to nickname for him back in the academy. No wonder his stomach dropped when Jinyoung had called Yugyeom that; he just hadn't picked up on it then. Jungkook hated the nickname when he first heard it; back then, he was still working on his 'bad boy' image. Being called little one by his Hyungs definitely didn't help him keep appearances. But somehow, Jungkook wasn't exactly sure how he'd find himself wrapped up in either Seokjins or Namjoon's arms, perhaps on the nights when he suffered from unsettling nightmares and would sneak into their shared dorm room. Seokjin would get him a banana milk or hot chocolate, while Namjoon would try to distract him with something—that usually consisted of talking about something he had recently learned or simply reading him a story. The three of them would then get on one of the two twin beds, a large, fluffy blanket draped over their shoulders as they sat together, Jungkook in the middle. Where eventually, his head would start lolling towards one of their shoulders, and his sleepy body would get tucked into the bed. In those small, intimate moments, Jungkook found himself never wanting to be anyone other than his two Hyungs little one. 

Jinyoung had said the nickname with the same level of tenderness that it inadvertently sent Jungkook back to a time when he would grow sleepy in a room that faintly smelt of hot chocolate, and the blankets were never anything but fluffy. A place where he had felt loved.

"Alright, see you tomorrow, Kookie." Yugyeom smiled, waving at Jungkook and giving Balam another stern look that screamed, make the boy eat something before leaving. Jinyoung had opened the door for them, cheekily swatting at Yugyeom's ass before the door closed behind them. Jungkook could hear his friend's muffled squeal and the distant laughter that eventually disappeared down the hall, too. 

Yugyeom was happy. 

His coven was good to him, and that's all Jungkook needed.  

"You know, you have the innate ability to express how you feel without even uttering a single word." Balam hummed, voice smooth and collected as always. But it carried a gentler note than usual, delicate. 

"Yeah?" Jungkook inquired, tone trying to sound amused. "What do I look like?" He added, glancing down to look into the familiar's clear feline eyes. Standing before Balam's questioning gaze left one feeling dissected; at least, at that moment, Jungkook felt oddly bare. 

"Sad." 

Balam crooned, gaze not wavering. Balams never did. It must be something within a cat's nature, or maybe it simply was just Balam. Even as Jungkook let out a fake, sputtered chuckle as he covered his mouth to muffle the sharp inhale that filled his lungs at those words. The way he had to blink a few more times than what was considered natural and gulped down a lump of emotion that threatened the muscles in his lips to wobble. 

"I—" another half-hearted chuckle accompanied by a shake of his head, "Feel nothing but happiness for Yugyeom and his coven." There was a level of curtness in Jungkook's voice that challenged Balam to insinuate anything else, but the cat simply shook her head with a sigh. 

A simple glance from the familiar seemed to speak for her, a discerning, almost analytical kind of look that analyzed Jungkook's very nature. He wasn't sure what exactly Balam saw, but her gaze softened. Walking over, she repositioned herself at the corner of his desk closest to the windowsill where he sat. He was partially relieved she didn't garner his response with a reply; it seemed her own response would be kept unspoken, lingering in the air between them. 

"You know, I've grown rather curious." Her voice coaxed, her tail continuing to sway methodically behind her. It was amusing to Jungkook, perhaps if it also wasn't so unnerving, to see his familiar so curious. Balam reminded him somewhat of his Halmoni; both were strict and rather thorough but methodically devoted to what mattered to them. "Why is it that we hate them so much?" She tacked on, her gaze unwavering. 

"We?" 

Jungkook scoffed, a little disbelieving as he uncrossed his arms and pulled his gaze from the window to fully look at Balam. 

"Yes, we. I have watched you cry, cuss, and avoid your own room like it harbours some plague. They have hurt you, and currently, you are my witch—therefore, I hate them too." She explained, feigning nonchalance by beginning to groom her already pampered fur. Jungkook, on the other end, stood silent for a moment. Feeling a mixture of both adornment and flattery. When the cat's expectant look greeted him again, he cleared his throat. The momentary happiness washed away, eyes glued back to the window. He watched how students passed, occasionally alone, but rarely; most went in pairs or groups. 

The sky was clean, with occasional clouds decorating the atmosphere and rays of sunlight shining through in translucent beams. How serene. Along the sky, Jungkook watched as an echelon formed across the horizon, a pair of seven birds traversing the air in a V formation. The ducks—Jungkook assumed; he didn't know a damn thing about birds—communicate seamlessly amongst themselves. Swerving to the right, his gaze followed as the duck ending the left formation line tapered off, growing distant as it failed to keep up with the remaining flock. 

"I don't hate them." Jungkook eventually murmured, voice quiet and gentle as he broke the silence that had filled the empty laboratory. 

"You don't?" Balam contemplated, tone a little goading as she tested his resolve regarding that statement. 

He couldn't. 

Shaking his head, Jungkook resigned himself to the bitter taste his admittance left on his tongue. He should hate them—he deserved to. "I can't—Even though, in some ways, I do. I do hate them, but I also don't." He tried explaining, but his feelings were becoming more complicated by the day. He couldn't pinpoint one emotion he felt when seeing them; there were just so many. He simply felt—complicated.  

"I hate what happened, how it ended. I hate how I'm back in a place I never wanted to be in again—a place I thought I had left behind." He explained, gaze still following the struggling duck in the sky. 

The stillness in the room was interrupted by the sound of light, feathery laughter that came muffled through the door. People were passing by rather loudly, and their joy unconsciously made Jungkook's lips curl slightly. 

"Y'know, Taehyhung and I used to act all rebellious during our academy years." He mused, snickering at the disapproving scoff Balam released. Glancing at the cat, he couldn't help but chuckle at her expression. If she could, she would have raised one of her brows in question towards him while she shook her head jestingly. 

"We were—" He paused, smile growing and eyes glazed as he tried picking the right word to describe them, " Firecrackers. " He settled, shaking his head and snickering at a particular memory. "We tried one-upping each other constantly. Putting green hair dye in the lacrosse team shampoo bottles, spray painting the courtyard, hexing dinner so all the prefects could only talk in gibberish for twenty-four hours, convincing our linguistics professor that he was haunted—gosh, the list went on!" Jungkook chuckled, for a moment being somewhere else entirely. He was sixteen, hiding underneath the Headmaster's mahogany desk, covering his mouth with his hand as he tried not to get caught. Suddenly, footsteps hurried into the room and rushed over—he was about to be caught! Then, Taehyung crouched down and hurriedly snuck underneath the same desk. Gaze still pointed away before it turned to him. The two rascals stared at each other for a moment, then another, before promptly bursting into laughter.  

And then, they both—

"Jungkook?"

Oh.

Oh. 

That was a long time ago.

"Still with me, Jungkook?" Balam cooed, gaze softening. The kind of look that stitched one's eyebrows upwards in sympathy.

"Yeah—Yeah, I guess, I'm… I'm here, Balam." 

That horrible, cumbersome weight washed over him as he swallowed down that world. A world where Taehyung and him had grown to love each other and all their troublesome tomfoolery, where in the midst of their denied affection towards each other, shared glances between them as Jin went off for getting into trouble again, was all they had. A place where confessions were made in an old, crickety shrine and beds were shared after particularly harrowing nightmares. Where nightmares suddenly become more frequent than ever, and beds turn colder if one lies in them alone. 

How could he hate that world?

"We were kids." He croaked, the feeling of resurfacing still somehow filling his lungs with water. He keeps drowning in a world he no longer inhabits. 

"Finding your soulmate at a young age was rare, not uncommon. But finding your entire coven? We—we were special . We didn't have a fucking clue how to navigate any of it, the attention. Some of us were already struggling as it was—we, we were only kids. " His voice stammered, grasping at a thousand memories yet still coming out empty-handed. His soul, in nearly all affairs, remained dormant; however, the string around his finger seemed to pull and tug restlessly at the mere mention of them. 

It was ironic, if not simply just infuriating. How Jungkook could spend hours formulating these explanations he was giving to Balam now, carefully plucking each and every word to properly convey the sheer unfairness of everything. 

It was them against the world—seven vs. the rest. One for all and all for one, at least, that's how it had been. 

"Seokjin!" He chimed in, or rather, suddenly introduced. Balam perked, gaze an amalgamation of curiosity, sympathy, and surprise. It would've made him chuckle, but despite the sporadic assortment of his expositions, he felt heard. Despite the sheer silence of the room, making muffled laughter audible even through the thick walls. To the long, arduous pauses that followed most of his sentences as he got lost in himself. Balam listened . She waited, and when he did speak, he was heard .   

Clearing his throat, Jungkook tried again, "Seokjins was—is, the son of two MCA counsel members. Both were displeased with our bonding, especially since they were trying to win an upcoming election campaign to stay on the board—they couldn't afford potential scandals. Let alone with such riff-raff. " Jungkook explained, changing his voice to a pitchy, mockingly feminine voice as he mocked Seokjin's mother. An entitled woman with permanent frown lines between her brows and marionette creases framing her face in a protruding, prejudicial scowl. 

"Oh! And—and Namjoon, son of South Korea's Chief of Police, bonded to two know-it-all delinquents that kept popping up on Hangawoondae police stations bench!" Of course, Jungkook hadn't made a habit of ending up in any kind of police station. But it didn't matter either; fortunately for him, the Jeons had money . The kind that could make any officer turn a blind eye to his outbursts. To his vandalism and petty theft, Taehyung, on the other hand—wasn't as lucky. But the other witch hardly cared. 

Jungkook recalled, not without a shiver the dreadful social gatherings he had to attend for his family, playing the part of the perfect son, in order for his father to "talk" with one of his old buddies from the military days. On an entirely unrelated note Taehyung's history was cleared due to an accidental server outage. 

Namjoon and he had an argument about it later. Namjoon was well aware of the ever-growing corruption within the police force; his father was a good example of it. But Namjoon discouraged bribery—any dishonesty, actually; Namjoon had always been a born leader, fair and unprejudiced. 

"My parents, snobby aristocrats who worried about bloodlines and purity, didn't want to be mixed up with sullieds." Jungkook went on, ignoring the soft hiss Balam let out at the word. Sullieds—an archaic insult.  

"But we fell in love." A huffed smile tugged on Jungkook's lips, small and twitchy as he lingered in the feathery feeling of happy memories. Brief and flashing but still there. 

"Despite all odds— fuck, we grew to love each other above all else." 

"So—" 

"So when three of our parents demanded a trial." Jungkook hated how vividly he recalled that 

evening, where the noon light began fading within a silent room, the only noise amongst any of them being the chattering, cracking fireplace. 

"We agreed." 

"Because—" 

"Because we thought we'd be proving them wrong." 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jungkook was still able to hear the pounding echo of their running footsteps, the shrill cries of each other's names. The desperation within each and every one of them.   

"We lost everything." 

"Or, at least—I had lost everything." 

Glancing back out the window, Jungkook briefly catches a glimpse of the previous struggling flock of birds. Unlike the split echelon he had observed moments ago, counting over the flying dots in the sky—Jungkook counted seven.  

"Jungkook?" 

Straightening at the familiar voice, Jungkook's body was half prepared to stand up and walk down the hall; following nurses was an instinctual habit at this point in his life. But a nurse wasn't the one who had called on him this time; no, glancing up from his phone and shifting his weight on those horrible pink fake leather chairs, his own gaze greeted Yoongi’s. 

The older witch was wearing a white doctor's coat, but upon further inspection and a clear lack of authorization, it was obvious that Yoongi was still in training. Jungkook had become rather skilled at picking out students or trainees within the medical field; he absolutely hated it when doctors simply assumed he was okay with another person entering his sessions. A part of him didn't want to be selfish, especially if the other individual was there simply for observations, but it also just rubbed him the wrong way. He struggled enough with being open about his illness already; being another person's test subject wasn't on Jungkook's list of things to do, nor did he enjoy being ogled with such sympathetic eyes either. 

But again, that didn't exactly answer Jungkook's current and much more pressing matter of why Yoongi was standing before him. Once the momentary shock wore off, Jungkook felt like it left a bitter taste on his tongue. Short, flash-like memories dance around his mind of all the times Yoongi had patched him up throughout their shared time together. 

Yoongi was a witch with incredible healing abilities; Jungkook learned about that rather early on in their acquaintanceship. But from what he recalled, Yoongi hated the sight of injuries. Blood had made the older witch so queasy; the only reason he had managed to bear it at all was because he prioritized patching Taehyung or him up over his own dislikes. 

Solemnly, Jungkook couldn't help but wonder— when did you change, Hyung? Jungkook was evermore aware of the fact that his soulmates were really people he didn't know at all anymore. It was an odd feeling, a type of helplessness that settled restlessly inside him. Because hate was all he had, disdain for the people he knew. But did he still know them? 

Jungkook could still hear the phantom whispers, delicately woven promises lingering somewhere inside his heart. What happened to our forever, Hyung? 

"What are you doing here?" Yoongi asked, voice a little rushed as it carried a sense of urgency. Just as Jungkook was about to process what was going on, Hoseok stumbled up towards Yoongi. Carefully nudging the older witch's shoulder, shaking his head in mild but playful frustration. "Ah, hyung. What did I tell you about walking off? Hospitals are just really creepy labyrinths." Hoseok whined dramatically, and his words nearly prompted Jungkook to snicker in agreement. Almost .  

A nudge from Yoongi quickly got Hoseok's attention to focus on Jungkook, the witch straightening up. Hoseok's lips curved up a little, a rather timid smile taking over his features. But that expression quickly shifted as the older witch took in their surroundings, shifting between Yoongi's white coat and Jungkook's clear lack of medical attire. Instantly—a lot faster than what Jungkook felt comfortable with—Hoseok's face contorted into one of poorly concealed worry. 

The type of worry that made one's eyebrows knit together and body begin to shift restlessly as it tried releasing its current stress levels while attempting not to exceed previously established boundaries. It was clear, however, that the latter was a lot harder to maintain.  

"Are you hurt? I'll make Yoongi push you up the line if you are." Hoseok asked softly but in a slight rush. 

Oh. 

Hoseok was worried. 

A part of Jungkook assumed—from what he still knew—that Yoongi preferred to heal people important to him personally. The witch didn't have the best relationship with doctors and felt reassured when he took care of someone properly. In many ways, Jungkook was grateful Hoseok didn't offer Yoongi's services directly. He wasn't sure how he'd react hearing something like that, but one thing was for certain: he was never going to tell them about his diagnosis.  

But again, that information only added to Jungkook's growing whys. What had changed Yoongi's mind? 

How much was still left of the Hoseok and Yoongi he knew? 

"I'm not hurt." Jungkook offered, curt and mellow with his answer. Something irked him about leaving Hoseok worried about him. He could handle anger, sadness, and pain; anything towards him from them was alright. But affection? No— no , his old Hyungs being loving towards him was something he couldn't handle. That sweet, cold nostalgia. The cold scent of hot chocolate and fresh linens, the feeling of warm lips and delicate caresses, the sound of everlasting promises and cheesy confessions, was a part of a world long gone. To parade that life in front of him, like it was something that could still exist to Jungkook, was a cruelty he hadn't learned to deal with yet. 

The silence stretched between them, Yoongi's gaze never wavering as he still tried to reassure himself that Jungkook was indeed alright. Jungkook, on the other hand, didn't know how to feel. Hospitals had become his new life, a world he entered after their coven had disbanded. To see Hoseok and Yoongi, two prominent members of his old life, trotting around in his current one left Jungkook feeling tangled. 

"Jungkook, if you're unwell, let us know." Yoongi's slightly gruff—he always went for that tone whenever something bothered him—and stern voice spoke out. It was the tone he would use whenever scolding either him or Taehyung. The coven, at least his old one, functioned on a self-established system. Seokjin, Namjoon, and Yoongi were the enforcers; if one got in trouble(which they got into a lot), they'd be the ones to scold and punish them. Hoseok was more of a mediator; Jungkook had only ever seen a serious Hoseok once, and it was scary . Jimin was an instigator, the brat. Taehyung and him were just wildcards, at least—that's how it had been.  

Yoongi inhaled, crossing his arms as his expression took on a torn appearance. "If—," he paused, mulling over his words. "If you don't want us there, that's fine. I'll still push you up the waiting line regardless." 

Jungkook could appreciate the sentiment, from how Hoseok's jaw seemed to clench in worry as the witch glanced at Yoongi's held-back posture before nodding along to his covenmates' words. But he didn't want any of it; he couldn't. The worry in their eyes was something he couldn't quite bear, the sight causing an uncomfortable lump to form in his throat. 

Shaking his head, Jungkook pushed past their concern. "So, what are you doing at the hospital?"

He was in no way on friendly terms with his old Hyungs—old as in, Jungkook didn't recognize any of these people as his Hyungs anymore—but the curiosity to know who exactly this new Hoseok and Yoongi were felt unrelenting. 

Yoongi scowled at being disregarded but kept quiet, something Jungkook felt grateful for. Hoseok, on the other hand, tried hiding how he practically beamed at the attention. Throughout the past week, his old coven had tried countless times to engage Jungkook in conversation. But if the sickly witch wasn't in his laboratory or rummaging through the campus for his investigation, he was promptly passed out in his room. Partially because he was exhausted and another because he didn't return to the dorms until he was utterly depleted. 

