Teakook - Tumblr Posts

Kimset - (I)

Pairing: ot6 x Jungkook | Jungkook x Everyone

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

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

Word Count: 14k

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

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

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

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

Lying is a uniquely human ability. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bullshit.

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

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

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

They never did form a coven. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Halmoni I–"

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

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

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

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

Jungkook didn't think he'd heal. 

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

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

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

Jimin had broken his promise.

They all did.

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

Unfolding the letter, he read with a shaky breath:

"Dear JJK,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted to continue living.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't want things to change." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How different?” 

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

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

"Have you completed your seventh level, hyung?" 

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

"No, buddy, I haven't." 

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

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

He wasn’t very successful. 

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

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

"So?" Her nasally voice dragged out curiously. 

"I'm moving forward, Halmoni." 

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

"Good. That's very good, Kookie." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They had been passed this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And who am I, Jimin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No—"

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

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

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

"Please." He whispered.

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

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

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

Seven turned to one, and one turned to none. 

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

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

He was hopeless. 

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

His six soulmates left, but they never really left. 

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

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

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

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

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

"Mr. Jeon?" 

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

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

"They gave me a cat?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Seven people all in one room?" 

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

"Sorry." 

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

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

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

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

“Ok, ok. I’ll open it.” 

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

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

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

Jungkook recognized that voice. 

Park Jimin 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kim Seokjin. 

Kim fucking Seokjin stood before him now, too. 

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

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

"Jungkook?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jungkook?" 

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

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

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

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

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

"Ah, Jungkook I—"

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

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

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

None of this should be happening. 

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

It wasn't fair, it didn't feel fair—

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

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

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

"Soulmates—we, we were soulmates." 

"Were?"

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

Including Jungkook. 

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

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

"Yeah, were."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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. 

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. 

Kimset (IV)

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 => Coming Soon

There was a strange, nauseating race to Taehyung's heartbeat as he walked down the hall. His feet cascaded down the tiled floor; his loud footsteps echoed tauntingly throughout the empty corridor illuminated by the afternoon sun. The shadows cast the window's silhouettes against the floor. His palms were strangely sweaty, restless as he switched through a cycle of clenching and unclenching his hands before he'd fiddle with his clothes for the umpteenth time, trying to catch a glimpse of himself in the window's reflective surface as he walked, combing through his hair. 

He followed the numbers on each door, trying to find the one that belonged to Jungkook. B013, right? He was nervous because, of course, he was. Their last conversation—if you could even call it that—had hardly even grazed the top of the iceberg that was their relationship. To be entirely fair, Taehyung strongly doubted that this conversation would go any differently. But unlike his hyungs, he just couldn't bring himself to give Jungkook space. He just couldn't. 

Not when it's been literal years since he's spent more than a fleeting moment with Jungkook, not when he had yet to fully take him in. His hair had grown out, Taehyung recalled. The still black, natural hair was cut into a styled fringe. Hair a little longer, bangs stopping a little over his cheeks with a slight curl to the end swaying from the face. The sides of his hair were still styled, covering the tips of his ears. A row of piercings lined one of his ears, along with his brow and bottom lip. His chest puffed with a momentary sense of pride as he had noticed them during their last encounter, and reluctantly wandered back to a place where he watched Jungkook marvel through a jewelry shop's showcase window—lamenting the fact that his parents would never let him tarnish his image through body modifications. 

Taehyung scoffed at the momentary reminder of Jungkook's atrocious set of parents. But there Jungkook had stood— his little bunny, sprouting piercing like it was no one's business. Because it wasn't, and Taehyung couldn't help but feel an assortment of pride and happiness that Jungkook had found that independence for himself. 

Having Jungkook before him terminated any and all of his thoughts, rendering him to nothing but a blubbering stupored twat—while simultaneously promoting such a heaviness to take hold of him. The kind of short, fleeting questions one could sense in the pit of their stomachs—sinking. What had Jungkook been like during his first piercing? 

Taehyung recalled in that vague moment by the jewelry shop window how he had promised Jungkook that when the witch turned eighteen, he'd sneak him out to get his ears pierced. A fleeting smile twitched across his face as he walked, his hand lifting to subconsciously brush against his earlobe. About a month after making that promise, Teahyung had snuck out of the academy and purchased a set of earrings, small silver stars hanging from a delicate chain, and a little clear glass diamond in the star's centers. It hadn't been much, and usually Taehyung wasn't such a fan of something so delicate. But his bun was discovering stargazing with Yoongi at the time—something that had totally not made him jealous—and seemed to be enjoying it. Taehyung had blown most, if not all, of his summer wages on that set. 

Because Jungkook getting his ears pierced had been so much more than just getting to buy some new jewelry. It was more than just an act of spontaneous defiance. It was a call for independence, a step towards individuality that Jungkook's parents refused to permit otherwise. Taehyung had understood that—he still does. 

Taehyung glanced outside, but his gaze was unfocused—did Jungkook need to hold someone's hand? Did his face scrunch up the way it always does, eyes squeezed shut, and nose crunched in that adorable way? Taehyung had missed it. That moment he had reserved for them—he had missed it all. The sense of loss that realization accompanied was unbearable. 

He couldn't help but wonder if Jungkook ever got those tattoos he had wanted, too. Of course, he wouldn't go on and ask something so personal. His bun might literally shank him for it. 

But he still felt unsettled and frustrated by their last meeting. He had wanted to say more, but just being able to see Jungkook again—before him, living, breathing, alive; vaporized any and every thought of his because Jungkook was finally there—he was okay.  

Jungkook had been angry— rightly fucking so, he might add. Emotional, frustrated, hurt. It killed him. Their eyes had locked, and suddenly he was speechless. There stood his baby, his stupid, naive bunny—crying, and he wasn't able to do anything about it. 

Ultimately, he was one of the six reasons those eyes were shedding tears in the first place. In that moment, it didn't matter how long Taehyung had prowled the streets of Korea looking for those same pair of eyes, how he scanned over the crowds to try and recognize that familiar head of tussled, unkempt hair, because Jungkook was there, crying because of him. 

Walking further down the hall, Taehyung didn't expect this conversation to go any better. Realistically, he was just psyching himself up to be yelled at, berated, and metaphorically thrown around as Jungkook vented six years of hate onto him. But Taehyung didn't mind because it was Jungkook's voice doing it. He didn't mind those heated, fiery gazes because it was Jungkook's chocolate eyes pointing them.  

Because even for a moment—he got to exist in the same space as Jungkook. 

And maybe, just maybe, after Jungkook got to say everything he needed or wanted to, Taehyung would be able to say he was sorry. He was really starting to hate that word—sorry. as if the depths of his remorse, the sheer level of guilt, regret, and sorrow could ever be narrowed down to five abysmal letters. 

Because he was so much more than just sorry. He cursed every day that had passed for the last six years—2,190 damned days, give or take a few. He hexed every watery blink, the haunting quiver of his sweet voice, the balling of his fist and shaking of his hand. For every minute, Jungkook was out there, thinking for even a second he hadn't been out there looking for him. 