"Oh! Well, Yoongi-hyung here is a healer." Hoseok mused, clearly taking pride in his soulmate's growing profession. It warmed both Jungkook's heart the same way it seemingly hurt it, throbbing painfully as he watched the adoration for Yoongi's accomplishments to be seen so evidently. It made Jungkook wonder how they viewed him, if perhaps in another timeline, they could've been proud of him , too. 

Yoongi had become a little flustered at Hoseok's praise, mimicking a level of nonchalance that was given away by the subtle pinkening of his ears. Healer was a term thrown around mostly in the magical community. Common medical professions, such as pediatricians, 

Neurosurgeons, Anesthesiologists, and more were human-oriented and human dominated professions. Magicals, of course, still went to these doctors, but certain illnesses were simply reserved for magicals, requiring a healer instead of a simple doctor. 

It meant Yoongi and him had been, and actively were, working in the same field. 

"He's been keeping up with your work for a while now, actually. Yah , you should've seen him during your inquiry presentation!" A sharp nudge from Yoongi's elbow made Hoseok chuckle, but he relented in his pursuit of teasing the elder. It made Jungkook's own lips curve upwards because the playful banter between them was familiar; it was, well—light. 

"Funny how fate works like that, hm?" Hoseok added after a beat, the tone soft but nostalgic. The elders' eyes grew a little lidded, gaze cloudy as he clearly went somewhere else entirely. When Hoseok looked up again, Jungkook felt his breath hold before tapering off. 

Despite his efforts, Jungkook couldn't pluck out any definitive words to describe exactly how Hoseok looked. His expression was an accumulation of remorse, a certain bittersweet sadness, and a whole lot of wondering. 

The questions didn't just seem to pile up on Jungkook's end, but his reasons were private. Only a handful of people knew, besides Yugyeom and the Ims, a few doctors, and his Halmoni, his condition was kept under wraps. His old coven was strictly off-limits regarding his sickness.  

“Jung—” 

“Jeon Jungkook?” 

Yoongi had begun but was promptly interrupted by the nurse calling out his name. Sighing, Jungkook held the loose cardigan in his arms, a little tiger against his chest. 

“Bye Hoseok-sii, Bye Yoongi-sii.” Stepping around them, Jungkook didn't look back as he followed the nurse. A heaviness in his gut and tugging on his pinky, a weak plea to turn around and spare his old soulmates a fleeting glance. 

Jungkook did not turn around, promptly disappearing down the hallway and mentally preparing himself for another harrowing transfusion. The door closed behind him and the nurse, his feet entering a type of autopilot as they pushed themselves towards the medical bed and sat down. Without hesitation, he pulled his sleeves up with a practiced ease and let the nurse check his vitals. The modified centrifuge was rolled in shortly after as Jungkook laid back against the stiff mattress, looking at the off-white ceiling as the juncture of his elbow was cleaned with a pungent alcohol wipe. 

It wasn't until the sharp, burning sensation of the needle piercing his vein, and the nurse turning on the centrifuge—that Jungkook realized that his old world had momentarily clashed with his new one.

His eyes stayed stuck trailing the acoustic ceiling tiles, his ears numbing the unpleasant rumbling of the medical equipment beside him, his nose filling with the malodorous scent of disinfectant, and his limp fingertips toying with the rough fleece of his hospital blanket. 

Did he realize which of his worlds had remained. 

The train rattled along the tracks, the rhythmic clatter merging with the gentle hum of wheels on steel as Jungkook watched the world pass by in a blur. The landscape unfolds like a sepia-toned painting, with jovial greens beginning to transition into melancholic ambers and russet hues. The trees, once lush and vibrant, were subtly growing bare, the occasional skeletal branches peeking out from patches of turning leaves.

There was something about the lack of cities as the train moved past forgotten towns and dilapidated barns, each structure bearing the weight of time; the way the land remained leveled despite the towns they passed. The fields, once alive with the vibrancy of summer, were now beginning to grow dormant, cascading leaves starting to cover the land in a subtle carpet. Long fields winding up and down hills, usually enclosed with brown fences, containing content-looking cattle. Agricultural fields occupied the occasional lonely scarecrow, standing as a sentinel in the growing desolate landscape, a silent witness to the changing seasons. Despite the contrast, Jungkook couldn't quite contain his gushing smile as he watched a particularly energetic caff bounce around its mother. 

"It kinda reminds you of Hangawoondae, doesn't it?" Yugyeom chimed in, pulling Jungkook's gaze from the landscape and glancing at his companion. The train didn't seem that busy today, meaning the two had snagged a roomette for themselves. A small table between them and a large, clear window to their side. Yugyeom and Jungkook sat across from each other, both leaning against their seats as they focused on the passing scenery. 

"Yeah, it really does. But I guess that's just the countryside." Jungkook hummed, watching Yugyeom nod as the witch had a fond smile gracing his lips. A clouded look—one that Jungkook was skilled in deciphering— nostalgia. 

In the beginning, when Jungkook had just left Hangawoondae behind, nostalgia came along in the form of lamenting. He couldn't count the times he sat somewhere, whether that was on a crusty curb or wet bench, thinking about everything he left behind. Anything sent him spiraling during those days: a happy couple walking down the street, cafés, high schoolers in their uniforms, magicals practicing street magic—anything. Jungkook wasn't sure when exactly the frequency of his memories reduced, but despite their distance, they still came. Even years later, he was never able to fully shake them off. 

When the drifting scent of hot chocolate sprinkled with a whisper of cinnamon suddenly took him back to a winter holiday he'd never have again, from high, hyena-like laughter that reminded him of a lunch table fiasco and spilled milk. The occasional rhythmic patter of rain casting a phantom like blanket over his shoulder, and the distant sound of crackling logs breaking underneath a fire he could no longer feel anymore. 

That was nostalgia. Despite the agony that came with every taste, he still somehow cherished those feelings. 

"I thought about it," Jungkook began, eyes cast outside. "Coming back, I mean." 

"Why?" 

Good question. Leaving was hard, and besides what had prompted Jungkook to run away. He also did it to free himself from his parents and the societal expectations he was under. Of course, that decision left him practically homeless. 

Fear was the appropriate answer. But it wasn't the honest one. 

Honesty. 

Jungkook could still recall the day he came back to the dormitory after his usual meeting with the Headmaster and his parents; those days were always rough. Considering the sheer amount of money his family "donated" to the academy, Jungkook suffered a much stricter regime than others. Once a month, his parents would meet with the Headmaster and review his performance. Unfortunately, one month later, Jungkook failed one of his science exams, and instead of attending the scheduled remake of the said exam, he went to an art exhibit with his art class. 

His parents went ballistic. 

Jungkook still cringed at the memory; the way they entered his art class—during an active class—made the teacher gather his canvases, sketchbooks, and paintbrushes and take them away only to demand the Headmaster burn them in the courtyard. 

The Dean had argued about the potential scandal such action could evoke, which prompted the Headmaster to burn Jungkook's passion within his office's fireplace instead. A small mercy, at least to him. It spared him the burden of other students' gossip; the rumor mill already tossed his name around more frequently than he'd like. Jungkook had spent the rest of the day weeping on the shared dormitory's couch. He swore it all off: art, painting, creativity—all of it. Namjoon and Hoseok had been the ones to comfort him that night, far past midnight when Seokjin had already ushered a worried Jimin and Taehyung to bed along with an insomniac recovering Yoongi. His knees had been pressed to his chest as he sat, a heavy blanket draped around him and over his head like a cloak as he sniffled. Hoseok's arm was slung over his shoulders, occasionally rubbing his arm. The subtle heat seeping through the blanket somehow comforted Jungkook, even if it was just Hoseok's faint bodily warmth.

Namjoon had left for a moment before returning, and Jungkook hardly took notice as he tried processing every turbulent emotion circulating inside of himself. It wasn't until the weight of Namjoon's body sank the cushion beside him, the little rustle of a plastic bag urged him to peek his head out of his cocoon of self-pity. Namjoon just smiled, that crooked, dimpled grin that felt like a ray of sunshine after a rainy day. He had felt so hesitant but grabbed the bag nonetheless. Peeking inside, he carefully pulled out a small leather-clad sketchbook. The spine of the book was still visible, neat rows of golden thread revealing the bookbinding stitch that kept the pages together. 

Jungkook had weakly protested at the sight—after everything that had happened, he didn't want to risk his parents burning a gift of theirs. Hoseok had hushed him softly, briefly brushing his fringe back as he urged him to actually open the book. Jungkook pouted for a moment or two longer before carefully peeling the cover back. Jungkook saw blank sheets of paper until Hoseok leaned over, snapped a picture, and showed Jungkook what appeared to be a textbook instead of the apparent sketchbook he was holding. Namjoon explained briefly that he had put a little spell on the book's pages, and to anyone else, it appeared to be an extensive deep dive into the riveting world of accounting except for Jungkook. How exactly Namjoon had managed to perform such a spell was beyond Jungkook, but Namjoon had his affinities.  

Namjoon had briefly reminded him that despite not being able to live out his own ambitions publicly, it was important that Jungkook did not lose sight of himself and his own truths. Which briefly induced another wave of tears on Jungkook's side, but Namjoon and Hoseok had kissed those betraying cries away, too. 

Jungkook had ended up using the enchanted book as a sort of diary, a little journal where all of his confessions were laid to rest, waiting to be read in the unlikely event he was no longer there to tell them himself. 

The truth was that Jungkook had missed them. He had wanted to go back. 

"Hope, I guess." Jungkook eventually murmured, resting his chin in the palm of his hands as he glanced outside the window. 

"The thought that maybe I could have fixed what had happened if I went back." He added, sighing sadly. He had missed Yugyeom's response to those words, but his shoulders tensed as a warm hand reached out to gently grab hold of his cold one. He didn't resist—he never did when it came to Yugyeom. 

"Jungkook," Yugyeom began, voice strained as the witch looked into his eyes. His gaze held a stern intensity that made Jungkook falter, inhaling sharply. 

"Please know that what happened wasn't your fault." 

Of course, Jungkook knew that. So why— Why were his eyes watering? 

"Oh, Kookie. Come here," Yugyeom moved, slipping around the desk and plopping down beside Jungkook before pulling the sniffling witch into his arms. 

Somehow, against every fiber of Jungkook's being, Yugyeom's hug brought out the waterworks within him. Sniffles turn into small, messy sobs. The type that left you breathless, puffy-eyed, and with a snotty nose. But Jungkook ceased to care because he hadn't cried like this in such a long time. 

Now, more than ever. Forced to see them again, his emotions had been building up towards his limits like skyscrapers. How could he be undone by such a simple sentence? The implication of everything not being his fault left him feeling wounded. Raw. It was a subject he wasn't too keen on touching anytime soon. 

“Oh Kookie, my sweet Kookie.” Yugyeom sounded emotional, too, and it made Jungkook chuckle a little through his tears. Yugyeom always cried when he did; neither of them could keep their own tears at bay whenever the other cried. 

"It wasn't your fault, okay?" Yugyeom went on, spurring another wave of tears. "And there was nothing you could have done to change what had happened."

"But—" Jungkook gulped, sniffling as he cried through his words. "But everything clearly—" another harsh cry passed through him, his lip wobbling as he wept out his frustration. His pain. 

"Everything did change, Yugs." Jungkook whimpered, and it made Yugyeom's arms around him tighten as they rubbed circles into his back. The other hand gently stroking his head, which Yugyeom pushed into his own shoulder, knowing how much Jungkook hated being seen while crying. 

"They moved on without me , Yugs." Jungkook's voice quivered, a combination of both pure sorrow and surrender to his tone. Perhaps if Jungkook hadn't been so preoccupied, he would've noticed the sharp spike in anger coming from Yugyeom's aura. 

"Shh, it's okay." Yugyeom cooed, continuing his delicate ministrations that kept Jungkook grounded. "We'll be okay, shhh—I'm here, Kookie. Things will get better, shhh." 

Jungkook knew Yugyeom was letting him cry, he swore the witch had a minor at being an empath because he was so damn good at it. But sometimes, sobbing just felt good. The strings around his pinky burned, and it sprung another wave of tears from Jungkook at the physical reminder of what he'd lost. 

"I—" He began breathlessly, "I see them nearly every day." He hiccuped. 

"And," Jungkook sniffles as he tries to swallow down another sob. "And they're so happy, Yugs." 

"Shh, I know." Yugyeom hummed, holding him closer. "They've moved on, Kookie, and that hurts, so let it hurt, yeah?" He continued to soothe, gently starting to fix Jungkook's tousled hair. "But what's important is that you don't let their moving on prevent you from moving on yourself." 

Jungkook could feel himself come back down, the crest of his emotions wavering and breaking against the shore. Sobs no longer wracked through his body, but with every blink or two, tears still slipped down his waterline. He probably looked like a wreck; he felt like one, too. 

Yugyeom still held him, brushing out his hair with his fingers and rubbing his back before reluctantly pulling Jungkook back. Snapping his fingers, Yugyeom summoned some tissues out of his bag. One tissue landed in Jungkook's hand, the sniffling witch blowing his nose before discarding the tissue in the table's small trash compartment.

Yugyeom grabbed another tissue, gently beginning to wipe Jungkook's tears away. The softness of the action nearly sprung wetness back to Jungkook's eyes alone. "I'm here for you, Bun, okay? So is my coven; they quite like you already." Yugyeom smiled, chuckling softly, "though that's not hard to do." 

Jungkook smiled; well, at least tried to.

"Moving on is hard, Jungkook," Yugyeom whispered, soft and caring, as he fixed Jungkook back up. Wiping his eyes, combing his wild hair back with his fingers, fixing his rustled clothes. Jungkook simply let it happen, resigning himself to Yugyeom's doting aftercare. "But you're doing fucking great, bun," Yugyeom added, making Jungkook heave a little chuckle. His friend hardly ever swore, so hearing him cuss was always a little shocking. 

"Let's get through this year together, yeah? One step at a time, as slow as you want." Jungkook could only nod to that proposition; it sounded good. Yugyeom flicked his hand, his handbag floating towards them as he beckoned it over. Scavenging through it shortly, Yugyeom pulled out his concealer and compound mirror. Gently, the witch began applying a little foundation over Jungkook's puffy red eyes. 

"And once this year is over, and we develop that cure of yours, we'll go and do something fun." Yugyeom proposed, putting away the concealer stick and gently beginning to tap the foundation into his skin. "You like the beach, right? We'll go somewhere sunny, a place where the sun always shines, and the ocean's water is always blue." Jungkook smiled at the thought, his eyes drifting shut as Yugyeom worked around them. He pictured a place far away, where the food was great and the sights even better. 

"A place where we'll probably be scammed out of all our money trying to buy a pair of coconuts," Yugyeom laughed. He sounded exasperated, but despite having his eyes closed, Jungkook could just tell the other witch was wearing a fond smile. 

"We'll probably be burnt to a crisp within the first few hours." Jungkook snickered, nose scrunching up as he pictured the both of them red and sore as they moped about in their hotel room. 

"Oh! We should give each other those sunscreen tattoos. I'll draw you a little bunny; wouldn't that be cute?" Yugyeom gushed. Jungkook smiled, opening his eyes and looking into the small compound mirror Yugyeom held up for him. His reflection looked more composed despite the still bloodshot tint to his actual eyes; however, the telltale pinkness surrounding his eyes post-crying had been completely covered up. He looked better. 

Jungkook couldn't help but smile, "Yeah, I'd like that."

A small jingle of bells resonated throughout the musty bookstore; the small ornament hung to the door frame was useful when neither Halmoni nor Jungkook was tending to the front desk. The crisp freshness from outside contrasted pleasantly with the subtle warmth within the actual store, causing both his and Yugyeom's cheeks to turn a subtle pink. But it was well past opening hours now; the trip from Viles was approximately ten hours without any delays. Jungkook still felt bad about making Yugyeom travel by train with him when he knew the witch could've easily transported them somewhere nearby. Despite the countless reassurances and the sheer gratitude he felt for Yugyeom's relentless support; Jungkook would never be able to shake off the guilt those efforts sparked, too. 

"Oh lord, did I forget to lock the doors again?" Halmoni's distant voice echoed from the back of the store, making Jungkook shake his head. Yugyeom, on the other hand, seemed to be grinning a little. It still shocked Jungkook, despite what they had talked about on the train ride here, that Yugyeom really was interested in seeing the life Jungkook made for himself while they were apart. It touched him. 

"Sorry, Loves, but the store is closed! Come back tomorrow at noon." Halmoni ushered, coming out from the back door and hurriedly brushing her hands off on her clothes, leaving small flour stains. 

"What did I tell you about locking the doors, Halmoni? It's not safe." Jungkook finally announced, smiling kindly as he walked forward. Chae-won gasped joyfully, finally spotting the two and letting out a happy but gentle squeal. 

"Oh, look what the cat dragged in! Ought' to be my lucky day today, but I ain't really surprised." Jungkook chuckled at his energetic Halmoni, letting himself be enveloped in a bone-crushing embrace. Chae-won's hugs were the best, in Jungkook's opinion, and the sweet old woman always smelt faintly of cinnamon and citrus teas. 

"You're not surprised?" Jungkook asked, a slight pout on his lips. He had come here unannounced, partially because he knew his Halmoni would send him away if he did tell her. But love and care went both ways, and Jungkook would always make time for his family. 

"Mhm, the cards told me you were coming." Chae-won mused, a happy smile stretched across her slightly wrinkly features. Card reading was a debated topic amongst magicals, mostly due to its popularity amongst humans. Tarot cards or fortune telling was a popular sham amongst the community, so when witches like Halmoni practiced the craft, it was often downgraded. But Jungkook knew better; most, if not all, readings his Halmoni had ever done came true. Sure, once Chae-won had predicted something fragile in Jungkook's life would soon break, promptly leaving the witch on edge for the remainder of the week, only for the prediction to come true in the form of a small porcelain teacup. 

So, the predictions do come true, but perhaps not in the grand form everyone expects them to. "They also told me," she began, now turning to Yugyeom, "You were bringing someone special along with you." 

Yugyeom had stood by one of the bookshelves as Jungkooks and Chae-won reunited, a relaxed expression on the other witch's face. Jungkook nodded, his own dopey smile stretching across his lips. Never— never , had Jungkook imagined introducing someone from his old life, someone as special as Yugyeom, to his Halmoni. 

“Mhm, Halmoni, this is Yugyeom. I've told you about him before, remember?" Jungkook prompted Chae-won to turn to the now slightly nervous witch. It was clear Yugyeom wanted to be liked by Chae-won, which was what Jungkook had garnered from his perspective; his best friend viewed his Halmoni as Jungkook's family. 

In many ways, Yugyeom was absolutely right with that assumption. 

"Ah!" Halmoni gasped, clapping her hands together in a sound of recognition as she rushed over and pulled Yugyeom into a crushing embrace, too. 

"The little good-doer from Jungkook's past, I've heard much about you." Over Chae-won's shoulder, Yugyeom mouthed the words ‘g ood-doer?' back to Jungkook, a teasing glint in his eyes. Jungkook rubbed his neck sheepishly; after about a year of living with the old witch, Jungkook had finally opened up a little. Throughout their time spent together in total, Jungkook would leave breadcrumbs of his past out for Halmoni to judge—only, that judgment never really came. 

"Oh, it's lovely meeting you, cherub. Come, come! Let's move inside, I'll make tea." Chae-won cheered, ushering both of the young witches behind the counter and into the apartment. Taking off their coats and setting down their bags, Jungkook got an odd sense of deja vu being sat back in the living room, a steaming cup of tea resting in his hand. 

Yugyeom looked around, sitting adjacent to the couch in an old-looking armchair. There were two armchairs and a couch, all three wearing the same striped pattern of pastel pink, white, and yellow. Chae-won was the stereotypical, soothing grandma—her furniture wasn't exempt from that. But Jungkook loved it; the colors, the furniture, and the coziness from the nearby fireplace made it feel like an escape from his otherwise dreary world. 

"Yah, look Kookie!" Yugyeom gasped, arching over the coffee table and grabbing a flimsy magazine. Chae-won was sweet as sugar, but no one could deny the fact that the old witch was a sucker for gossip. The personal kingpin of rumors, secrets, and scandals. So seeing a magazine on his Halmonis coffee table wasn't unusual—no, what made Yugyeom strike out in the first place was the magazine's front cover. A candid photo of Jungkook crossing the street in a gray bucket hat and face mask, looking slightly off from where the photo must've been taken. Above the shot, written in bold black letters read, "JJK Revealed! The Real Deal or Just a Phony?" 

 "Phony! Aish, those bastards!" Yugyeom protested, plopping the magazine back on the wooden table while crossing his arms, muttering promises of hexes and curses. 

"You didn't know? Kookies made quite the uproar lately, nearly everyones talking about it—Oh, even your old mentor gave a brief chat with MCA Health Association, to y'know;" Chae-won gushed, one hand cupping her cheek and the other moving enthusiastically as she talked, "confirm your identity and all." 

"How dare they still call Jungkook a phony then—I mean, it's a direct hit to Kookie's integrity!" Yugyeom groused, huffing softly before abruptly turning his body towards Jungkook. "You should deny them healthcare!" 

Jungkook spluttered, momentarily caught off guard as he coughed on the short sip of tea he swallowed. Shakily, he set the teacup down before he threatened Chae-won's precious porcelain. "Yeah, not exactly legal, Yugs," he remarked with a duh kinda tone, but his smile persisted. Honestly, Jungkook felt unnerved that his face was in a literal magazine, front page and all. 

How had he not noticed this? 

"You're complaining? I had to find out my little Kookie-dearest," Chae-won's tone darkened, yet her menacing little grin remained as she spoke, "Was going public through the morning news." Chae-won's smile didn't make her eyes crinkle, and with that overly unctuous goading tone, Jungkook quickly realized: he was fucked. 

Jungkook huffed a peal of nervous laughter, straightening up underneath Chae-won's analytic stare as he stammered for a reason. Nothing had gone down the way Jungkook had actually wanted or planned for, between seeing his ex-soulmates again, meeting up with Yugyeom, and the worsening condition of his health. Jungkook simply forgot to tell her, which—considering the sheer amount of drama he's been living through was probably a more severe crime for his Halmoni. 

Yugyeom, being the angel that he was, immediately hopped onto Chae-won's train of thought. Setting his teacup down, Yugyeom gasped in his ever-hyperbolic fashion, shaking his head with clear disapproval. "Not even a call? Aish, kids these days. No manners." 

Chae-won nodded stringently, heaving out a long, dramatic sigh. "Alas, not even my own boy grew up to be respectful of his dear Halmoni." 

Jungkook sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly exasperated at their teasing. "Sorry Halmoni, things at Viles grew so damn hectic so quickly, I completely forgot to call you." 

Chae-won hummed in faux conviction, but her gaze and aura thankfully returned to its usual peacefulness. Feeling like a fish out of shark-infested waters, Jungkook released a small breath as his tense shoulders eased. 

"Oh! My apologies, cherubs. Are any of you two hungry?" Chae-won perked, sounding nearly aghast at her supposed negligence. It prompted Jungkook to raise both his hands, moving them in a hopefully soothing manner. 

"No, no, I'm good, unless—" He glanced at Yugyeom, the amused witch shaking his head quickly in agreement. "We had tteokbokki on the way back from the train station," Yugyeom chimed in, smiling encouragingly as Chae-won stare remained unconvinced. 

A fake, exaggerated scow, twisting her features until she deemed both their answers honest—and their faces plump enough—to lower back down. One of her hands grasped her lower back while the other stabilized itself on the armchair. Hissing a little as she sat, her hand beginning to rub a soothing pattern into the aching tissue. 

"Aish, Halmoni, how long has your back been hurting for?" Jungkook asked, frowning as he quickly inspected his Halmoni more closely. 

Chae-won waved his concerns off with her hand, shaking her head. "None of that now; I don't need you fussing over little old me." 

"Is it the muscle that's hurting?" Jungkook brushed her off; perhaps he learned how to do that from Chae-won himself; both of them had stubborn tendencies. Jungkook was experienced; if his Halmoni really was in pain, he wouldn't mind spending a few days, if not weeks, trying to create a proper tincture to diminish her discomfort. Sure, it would cut into his research time, but Chae-won was worth it. Besides, if it really was just a surface-level muscle or tissue problem, a simple balm could help. Those weren’t necessarily as hard to solve as terminal, magically unstable diseases. 

There weren't many benefits to Jungkook's dreary, chromatic lifestyle. However, if a doctor ever broke unpleasant news to any of his loved ones, Jungkook would only be getting started. 

If it doesn't exist, then he will simply have to make it exist. 

"Oh, I was just picking up a new delivery, Sojun—you know, the usual delivery boy," She briefly turned to Yugyeom, " such a sweetheart—anyways, he'd broken his leg, so he couldn't help me. I think I might've pulled something by picking the box up myself." Chae-won explained, making Jungkook sigh as he got up. 

"Alright, I'll see if I can mix something up for you." He still had most of his previous supplies in his bedroom—well, a laboratory with a little cozy bed corner would be more accurate. Chae-won only hummed, shaking her head. "I couldn't even stop you now, even if I wanted to." She mused, tone fond as Jungkook walked over. He leaned down, pressing a quick peck against his Halmonis cheek.

"Nope." 

Yugyeom laughed, getting up himself. "Should I clear out the dishes for you?" He asked, wanting to be mindful of Chae-won's back. The elderly witch shook her head, "That's sweet, deary, but no. I'll do it in the morning; off you two go now. Get some rest." 

Jungkook carefully propped his hands against Chae-won's arms, helping the switch stand back up before walking back to the front door and collecting Yugyeoms and his luggage. The two passed Chae-won briefly in the hallway, "Goodnight, cherubs," she sang softly before closing her door. 

Yugyeom smiled, although his attention was quickly shifted to Jungkook's bedroom. It was partially cleaned, the interior remaining the same despite his desk having been organized a little more before he left. The shelf adjacent to the table still contained a row of herbs in vials, small little corks keeping dried assortments from growing moist.  

"Wow, so this is where you've been hiding out, huh?" Yugyeom remarked before beelining towards the cozy bed area and flopping onto the downy covered mattress. "It's so…" the witch began, glancing over the still remaining green plants, the windows lining the walls and leaving a view of the streets and city, the bed covered in a thick downy comforter and layered with a few fluffy toppers and pillows. " You. " 

Jungkook hummed, scoffing a little at those words. "I can't tell whether or not you just insulted me." He mumbled, chuckling a little under his breath as Yugyeom grinned at him in return. 

"Why don't you shower first? The bathroom is the door opposite to mine; I'll just whip something up for Halmoni real quick." Jungkook suggested, turning his attention towards his supplies while Yugyeom rummaged around behind him before eventually leaving for the earlier-mentioned bathroom. It gave Jungkook a moment to think before eventually grabbing a mortar and pestle and setting it on his desk. 

Humming quietly as he worked, Jungkook grabbed some wispthron root, shadefern, lavender, and embermint before grinding the leaves diligently into a powder. The ground herbs began emitting a strong, herbal, and medicinal scent; the lavender notes slowly growing more pungent. Jungkook eventually stopped, grabbing one of his packed notebooks and flipping through a few pages until he stopped on his research concerning muscle and joint pain. 

He wasn't a stranger to muscle or joint pain either, nearly sitting hunched over a desk all day or his own illness affecting his joints; he was familiar with the throbbing discomfort. Skimming over his past notes, Jungkook began grabbing some of his liquid tinctures and adding them to the mortar. He kept grinding the stone pestle in a slow, rhythmic, circular motion until the balm began taking on a creamy texture. 

"Wow—"

"Gah!" 

Jungkook jumped, grasping the part of his shirt that lay over his heart. Turning to Yugyeom, the other witch clearly tried to stifle his laughter by looking away. "Sorry, Bun, I didn't realize you hadn't noticed me walk in." Yugyeom shrugged, walking over to the bed as he continued towel-drying his hair. Jungkook couldn't necessarily be mad at Yugyeom; it wasn't the witch's fault. Jungkook just wasn't used to having Yugyeom in his old room yet; Halmoni rarely ever entered unless he hadn't come down in a few hours. 

Seeing Yugyeom by his side still felt so new . 

"I just can't believe you don't realize how impressive you're being." Yugyeom shrugged, letting the now-damp towel flop onto the floor. He wasn't really sure how to reply to that; Jungkook didn't feel amazing. He felt like a fraud, a con artist who managed to fool the world into thinking he was some impassioned, philanthropic healer.  

He wasn't. 

Clearing his throat to try and clear the sudden lump in his throat, he looked away as Yugyeom's face fell from his response. But Jungkook was tired of lying, and he knew that he couldn't say a single word about his true feelings toward the subject without getting a few hours with therapist Yugyeom. Yugyeom was already doing much for him. 

"Anyways, I'll go take this over to Halmoni and hop in the shower." He hummed, cutting Yugyeom off before the witch could inquire about the sudden shift in atmosphere, grabbing the mortar before stepping out of his room. 

Walking down the creaking hall, he softly knocked on Chae-won's door, waiting for a soft-spoken acknowledgment before entering. Chae-won's room was already prepped for nighttime; the embroidered curtains hung closed, the only light in the room emitting from an old lightbulb attached to her bedside lamp. The room smelt distinctly of floral herbs, the blend of her favorite teas nearly making the air sweet. "I made you an ointment for your back. It has emberfern in it, so it'll be a little warming." Jungkook walked over, the floorboard squeaking softly underneath his steps. Chae-won hummed, setting the book in her hands on the nightstand. 

"What a busy-bee you are," she mused with a fond tiredness. Jungkook smiled in return, helping his Halmoni up into a proper sitting position. Shifting slightly so he could apply the balm onto her lower back, under her guidance, Jungkook made sure to rub the created balm into the right places. The silence stretched as he worked, not setting the mortar down until he was satisfied. "Oh, I can feel the heat already." Chae-won chuckled, huffing a small sigh as Jungkook helped her lay back down. He propped another pillow against her back, wanting to support her back a little more as she rested. Deeming her position comfortable enough, he couldn't help but fuss a little more as he tried tucking her in. 

Halmoni promptly swatted his hand away, a playful mirth to her eyes. "I may be old, but I'm not dying, bun." 

Jungkook laughed, nodding softly as he sat beside her. His legs were still touching the warped floorboards, his side briefly touching her blanketed legs. It felt strange to only be visiting his Halmoni. He had missed her. 

With Chae-won's all-knowing gaze, she hummed in faux surprise before gently grabbing his cold hands within her aged ones. Despite the visible spotting and freckled skin from years of sun exposure, Halmoni's hands always felt so soft. Warm, like a gentle hug. "What's with the sad face, bun?" 

Shaking his head, Jungkook had hoped to brush off the concerns from his Halmoni. But her penetrative gaze was merciless, and before he could even register his surrender, his shoulders sagged slowly. "I just missed you, it's—"He paused. The avow felt incomplete, but he wasn't really sure what to say in order to properly explain how he felt. 

"Strange?" Halmoni finished, finding the words for him. 

Nodding, Jungkook let those words dangle in the air between them. It did feel strange; for a long time, it had just been Halmoni and him. Two witches handling a bookstore, inadvertently creating a family where there shouldn't be any. But they had, and it was the best damn family Jungkooks ever had. 

"It is strange." Halmoni began; her slightly hoarse voice made everything sound so simple. Clear. "I had you under my wing for nearly six years; that's a long time, cherub. It's certainly strange to not see your face every morning in the kitchen, or mending the front desk, stocking up shelves, chatting with customers." 

Jungkook hadn't really realized how much he had missed that. The strange bundle of nurses that had been tussling around his chest throughout the last twenty-four hours, not light or heavy but strongly eager, finally gave itself a name: homesickness . Jungkook had been, and still was, feeling homesick. 

"I missed you." He whispered, focusing intently on the witch's hands. Halmoni had been married once, an old, worn-down wedding ring still adorning her left ring finger. There weren't any photos within the apartment except her room; beside her nightstand stood a small, wooden picture frame. The picture was clearly old and slightly discolored, and faint web-like lines gave way to a few crinkles within the paper. It was Halmoni's wedding day.  

Halmoni rarely talked about her husband, but whenever she did, her tone filled with such tender adoration that Jungkook briefly wondered if he'd be mourned similarly when he died. If he'd ever be loved the way she loved him by someone else. Of course, Jungkook was no stranger to those cumbersome questions. As rhetorical as they might be, Jungkook never wanted to meet the day when he'd find an answer. To see such a day would imply that he'd died. 

"Oh bun," Halmoni cooed, her calm voice pulling Jungkook out of his melancholic thoughts. He looked up at her, and despite the tiredness that seemed to pull her face down just a bit. She smiled in all her endearing glory. "I missed you too," her hands carefully began brushing over his. A rhythmic pattern between gentle strokes and small taps. "And although it's strange, that doesn't mean it's something bad. You know you'll always have me, kiddo." Halmoni chuckled, executing her words with quick, short taps against his hand. 

"Take that as you will." 

Jungkook laughed wetly at the pent-up emotions he felt, but he felt like he had done so much crying lately. He'd cried similar amounts after leaving Hangawoondae, but these tears he kept shedding felt different. 

"It's good. You're doing good, hun. This old bookstore ain't going nowhere, and it's served its purpose." Jungkook nodded absently. Halmoni was right (again) when Jungkook was first invited into the bookstore to seek shelter from the rain. He'd unknowingly discovered what would become his place of refuge for far longer than just crying clouds; the disorganized shelves, crooked floorboards, and always steaming teas would become his home. An anchor of sorts.  

"I don't think I'll ever be able to find a place like this again, Halmoni." He argued weakly; the thought of this apartment, worn-down as it may be, felt like such a safe space. The thought of needing to find someone new one day, again, felt more daunting. An antsy kind of anxiety sparked at the sheer idea, making his leg gently bounce with jittery nerves. It felt hard to swallow, and Jungkook had to focus on his breathing to try and keep this potential breakdown at bay. 

"Oh hush," Halmoni gently slapped his hand, tone chiding. It reminded him of Balam, the strict cat most likely resting on a fluffy blanket about now. Unfortunately, the university's spirit animals weren't allowed to leave campus; they were bound to the grounds unless given specific permission to pass through the protective wards concealing the land. 

"Of course you will! You're you, bun, one of the most incredible witches I've ever met." Halmoni encouraged, making Jungkook smile dimly. Shifting her hands to now fully grasp his, she squeezed them gently, "You don't have to do it alone."

"You have Yugyeom." She reminded, lifting her hand and gently combing back his fringe. "Soon, I'm sure you'll have more friends. The cards told me so, you'll be okay." 