Gaze following the labels against each the door, he felt the numbers nearing Jungkooks. The door was slightly ajar, and through it, Taehyung could hear the familiar voice of his soulmate. 

"But we fell in love." 

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

"So—" 

"So when three of our parents demanded a trial." 

"We agreed." 

"Because—" 

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

"We lost everything." 

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

Taehyung wasn't much of a crier—that was Jimin's job, and by the Gods, he hated those tears, too. So why—Why were his eyes suddenly so watery? The hair around him felt heavy, cold, and stale. 

He had half a mind to burst into the laboratory, stand before Jungkook, and proclaim that he was still here. That Jungkook still had him and that he was so, so fucking sorry. That there wouldn't be a day that would pass now where he wouldn't be there to hold his hand. Because Taehyung loved him. 

He hasn't stopped. The abrasive, explosive anger within a single night could never diminish even an ounce of the care he held for Jungkook. Because when they had first met, before it was him and Jimin, or Hoseok or Yoongi or Jin and Namjoon— it had been Jungkook. Despite having cared for all of them, Taehyung loved him first. 

He still does. 

But what should he say—now? When your soulmate stands before you, tone filled with such grief and desolation at the sheer recollection of you, of what you had and what you were. 

Taehyung didn't consider himself a coward—no, he was a true hothead who felt first and thought second. So he had practiced his confessions with Jimin, over and over, deep into the starry nights and bear ceilings. But his tongue felt heavy, and suddenly, all the words he had prepped felt inadequate. 

Taehyung had never been good with words. He couldn't string together poetic confessions like Namjoon or Jimin, lay out his soul like Hoseok, or make himself as clear and vulnerable as Jin and Yoongi. He was just well—unsure. He chose to act; when someone bothered Jungkook, he'd bash the perpetrator's head against a locker. If the headmaster went off again, he'd put a hex on the seams of his clothes. 

Jungkook deserved more than that. Not someone who immediately set out on a tyrannical war path, promising vengeance for every tear spilled because his baby bunny was upset and someone was paying for it. He deserved someone who didn't become completely overwhelmed with fury the moment he shed a tear, someone who would do more than just stand still with his head bowed low while being scolded. No, it had been six cursed years. Taehyung was going to show that he had changed, that he could—and would find the right words for him. He might not be as flowery or delicate—but they'd be his. 

"How'd it go?"

Jimin hurriedly asked before Taehyung even managed to close the front door. Taehyung, still feeling like a brooding cloud had formed over him, didn't utter a word as he meticulously took off his coat. He dusted it off despite only having walked to and from the science building before hanging it up. He stepped out of his shoes and put them neatly on the shoe rack, sliding into his slippers shortly after—to put it concisely, he was stalling.

Jimin frowned. It didn't take a genius to decipher the pensive mood looming through Taehyung's aura. Jimin would've gone with Taehyung to hopefully talk with Jungkook, but not only did the witch ignore his little note on the breakfast tray from earlier this week, but it also would have overwhelmed Jungkook. Neither of them wanted that—they just wanted to talk, to see him. 

Taehyung had finally looked up, eyes locking briefly with his own. His own breath caught briefly stuck in his throat at the pitiful sight. Taehyung's hair was disheveled, no doubt from his fidgety hands constantly combing through it. The rim of his eyes were a bit bloodshot, and trailing down his gaze to Taehyung's cheeks they appeared just a bit too red. Jimin bit the inside of his cheek, a poor attempt to keep his scolding at bay. He knew Taehyung handled his emotions differently and that whenever the witch was ever brought to tears, he'd wipe them away with such incredulous vigor till his cheeks turned raw. 

The sight was strikingly familiar. It barely felt like any time at all since Taehyung appeared like that in front of his door. Gods—it had been so late into the night that it became early. But Taehyung hadn't stopped; hadn't slept either— none of them had. The witch's cheeks had been sunken in ever so slightly, and the darkness underneath his eyes had completely altered Taehyung's otherwise healthy complexion. Taehyung had been out looking for Jungkook again. 

Jimin might never forget that night when he opened his door for Taehyung. How, during that night since Jungkook's disappearance, Taehyung had cried. Cried—a loose term for what had happened. Sobbed seemed more appropriate, the type that made one's legs feel weak, made it hard to breathe, and left you with a sore throat. It was the sound of someone losing hope. 

Taehyung never stopped looking—none of them had. But after the first few months, Taehyung's near-daily outings turned more sporadic. But they still visited Hangawoondae annually, still holding onto the fickle hope of spotting their bunny window shopping again. 

"Let's go talk in my room, hm?" Jimin suggested, carefully reaching out and taking a hold of Taehyung's cold hand. Walking past the living room still felt surreal to him, seeing Hoseok lounging while switching through the channels playing across the TV, elbow resting on the armrest and cheek squished against the palm of his propped-up hand. Jin was moving about in the kitchen, preparing a honey pastry with a ruminating look. The sweet dessert had been Jungkook's favorite, a fact that had gone unnoticed by no one. 

Nothing had been the same since Jungkook left. Being able to see some of his old hyungs and share a communal space with them again felt strange. He had missed it.  

Walking past the open space and down the hall, he ignored the twisting pang of emotion he felt by passing Jungkook's closed door. Whether Jungkook was there or not, that pale white door remained closed. He couldn't really blame him, especially after their last confrontation—Jimin understood.  

Gently nudging Taehyung into his (their) room, he gently closed the door. 

The enchantment wasn't necessarily very noticeable, the spells back boning loosely marked onto the inside of the doorframe. But walking through the door, a lingering sense of magic brushed against one's skin for a moment—not by much, but enough for anyone to be aware that the room they were entering was very much manipulated by an outside force.  

Gone was the dreary interior of a basic apartment bedroom, replaced by something more to Jimin's tastes, to his needs. The space was larger, with a wide circular window casting nearly the entirety of the room in natural light. Creams and soft colors scattered about, from blankets to pillows, frames, and wardrobes. A queen-sized bed covered in far too many throws and pillows. There wasn't a color out of place; everything followed a similar pallet. It would've looked stale if it weren't for Jimin's artistic eye, dotting little spots of complementary colors here and there, the occasional green plant from Namjoon giving the space a little liveliness. 

A picture frame of him and Taehyung rested on his bedside table, and a group photo of everyone during their third Solar dance in the academy hung against the wall. 

Jimin was aware of his contribution to their split. He had been so scared, hurt, frightened, and angry at the time. He had his reasons during that night; the time he spent in the Deep with the others was too long. The mission had been immoral from the start—who would do that to a bunch of teenagers? 

But still, he had never managed to actually get rid of any of their shared photos. He still had their old photo albums hiding underneath his bed; the one hanging against the wall was simply his favorite. Glancing at it now, their naive and smiling faces. His eyes lingered against Jungkook's young form; they had been holding hands. Jimin— Jimin couldn't bear to look at it. 

Yeontan was snoozing in his little dog bed, the hyper dog oblivious to the occurring drama. Hana, Jimin's white snake familiar, remained sunbathing by the window sill. Her sharp, snake-like eyes opened as the two witches entered the room. She remained silent, but she didn't need to say much to show her disapproval. 

Taehyung plopped himself down at the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his thighs while he dropped his head in his hands. Seeing Taehyung so depleted unsettled Jimin to the core, his pace slightly hurried as he sat down beside him.

"It didn't go well, huh?" Jimin hummed, beginning to rub gently at Taehyungs hunched over back. There was a silence that followed, a pause as Taehyung breathed, focusing solely on the rhythmic pattern of Jimin's soothing hand. 

"It didn't go at all," Taehyung muttered, voice hoarse. 

Ah. 

Ah.  

Jimin sighed, shoulders dropping as the little flicker of hope he had built dimmed. Taehyung had cried, when exactly he wasn't sure, most likely on the way back to the apartments. 

"Hyung…" Taehyung strained, the small plea halting Jimin's actions and line of thought at the sheer—grief? That Taehyung's tone carried. It broke his heart more than it already was. 

"Oh, oh honey, come here." He ushered, pulling Taehyung into his arms. A tight hold, reassuring in the sense of telling Taehyung that he was there, that I'd be okay, and that he's got him. So Taehyung fell. Small sounds, muffled by the wool of his sweater, soon became louder. More unkempt, earnest. 

"Hyung—hyung… he, he sounded—" Taehyung choked and sniffled as he tried pulling himself together. "He sounded so sad." 

Jimin shut his eyes, inhaling sharply. None of them had been spared from Jungkook's distraught gaze, from the disappointment and anguish encapsulated within those familiar eyes. They had deserved it. That much was clear, but still. Seeing it, hearing it, Jimin had wanted to drop to his knees. Bind his soul—more than it was already bound—to Jungkook and his own lifelong pursuit towards redemption. 

"Like—like the thought of us was something to grieve over." Taehyung's wavering voice cracked, prompting Jimin's own eyes to begin watering. 

Because that was his bunny, they were talking about. His companion from day one was that sweet, shy, silly mess he had bumped into in elementary school. The boy with the kindest eyes and most amazing abilities, his little prince, "Eomma says I can't be friends with nulls, Minie." How Jungkook never became like his parents was a true wonder, but he didn't. Not when they snuck off campus during recess or when they took turns pushing each other on the swings. Jungkook had always had a heart of gold, even when he was scared and riddled with insecurities; "Jungkookie, see this red string here? It means we'll be friends forever, forever and ever! Nothin' will change that, my eomma says we're lucky. So let's be lucky, k'ay? It's our lucky ribbon." 

Glancing down at his pinky, Jimin lingers on the five vibrant, red knots around his finger. The sixth, pale and washed out, only remained visible for a few inches before fading out into the air. But Jimin knows it’s still there—now more than ever. 

"We—we have to fix this hyung." 

Jimin nodded, gaze fixed and determined as he cupped Taehyung's cheeks. Using his thumbs to gently swipe away the offending tears, he looked into the scared eyes of his lover. The past week had been an utter cluster-fuck of emotions, a cruel combination of pure elation, utter grief, and guilt, and now fear. Because what if Jungkook never forgave them? It was possible. Despite how the singular thought tore at his heart, it was reasonable, too. 

They could lose him again. 

No.

No, Jimin wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't. Jungkook might never love them again, might never trust nor care for them. But he'd be there. In Jimin's life, in Taehyungs. 

"We will." 

Taehyung looked into his eyes, all too vulnerable and teary. Looking towards him for guidance, and Jimin felt all too misplaced. This was Namjoon's job, or Jin's, maybe even Hoseok's, when the situation called for it. They were all too adept at taking control, leading. But for tonight, he'd take Taehyung's hand and hopefully lead him towards a brighter future. 

"We found each other again. That's all we need." He mused, voice hushed and soft as he leaned down and pressed a kiss against Taehyung's furrowed brow. 

"We'll have forever to get it right."

Jungkook tucked his hands into his pockets as he walked, the warm coat doing little to keep the chill away. Mornings were always chilly around this time of year, just as autumn began to creep around. Jungkook couldn't really tell when his body was being affected by the outside temperatures anymore, considering how his limbs were gradually growing colder each week; breezes like these didn't really bother him anymore. A loud, exaggerated yawn pulled him from his thoughts. Glancing to his side, he smiled at Yugyeom's bundled-up form. A thick, knitted scarf hung around his neck, chin nestled securely in the warm material. The witch had never been much of a morning person—neither was he honestly, but nowadays he couldn't get more than five hours of consecutive sleep. 

Originally, Jungkook intended to stop by for only a day, fix his Halmoni up, and hop onto the next available train. But having Yugyeom here somewhat derailed his original, concise plan. With Yugyeom by his side, he couldn't help but want to show his friend everything he'd been up to and what he'd built for himself since leaving. Perhaps he was a little biased towards Jung-so, considering how the little witch had somehow nestled itself into his heart during their sessions. 

Iseul had stopped by the bookstore this morning, only there to briefly return a book she had borrowed. They didn't usually rent out books, but Chae-won had as much of a bleeding heart as he did, trying to support Iseul and Jung-so as much as she could. Which is how Jungkook ended up offering another tutoring session. Considering that it was a weekend and wouldn't conflict with the kids' schedule, Iseul readily agreed. 

"Since when do you like tutoring so much?"

Yugyeom's voice had cut through the comfortable silence, tone a little fussy from being wrangled out of bed before ten. 

Shrugging, Jungkook tried recounting exactly when he had grown to like teaching so much. He had grown up with all kinds of tutors; attending a school was mainly used by his parents as a form of socialization, a little something required by law, a hassle. If the teachings could be affordable by mainstream magicals, then they simply weren't good enough for his parents. Resulting in his rigorous schedule of six hours of public schooling only to come back home to be tutored privately; he only ever saw his parents for mealtimes. 

A blessing, really. 

Jungkooks upbringing was rigorous, strict, disciplined, and—well, lonely. 

Amongst missed birthdays and solitary dinners, Jungkook could account for two people who made his otherwise desolate childhood bearable. Jimin, a bundle of confident sunshine he met in elementary school, and Soo Choi. A middle-aged witch who began tutoring Jungkook long before he presented, before he could even materialize his mana enough to actually do something. But where his parents lacked, shrouded in the depths of their prejudice, there was the kindness of Soo Choi. A person Jungkook deems responsible for preventing him from becoming a replica of his parents, teaching him about magicals with an openness he hadn't found or seen before. 

Jungkook found himself wanting to be, in the presence of Jung-so and other uneducated children, someone that Soo Choi had been to him. A place of education, unbiasedness, and kindness. A person who taught magic, who could make all things mana, spells, and changes less scary, more natural. 

Letting out a small hum, he glanced at Yugyeom. "Probably because of Mrs. Choi."