Jungkook soaked in those words, briefly skimming back to what Yugyeom had said during their train ride here. He didn't feel okay, but he was growing hopeful. Somehow, Jungkook had faith again that one day, he would be. He didn't trust his voice, so he simply took to a hesitant nod. 

"Oh, Kookie, come here." Halmoni gushed, cooing softly as she tenderly pulled him into a hug. It lasted for a while, Jungkook briefly taking a moment to breathe in oranges and ginger of chae-won's perfume, letting himself be wrapped up in the gentle warmth that was his Halmonis hugs before pulling away. 

"I love you, kiddo." 

"I love you too, Halmoni." 

Jungkook quietly closed the bathroom door, the old hinges hissing softly as he shut it. The ventilation fan in the bathroom was loud, so closing the door would hopefully dim the obnoxious buzzing the old machine made. Tip-toeing down the hall and into his bedroom, he did his best to avoid the floorboard he knew would creak, glancing briefly at the figure lying in his bed. 

The lights were already turned off, as Jungkook had taken much longer in his Halmonis room than planned. After their heart-to-heart, he briefly told her about what had actually happened in the past two weeks since he was away. Seeing her old features jump from pride to shock, then to anger, before settling on sympathy was amusing. Her fondness for Balam and Yugyeom grew throughout the conversation, but her animosity towards his old soulmates seemed to grow further. 

With a few more hugs and confident reassurance that her back was already feeling better, Jungkook had left. Having showered quickly, he now found himself glancing at his usually empty room. It used to feel so lonely at night. But seeing Yugyeom's familiar head of hair poking out from the comforter, the emptiness contained within these walls faded. Slipping into the bed and ducking underneath the covers, Jungkook settled on his back, eyes following habit as he stared up through his ceiling window. The starry sky—as star-filled as the nighttime could be within a city—looked back at him. 

Yugyeom moved beside him, the fabric rustling quietly in the silent room before an arm curled around him. Jungkook glanced over, features turning apologetic as he looked into Yugyeom's sleepy gaze. "Did I wake you?" He whispered, his hand resting on Yugyeom's outstretched forearm. 

"No," Yugyeom replied groggily. Liar. 

Jungkook chuckled, "Get some sleep, Yuggy." 

Yugyeom grunted a reply, nuzzling his face briefly into one of the pillows before sighing. "I like your Halmoni," he began before being cut off by a big yawn. 

Jungkook chuckled, smiling contently. It was important to him that they approved of each other, knowing that they did brought him peace. "She likes you, too." He hummed quietly. He could practically feel Yugyeom smile, his hand gently beginning to rub the sleepy witch's arm. 

"When we go to that sunny place, let's bring her a souvenir, okay?" Yugyeom suggested, prompting another fond chuckle from Jungkook. He felt tired, but the ache in his own joints seemed far away with Yugyeom there. Talking about brighter days. 

"Sure, that sounds good." He hummed, his voice sounding hesitant. He did believe Yugyeom, but there would always be lingering doubts. Although it was a grim reality, Jungkook dying still was a very real possibility. He knew Yugyeom didn't like thinking about—Gods; Jungkook couldn't even fathom the thought of Yugyeom dying. The simple thought was a good way to get one foot into having a potential breakdown over nothing.  

Yugyeom slid his arm off of Jungkook, perching himself up on his forearms instead. He leveled Jungkook with a stern gaze, apparently disliking the level of uncertainty he had answered with. "Don't talk like that," Yugyeom muttered. Reaching out, the sleepy witch grabbed his hand before wrapping their pinkies together. Red strings tied to each, fraying off into opposite directions.

"I promise—you hear? I promise you, Kookie, I'll get us there. A place where the sand is always soft, the water warm, and the air fresh." 

Jungkook smiled a bittersweet and rueful smile that was hidden within the darkness of his room. The hope that had been planted just a few days ago was gradually beginning to sprout. He nodded, leaning over to kiss Yugyeom's brow. 

Jungkook believed him—even if what Yugyeom was describing sounded oddly like heaven. 

me, the motherfucker with over 50 abandoned works in progress: i have an idea

Kimset - (II)

Pairing: ot6 x Jungkook | Jungkook x Everyone

Genre: Witch AU, Soulmate AU, Ex's to Lovers, Angst With a Happy Ending

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: 16k

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

The sound of clapping filled the room like an encouraging symphony, the student at the podium trying—yet failing—to hide their smile at the favorable response to their inquiry. Kim Yugyeom, a face Jungkook hadn't intended to see again in his life. Yet again, he hadn't intended to see any familiar faces when attending this university. A thought he didn't want to dwell on; he had barely managed to push the subject away this morning. He had gotten dressed and rushed off to present his inquiry to his fellow students and the MCA association currently present. 

After all, your inquiry had to be approved before you could actually start. The university's board of education and the MCA would then score your presentation; the higher the score, the larger your funding pool would be. How exactly the scores were determined was yet to be defined; publicly, it was described as a completely unbiased procedure and criteria; however, it was clear that even in the magical world, influences could come from anywhere. 

Corruption was truly the only one unbiased. It affects everyone.  

The sound of heavy auditorium doors opening shifted his attention from Yugyeom's presentation. The aspiring witch's inquiry consisted of finding a caladrius and further studying the bird's supposed healing properties. Jungkook barely knew anything about mythical beasts; he had never been very good with animals nor very interested. But he did know that caladrius were rare and practically extinct. That was why the university board was so approving of the inquiry, considering that if Yugyeom's mission was successful, it would benefit the university itself. 

But all that seemed to simmer into a lingering thought when his eyes locked onto the sight of a sitting, silently brooding Jimin, arms folded over his chest as he observed Yugyeom's presentation. Even to the untrained eye, the blonde witch appeared tense. Shoulders pull back slightly more than what was considered casual, mouth etched into a slight frown. Jungkook hadn't meant to stare; he wasn't a part of Jimin's life anymore. The thought was supposed to console him, but in reality, it only fueled the sinister ache inside his chest. 

Jungkook hadn't actually gotten a look at any of his old hyungs this morning, having gotten dressed and heading for a quick escape out the front door. He didn't want to face them. Perhaps it was the naive hope he clung to that he could simply avoid them for the remainder of the year. 

But even at the sight of Jimin simply sitting in the auditorium, Jungkook realized that his ambitions were rather hopeless. Like a moth to a flame, he couldn't keep his gaze focused. How could he? Look away from something— someone he had hoped to see for the past six years. 

"Jimin!" Taehyung's hushed voice called out, light and happy. 

The brunette sneaks up behind Jimin's brooding form, snaking his arms around his neck and pressing a few gentle kisses against the other's cheek. Jungkook watched, with an untold heaviness, as Taehyung trailed around Jimin's seat—the witch was sitting at the end of an aisle—before plopping himself in the still vacant seat beside the blonde. And Jungkook's gaze lingered with an untold masochism as Jimin's unhappiness melted away. The earlier locked jaw pushed out an exhale, the previous frown turned into a smile, and those chilling eyes took on an expression entirely too fond. 

Jimin leaned forward, cupping Taehyung's cheek and pressing their lips together. It wasn't an all-too-sensual kiss, considering that neither of the two witches could push down their smiles long enough to kiss properly. But it hurt.  

It hurt so much.  

But the worst part was that it still hurt to be hurting. 

As Jungkook sat down aisles ahead of them, partially to remove the temptation to further damage himself by glancing back, the world around him grew distant. The loud, projecting voice of Yugyeom drowned out the applause that would follow a particularly enthused statement. It was all gone, distant. Although present, Jungkook wasn't really there. 

He was somewhere else entirely, a place with rhythmic ballads, self-playing violins and cellos as witches danced tangos and waltzes. He recalled the night vividly, their first festival at the academy, celebrating the Veilweaver's Moon in all its glory. But Jungkook didn't remember the night over some planet in the sky—no, he had gotten something most precious that night. That night, he had his first kiss.    

He had felt so jealous.

Jealousy.

An adjective with different meanings, but in this case, it could be defined as feeling fiercely protective or vigilant of one's rights or possessions. Only Jungkook didn't have a right over what he was jealous of; after all, he didn't own Jimin. 

The witch was his own person, and Jimin had always been like a bird prancing in the wind. Free. It hadn't bothered him before, quite the opposite; in all of Jungkook's coolly constructed and scheduled childhood, Jimins adventurous nature was like a breath of fresh air. He had adored it. But watching as Jimin, his sweet Park Jimin, dance with another oddly stung. The rational part inside Jungkook pleaded for an audience inside himself, trying to explain that Hoseok was Jimin's soulmate. They all were soulmates; it was unreasonable to feel how he felt. 

But that didn't change the fact that he felt it. He felt greatly, wave upon wave crashing against each other like tsunamis pushing against his heart—his soul. Seeing Jimin laughing, eyes creasing, and teeth on display. Nose occasionally scrunching up, his own giggles distracting him enough to misplace a step or two within the dance. Jimin looked so gosh damn happy. 

Those smiles used to belong to him. 

The sight was too much; it fueled the insecurities inside himself like gasoline thrown into a bonfire. It provided a speaker to that voice inside his head that insisted he wasn't enough. Jimin was like the sun, warm and giving. And Jungkook felt himself become inadequate to be basking in its soft glow. 

It was why he had left the event in the first place; the academy's ballroom had seemed so endless when everyone had come together to decorate it. Marble tiles stretched out, meter-long windows reached for the curved ceiling, and a chandelier reflected light off of its glass embellishments and jewelry. It had been beautiful. It still was. 

Only now, the room felt suffocating. His own jealousy wrapped around his throat, body, and soul before it squeezed. Everything felt inconsequential; the classical music sounded distant, washed out as if underwater. The chatter surrounding him drowned alongside the music, nearly mimicking a language he chose not to understand. All he could focus on was them. Hoseok and Jimin. 

They looked perfect together. Hoseok was similar to Jimin in ways Jungkook could never be. A realization that made the phantom noose around his throat tighter, unyielding in its pursuit to torture him further. Although Jungkook barely bothered with any of his other soulmates, from the little interactions he had shared with Hoseok, the older male carried a similar chipperness to Jimins. Once, during breakfast, Hoseok had reduced Jimin to a pile of wheezing laughter, the kind that hardly made any noise at all. 

Jungkook was rarely ever that funny. 

But it wasn't until the halls began whispering about how Jimin and Hoseok were the perfect couple, how the soulmates were so clearly made for each other, that birthed the intensity of his envy. At first, he made nothing of those words; they were idle chit-chat students murmured to pass their time with senseless gossip. No one knew Jimin the way he did.

But seeing them dance, Hoseok's hand tauntingly resting against Jimin's waist. Laughing so beautifully, a thought—realization—skipped across his mind. 

Those students had been right.

"Kookie?" 

Jungkook sniffled, shoulders hitching up as the voice seemed to protrude his little moment of solace. He had left the party nearly twenty minutes ago; instead, he sought asylum in the academy's library. Aisles were replaced by extended bookshelves, reaching so high up to the ceiling a sliding ladder was against each shelf. They weren't used often, mainly by first years who hadn't learned the proper spell yet to simply pull the needed book towards oneself. There was a second floor that took the shape of an O, leaving a gap in the middle to peer down at the stretching wooden desks available to students. Narrow but long windows decorated the west side of the room, and small cushioned ledges made the window sills most desirable. 

The sun rose in the east and set in the west, casting the library in an orange hue that made everything look golden. Jungkook sat against the windowsill, legs pulled against his chest and back leaning against the wall that separated this window from the next. He had watched the sun die against the horizon, replacing the warm sky with something cold and encompassing.  

 A small thread of irritation lit inside him; the night had gone horrible; no, the week had been an accumulation of utterly shitty events. So why? Why couldn't he at least be left to sulk in peace? 

The entire week, Jimin had been distracted with the others, helping Namjoon with his cultivation, Jin with cooking duty—It wasn't even Jimin's scheduled date to help—and herding the griffin babies together with Hoseok. For an entire week, Jimin had spent time with the others instead of him. Even Taehyung, their rudest covenmate, was teaching Jimin how to spray paint. Or Yoongi, who had offered to tutor Jimin in herbology. Jimin hated herbology, but all of a sudden, he was its biggest fan. 

It's only been a month since the two of them came to the academy, thirty days since the six red strings knotted to his finger found their destinations. He hated it. 

Hated that he hadn't been bunked with Jimin and instead got Taehyung, a rude riff-raff wannabe who had cussed him out for placing his suitcase on 'his side of the room' only thirty minutes into their introduction. To put it simply, he vehemently disliked the edgy artist. He was irascible and unpredictable, a potential danger to Jimin, if not only a bad influence. His other soulmates were more bearable, but he wasn't really interested. He had Jimin; the two were a team. Not a group or a party—it was them against the world. No one else. 

But Jimin was so eager in his utterly loving nature. It wasn't even surprising to Jungkook how quickly the rest of them fell for the bundled-up sunlight that was his hyung. Who wouldn't fall in love with Jimin? 

He knew he did. He had loved him instantly. 

A bundle of nerves had taken place inside his chest like all the strings inside his soul became knocked. A painful tug erupted within him whenever he saw Jimin smile for one of them—the same way he used to smile for Jungkook 

"You should be at the party, hyung." He murmured, voice hoarse in a way that made him cringe. He didn't need prying eyes against his crying figure. His own gaze was still cast out the window, taking in the colors of the sky as if he'd never see the sunset again. Perhaps not meeting Jimin's gaze right now was his own weak attempt at preserving his already bruised pride. 

"I would," Jimins voice trailed off as his footsteps approached the window. Slowly, Jimin's figure sat down beside him. Immaturely, Jungkook refused to look at him. Sniffles still occasionally betrayed him, prompting him to wipe at his wet cheeks rather irritably with his pulled-up sleeve. "But my soulmate isn't there." Jimin finished. 

"One." Jungkook muttered bitterly.

"What?" 

"One of your soulmates wasn't there." He clarified, his own jealous bitterness sinking into his tone. Tainting it with his anger. "You seemed to be having fun; who knows—maybe Namjoon stopped dancing with Seokjin? Or maybe Taehyung's free. You seemed to be all for bad boys lately." 

Jungkook felt guilt spread through him at the sound of Jimin's sharp intake of air, the silence between them adding invisible weight to his chest and shoulders. He felt foolish and immature for his feelings. It wasn't Jimin's fault for wanting to spend time with his very own soulmates; it was normal. Good even. Jimin shouldn't fall victim to his envy. 

If only he could tell his feelings that. 

"Oh Kookie…" A hand rested on his arm, thumb rubbing softly against his uniform. Still unable to meet Jimin's gaze, the irrational fear of finding a look akin to pity kept his gaze outside. Where the night choked out the colors in the sky, stars began to peek through, and the moon began to show. 

It wasn't until he was pulled into a hug, arms wrapped around him in familiarity, that forced his defenses to lower. Because this was his Jimin, his sweet little sunlight. And unlike the sky, Jungkook would keep its light blazing within the sky for an eternity. 

That night, Jungkook's lips had pressed against Jimins for the first time. He had savored the taste and feeling of those lips against his in an empty, closed-off library. It was simple, sweet, and innocent. A type of kiss that, with Jungkook's inexperienced eagerness, left their teeth hitting against each other's, resulting in some breathless giggles. Jimin's hands had cupped his cheeks, pacing Jungkook gently as the two soulmates grew closer. This was simply one of the many firsts Jungkook would give to Jimin. 

Watching the sunset filled Jungkook with an irrational sensation, a collaboration between fear and dread. Jimin was like the sun, but what if he, too, would set in Jungkook's world? What if one day, his world would become just as dark and obsolete as the night sky. 

The sound of clapping bid Kim Yugyeom goodbye, the witch-polished smile somehow seeming unfamiliar to Jungkook; he had always known Yugyeom as a completely genuine person, seeing him plaster on something so fake threatened his nose to scrunch up in distaste. Jungkook didn't know Yugyeom anymore. 

With a quick glance around, anybody could practically sense the anxieties and tensions in the air. The constant rustling of clothes being tugged and rearranged, legs bouncing up and down rhythmically, the sheer restlessness nearly seeping into the other magicals auras. Everyone was nervous, well, almost everyone. 

Walking up to the podium himself was, admittedly, a little nerve-wracking. Jungkook wasn't shy; the thought of strangers silently evaluating him didn't really bother him. What irked him was the knowledge that they would be watching too. An observant gaze lingering against his skin, something that would've left a trail of goosebumps across his skin in a welcomed way, now became all too unwelcomed . 

A strange sense of urgency lingered inside him, bubbling like an overflowing cauldron as he walked up the small steps. He wasn't sure if it was his pride or hurt ego at their presence, but Jungkook wanted to show off. He was feeling petty. A part of him so desperately wanted to shove it into their faces that he was doing good without them. That he had and was successful after their separation. However, a nagging little voice inside his head wasn't necessarily certain which party he was trying to convince. Them or himself? 

Clearing his throat, he finally stepped up to the podium. Head held high, something Balam drilled into him before reaching the auditorium, posture straight and confident. A polite, practiced smile tugged at his lips. Jungkook knew that the university sought him out specifically due to his achievements during his apprenticeship; if successful, Jungkook could bring the establishment glory. 