Nodding, Yugyeom smiled. It was a fond smile, followed by a warm gaze Jungkook couldn't stand to look at for longer than needed. Yugyeom chuckled, cheeky bastard, clearly amused with Jungkook's flusteredness.

"What?" Jungkook muttered, not enjoying the giggling at his expense. 

"Oh nothin.'" Yugyeom snickered, the witch still clearly amused. "Although I'd love to see you teach, I don't really get why I'm here. You know how I did back in school." 

Jungkook nodded. Yugyeom had never been someone who let others or work stress him out. Jungkook still couldn't get over how Yugyeom had actually managed to pass their history class; considering how often he slept during those times, must've been witchcraft—considering it now, it probably was. 

"Remember Jung-so, the kid I told you about?" Yugyeom nodded, recalling one of their first catch-up sessions in the lab during inquiry day. 

"Well, he's the kid I'm tutoring now. He just recently presented as a witch, and his mom Isuel isn't a magical. The Dads out of the picture, and you know I can't perform magic. I was hoping you could show off a little, being able to see someone manifest some mana, meet someone who was a gifted witch too, might help ease Jung-so into things a little better." Jungkook explained, looking ahead as he watched the little cafe come into view. Cars passed them on the street, the clouded sky making the surroundings appear dull. 

Jungkook might not be able to relate personally to the struggles of gifted witches, but he was aware that they existed. Young children overwhelmed with their new abilities, uncertain how to proceed and finding the concept of magic unnerving. Jung-so was like that, a gifted witch originating from a mundane household. Unsure what being a witch meant, what that made him. 

Jimin had been like Jung-so.  

And he had helped him back then, too. 

"God, you're such a softy." Yugyeom huffed, smile fond as he playfully nudged Jungkook's arm as they walked. 

The cafe carried its usual warmth, a welcomed contrast to the otherwise freshness of the morning. Jungkook had only been away for about two weeks now, but seeing the familiar, cream-toned walls made him feel a little nostalgic. Jungkook could never recall a single day when the cafe wasn't filled, couples laughing, the occasional office worker chatting on the phone, the consistent calling of names. Despite the sheer number of customers, the place never felt rushed or hectic, something Jungkook ought to give the staff the most credit for. 

"Jungkook! I was beginning to think you switched cafes on us!" Han chuckled, making him flush a little. He hadn't come here that often, only every other day—and for tutoring, of course. Yugyeom, as if sensing his embarrassment, elbows him in the arm with a chuckle. 

"Hi Han, I actually left for my seventh trial, I'm only here to visit my Halmoni." Jungkook explained, receiving a simple nod from the barista. "I could've sworn I saw little Jung-so in the back; two hot chocolates then?" Han mused, but before Jungkook could agree, Yugyeom budged in. 

"And a coffee, please!" 

Han wrote down the order while he paid, Yugyeom waiting by the counter as Jungkook went to greet Jung-so. The thought of the little kid being on his own for too long unnerved him, even though he trusted the cafe—and Han, who always kept a watchful eye over the kid—he didn't exactly trust others.

Jung-so was sitting in one of the corner booths, slightly hunched over a book as he waited. Legs kicking out idly underneath him, he was the restless sort. But he wasn't crying this time, so Jungkook considered that a win. 

"Hey, kiddo, miss me?" He mused, prompting Jung-so to look up. The kid smiled, all crescent-eyed and flashing dimples, completely unaware of how it tugged on his heartstrings. Jungkook didn't expect it, nor did he expect the boy to hurriedly hop out of the booth and crush him in a hug, small arms wrapped around his waist and head nuzzled into his lower stomach. 

Chuckling, Jungkook crouched down and pulled the boy into his arms before picking him up and spinning them in a short circle. It strained his already sore arms, but Jung-so was laughing, and that's all he needed. Lowering him back down, he couldn't really suppress his own smile. "You make it seem like I was gone for forever," he teased before ruffling Jung-so's already messy hair. 

"You were." Jung-so huffed, sliding back into the booth. Jungkook followed, sliding in beside the boy. It was their usual spot, formed in a little semi-circle against one of the cafe's corners. 

"God, you two even look alike. Jungkook-ah, you sure your dad isn't keeping a secret from you?" Yugyeom chimed in, holding three drinks in a little carrier carton as he walked over and set it down. Glancing at the labels, he distributed the drinks accordingly. Jung-so shied away a little, glancing at Jungkook apprehensively. 

Jungkook laughed at the joke, rolling his eyes at the thought. He wouldn't mind it, having a brother and all. But Jung-so and he had already formed that kind of bond; they didn't need to be blood-related. “Jung-so, this is Yugyeom. He's a good friend of mine!" 

Yugyeom bent down so he was at eye level with the kid, holding out his hand and shaking it eagerly when Jung-so held out for a hand-shake. "Good to finally meet you, little man! I'm Jungkook's friend—well, more like his bestie. Now, someone's told me you presented as a witch. How exciting!" 

Jung-so nodded, a little more shyly but less reserved than before. Jungkook smiled, ushering them back to sit at the booth. He nudged the hot chocolate towards the kid, smiling at the polite thank you he got in return. 

"Jung-so, I brought Yugyeom here because he's a witch too." Jungkook explained, watching the kid's face light up. That was good, really good, actually. It was important for him to help Jung-so develop a good relationship with all things pertaining to magic and witches; it's a community that he could fall back on in the future. 

"Mhm, I sure am!" Yugyeom mused, smiling gently. 

One of the things Jungkook always admired about Yugyeom was how quickly the witch adapted to different people. This wasn't necessarily surprising, considering that Yugyeom was an empath. 

"I’m also a gifted witch!" 

Jung-so nodded, staring at Yugyeom for a second, then two, then three before turning to Jungkook:

"Whats a gifted witch?" He asked. 

Jungkook chuckled, watching Yugyeom blink a little as he recovered. 

"Well, magicals are categorized into two parties. For witches, it's between gifted and born witches. So, if both your parents are witches and you exhibit magical traits you're a born witch." He explained, before pointing to himself. "Take me as an example, I'm a born witch. I come from a long line of powerful witches." 

He paused, waiting for Jung-so to nod before continuing. "Gifted witches—" he continued, pointing at Yugyeom. "Like Yugyeom over here, are like you. Who don't necessarily have witching parents or grandparents. Sometimes, your great-great-great grandma was a witch and was able to harvest mana. Just enough to collect traces but not enough to use it. If she had mana, then her kid would likely inherit some too but remain dormant." Jungkook explained, grabbing a pen and paper and jotting down a simple family tree while he talked. 

"If there isn't enough mana in the body, it'll remain dormant. So it can easily pass through generations unnoticed, but it'll eventually accumulate and present itself through another generation." 

"Like me?" Jung-so mumbled. 

Jungkook nodded, "Mhm, like you and Yugyeom. Somewhere down the line, which can span across centuries. One of your ancestors began accumulating mana." 

"I know it can be a little startling, suddenly finding out you're a witch and all. Trust me, kiddo, I've been there." Yugyeom reassured, smiling kindly. Jung-so nodded, although it was obvious he still felt unsure. 

"Wanna see a magic trick?" Yugyeom piped up, no doubt sensing the slight dread through Jung-so's aura. He grabbed his cup of coffee, peeling back the lid and watching the steam rise through the air. Yugyeom kept focus, beginning to slightly twirl his index finger. Suddenly, through the cloud of steam, two silhouettes emerged. Dancing a small waltz around the cup, going higher and further into the air. 

Jungkook watched, smile crooked and unrefined as Jung-so's eyes widened with a natural curiosity. 

"What's important," he began, sipping at his own drink. Is that you remember that magic is only scary if you don't understand it—I know it's hard too. I mean, we witches carry extraordinary talents. To the untrained eye, that can be frightening." 

Slowly, as the steam began fading into the air, the two dancing silhouettes followed. It was a pretty trick; Jungkook had to give Yugyeom that. Although it looked fairly simple, it wasn't necessarily easy. They had both learned how to manipulate matter during their third year. Solids were much easier to mold than gas, especially when it came to such refined forms as a couple dancing, a realistic waltz at that. 

"But gifted witches are called gifted because—well, that's just it. Magic is a gift, something special." Jungkook smiled, gently patting Jung-so on the head. He wondered vaguely what kind of witch he was himself. Without magic, it was hard to carry the title without carrying what made him that. For the first time since cutting off his own mana, for sacrificing his own gift in exchange for a little more time. Did he feel like he had actually lost something. 

It was all just survival back then. He was competent enough not to need magic on a day-to-day basis. But seeing Yugyeom, the flying books within Veil's library, the familiars, the conscious shears and watering cans in the gardens, the constellations he'd cast onto his ceilings—it was all gone. Jungkook had given it all up. All for the sake of a few more days, months; he wasn't really sure. 

Seeing Jung-so discover the wonders of magic and how pretty it could really be, he wanted the kid to love it, to adore the craft as much as he did. He hoped that if all else failed and he truly did pass away, he'd be remembered for everything he loved because there was so much he cherished about this world. 

But he still had time. Eleven more months, that's all he needed. 

"Hyung, I thought witches weren't allowed to perform in public?"

Yugyeom began cackling, slapping his knee as Jungkook glared at him. "Oh hun, trust me. That's technically true, but you won't find a single person actually adhering to that rule!" This time, Jungkook reached over and nudged Yugyeom's arm.

"Yah! You're giving the kid bad ideas—Jung-so, don't listen to Yugs here. Follow the rules please." 

"Easy for you to say! Hmm, shall we talk about what you were like growing up, Kookie?" 

Jungkook narrowed his eyes, daring Yugyeom to continue. Which he did: "So, our Jungkookie here was actually quite the delinquent—"

"Lies and slander! Jung-so, avoid eye contact and cover your ears!" 

Jung-so laughed, "I already know! Hyungs Halmoni told me about it. Said you were a little riff-raff back in the days!" 

Jungkook gaped. Covering his heart as if he'd been shot, mouth open and eyes wide. "My Halmoni? My sweet—" Yugyeom's laughter interrupted his little spiel. 

"Aish, I grow to love that woman more by the day." Yugyeom heaved, wiping away his tears. It took them a few more minutes to calm down before Jung-so went on with his endless supply of questions. 

What was allowed, what wasn't. Chatting about their own experiences with presenting, cracking jokes here and there. Jungkook looked on as Yugyeom pulled Jung-so further out of his shell, the sight warming his heart. 

"Hyung, why does Yugyeom have more strings on his fingers than I do?" 

Jungkook paused, his eyes pulling together as he lowered his now empty cup. He glanced up, briefly meeting Yugyeom's surprised expression. "You—" he cleared his throat before sitting up. "You can see Yugyeoms soul strings?" 

Now it was Jung-so's turn to look confused, tilting his head. "Of course, most people have them. But Yugyeom has six, and I only have four." 

Jungkook nodded, it wasn't necessarily unheard of for people to be able to see soul strings. It was just a level of insight that most people did not share, it was rare of sorts. 

"Ah, Jung-so, being able to see soul strings isn't common." He avoided the word normal, the last thing he wanted to do here is make Jung-so feel like he was unusual. Too many neglected witches went through that feeling, and he couldn't help but want to shield the boy from it. 

"It isn't?" Jung-so mumbled hesitantly. 

"It's not bad!" Yugyeom hurriedly chimed in, unable to bear the sight of Jung-so deflating. It would've made him feel smug at how quickly he got wrapped around the kid's finger, but he wasn't any better off. 

"Witches can have affinities. Things they're really good at naturally, like unlocking special abilities that others can't. For example, I'm a green witch. It's an encompassing term for someone who has affinities towards nature—all things living. Some people have water affinities or light affinities." He went on, gesturing with his hand before pointing at Yugyeom. 

"Affinities don't have to be elemental or physical; for instance, Yugyeom over here has empath affinities. He can decipher auras and emotions far better than the regular witch." Yugyeom smiled, making a little heart with his pointed and thumb.

"So what does that make me?" Jung-so asked, still sounding tentative. 

The two older witches shared a brief glance, "Being able to see soul strings is most common amongst seers, hun." Yugyeom explained gently. 

"What's a seer?" 

"Someone who can glance into the future, who can look into people more than the average person." Jungkook tended to stay away from seers, mostly from his own eerie encounters. There's something about getting a hollow look from a stranger that just feels unsettling; he just didn't like it. 

"So, I'll be able to tell the future?" Jung-so went on, sounding more excited. 

Sighing, Jungkook hated having to burst the kids idyllic bubble. "Not exactly, Seers can't really control their affinities. Glancing into the future comes in short visions that you can't control—" Rising his hand, he hushed Jung-so before continuing.

"I know that sounds a little scary, but that's why magicals like you go to a special school. You'll find out what affinities you carry there, and the system will cater to your needs." Jung-so nodded, mulling over the new information. 

"So no one else can glance into the future?" 

Yugyeom sighed, a fond kind of sigh. It didn't surprise Jungkook, the kid never ran out of questions. Of course he wouldn't, this was all new and scary for him. Right now, he was just focusing on laying down the fundamentals for Jung-so so that when he finally transferred to a proper school or academy, he wouldn't feel too far out in the deep end. It felt like his responsibility. 

"Well, yes and no." Yugyeom chimed in. 

Jungkook rolled his eyes, continuing to elaborate. "Most magic can be learned. It's just different when you have an affinity for a certain subject. For example, some people can learn the art of future telling with tools like tarot cards and other mediums. But it will never compare to what seers are able to do. Someone with a water affinity cannot be compared to someone who focuses on spells manipulating liquids. You can study spell mastery all your life and still be different from a grimoire witch." Jungkook wished he'd have some glasses; he could push them up right now and look all proper. If his past self could see him now—he'd probably be stunned. After all, how could he have gone from a spray-painting delinquent to an eloquently educated tutor? 

It would've satisfied his parents; somehow, that thought made him sick. 