“Hello, I am Jeon Jungkook.” He introduced himself politely, with a small bow to his introduction. This was standard procedure; not many witches actually strived to complete the seventh level; it was an extracurricular in the magical world—one with benefits he was more than eager to reap. Glancing around the room, the smell of wood and carpet filled his senses. The auditorium was clearly as old as the university itself, large and glorious as it took on a circular shape. Instead of a flat ceiling, a large dome covered the structure. Before the stage, three rows of seats stretched to the back of the room, only separated by two narrow aisles lined with an extravagant red carpet. Its high, vaulted ceilings are adorned with intricate frescoes, and towering columns line the periphery between the windows, further creating a sense of grandeur. Rich, polished dark wood paneling and plush velvet drapes added warmth to the sophisticated space. Again, the fact that this university reminded Jungkook more of a castle was a theory evermore confirmed the longer he observed. 

Candles floated above their heads, no doubt there to provide everlasting light. Something entirely unnecessary at the moment due to the walls of the auditorium bearing long, narrow windows that kissed the edges of the dome ceiling. Natural morning light flooded the space. It felt oddly bright, silently waking even the still drowsy students. The sky was a clear, untainted blue. Making the small glimpses outside even more captivating, the nature surrounding the university was just as mesmerizing as its interior. 

"Throughout my apprenticeship, I studied Astrobiomedicine under the guidance of Kwang-sun with the pseudonym JJK." He paused, swallowing down the temptation of his lips to turn crooked—a smirk begging to contort his practiced feature and reveal how much he reveled in the small gasps and murmurs within the room. Ah, he had nearly forgotten how famous JJK had gotten. 

"Throughout that time, I have managed to leave a more positive footprint on our community. With supported inquiries, guidance, and dedication, I was able to develop aid and cures in the Astrobiomedicine field." A smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes as the small dopamine of praise washed out. A strange—no, familiar feeling began blooming inside his gut. As if Balam could feel it herself, she nudged her head against his leg. In her cold stare, she encouraged him to go on. 

"One of my first achievements under Kwang-suns guidance was by making witching flu medicine more available for everyone; this was done by replacing newt syrup—we all know how arduous it is to get a hold of that—" A light-hearted joke escaped him, a desperate attempt to have the audiences own amused chuckles lift his own spirits. Save him from his own gnawing thoughts. It didn't work. "With the widely available thistle." He concluded, smiling politely at the clapping that interrupted his presentation. 

A traitorous thought escaped him. Were they impressed? 

"Throughout my second year under Kwang-sun, I modified the pre-existing medicine for Draemori Flux with a specifically cultivated flower found on the peaks of Mount Chelopee, previously endangered and now being reintroduced into our ecosystems. Successfully extending the life expectancy of those diagnosed for approximately twenty years." Another wave of clapping finished his sentence for him, the strange feeling inside his gut and chest growing nauseating. 

"During my last year, I worked with Kwang-sun and my team to develop a cure for Faerune Fever, a disease we are most aware of that is fast, rapid, and deadly." A small whooping noise followed by, again, intruding applause made Jungkook pause. The voice of the praising noise sounded familiar, but Jungkook suddenly didn't want to boast anymore. He felt uncomfortable, and the smile he should be wearing felt like the hardest thing to maintain at the moment. 

"Throughout my apprenticeship, I wanted to remain as true to myself as I could be. One of my goals has been, and always will be, to give back to my community." The sinking feeling inside his gut grew claws, howling and hissing inside himself as it clung to his heart painfully. "Therefore, as my inquiry for my seventh level, I have taken it upon myself to develop a cure for Nexus Entropy." 

Encouraging clapping fills the room as Jungkook ends his presentation, bowing politely as he exits off the podium. The eager looks, the chattering about selflessness, and the fond look surrounding him make Jungkook sick. Without a word, Jungkook leaves the suddenly suffocating atmosphere the acceptance of his inquiry brought him. Breathing unevenly as he wanders outside, seeking asylum on a nearby bench. 

Closing his eyes and gulping down his growing emotions, Jungkook focused on leveling the overwhelming amounts of emotions he felt. They weren't strange; he had grown used to them, but perhaps he was surprised by their frequency since arriving at the university. 

The sight of the school board and MCA holding up a small paddle with the heavy, glowing numbers of a bold ten burned themselves into his mind. A ten. The highest score one could get. He had gotten full funding. And yet, Jungkook sat on a wonky park bench, trying to even his breathing. Slowly, the monster inside his gut reveals itself. 

Guilt. 

It swallowed him whole because he was the only one who knew. Jungkook had never been selfless. He had never done anything purely from the goodness of his heart. 

Jungkook was doing this for himself.

"Do you know who I'll be sharing the laboratory with?" Judging by the sun and the lack of students roaming the halls, it must've been around lunchtime. The sun was high in the sky, merciless as always, forcing the lounging students in the courtyard to seek shelter underneath the inviting shade of the trees planted around the grounds. It looked peaceful, nothing but idle chatter and a still-warm breeze delicately shifting strands of hair. Perhaps if Jungkook wasn't feeling so cowardly, he would've gone and searched for Yugyeom, taken that time to catch up with his old friend—a strict understatement considering how inseparable they were during their academy years— yeah, Yugyeom had been his best friend. 

But after they returned from the Deep before graduation and split up, Jungkook had sought refuge in Yugyeom's arms. A few days had passed, and Jungkook had made up his mind to leave everything behind. Although Yugyeom knew the most, Jungkook left him behind, too. With a hug and a vague, I'll be alright , was all Yugyeom had for the past six years. As if the earlier guilt didn't gnaw holes into his constitution already, the endless uncertainty regarding his relationship with his old friend tormented him regardless. Yugyeom would have moved on, too. 

Before attending the university, Jungkook was aware of how much had changed. None of them were kids anymore; he wasn't an innocent, naive first-year who read about happy endings anymore or, the sixteen-year-old with immense temperament issues, or even the seventeen-year-old who felt nothing but love and devotion regarding his coven. Glancing around himself, now more than ever, Jungkook could see the past six years, from immature teenagers to the adults that now sauntered the halls looking to fulfill a great witches purpose. 

"Why do I even waste my breath talking when you aren't even listening? Honestly, it's like talking to a wall sometimes." The sharp tone of Balam's chiding tugged Jungkook back into the present, the sound of his footsteps echoing lonesomely amongst the halls. Balam, as elegant as always, didn't even make a peep. 

“What?—Ah, sorry Balam.” Pulling his gaze from the windows, he glanced at the disapproving look from Balam before shifting entirely against the opposing wall. Closed, wooden doors, each labeled with a letter and number indicating which laboratory one would find behind it. 

"Tsk, if you're going to ask someone something, at least have the common courtesy to listen for their answer." Balam paused; she had a small habit of doing that between scoldings, perhaps to give whoever was on the receiving end to actually absorb the lecture. "Like I was saying, I don't know who you're going to be sharing the space with." 

"But why do we even need to share a laboratory with someone? It could invite all kinds of trouble, like accidental contamination—or they could just be distracting and—" 

"Will you stop? You'll drive yourself crazy in the first week alone at this rate. Every laboratory is shared between two people, partly because of convenience but mostly for socialization." Balam finished, a tone filled with finalization that didn't leave Jungkook any room to argue. It's not like he had any. 

"Ah, here we are. Room B013 that'll be your laboratory." Balam stated, tail swaying casually as she watched Jungkook nod before opening the door. The sight was pause-worthy, at least for the young witch who stood stunned by the doorframe. Balam walked idly between his legs, a smugness to her gaze as he sauntered inside and hopped onto one of the black marble counters. Beginning to groom herself dutifully. 

The laboratory was a large space, a silent worry of Jungkooks deminishing as the space could easily fit two magicals. The walls were a creamy white, contrasting with the deep mahogany of the windowsill and framing. Two large, ceiling-reaching windows gave the space a good amount of natural light. For the actual workspace, there were long rectangular islands made out of a marbled black stone. Material like that could withstand certain chemicals; no doubt why the university chose such a heavy surface in the first place. 

To each side of the room, hugging some free space against the walls, was a display case. Walking over and opening the case, Jungkook marveled at the sheer amount of vials, cylinders, and other equipment waiting to be used. Looking around, he didn't mind the slight unevenness of the floorboards. The university was old, and although he was sure certain spells kept it maintained, age was something irreversible. 

The space was open, not as homely as other aspects of the castle, but this was a laboratory. It wasn't supposed to be overly decorated or warm, places like these never were. But Jungkook found himself comfortable, which was rather important considering how many hours he'd be spending within this room. He should get to work.

Setting his bag down on an empty chair, Jungkook began familiarizing himself. Grabbing an empty notebook and taking inventory of what was available already, having found a section of dried-out herbs on a shelf on the south side of the room. It was important to note what he already had and what he needed to order, although there were rare oddities he would need to cultivate himself. He had sent Balam off a few minutes ago to check the greenhouses for thornvine—a plant that would only grow in October—making it important for him to know in case he needed to cultivate some of his own. 

"I should've known you'd be in here."

Spinning around on his heels, Jungkook sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of his old friend, Kim Yugyeom. Now that he wasn't mentally preparing himself to present in front of an audience, Jungkook silently looked over the way Yugyeom, after all this time, hadn't really changed appearance-wise. Still, the same straight black hair parted to the side and loose, comfortable clothing. The only noticeable difference was that Yugyeom wore light, natural-looking makeup. Small dabbles of highlighter and eyeshadow extenuating his already soft features. 

What do you say to someone you left behind?

Although the sight of Yugyeom warmed his heart, feeding it with a bittersweet nostalgia that threatened to tug a crooked smile across his lips. Sweet because he and Yugyeom were like two peas in a pod, they understood each other. Unlike Seokjin or Namjoon, Yugyeom never tried fixing Jungkook. Not because he wasn't worried or approved of Jungkook's delinquent tendencies but because Yugyeom had faith in Jungkook. Because, unlike anyone, Yugyeom understood where the aggressive behavior came from. Yugyeom knew that one day, Jungkook would move on. So on days when Jungkook would hide out from his Hyungs after having gotten into another lone fight, lord knows how fussy they all could get, lip busted and bruises forming above his cheekbone, Yugyeom would let him in and simply listen. He wouldn't touch or coddle, ask a hundred-and-one questions, scold or reprimand him—no, Yugyeom would continue playing on his computer, waiting for Jungkook to talk if he wanted to. 

Jungkook hadn't wanted to for a while. 

He would sit by the window, beanbag, or bed, and simply exist for some time. Waiting for Yugyeom's accepting personna to break, for the other to finally realize he wasn't going to get some juicy gossip from Jungkook and move on. Only Yugyeom never did. Not when Hoseok came knocking on his dorm door, asking about him, and Yugyeom convincingly lying about his whereabouts. Covering for him over and over again. So one day, sitting on Yugyeom's bed, back leaning against the white wall the bed frame was pushed against, knees to his chest, and fingers idly picking at some of the scabs covering his knuckles. Jungkook talked, and Yugyeom had listened. 

So, how do you talk to someone you left behind six years ago? Fully expecting and accepting, never to see them again? 

"What, not gonna say 'Hi' or anything?" Yugyeom's mused lips curved upwards in a kind smile. A smile so strikingly familiar, that Jungkook felt practically unworthy to be basking in its warmth. Just moments ago, Jungkook was reminiscing about how everything in his life had changed without him, and there stood Yugyeom, again , standing utterly unchanged before him. Still, the same buoy that kept Jungkook afloat all those years ago. 

The prompt got Jungkook out of his momentary stupor, hurriedly fumbling over his words as he tried narrowing them down to just one sentence. Thousands of questions plagued him all at once, wanting to know so much while simultaneously apologizing for even more. Fortunately, Yugyeom seemed to have mercy on him once more, filling the room with a genuine laugh at Jungkook's fumbling. 

"What? You can't be surprised to see me; you presented your inquiry right after mine, after all." Again, Yugyeom carried a smile that reminded Jungkook of the Cheshire cats, only less mischievous and more amused. And Yugyeom's question wasn't wrong; he wasn't surprised by his presence but by the fact that Yugyeom was actually talking to him. Yugyeom should be mad at him; he'd have every right to , he thought deprecatingly. 

"Well, I just didn't think you'd, well," Jungkook paused, gesturing with his hand, "come find me." He concluded, sigh heavy on his tongue. 

Yugyeom's smile dwindled at his words, the sight reminding him of nyctinasty, a rhythm that allowed plants to open and close depending on the time of day. Although his words were unorganized, watching them have such a horrid effect on Yugyeom made them feel terrible. Without much hesitation, Yugyeom walked over slowly, methodical in his steps before pulling Jungkook's still-tense body into a hug. They stood like that for a moment, Yugyeom's arms wrapped around Jungkook, a type of hug that felt just so encompassing, warm, and protective. Yugyeom was hugging him like he used to. Jungkook's arms worked on their own, wrapping tightly around his old pillar in life, hand carefully clutching the knitted material of Yugyeom's warm, marbled-looking sweater. His head disappeared into the crook of his neck, mostly to keep Yugyeom from seeing the watery shine to his eyes, inhaling the subtle scent of citrus still clinging to his friend. A perfume oil Jungkook had gifted Yugyeom for his seventeenth birthday. 

A comfortable, emotional silence spread throughout the room. Distantly, one could hear a bird chirping, singing softly to itself as it landed in its nest, tucked against the outside windowsill along the left window. Sunlight shone through the windows, its light subtly spreading heat wherever it touched Jungkook's body. The two simply held each other, wordlessly making up for lost time. 

"It's really good to see you again, Jungkook," Yugyeom murmured into his shoulder, and even without seeing the other's face, Jungkook knew he wasn't the only one choking on his feelings. 

Jungkook wasn't exactly sure how long they stood like that, either party unwilling to release the other. Perhaps, in a silent fear of losing the other for another six years— or maybe even forever. They didn't say anything; however, the room never ceased to actually quiet, whether that was for the birds singing or occasional students passing down the hall or the pure liveliness of the castle itself that kept the room from ever really feeling silent.  

It nearly forced an ironic chuckle to escape Jungkook as he recalled one of the first things that had pulled him towards Yugyeom in the first place. No matter what, the quiet had never felt uncomfortable. Maybe that's Yugyeom's true specialty. Jungkook mused to himself, hands subconsciously tightening their ghostly hold on his friend. 

But just like any moment, this one had to leave them too. Jungkook struggled between saying too much and simultaneously not enough, apologies prancing at the tip of his tongue. But he also wasn't sorry. For leaving them, for distancing himself after they left him. However, in his pursuit to feel nothing, Jungkook accidentally lost what he still had. 

"I'm sorry." A croaked, emotional voice broke the silence. 

Yugyeom chuckled, but Jungkook could hear the heart behind it. Somehow, Yugyeom had grown emotional too. But it wasn't anger like Jungkook had expected, nor resentment or aloofness. Perhaps it was because Jungkook found none of that—that Yugyeom still looked and embraced him with all of his flaws, that really broke the nonchalant facade Jungkook tried so desperately to maintain. 

"I don't know for what in the world you could be sorry for, Jungkook." Yugyeom mused, a delicate sing-song voice that made his words just sound so easy. So simple. 

Maybe Jungkook simply was just a masochist, someone in strict denial that his actions would go unpunished. Because in an instant, Jungkook didn't hesitate to remind him. "For leaving you, for not contacting you, for disappearing for the past six fucking years—"  

The discouraging tutting noise from Yugyeom quickly shushed Jungkook's feeble attempts at self-sabotage. The older male pulled away from their hug, instead cupping both of Jungkook's cheeks and forcing the spiraling witch to gaze back at him. “Jungkook, I understand . You needed to get out, to leave and collect yourself. At your own pace, in a place of your choosing." Yugyeom reminded, as if the barebone intentions had escaped Jungkook in the midst of all this chaos. 

"I knew that one day we'd see each other again. And when that day happened, I told myself that I'd greet you like the friend you always were." Yugyeom's voice shifted from serious to one lighter in tone, filled with fondness. "And here we are, nothing but old friends getting to spend time together once more. I'm really happy to see you again, Jungkook; you've been up to quite a lot, haven't you?" Yugyeom teased, letting his words wash over Jungkook as if his unconditional affection was only a mist against Jungkook's skin and not a complete and all-consuming wave crashing against his fridged heart. 

Jungkook hadn't even realized it himself, when exactly his heart had grown so brisk and glacial . Uncaring and detached from his past. But being with Yugyeom again, in an occasional silence that never once felt overbearing, melting at the sheer love that still endlessly poured from the other. Jungkook felt himself slowly thawing, begrudgingly accepting that Yugyeom was something of his past he didn't want to let go. 

"I know I let you pace our conversations yourself, but I am dying to know what you've been up to. Besides being a famous physician and all—which I'll get to later, don't think I'll let that one go." Yugyeom began, pulling away from Jungkook and instead hopping onto one of the working surfaces in the laboratory. Dangling his feet carelessly. 

Jungkook smiled at the shift in tone and Yugyeom's tendency towards the dramatics. Jungkook found himself sitting beside his best friend, talking about the past six years. About how he had met his Halmoni, about the rather—abrupt adoption into Chae-wons family. Helping out in the bookstore, dealing with angry customers and dodging flying books, even tutoring. A fond tone edged his words as he described Jung-so and how Jungkook looked forward to seeing the little witch grow. 

Along those lines, Jungkook skipped his diagnosis. Not necessarily intentionally, but mostly due to the fact that he couldn't bring himself to ruin the fond smile that had etched itself onto Yugyeom's lips. 