"Yeah! It's kinda like comparing a fish with a swimmer! You can learn how to swim, but you ain't nothin' like a fish." Sighing, Jungkook couldn't help but laugh. 

"Eloquently put, Yugs." 

"I'm a natural." 

Walking from the cafe, Jung-so held Jungkook's sleeve as they walked. Jungkook walked closest to the road, the kid in the middle and Yugyeom to the left. It was cute how the kid felt too "grown" to hold his hand and instead opted for his sleeve. 

They had spent another half an hour chatting, going over what they had already talked about and wrapping up any lingering questions. 

"Hyung?" 

"Hm?" 

"What can't I see your soul strings?" 

Pausing, Jungkook looked down at his pinky. The six red knots rested heavily against the skin, and yet, somehow, they remained as feathery as always. 

"Do you not have soulmates?" Jung-so sounded sad; why was he sad? 

A small chuckle pushed past his lips, mostly to usher away the grave expression taking hold on Jung-sos otherwise soft features. "I have soulmates; six actually. You're so young; don't expect your affinity to show up clearly all the time. It's unreliable so early on, you won't be able to see everyone's soul strings." 

Jung-so pouted, nodding his head as they walked. It was still afternoon, and although Jungkook wouldn't have minded spending the entirety of his free day teaching Jung-so, the kid needed a break, and so did Yugyeom, who had been rather eager this morning to walk around Busan for a bit. 

"Hyung?" 

"Hmm?" 

"How come we even have soulmates?" 

Yugyeom smiled. It was such an innocent question. It was clear why Jungkook had taken to such a kid, and although Yugyeom didn't know what Jungkook was like throughout his childhood himself, he could see some similarities. 

"It's a long story. It dates so far back that it's more myth than fact, really." Jungkook hummed. It didn't feel right to explain the gushy tale about soulmates. Even if he tried remaining natural, a quick glance between him and Yugyeom made his discomfort clear. 

"Have you ever heard of The Three Fates?" Yugyeom asked, taking the lead here. 

"No, were they the first soulmates?" 

Yugyeom shook his head, glancing down at his own tied-up pinky. "No, they weren't. The Three Fates were Goddesses in Greek mythology; together, they controlled the destiny of both gods and humans. One Goddess works as the spinner, determining a person's birth. The second was the allotter: she measured the length of a person's life. The third was the unturnable: she was responsible for cutting one's string with her shears." Yugyeom explained dutifully, not short on the theatrics as he acted out, spinning some thread before stretching it out and finally snipping it. 

"Okay, but what does that have to do with soulmates?" Jung-so asked, lowering his hand to hold onto Jungkooks hand properly. 

"Well, back then, everyone only had one string, their own. The strings connecting us to our soulmates now are still the same as back then, an extension of our own souls—the same ones The Three Fates would've woven and cut for us," Jungkook explained. It felt easier when he was just stating supposed facts. 

"Exactly! So, one day, Atropos The Unturnable ventured to earth. They say she met a kind stranger on her path, one who was hospitable and genuine, who offered her water and bread from their bag and shelter for the night." They crossed the street, nearing the convenience store.

"To reward their kindness, Atropos bestowed upon the traveler a favor should the time come." Yugyeom finished, ignoring the teasing look he got from Jungkook. 

"All it took was some water and bread?" Jung-so exaggerated, making them laugh. "Hospitality was very important back then," Jungkook reminded. 

"Anyways, the traveler disappeared. Years later, he came back to Atropos ready to exchange their favor." It was a well-known myth, considering that soulmates were the topic and all. 

"What was it? Did they ask for a soulmate?" 

If Jungkook had a penny for every question Jung-so asked—he wouldn't be rich, but he'd have quite a few pennies at this point. 

"No, the traveler had a lover. Sickened and weak, the traveler sought out Atropos. Realizing that their lover's string would soon be cut, they begged the Goddess to pardon their dying mate." 

Jungkook could relate to that desperation. Although he was assured of his capabilities, that finding a cure couldn't be impossible, that nagging urgency and despair with each passing month; Jungkook knew he wasn't above begging. Hells, he'd probably kneel in front of a goddess too if it meant he could stick around for a bit longer. 

"Atropos could not simply grant someone pardon however; and instead offered the traveler a compromise. She'd cut both their strings and tie them together, binding their souls and saving their beloved." Jungkook felt like Yugyeom was a natural storyteller. He had heard the same tale several times before while growing up. Still, Yugyeom treated it like a performance, capturing both his and Jung-so's attention while he talked. 

"But Gods aren't exactly well…the fairest. By binding the two mortal souls together, they were bound. If one perished, the other would as well." Jungkook knew gods still existed to this day, but they were rare. Demigods were really the only ones still spotted every once and again, from what he understood was that they preferred to lay low. Blend in. But boredom breeds a need for entertainment, no matter the costs.  

"Which is why it's called soulmates!" Yugyeom finished, clapping his hands together. "Soul because the souls are tied together, and mate, referring to one's beloved!" Jung-so smiled, walking through the convenience store's doors.

"So if one of my soulmates dies, I die?" 

Jungkook chuckled, letting go of the kid's hands before ruffling his hair. Grinning at the cute huff and pouty expression he got in return. "No kiddo, it's just an old myth. You'll be fine." 

"Hyung, how come I've never met your soulmates before?" Jung-so pouted, jutting out his tongue. Just as dramatic as Yugyeom, he remarked silently. 

"Well, they don't live here." He hummed, keeping his tone soft and leveled. He didn't want to think about it, about them. All these stories of love, sacrifices, loss, and happy endings were tying his stomach into a knot. 

Jungkook had loved. 

He had sacrificed. 

And he had lost. 

So, where was his happy ending? 

"Jung-so, listen to me for a moment." He breathed, kneeling down as he grabbed both of the kid's hands. "Soulmates can be wonderful. But they are just people, too. What matters most is how they treat you. Your happy ending does not lie in the hands of another, do you hear me? You deserve to be treated with kindness, respect, and love." He smiled, giving Jung-so’s hands a small squeeze before letting go. He tapped his nose, smiling gently. "Don't ever let someone tell you otherwise, got it?" 

Jung-so nodded, but his lips tugged downwards for a moment before he pushed to hug Jungkooks waist. 

"Hyung, you'll come and visit me often, right?" 

Jungkook wasn't too sure. He'd be busy, more than he already was with his inquiry. Time was ticking, and he still hadn't found a solid lead yet. He needed to work more, research more, study more, the list went on. He didn't have time to visit as often as he was, even if he wanted to. He couldn't promise Jung-so those frequent lessons anymore. 

"Hey, don't sound so sad. I'll come whenever I can, okay? If you ever need me, your eomma has my number. You can talk to me whenever you want and whenever you need something." Jung-so nodded, but he looked more upset than before. Jungkook knew that Jung-so could read between the lines, that this would be a longer goodbye than before. 

"Promise?" 

"Promise." 

Leaving the convenience store after dropping Jung-so off felt disheartening. It was always rough leaving the kid, especially when there was still so much to cover. Would Jung-so be okay? 

"I think the biggest lie you ever tried selling was the concept of you being an asshole." Yugyeom suddenly chimed in, breaking the silence. "You're a real sweetheart, Jungkook. You might not realize it yourself, but you always go the extra mile for people. Teach the lessons no one had taught you; that's admirable, Kookie." 

Awe. 

Jungkook flushed, he wasn't really used to such praises. It meant so much more coming from Yugyeom; it felt genuine. What should he say to that? 

"A twat maybe, but definitely not an asshole." Yugyeom remarked cheerily, clearly teasing as he grinned mischievously at Jungkook. 

"Yugyeom!" 

Laughter filled the air, the sun beginning to peek through the parting clouds. "Come on now Kooks, let's go shopping now!" 

Turns out that going shopping with Yugyeom was hard. 

The day had stretched on seamlessly as the two had stopped to eat lunch in a nook-in-the-wall restaurant, the type that was clearly run by an elderly married couple. The woman taking the orders before shouting them towards the back, a man skillfully preparing all forty-two dishes himself. At this point Jungkook had already taken Yugyeom to a few malls, splurging a little on his friends wardrobe, not without a little struggle of course and much to his own chagrin had been forced to try on countless items as well. 

Jungkook should have called it quits after eating; he had already felt a little rusty this morning. Joints hurting just a little more than usual, his head feeling just a little more foggy and tighter. He could tell from experience that today should have been a resting, lay-low kind of day. It was a kind of foresight one only really got through overestimating oneself, but Yugyeom hadn't been in Busan before. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted to show his friend his little part of the world. 

The pretty side. Away from all the melancholy shrouding him. 

Which is why Jungkook couldn't help but add another stop to their sight-seeing trip. "One of the best places to go for magicals in cities like Busan are markets like the Laminel Market." He explained, pushing past a metal gate. A little flash of heat prickled against his skin, a tell-tale sight of passing through a magical barrier. 

"Yeah, I haven't seen as many magicals in the city as I do in the suburbs." Yugyeom said, closing his eyes briefly as he walked past the barrier. 

"I mean, it's a lot harder to navigate a city with large wings or horns," Jungkook added, which got a shrug from Yugyeom before the witch paused and took in the sights of the market. 

Laminel was bustling with an array of magicals twisting and wandering around the lined stalls. Stalls and tents, crafted from materials ranging from spider silk to moonbeams, lined the meandering cobblestone paths. A symphony of otherworldly languages made the market hectic, but compared to other markets, that was rather normal. The air was filled with enticing aromas, whether from a wild assortment of herbs, teas, or other mystical treats from food vendors. 

Markets like these were the place to go if one needed any and all things magical; vendors, who themselves could be vampires, shifters, faeries, or witches, sell everything from cursed artifacts and ancient tomes to rare ingredients and flunky talismans. 

“Wow,” Yugyeom stammered. Eyes flicking over the surroundings as he walked through the market with Jungkook. The overarching sky was cast in a perpetual starry sky, a neat trick to make the bazaar more accessible to the nocturnally inclined. A pair of witches question and ogle a selection of simmering potions. Across the market, a dragon in human form haggles over a piece of meteorite. 

Further down, a group of mischievous pixies flit around selling maps to "hidden realms" to non-magicals. To the side, a faerie musician plays a peppy melody on a lute, captivating a crowd of diverse magicals. 

It was busy. It was hectic and so so magical.

Strings of fairy-lights hang from stall to stall, people conversing happily as they walked by. It was natural, a safe space for everyone who entered. Although humans were the most likely to get scammed in a place like this, they weren't necessarily unwelcomed as long as they behaved. 

"It's pretty, isn't it?" Jungkook teased, smiling at Yugyeom's slightly awestruck expression. The sheer auras must be a little overwhelming for the empath, but there was always a level of comfort when being surrounded by one's own kind like this. Being in a city like Busan left little room to properly indulge in all things magical; bazaars like this always seemed to refill that depleting battery. 

"It's so lively. I heard about the city markets, but I didn't think they'd be like this." Yugyeom vaguely gestured to all around him, eyes lingering on the jewelry stalls. 

"I get Halmonis tea from here, and I'm friends with the vendor." 

"Let me guess, the vendor's an oldie?" 

Jungkook passed, tilting his head as he glanced at Yugyeom. "How'd you know?" 

Yugyeom laughed, shaking his head incredulously at Jungkook's obliviousness. "Seriously! You're found fodder for them! A well mannered, polite little witchy boy who needs some affection." 

Jungkook paused, huffing as he looked away. They walked for a moment longer, his arms crossed over his chest as he pouted. "I'm not little…" 

Walking through the market was hectic, especially since Yugyeom felt the need to stop at every second stall they passed. But there was a sweetness to watching his friend converse so freely with others, laughing with vendors, trying a multitude of rings and necklaces. The occasional hat, shall, or other nicknack wasn't spared either. It felt strangely normal to be here with Yugyeom, and it still gave Jungkook a bit of whiplash to think they had only just reunited two weeks ago. It felt like they had never parted. A part of him understood why leaving Yugyeom had been a necessity and why he did it. But he also wished he never had; Yugyeom ushered away loneliness within him he hadn't even been aware he had. 

A sudden sharp throb against his forehead made him hesitate, his smile turning into a poorly concealed grimace as he let this new onslaught pierce against his skull. Jungkook knew he'd get a headache today, and most of his symptoms were accompanied by headaches. Like a headband far too tight, the pressure increasing throughout the day. 

His heart squeezed painfully like a small dull contraction, leaving his chest sore. He lifted his hand, gently rubbing small circles into his chest. His little episodes were bearable, but with each passing week, they were bordering on downright painful. But Jungkook managed; he was used to this, and he had been warned about this. He knew that if he were to glance at his wrist now, those hauntingly familiar black veins would mar his skin again like an unwanted tattoo. Instinctively, he pulled the sleeves of his black puffer jacket down further. 

"Jungkook—"

The earlier comfort in the market was gone, an unpleasant shiver running down his spine like the shadowy ghost of a hand. It was too loud, too busy, too hectic—

"Jungkook?"

His gaze snapped back to Yugyeom, blinking once, twice—again until he could focus back on who was in front of him.

“Jungkook, are you okay?” Yugyeom asked, skeptical gaze wandering across his tense frame. 

No. 

No, he felt awful. 

"Yeah, I'm good. Got a little lost in thought there, I'm still trying to find proper source material for my research y'know?" Word vomiting wasn't exactly a fair way to avoid confrontation, but Jungkook didn't have it in him to properly lie and make an excuse for himself. 

"Thornvine is good and all, but its potency decreases after introducing it to air." Jungkook paused, ignoring the confused expression from Yugyeom. "Of course, we could put it into an airtight container but the nitrogen, oxygen, and argon would still find a way to interact with the medicinal herb whenever used." 