"What I don't understand is why you went with medicine, like—you hated herbology, biology, any of that stuff. You hated it because your parents forced you into it; the Jungkook I knew cared more about which colored paints to pair with which because apparently there's this entire color theory thing—" Jungkook couldn't help but laugh at Yugyeom sidetracked rambling. The chuckles got him a huff from the other and a playful nudge against his shoulder. "Anyways, what I'm saying is, why Astrobiomedicine?" 

Ah. 

Jungkook hummed, acknowledging the question as he tried to formulate his words. Eyes suddenly glued to the floor, legs swaying before stopping altogether. The truth was unwelcoming, cold, and bitter; the reality sunk into one's skin like poison. If Jungkook could, he would spare Yugyeom of it. The inevitable truth is that Jungkook would die sooner rather than later. 

"A year after I left, after we graduated and went our separate ways." He began, "I started feeling ill. My magic, well, it grew weak. I couldn't feel it like I used to, had to focus more when I needed to pull on it, and eventually it began hurting when I did." Jungkook vaguely recalled the nights spent trying not to hyperventilate when his undiagnosed symptoms would appear. How he would gently palm and rub on his chest to try and soothe the ache away, trying to convince himself it was lingering soreness from an earlier activity. But it wasn't until the shadows appeared that Jungkook sought help. 

A pregnant pause, a shaky breath, and Jungkook continued. Eyes clouded as he talked, body present but mind far away, recalling in vivid, gruesome detail what he had gone through. "The pain—the pain, it got so bad eventually, like someone was sucking the mana out of me like I could feel my magic die inside of me. Felt my body go absolutely haywire, trying to mend itself. Using what little mana I had available to subconsciously attempt to restore myself. But using magic made it worse, and the pain intensified. It wasn't—it wasn't until I started coughing blood that I went to see a healer." 

Jungkook hadn't realized how weak his voice had gotten or how Yugyeom had pulled him close and into his side. Rubbing small circles into his back like little incantations meant to soothe him. Jungkook hesitated because he didn't want to say it. Saying it made it feel so real . It invited the fear he tried so hard to suppress to consume him, body and soul. 

"I was diagnosed with Nexus Entropy." 

Yugyeom didn't have to say anything. That quiet, quivering breath spoke volumes. 

"How—" Yugyeom visibly struggled to ask; the sight plunged Jungkook's heart from its roots. He didn't want to make Yugyeom say it; to ask him that question, everyone eventually narrowed his condition down to. 

"How much longer do you have?" 

"By the end of the year—" Jungkook couldn't meet Yugyeom's gaze but reluctantly looked into his best friend's eyes. He could see the teary reflectiveness threatening Yugyeom, and all it needed was the catalyst Jungkook was about to provide. 

"By the end of the year, I'll be dead." 

Jungkook had until the next Witching Moon to figure out a cure, or else JJK would have been a prodigy.

The sound of the front door unlocking and Jungkooks shuffling inside filled the space, a long, exhausted sigh escaping him as he removed his jacket and hung it onto the nearly filled coat rack. Sliding off his shoes and slipping into a comfortable set of slippers, glancing at the remaining ones. It was always easy to tell who was and wasn't currently home simply based on the amount of house-slippers left. Two pairs were still there, which unfortunately meant for Jungkook—one-third of the coven was present. With everything that had happened today, presenting his inquiry, reconnecting with Yugyeom, talking about his diagnosis, Jungkook felt drained. Emotionally and physically, he had nothing left to give. It was worse enough that his supposed safe space wasn't a place he could recharge in either, quite the opposite actually; Jungkook had rarely ever felt such dread . 

He was good at distracting himself, diverting all his attention and energies to certain subjects or jobs to the point that nothing else was able to occupy him. Somehow, Jungkook had even managed to push the topic of his exes away, too. Beside his feet, Balam yawned and stretched out her front paws, arching her back in a dramatic gesture. The sight made Jungkook slightly guilty; unlike all the other familiars who had been allowed to rest alongside their witches throughout the day, she had opted to stick by his side. Today was supposed to be easy. 

"Balam, why don't you head to my room already? I'll just go and eat some dinner first." He suggested, glancing at the Siamese cat spirit beside him. She looked skeptical, and he wasn't exactly sure what persuaded her: the thought of sleep, Jungkook entering his dormitory space instead of hiding, or perhaps Balam was able to decipher the fact that Jungkook wanted some space. Either way, Balam nodded and sauntered her way down the hall and into his room. 

Jungkook walked alongside her until they reached the living room, momentarily getting paused by a small pomeranian with mixed-colored fur circling his legs excitedly. Jungkook had been a little surprised to see the dog until he quickly recalled that this must be one of the other familiars. In Jungkook's rush during the previous night to escape the others' prodding stares or simple presence, he had failed to notice the company of any other familiar besides Balam. A part of himself wanted to be a bit immature; the need to nudge the dog away with his foot and move on nearly made his leg tingle. But the other familiars weren't responsible for their witches' actions; it wasn't fair to let his frustrations out on the spirits. 

With a tired smile, he kneeled down before the hyper dog. It's tail wagging wildly, sniffling at Jungkook's outstretched hand. “Hello, I’m Jungkook.” He introduced, amusement twisting his drained expression into a more genuine one. Talking to the familiar was apparently like opening Pandora's box. 

"Hello Jungkook, I'm Yeontan! But I go by all kinds of names, like Tannie, or if you wanna be really formal with me, you could call me Kim Yeontan. But I don't really like it when people call me that—So Yeontan, or maybe Tannie? No, I'll go with Yeontan. Call me Yeontan!" The pomeranian spirit babbled, his tiny tongue slightly hanging from his mouth. A small, quiet panting accompanied Yeontan's excitement. 

But before Jungkook could even utter a word in response, the admittedly cute pomeranian shot back instantly. "I've heard a lot about you; I mean—he won't shut up about you. I wasn't listening very much, but soulmates! Isn't that romantic? It's very romantic, oh gosh, it's kinda like candy. We should go get some candy—"

"Yeontan!" The sharp, scolding voice from Seokjin contained the chipper dog; the other witch must've come from the kitchen if the amusing, pink with white polka-dotted apron didn't speak for itself. Yeontan listened, pausing his train of thought and remaining seated in his spot—well, trying to felt more accurate. The little dog shifted on its feet, swaying between the left and right front paws, tail swishing hazardously against the floorboards. The thought that this might be Seokjin's familiar flashed through Jungkook, but it was rather odd, considering how different the two were based on his outdated knowledge. Soekjin was an earth witch, different from a green witch like Jungkook—who dealt more with energy—earth witches could literally manipulate the ground around them. Although it was stereotypical to assume all earth witches were low maintenance, Seokjin did carry himself with a very grounded nature. At least, that's what Jungkook remembered. 

"Why don't you tell the others that dinner is going to be ready soon?" Seokjin suggested in a soft tone, but a quick glance at his expression gave the hyper pomeranian the idea that his suggestion wasn't debatable at all. But the dog didn't seem deterred by the command, excitedly nodding its head and trotting down the hall. The soft patter of the familiars paws and nails tapping against the floor gradually disappeared into another room. 

But with the sudden absence of the overzealous spirit, Jungkook so desperately wanted him to return. He didn't want to be alone with Seokjin, not with any of them, actually. The pause between them stretched, and unlike his earlier interactions with Yugyeom, the quiet between them was heavy against his shoulders. 

"Uh, is Yeontan your—"

"What? Oh, no." Seokjin chuckled; the sound was happy, even if he looked a little relieved. "No, that familiar belongs to Taehyung." 

Taehyung?

The thought of the old academy Taehyung, more delinquent than student. The witch who would bite and bark at the slightest hint of coddling, who complained about anything slightly outside of his apparent agenda. Who was too cool for bright colors and cutesy stuff, being paired up with a small, hyperactive, easily enthused fluff ball? Unwillingly, the thought made Jungkook's lip curve upwards. 

However, it did remind Jungkook about the sheer amount of time he had missed. Recalling the soft colors Taehyung was dressed in last night, the way his style had changed from rough-and-rugged to a well-put-together, although easy-going, student. Exactly how much had Jungkook missed from Taehyung's growth? The small, vague smile that had crossed his expression disappeared. A cruel, intimate feeling of being robbed slowly took shape inside himself. Growing vicious, more dominating the longer he thought about it—

"Come, I made Bibimbap." Seokjin successfully interrupted Jungkook's spiraling, even if it was just for a moment. The older witch spun on his heels, walking back into the open kitchen. The space overall was very open, besides the two corridors that led off to the bedrooms and bathrooms. The kitchen was off to the far left, raised a step from the rest on a wooden platform that expanded to the dinner table. The only thing that mildly mimicked a wall between the kitchen and dining room was a long marble island. Then, the floor lowered a step or two and made room for the living room. Two couches rested on the now carpeted floor in an L formation around a coffee table. The space was wide and open, with potted plants and large windows, making the space oddly homey but exclusive. Again, another reminder of how loaded the university was. 

The seducing scent of Bibimap wafted through the space; glancing at the counter, he noted the already prepared namul and signature gochujang paste being set off to the side on the counter; the meat still seemed to be sizzling inside the pan. Which is what Seokjin had hurriedly returned to, back now turned to Jungkook as the elder stirred the cooking meat. Bowls of white rice, another with eggs and other dishes to serve as toppings filled the space. It kept Seokjin distracted, allowing Jungkook to lean against the island counter. Arms crossed over his chest, gaze painfully observing the sight of Seokjin cooking. 

Jungkook distantly recalled how when he released the glimmerkins in beastology—the study of magical beasts—he had gotten detention and a date with the Headmaster, where he was promptly trialed without having gotten to eat dinner. Originally, Jungkook did it purely to prank the new first years, glimmerkins were ghastly little beasts who caused chaos wherever they went. What hadn't been part of the plan was for the glimmerkins to team up on one first year in particular and hang them from the ceilings chandelier. Or splash an entire group with blue eldertwine ink, an ink that was derived from a wilted twine root and was completely waterproof—subsequently staining both faces and uniforms. Or for the glimmerkins getting into the bestiary pens and releasing the Nixalopes and Gryphalos.  

Yeah, Jungkook truly learned the extent of how mischievous glimmerkins were that day. But despite the scolding he had gotten from both the dean and Headmaster, along with his hyungs, Seokjin still loathed the idea of Jungkook going to bed hungry. Which is what had led them to sneak into the kitchens after curfew; Seokjin easily navigated the space, considering how often he volunteered to work cooking duty and made Jungkook a serving of bibimbap.  

Returning to the present, Jungkook fought the bitter feeling of wonder as he watched Seokjin cook. The taunting, daunting curiosity of what if. What if Seokjin was making bibimbap because it had been Jungkook's favourite? 

Jungkook had to stifle both a scoff and grimace. Since he had reunited with the others, he was uncertain which emotion he felt more. Blinding, engulfing anger, or all-consuming sorrow. As if Seokjin could feel Jungkook's burning gaze against his back, the elder attempting to fill the silence with idle chatter. 

"Yeontan and Taehyung seemed to be really close already; I wouldn't be surprised if the two actually formed a proper spirit bond. Though, my familiar is a real cutie too; they're—"

"Is this what we're doing now?" Jungkook interrupted with a badly hidden snarl, distaste and frustration evident in his tone. "Pretend like nothing happened?" anger . The pendulum dancing between hurt and anger stilled for a moment, and like those cheap magnetic knock-offs human kids would get to try and predict the feature; Jungkook's internal pendulum stopped spinning over his anger. The kindling had been lit earlier, and now Jungkook had a fire inside himself itching to burn. 

"Bunny—"

"Oh please, spare me the informality, Seokjin-sii." He watched as Seokjin inhaled at the formal address, and a sadistic satisfaction watched over himself at the twisted expression it earned him when the elder turned off the stove and turned to him. Untying the apron, folding it before setting it onto an empty space along the counter. Seokjin, like always, seemed to be taking his time formulating a response. 

"What was the plan here, huh? Act like nothing happened? Like I just went on a dainty little vacation, and now we can all go back to playing family again?" Distantly, Jungkook could hear chatter down the corridor halt. The others, although he was uncertain on who , had become aware of the confrontation currently occurring. Of course, in an open space like this, there wasn't much room for privacy besides in their own separate rooms and the two bathrooms. Good, let them hear. Jungkook thought bitterly. 

"Although, it seems you guys already did that. How long did it take for you all to get back together? A week ? A month ?" Jungkook's voice was mocking, and although he knew he'd feel remorseful for letting his own anger singe other people, a part of him wanted them to hurt, even if their pain was insignificantly narrowed compared to his. 

"We're not together." Namjoon's voice injected, walking up to Seokjin and standing only a meter or two away. Body leaned against the sink, arms crossed, as he calmly looked at Jungkook. It was those signature, composed expressions that really irritated Jungkook. Because he was feeling it all at the moment, and before him, one of the six causes to all this turmoil and mess, was a man who had the gall to look so unphased?

"Namjoons right, we aren't all together like we used to be," Jimin added, standing by the dining room table with Taehyung. Although, Jimin's expression contorted into one of—remorse? Sadness? Jungkook didn't linger on it. 

"I don't give a flying fuck who you've all decided to fuck or not; my point is that you don't get to address me so casually anymore. We aren't friends; I'm not your bunny ," A sharp glance towards Seokjin, "Or your Kookie , I'm your roommate. Don't call me out for dinner, or lunch, or any other domestic little spiel." Venom laced Jungkook's tone, and he could feel his own magic simmer and boil underneath his skin. He could feel it pulse, submerging some parts into his aura, subconsciously signifying how absolutely volatile Jungkook felt at the moment. He could see the witches in the room react, inhaling sharply or quiveringly. What infuriated him more was that Seokjin or Jimin didn't even have the nerve to meet his gaze. 

After all, Jungkook's anger and pain were the product of their betrayal. 

A sudden but hesitant tug on his finger pulled Jungkook's fury away from Namjoon and Seokjin. One of the red strings tied to his pinky tugged once again until he met Jimin's remorseful gaze. The blonde's eyes were teary, lip seemingly bitten raw, and hands a little restless with nerves. It was clear, but Jimin had a contorted expression that the witch was holding back tears. 

"Jungkook, please , I–" Jimin's quivering, raw voice was cut off by Taehyhung. 

"We're sorry. I’m sorry, Jungkook.” 

It wasn't enough; two words would never make up for how Jungkook was hurting. How he had been left behind , how the unwanted jealousy coursed through him in dangerous, turbulent waves. Threatening to take what little restraint, what morality, he had left under with it. It wasn't fair ; it wasn't fair that even if they didn't have all of each other, they still had some parts of each other. 

Had they honestly expected him to stay and keep contact after everything that had happened? The mere thought made a cold, bitter scoff escape him. Expression twisted into a small sneer, Jimin lowered his gaze at Jungkook's response, suddenly seeming all too interested in the shiny, laminated floorboards. Taehyung, always the prideful one, did not divert his gaze. But the brunette's expression was filled with remorse, a glassiness to his eyes that threatened to make Jungkook feel guilty. 

But the longer the silence filled the room, the less wind there was to fan Jungkook's flames. Slowly, he loosened his hands. Not having noticed exactly when he had balled them into fists. His nails have dug into his skin, leaving red, slightly irritated crescents indented into his palm. The pain, although as cynical as it was, grounded him. Inhaling, the sound of sucking breath into his lungs, only to eventually let out a vulnerable breath filled the otherwise barren room. 

Jungkook's eyes flickered over to Namjoon; the older witch had his arms crossed over his chest. But unlike Seokjin, who also had his arms crossed, Namjoon looked like he was shielding himself while Seokjin was practically hugging himself. It was the sight of Seokjin's glistening cheeks, reddened eyes as the oldest cried unabashedly, that somehow derailed Jungkook from his tyrannical warpath. Because why was Seokjin crying? After all, it was them who hurt him . The only person currently allowed to cry was Jungkook. 

“Jungkook, Bun, Kookie—”

"Jungkook." Jungkook's tone was sharp in its reprimand, but the sound of his old nicknames from any of their lips felt like salt in the wounds he already carried. He hated it, hated how vulnerable Seokjin sounded, how much sorrow and sheer regret was tainting his aura. 

The sound of Seokjin sucking in his breath, gulping audibly as the elder clearly tried to swallow the choked sound of a sob down. Grimacing and contorting his face to control the wobble of his lips, the sight was enough to make Jimin's muffled sniffling more auditable, too. The sight and sounds somehow managed to irritate Jungkook further, the threads tied around his pinky tugging uselessly. The souls inside themselves weakly calling out for reconciliation. 

But Jungkook wasn't going to reconcile. 

Eventually, in the suffocating atmosphere of the room, Seokjin found his words, perhaps with the gentle help of Namjoon, who had started rubbing circles onto the weeping witches' backs. 

"Kook—" Seokjin inhaled, hurriedly trying to amend his mistake at Jungkook's sharp glare. “Jungkook, I’m sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry. I've hurt you and—"

"Why?" Jungkook prompted, turning his full attention to Seokjin. Back now turned towards Jimin, the witch's downcast gaze desperately trying to avoid contact with the world. Ah, when had Jungkook's world turned so melancholic?

He had never wanted this. He had never wanted to be so sad. He never intended to spread that sorrow either. 

"Why? Why are you sorry, Seokjin? Was it because you left me?" A choked-down, heartbreaking sound escaped Seokjin's lips. The elder hurriedly cupped his palm over it, hiding his fully trembling lip and runny nose. Eyes squinted with tears, yet the witch refused to look away. Jungkook wasn't sure what motivated him to go on, maybe, in the most twisted parts of himself; did it feel good to see one of the people who hurt him feel even the slightest amount of what he's been carrying for the past six years. Or, perhaps it was also a combination of adrenalin from actually having this confrontation that didn't let Jungkook relent in his sadistic pursuit to shed tears. 

"Why?" He prodded further, voice whispery yet mocking.

"Jungkook, that's enough—" Namjoon tried cutting in, realizing how this conflict was escalating. The sight made Jungkook snicker because where was that motivation when everything was on the line?

"Was it because you didn't even look back? Or, maybe how you didn't even fight it?" He prompted, taking a step closer. 

"Jungkook, stop. Let's calm down—" 

"Hmm? Come on, Seokjin, tell me what you're sorry for. Was it because you knew how much our coven meant to me? Or, was it because you knew how much I lov—"

"Because I failed you!" Seokjin finally cut Jungkook off, voice loud and booming, but it cracked at the end. Raw with emotion, with pure, unfiltered desolation . 

And the gusto inside Jungkook dwindled, and for the first time since, he had been reintroduced to his past. Felt the mockingly familiar pull on the red strings uniting them; the bulwark that had been protecting what little face he had left relented. Hot tears threatened his waterline before falling down his cheeks and kissing at the bottom of his chin. No one dared utter a word; the only sound was the sniffles, hiccups, and weak attempts to downplay the depths of their shared agony. 

It took a moment for Jungkook to find his own voice, shoulders trembling as his gaze turned downcast, too. Gulping down a sob, he nodded.

"Yeah, you did." 

"All of you did." 

Before his knees could collapse under his weight, the heart in his chest suddenly felt miles heavier than it ever had. He turned around, desperate to preserve what little dignity he had left, and retreated to his room. He swayed, tears making his vision blurry as he swung open his door and nudged it shut behind him, the bang unintentional and imposing. In some ways, the bang signified, or rather— felt , like the means to an end. An odd, somewhat relieving feeling spread through him as he dived face-first into his mattress. Arms swinging around his pillow, face pressed into the downy as he finally let sobs wrack through his body. 

Because finally. Finally , he was able to tell them. He was able to say it to them. 

His coven hadn't just left him. They hadn't just misused his trust, hadn't just broken his heart—They had failed him. In every sense of the word, they had let him down to shatter amongst the floor. But Jungkook had time—six years, to be specific—and within that time, had pieced himself back together. 

He'd be damned if he ever let them break him again. 

“Mr. Jeon?” 

Perking up from his spot in the waiting room, Jungkook glanced at the nurse standing by the hallway closest to the front desk. Raising his hand, the woman spotted him quickly, a friendly but stale smile plastered onto her lips as she tucked a brown clipboard against her chest. 

“The doctor will see you shortly; follow me, please.” Her voice was honeyed, but it was something Jungkook was used to by now. Nearly every nurse he’s met was sweet, voice usually soft, not always in tone—but in nature. 

Sitting up from the uncomfortable waiting room chair, he always tried to avoid touching the small cushions patched on the base and back of the seats. They were always in different colors depending on what hospital you went to; in this case, they were a faded pink. But it wasn’t the color that made Jungkook cringe slightly; it was that fake, leathery texture. Of course, he understood why it was that specific texture. They couldn’t go for actual fabric since it couldn’t be cleaned easily; authentic leather was expensive and shouldn’t be cleaned with harsh chemicals, either. Therefore, fake leather was the best option. But that didn’t change the fact that Jungkook disliked it, the texture, and the hackneyed appearance. Maybe it was so because the only time he’d ever had to sit in one was when he was in the hospital.

At this point, Jungkook was no stranger to any hospital. No matter the location, they all worked on the same principles. The only thing that was ever different or mildly difficult was finding the damn floor you were supposed to be on. 

But Jungkook had managed; he always did. Standing up, smiling a timid but kind smile to return the nurse's politeness before promptly following her. 

Hospital hallways were always eerie; he wasn’t exactly sure what contributed the most to its unsettling atmosphere. It could be the pure whiteness of practically everything: the stale gray vinyl flooring, the off-white, sometimes cream-colored walls, the haunting pattern of your footsteps. The sound was hard to explain in hospitals; it was usually quiet, unsettling as one dangled from their own anxieties, but when there was noise, it was loud. 

Whether that noise came from an incessant EKG monitor or the vital sign monitors that practically start screaming when a value is off, to the minute details, such as grabbing a set of gloves from the glove compartments hung against the walls, unwrapping medical supplies, moving machinery around on unoiled wheels, and the constant pacing footsteps of nurses flying around like busy bees. 

But Jungkook preferred that, preferred the noise over the silence any day. Which is why he hated his sessions so much; the kind nurse guided him down the hall before entering a room. She let him enter first before plugging a set of gloves from its respective box before checking his vitals, jotting them down, before giving Jungkook a moment to settle. 

Jungkook sat at the edge of the hospital bed, not yet wanting to lay down on the thin mattress. There was a process to this he had grown accustomed to; first, the nurse would check his vitals, then he’d wait— that following silence taunted him with gruesome ambition. Then, the doctor would arrive, observing the progression of Jungkook's health and determining the speed at which he was actively deteriorating. Then the doctor would leave, and silence followed before a nurse pushing a heavy, modified centrifuge entered. Lastly, Jungkook would dance with unconsciousness for approximately four hours until the Satan spawn was removed from his arteries. 

The entire process had made Jungkook so incredibly anxious the first time he had done it, but his Halmoni had been there with him. Holding his hand, fussing over him, and eventually taking him down to the bakery across the street when he was done, those moments filled him with a gentle warmth because he hadn’t ever asked Halmoni for any of it. They weren’t even related, but the old witch saw something within him that Jungkook might not ever see. But she loved him, and in all her disorganized glory, Jungkook loved her, too. 

It was that very love that prompted him to grow more silent over his festering condition. Why he had eventually asked her not to accompany him anymore because seeing the sheer amount of sorrow in her old gaze whenever the doctor confirmed his worsening symptoms and not the desperate hopes she clung to about his improvement made Jungkook take care of his diagnoses independently. 

He couldn’t stand the sight of her spirit and hope dying alongside him. 

Jungkook hadn’t changed doctors before, but he couldn’t exactly make the ten-hour trip back to Busan for every appointment or check-up; that would be an absolute hassle; besides, he had an illness to cure. He couldn’t necessarily afford many distractions, and he needed to consume what little energy he had left for his research. He couldn’t take time off once every two weeks just to get an apologetic look and poorly hidden pity from a doctor or nurse three towns over. So, Jungkook allowed his primary provider to share his medical history and current treatment plans with this new doctor. 

A knock on the door, followed by a gruff sounding “Mr. Jeon?” Was the only warning Jungkook got before the doctor entered. The woman seemed to be approximately in her late thirties, visible tiredness hanging from the slight discolouration underneath her eyes. Hair tied into a bun, with curtain-like bangs poking out and framing her face. Sharp, pointed ears sported elegant but subtle jewelry, making a bold guess Jungkook might assume the doctor was a fairy. Based on the pointy ears, the natural grace with which she sat down, and the purely calming—settling aura she gave off. 

It was a stereotype Jungkook wouldn’t admit to socially. Still, it was relatively common that fae, witches, fairies, and elves focused their attention on healing and the general health of the magical society. But Jungkook couldn’t necessarily refute that stereotype, considering that he’s a part of it. 

“I’m Sook Geumseong, and I’ll be your doctor for the foreseeable future. I have taken a look inside your medical history and treatment plans sent to me by your previous doctor, Mr. Jee.” Jungkook nodded absentmindedly, trying to snap out of the taciturn mindset he always entered when in a hospital. It wasn’t his fault ; he didn’t want to be here, after all. It was simply easier to nod and drift off than currently be present. 

Geumseong nodded, making a slight hum as she spun in those small half-stools with wheels at the bottom. She typed a few curt sentences into her computer, the soft clicking of the keyboard doing little to put him at ease. 

“Any new symptoms that have occurred within the last two weeks?” She asked, gaze now locked onto his. Suddenly, Jungkook got the impression that Geumseong was a very efficient person.

He nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat as he pulled up his sleeve. There, against his pale skin—an unfortunate side effect from his illness—stood imposing black veins along his left wrist. That morning, when Jungkook had been woken by his alarm and Balam. He had nearly refused to leave his bed; the temptation to hide and sulk within the comforts of his downy fortress was impossible, especially with Balam swiping at his face. 

The freshness of his confrontation with Seokjin, Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyung stuck fresh in his mind and body. Brain-wracking senselessly over everything he had said, over everything he hadn’t said, or everything he could’ve said. Body, an accumulation of relief, heaviness, and bitterness, and an odd sense of guilt . Because throughout the jumbled mess, he could still hear Seokjin choke on his sob. Blinking, Jungkook could see Jimin's reddened cheeks and raw-bitten lips. And although it had somehow fulfilled him during that moment, Jungkook hadn’t felt satisfied. 

Seeing Jungkook's hyungs, his old lovers , in pain didn’t relieve his own. It didn’t mend the six years spent sulking and healing, bandaging wounds that had just started scabbing over. Seeing his hyungs again, they’ve all been reopened. But yelling and spreading more grief didn’t help him in finding more bandaids or bandages, and it didn't provide him with a sling or crutch. It just left everyone aching, and Jungkook felt so tired of hurting. 

It was the sound of a knock, knuckles hitting against the wooden door, that prompted him to sit up. For a moment, tense and nervous that one of them would enter. Jungkook couldn’t afford to lose the little safe space he had left. But that didn’t happen; the sound of someone clearing their throat was slightly muffled against the wall between him and whoever was outside. 

“I—I’ll leave your breakfast outside. I know you said not to call you for breakfast or anything, but—well, you didn’t eat dinner, so—” Jimins voice mumbled, rambling on as Jungkook could practically picture the blonde wringing out the end of his shirt nervously as he talked. 

It was the short, hiss-like voice of Yoongi that he could distantly make out. “Jimin, let him be now!” 

Balam had perched herself back on his desk, tail swaying as she glanced at the door before back at him. It amused Jungkook because if she could, she’d probably be scowling with a raised brow at their behavior. It also reminded Jungkook that their late-night fiasco must’ve been passed on to the two absent witches. 

It was good to know Yoongi still understood and respected personal space as much as he had done back then, too. 

But Jungkook hadn’t heard the sound of footsteps padding away, only the silence as he anxiously waited for any sound to indicate Jimin's departure. 

“There’s so much I want to say, Jungkook I—”

“Jimin!” 

A pause, the sound of a sharp inhale, and ruffling outside the door followed. 

“Have a good day, Jungkook. Drink lots of water and stay hydrated, yeah?” Jimin finished, the subtle sound of defeat infiltrating his tone before the sound of footsteps told Jungkook of Jimin's departure. 

Once Jungkook was sure Jimin and no one else was in the hall or nearby, he opened the door. Gawking at the tray that stood before him, a small bowl with what he assumed to be miso soup, steaming gently beside another small bowl of rice and a side of banchan. He picked it up, kicking the door closed gently behind him with the heel of his foot. Walking over to his table, he sat the tray down. An uneasy feeling settled inside his stomach, making him subconsciously gnaw on his lip piercing. Along the tray was a folded piece of paper, folded in half, the cardstock material stood up. It was noticeable and a part of him dreaded the message that could be written on the note. 

“Breakfast in your room?” Balam questioned, but that tone of her voice gave hint to her subtle disapproval. It was clear that although she encouraged Jungkook to take his time with handling his situation, she didn’t necessarily approve of his hiding habits. 

Nodding numbly, Jungkook felt conflicted. Somehow, it felt as if accepting the meal would also be him accepting the small gesture of apology. But Jungkook didn’t accept their apology, no matter how exactly their remorse was shown. 

Letting the food sit on his desk, he eventually grabbed the note meant for him. Sitting on the edge of his bed, stomach tied in knots, Jungkook was about to fold the paper open properly when a spine-curdling sight crossed him. There, where his hoodie hiked up at his movements, showed his wrist, but unlike the usual assortment of small blue, green, or maybe purple veins, now stood in terrifying vividness—thick, black veins. The dark lines faded into his palm, most prominent around his wrist and a little down his forearm before fading. They were spreading. 

Jungkook knew what this meant, but it was such a rapid change from two weeks ago. Why hadn’t he noticed earlier? Grabbing the end of his now rolled-up sleeve, Jungkook roughly pulled the fabric back up. Covering the sight, he leveled his breathing. Perhaps it was his own fault to be so caught off guard. He had noticed the gradual change in his skin; once tanned and healthy-looking, it had now grown pallid and dry. That happened weeks ago. The note, now long forgotten, fell beside him onto the mattress as he jumped to get ready. 

Which is how he had found himself here, sitting in front of his doctor, Geumseong, slowly rolling up his sleeve. He didn’t even notice the chill all hospitals came with like usual; no, his body was cold. A part of him wasn’t sure if that was a byproduct of his fear and anxieties or another symptom. Presenting the disturbing sight of black arteries replacing his blue ones. The doctor didn’t need to say much; the subtle, sharp intake of air was enough. 

This wasn’t a good sign. 

“Have these appeared anywhere else?” Her straightforward, authoritative voice questioned. 

Shaking his head, he watched as a small flicker of relief flashed within the doctor. But it was quickly replaced with what he assumed to be pity; they both knew what this meant. 

“We’ll have to double your treatment plan, replace it from every two weeks to one.” Nodding, Jungkook let out a long, tired sounding sigh. 

“You’re all set, Sir; take as much time as you need.” 

The dizziness eventually diminished, that signature odd tingling leaving from his fingertips and feet. The debilitating weakness that would usually follow faintness gradually said its goodbyes and the signature ding from his phone alerted Jungkook to a notification. 

Reaching out to his phone, he managed a weak smile at Yugyeom's text notification. Upon their last meeting, the two friends hurriedly exchanged numbers. Jungkook still felt in slight shock, or rather, disbelief, that Yugyeom held no resentment or reclusiveness towards him. No, it was like he and Jungkook had never parted. 

Yugyeom: 

“Has your appointment finished? I’ll pick you up! Mark suggested we go to Enchanted Brews. The café just opened up, and since you’re in town right now, I thought we could eat lunch?” 

Smiling slightly, the message reminded him of the café visits he’d indulge in with his Halmoni. Besides the old witch and Yugyeom, no one knew about his condition. In some ways, it was comforting to have his closest friend be there for him. It filled him with a fluttery, light warmth, similar to when one would get to bask in the warmth of golden hour. It felt good. 

Somewhere in this cold body of his. There was a subtle warmth. Similar to when the meadows get covered in a layer of thick, frosty ice. Making a once lush field plane, berron, and monotone in its white colors. But then, as the first primrose pokes its head out to greet the warming air. Jungkook, too, felt something bloom subtly within him. 

Jungkook: 

“Just finished; I'll be outside in a minute.” 

It was bizarre, the feeling of knowing someone was waiting outside the hospital for you. It made the lingering smell of rubbing alcohol and sterilizing cleaners escape his senses sooner. Slowly lifting his body in an upright position, he slung his legs over and off the hospital bed. Waiting a moment as if to challenge the dizziness to return before he slowly stood up. Patting down his pockets—these appointments always made him so forgetful—before heading out. Back down the hall, past closed-doored rooms. 

A lingering thought washed through him as he walked—as if the very words he formulated were written in sand. Will I die here—among these sad, dreary walls of white? Although most of his wardrobe consisted of black, Jungkook loved color. The vibrancy of life was stunning, a combination of pure, raw beauty that had no benefit to gain from its resplendent nature. What did the sky gain from painting the heavens? When a bunny hops between the blades of a thriving meadow, what does the grass gain from its rich shade of green? Or the poppies from their dying red? 

Color was a sign of life, and when Jungkook walked along these erie corridors, past the reception with faded pink chairs. A sense of urgency, a need tugged him forwards. 

He will not die here. 

Opening the front glass door of the hospital, a breeze of fresh air fanned his skin. Somehow, it felt welcoming. As if greeting him back to the world of the living, even in its freshness, threatening to tint the tip of his nose pink, he welcomed its presence with open arms. 

“Jungkook!” 

And just as those solemn words were carved into the sand, the sight of Yugyeom, smiling at him from across the street, was like a wave, crashing against the shore and washing them away. 

No, Jungkook would most certainly not die here. 

Yugyeom had crossed the street, a slight skip or pep to his step as he sauntered over. A smile, genuine and significant, was displayed across the witches' features. A contagious happiness that seemingly infected Jungkook within minutes, the usually brooding sickly witch breaking his misanthrope-like persona rather quickly. Yugyeom had hooked his arm against the crook of Jungkooks, leading him down the street and away from the hospital. 

The town adjacent to the university was quaint and consisted of considerably more foot traffic than vehicular. The streets beside the sidewalk are no longer a flat pavement but a combination of closely arranged cobblestone. 

“How’d your appointment go?” Yugyeom asked, breaking their streak of idle chit-chat. At least, Yugyeom considered the topic of his coven—one Jungkook knew nothing about— idle . He was reeling; the thought of having missed the moment of Yugyeom finding his own soulmates left a bitter taste on his tongue and a sinking feeling in his gut. He had missed it . He had missed hearing about their first meeting, had missed Yugyeom's first date, and had missed the day the witch completed the bonding ceremony with his soulmates. 

It made the words of abandonment echo inside his soul, his mind reeling on the fact that, effectively, he was a stranger. Yugyeom had been okay with him leaving, or rather, hadn’t stopped Jungkook from leaving. But the sickly witch felt uncertain how deep that okayness actually went. 

“—Jungkook? Hello, earth to Jungkook?” Yugyeom called out, drawing out the words theatrically as he stopped. Waving his other hand in front of Jungkook's face, successfully snapping the witch out of his guilty stupor. 

Yugyeom, unaware of the heavy turn Jungkook's feelings went, snickered, amusement clear in his expression. “Where’d you run off to this time?” 

“I’m sorry, Yugyeomm.” 

Just like with his first apology, Jungkook watched as Yugyeom's carefree smile turned crooked and forced before resigning to its fate entirely. 

“You already apologized, and I already told you that it’s fine—” The witch began, but a shake from Jungkook's head hauled him to a stop. Throughout their time, Yugyeom learned through the rare times Jungkook would talk to let him express what he needed to before jutting back in. 

“It’s not, though. I’m sorry, I really am Yugyeom. I missed so many special moments in your life; you were there for me. But I wasn’t there for you.” He began, for a moment, not meeting his friend's gaze, inhaling sharply as he collected his thoughts before returning to those clear, bordering eyes. “I can’t,” He began, his own face contorting into one filled with regret. “—can’t change that. But I can promise you now that I’ll be there.” Grabbing Yugyeom's hand, he gave it a gentle squeeze when he finished his sentence. A silent, physical reminder that he was actually there. That he meant it. 

“And I’ll be staying, Yugyeom. I’m done hiding; I’m done running. I want to be a part of your life again. If you still want me to be in it, of course—” 

Jungkook's words were cut off by the force of which Yugyeom hugged him, the witch's arms wrapped around his neck. Momentarily knocking the air and his words out of him. It took Jungkook a moment to process, his own arms hovering over Yugyeom's back. Before the sick witch fell into the embrace, hiding his face in his friend's shoulder—arms snaking tightly around Yugyeom, as if the witch would slowly evaporate within his hold. 

“Oh, Jungkook, I missed you,” Yugyeom admitted, the words making Jungkook's arms tighten as he exhaled shakily. Yugyeom's jacket muffled the sound. 

“Whatever the world holds for us now, let’s face it together again, yeah?” Yugyeom suggested, a hopeful tone dominating the otherwise emotional voice Yugyeom spoke with. 

Unwilling to shed tears in public, Jungkook nodded. Letting out a sad, wet chuckle. “Yeah, let’s face it together.” 

The rest of the walk was subtle and easy-going, the sight of what Jungkook assumed to be the cafe approaching. It had a similar style to his Halmonis bookstore in that the bottom floor was styled differently, the second floor remaining simple and most likely only serving as an apartment. The block the establishment was located in split the road, creating a Y formation where the streets parted ways. The store was, literally, a corner store. A set of two doors, blunket in color, provided entry to the cafe. Adjacent to the doors were carved, varnished wood beams with a deep but aged appearance with two large rectangular patterns carved into the panelling. The designs were growing much darker, nearly black in color from age. Nailed against the wooden beams was a black picture frame displaying the menu. The sides of the cafe, besides the large, open windows, had its wooden frame painted a matt black. Over the entrance doors was a neatly hidden wooden ledge, an extended assortment of vines growing down onto either side of the doors. The bougainvillea and purpleleaf grape vines mingling well with the otherwise green foliage, it almost gave off the appearance that the entry to the cafe was somewhat hidden. The plants were supposed to remain above striped, black, and white awnings; however, the vines had grown bulky and already begun to stretch over the protective fabric. 

The cafe was clearly busy, bustling with customers inside and out. Small, circular tables and woven chairs hugged closely to the outside of the store were already occupied. Entering the cafe, the overpowering aura of magic filled Jungkook's lungs with a quick glance around the otherwise lively space. He watched how brooms swept the floors by themselves, washcloths wiping over vacated desks, dirty dishes collecting themselves and floating into the kitchen. Once again, the sight of such mundane magic made Jungkook's heart swell. Although he can no longer indulge in magic himself, being able to observe it, practically living all around him, felt somewhat consoling. 

The cafe had its charm, mimicking the same aesthetic as its outside within the store. Matt blacks, rich varnished woods, and plants decorated their surroundings. A black, spiraling staircase stood beside the end of the counter. Leading to a second floor, which remained open and covered only one half of the remaining cafe. Delicately designed railings line the open wall. The occasional lamp, chandelier, or lined LED gave off a warm orange light. Mixed with the dominant scent of grounded coffee beans and vanilla, Jungkook knew he’d visit this place more often. Walking over to the counter, Jungkook couldn’t help but smile a little as the fae took their orders. The sight of two large, ivory wings resembling those of a bird. Pointed ears, adorned with hanging jewelry, and pale skin. Within the midst of Busan, Jungkook hardly ever saw a lot of magicals. Sure, the occasional creature here or there. But it was no secret to anyone that magicals preferred to stick together, making small towns like these heavily populated with all kinds of magical folk. It made Jungkook feel strangely at home. 

With their orders placed, Yugyeom and he sat down at an available table. They had chosen a table on the second floor, hugging the railing and giving them a good view of the interior design and general clientele of the cafe. 

“You know, you never did answer my question.” Yugyeom chimed in, having taken off his jacket and draping it over the back of his chair as he settled in. 

Perking up, Jungkook shook his head as he shrugged. “Which question would that be exactly?” He mused, tone playful and a little jokingly exasperated. 

“About how your appointment went,” Yugyeom reminded, and if he had seen Jungkook tense at the clarification, he hadn’t mentioned it. A long, calculated sigh escaped the sickly witch as he mulled over his thoughts and words. Having Yugyeom support him was a bittersweet but heartwarming feeling. But again, Jungkook found himself wanting to spare his friend from the gory details. There was a pause in conversation, Yugyeom clearly giving Jungkook the time he needed to formulate his response. 

“Well, the procedure itself went fine.” Jungkook began, debating silently whether or not to keep his answer at that. But a glance at Yugyeom and a resolved shake of his head, Jungkook confessed. 

“I’m, well—I’m getting worse.” He watched as Yugyeom inhaled sharply, his friend's chest filling with air and keeping it there for longer than necessary. A shaky, broken exhale followed soon after. But Jungkook was stuck trying to formulate his words in a way Yugyeom understood; unlike Jungkook, who had studied Astrobiomedicine for the past years and understood complex medical procedure terms and certain biological cell structures going on within him, Yugyeom didn’t. Jungkook knew from experience that adding large, imposing words to anxious confusion simply made things worse. 

“Jungkook, will..” Yugyeom drawled out his words, looking away at the patrons below them as he seemingly swallowed a lump within his throat. “Will you be okay?”

Before Jungkook could answer that question, he was unfortunately interrupted by two flying porcelain mugs and two plates carrying a slice of strawberry shortcake. Their earlier placed orders floated towards them before gently landing on the table before them; the subtle smell of vanilla and latte, along with the warm breath of steam lightly kissing his face, Jungkook found himself relaxing a little. 

“Yugyeom,” He began, his town a practiced level of clarity and stillness. “Nexus entropy develops in stages. But at its core, it develops when your magic grows unstable. The mana begins to attack itself, gradually becoming more corrosive as the disease develops.” Taking a sip from his latte, Jungkook let the bitter taste of espresso settle him. Glancing at Yugyeom to check if he was following, a curt nod from the witch was all he needed before continuing. 

“Of course, there are all kinds of side effects throughout this process.” A dry, humorless chuckle escaped him. Recalling the restless nights spent in bed, tossing and turning because his entire body ached. Or the times when he would lose nearly all of his energy, spending days absolutely bedridden and at the mercy of his Halmonis hellish soups and regenerative concoctions. The spouts of nausea, vertigo, heat and cold flashes, headaches, the list was excruciatingly endless. 

Sometimes, in his delusional state, he imagined Yoongi sitting by the end of his bed. Hand resting firmly on his ankle, a distant but reassuring touch, similar to how when he had gotten sick at the end of his first year. The stoic witch had feigned nonchalance at missing the ceremony—where the present witches graduated into a higher class—and remained by his side. Yoongi didn’t say much during those times, but Jungkook didn’t need him to. Whenever a cough would wrack through him, leaving him hunched over and wheezing slightly, that red string connecting their hearts would tug, needily, silently prompting Jungkook to lift his drooping head and look at Yoongi. To confirm to the older—secretly worried—witch that he, too, would be alright. 

Jungkook still recalled his sheer surprise as he was startled awake, not even having realized he was nodding off until the door was nearly slammed off its hinges. His soulmates had ushered in, all still wearing their traditional ceremonial robes; if Jungkook didn’t feel like he had just trudged through the moors by himself, he would have smiled at their urgency to return to him. Yoongi, unlike Jungkook, was very unamused by the intrusion. Berating the others for waking him after having just dozed off. Everyone was there, in their tight two-bed dorm room, even Taehyung. That night was spent by six powerful witches desperately fighting the little gremlin that was Jungkook's cold. Namjoon constantly realigning or replacing the cold towel over his forehead, Jin having gone off before retrieving a steaming bowl of soup, Hoseok nudging a pillow behind his back and helping him sit up before subsequently feeding the steaming bowl of soup to him. Jimin was gently massaging his sore muscles, chatting aimlessly since the witch knew how much Jungkook hated silence. Surprisingly, Taehyung had helped with the conversation, helping in his own, reserved way. Yoongi, throughout all of this, had not let go of his reassuring hold on his ankle. 

But opening his eyes, Jungkook would always be greeted by the sight of his white ceiling. The rhythmic patter of rain hitting his windows would never soothe him like Jimin's theatric gossiping, nor would soup ever cure what he has. 

Clearing his throat to get back on track, Jungkook leaned his elbows against the table. “Well, I’m sure you know how mana works. Although it's spread throughout your entire body, it is most dominant within the bloodstream. Hence, when powerful magicals get injured, their powers quickly diminish along with them.” He made a slight motion of his hand, gesturing to his body as he explained their basic biology. Not because Yugyeom was dense or misinformed but simply because Jungkook remembered Yugyeom nearly failing their biology class. 

“When mana becomes–” He paused, trying to find the right words for Yugyeom. “—Corrupted?” He settled on that, waiting to absentmindedly rub his cold thumb over his wrist. “It becomes visible; it turns black.” 

Watching Yugyeom's eyebrows furrow with untold questions, Jungkook rushed to explain. “It’s kinda like when we cast a detection charm, and the magic surrounding you gives off a colorful aura? Dark magic usually has a red or black atmosphere, not because it has gained sentience and wants to appear all brooding and edgy, but because it's dangerous. Spells with red auras are that way because the spell caster sacrificed something to conjure it. Black auras aren’t given something; they take something. Similarly to how the color black absorbs the wavelengths of light.” Jungkook prayed to the gods that his explanation made sense. He wasn’t used to explaining his diagnosis; his Halmoni knew because the doctor had explained it to her for him. No one else knew. Well, besides Yugyeom.

Taking a moment to pause, Jungkook let his friend process his abbreviated explanation. “My veins are turning black because the mana inside me is consuming itself.” Jungkook's magic, his essence, was killing itself. Subsequently, taking Jungkook with it. 

Yugyeom had stilled somewhat before beginning to pick at his slice of cake anxiously. No longer lifting pieces to his mouth but instead gently nudging a cut strawberry across the white porcelain. 

Guilt crept up on Jungkook like an old acquaintance, tapping his shoulder before becoming his companion once more. He had never been able to forget the glassy eyes of his Halmoni, her gray eyebrows contorted and expression low. Seeing Yugyeom like this reminded Jungkook of the sheer helplessness he felt in those moments. Because what should he say? He couldn’t promise a brighter future, especially since he wasn’t sure if he’d even have one. 

But the urge was there, persistent and relentless. Clearing his throat, he pulled the lost Yugyeom back towards him. Unable to bear the burden of those far-off gazes. “Do you know what a centrifuge is?” With a shake of Yugyeom's head, he continued, “Well, it's a machine that basically separates heterogeneous mixtures into their various components. Humans use a centrifuge to separate red blood cells, platelets, and plasma. The red cells are then transferred back to the human.” 

Jungkook shrugged off his jacket, folding down the soft woolen ring around his neck to reveal a skin-colored bandaid. “Something similar happens to me; they take my corrupted blood—” He then moved to scrunch up the left sleeve of his black turtleneck until he reached the juncture of his arm. A bright turquoise self-adhesive bandage, bulging slightly where the wool swab laid underneath, “and transferred the “clean” blood back into my body. Devoid of any mana.” Pulling his sleeve back down and correcting his turtleneck, Jungkook leaned back against his chair with a tired sigh. 

“The procedure takes about four hours.” He stated, watching Yugyeom's mouth gape. The witch had been awfully silent throughout his entire lecture, and Jungkook couldn’t really blame him. He wouldn’t be faring much better if he had just found out his best friend had a terminal illness and then gotten a crash course in said illness only a day later. 

He should be in the lab right now. Jungkook thought absentmindedly, although even his own thoughts were laced with a bit of bitterness.  Meeting with Yugyeom would never feel like a waste of his time, it just felt like something he didn’t have at the moment. He didn’t have any time left to spare. 

“I—” His words choked him, their heaviness preventing him from pushing them from his tongue. He wanted to gag. “In order to give myself time, the mana inside me needs to be removed.” He repeated, frowning deeply. “I don’t really have any magic anymore.” He whispered, blinking rapidly to prevent the wetness clouding his eyes from spilling over. Mana was a part of a witch's soul. They were made of it. To be without mana— without magic , was a witch's equivalent to being a wanderer without a soul. Incomplete. 

Before Yugyeom could shed a tear, something Jungkook now realized was a genuine threat. He reached out, plucking one of Yugyeom's hands and encasing it tightly within his own. He rubbed his thumb over the warm skin, a taunting contrast to his own, lifelessness. Lifting his head, Jungkook locked his gaze in with his friends—a steel-like, determined look and tone accompanying his promises. 

“But don’t worry, Yugyeom, I might not have magic now. But I don’t need it at the moment either. I have enough time till the end of the year, and by then—” An auspicious smile graces Jungkook's features, “I’ll have a cure.”  

A moment of silence, the nonsensical chatter, and gossip of other patrons felt distant, swallowed by a wave neither of them could see. The sound of silverware greeting porcelain, the coffee bean grinder below them, the opening and closing of the front doors. It all felt so distant as if Yugyeom and he were part of a much more melancholic reality. Before Jungkook's running nerves could force the silence away, Yugyeom spoke, “Promise?” 

Now, Jungkook wasn’t in the habit of making idle promises. To swear on something he wasn’t certain about. To lie for comfort was never his style. 

With a nod, Jungkook sighed. “I promise, Yugyeom.” 

Internally, Jungkook hoped this wouldn’t be the first time he’d break a promise.

Yugyeom seemed satisfied with that answer before covering his face in the palm of his hands and sighing dramatically. “I leave you alone once! Once Jungkook.” He joked, pulling his face out of his hands and collapsing against the back of his chair exasperatingly. 

And Just like magic, the tension between them faded into the air like steam. Finding himself relaxed, Jungkook lifted his now lukewarm latte to his lips, sipping on it with a new sense of appreciation. It finally gave him the right deck of cards to be the one asking the questions. With a mischievous smirk, he pointed towards Yugyeom vaguely. 

“So, is that coven of yours responsible for that purple hickey on your neck?” Jungkook asked, tone casual and nonchalant as he poorly hid his mischievous gaze. Yugyeom blinked, once, twice, before slapping his hand onto the crook of his neck harshly. The sound made a few customers glance their way briefly, all bearing different levels of intrigue or confusion. Jungkook's shoulders slightly shook with how desperately he was holding in his own laughter. The heated look of Yugyeom before the witch grabbed their bag, rummaging through it before grabbing a small compound mirror and checking the validity of Jungkook's teasing. 

Upon finding the dark, bruised love bite, the witch flushed. Grabbing some concealer and dotting it onto the spot, he tried to salvage a quick cover-up as he rubbed the pigment in. “And how long were you planning on sitting on that information?” Yugyeom asked a hiss to his tone. It was a fake kind of heat, even if Jungkook wasn’t familiar with it already; the slightly amused curling of Yugyeom's lips gave the flustered witch away. 

Shrugging, Jungkook chuckled. “We were having a moment.” 

“You brat.” 

Jungkook laughed, rolling his eyes as he finished his latte. Yugyeoms feathers successfully ruffled, he could relax again. Watching his friend settle back down, putting away the compact and concealer with a bemused expression. “But seriously, tell me more about your coven.” He nudged, desperately wanting to make up for lost time. 

Jungkook wasn’t exactly sure what caused his feelings of bittersweet nostalgia, the way Yugyeom lit up at the mention of his coven or the fact that the love-drunk witch couldn’t stop himself from gushing about them. Pushing those feelings aside, Jungkook felt himself feel happy for Yugyeom; his coven, a total of six members excluding the witch, sounded perfect for Yugyeom. 

They seemed to make him very happy. 

Chapter three of Kimset will be out by the end of December!

Kimset chapter 4 will be posted this Saturday!!