"Jungkook—"

"Thornvine is a purifier, but it detoxifies the entire body. Considering that the mana is what is actually corrupted, would the thornvine root potentially strain the remaining body?" 

"Jungkook!!" 

Jungkook paused, mouth shutting with a small snap as Yugyeom moved in front of him. "Breath, okay?" Stable, unwavering eyes met his, and Jungkook found himself unable to do anything but breathe. Yugyeom had a very stern voice if he needed it. 

"We were talking about rings, when did you get to thornvine roots again? Jungkook-ah, I find your work ethic admirable and I understand— the pressure you're under. But balance is important, yeah?" Yugyeom explained, clear and direct. Jungkook nodded, exhaling slowly as he calmed down. He'd rather get scolded than have his friend worried, Yugyeom was enjoying the market after all. He didn't want to be the one to cut that time short. 

"Okay, sorry." He breathed, sporting a weak smile. 

Yugyeom stared at him a little longer, clearly still skeptical about something, before letting it go with a sigh. Jungkook grabbed his hand, giving it a small apologetic squeeze. "Let's go to that tea stall now, okay? They give out free samples." 

Nodding, Yugyeom let him lead them through the crowds. Jia ran the stall with her sister, the two elderly fairies had a larger space compared to the others; small foldable chairs and desks littering the front for anybody wanting a cup of tea in person. 

"Ah! Jungkookies back! Bora look—look !" Jia rushed, Bora—her sister—grabbed the dangling pair of glasses around her neck and quickly put them on. Clapping her hands together in joy, "and finally with some company too! Whose this, your boyfriend?" 

Jungkook laughed, shaking his head as Yugyeom snickered. “No no, this is Yugyeom. An old friend of mine." 

"Oh, how lovely. Sit sit! I'll make some tea." Jia ushered, waving them over to sit down. Jia was a very peppy woman, always adorned in far too many layers and patterns. A smaller but larger framed woman whose writs were always covered in large chunky jewelry. Bora was the opposite, a very tall and lean woman who wore monotone colors. Behind each of their backs were small fairy wings. Although Bora was more direct and brutally honest than Jia, both of them were sweethearts. 

They both sat down after some thorough questioning, each being given a steaming cup of tea to enjoy as they talked. Jia and Bora both busy with other customers. 

"Alright," Yugyeom announced as he set his cup down once he noticed Jungkook's thoughts straying again. 

"Thornvine root loses its potency after exposing it to the air, right?" Jungkook was a little surprised by the change of topic, feeling a little bashful at his poor concealment. His head still ached, and his inflamed ribcage was begging for a warm heating pad at the moment. 

"Yeah, it's complicated to prepare but durable. I can't use it if it loses its effectiveness during consumption either." He explained, thornvine root was the best herb he had found for his condition. "My theory is simple so far, thornvine is a strong antioxidant. It has long-lasting purifying qualities." He waited for Yugyeom's nod before continuing. 

"If my mana is the subject of corruption, introducing a purifying agent could control or reduce the levels of toxicity." Jungkook wanted a cure—something to rid himself of this disease. But he was running out of time, and being able to develop a cure that would reduce his condition from fatal to chronic, then he considered that a momentary win. 

"We could put a spell on it? A type of concealment spell to keep the air away." Yugyeom suggested, glancing at his teacup absentmindedly. 

Jungkook shook his head, sighing sadly. "In theory, but no. If you put a spell on a consumable item, you'll also be consuming a small amount of mana. That could potentially develop into a catalyst for the condition." 

Yugyeom nodded, frown deepening. Jungkook had gone through all of this before, developing a theory only to be proven wrong. The defeat grew worse the further on he went when hope was snatched out of his fingertips yet again. It breeds a hopelessness he'd like to spare Yugyeom from. 

"Oh honey, you need to find yourself an azurelbloom!" Jia suddenly popped up beside Yugyeom, making the witch jump a little as he hurriedly grabbed his nearly spilt teacup. 

Jungkooks brows furrowed, trying to recall the herb Jia was describing. "I've never heard of an azurelbloom before." 

Jia hummed, gently tapping Yugeums head in a silent apology for spooking the boy. "The azurelbloom is very old, one of the few truly sentient flowers left on the planet. It was said—" Jia began, lowering her voice into a whisper to make the story sound more interesting. She pulled out a chair, inviting herself to sit down at the table with them. 

"The flower was said to be used by the Gods." 

Gods? 

"Aish, don't believe any of that nonsense Jungkook." Bora muttered, dismissing the idea with her hand as he sat down at the last remaining chair, spooking Yugyeom once more. It made Jungkook stifle a snicker, the two sisters could be quite—sporadic. 

"What?! The azurelbloom existed!” Jia argued, crossing her arms. 

"Perhaps 500 years ago. You're feeding the kid a legend Jia, what Jungkook really needs to do is go find the Nereids." Bora objected, pushing up her narrow glasses. 

"Nereids, as in, the water nymphs?" Yugyeom asked, still recovering from getting jumpscared—twice. 

Bora nodded, waving around the closed fan she always carried with her. "Nereids pulled all kinds of things into the water with them if they were fond enough. They are masters at preservation; if they desired a daisy one day, they'd preserve it to never touch the depths of their springs. If they're able to keep air in, it's only fair to assume they'd be able to keep air out, too." 

Jungkook nodded, finding a way to preserve the thornvine roots was his biggest obstacle at the moment. Perhaps if the Nereids showed him how, he'd be able to finally begin creating proper prototypes. 

"That all said and good, but don't nymphs have an aversion to men?" Jia asked, frowning at the thought. "You're sending the boy out into danger!" 

Bora scoffed at the accusation, "as if setting him out to hunt down an ancient, cognizant flower is any better." 

"Well, it's better then—" 

Jungkooks head pulsed, his fingers trembling underneath the table. He had a lot to think about, and yet, there was so little time. But he had a new lead, and that's all he needed. 

Now, how the hell was he going to find a Nereid? 

Come on… 

A little more… 

So close—

Jungkook gasped as the library's ladder began to slide to the left. He was leaning off towards the side, trying to reach a book on Ancient Greek folklore, or more specifically, nymphs. Unlike most magicals, who could simply summon the book down from the shelves where the library's encyclopedia stood on the podium, Jungkook—for several reasons—could not. 

Perhaps he should have just climbed back down and shifted the ladder a little to the right, but it had been a long day, and he was still partially recovering from his trip to his Halmoni. So, he had been lazy and was now going to suffer the consequences of tasting the old carpeted flooring as the ladder continued to slide. 

Closing his eyes, Jungkook briefly expected the impact to come as he inevitably lost his footing on the ladder as it stretched his form out. Gasping quietly—this was still a library, after all—Jungkook braced himself only to feel tingly? 

Eyes snapping open, Jungkook shuddered as he shortly levitated in the air before being carefully lowered down. His feet touched the floor slowly, but the adrenaline still made him stumble. His savior's magic linger against his skin, like a subtle warm or fading caress. 

But Jungkook could recognize that magic from anywhere, and he didn't even need to wonder who had saved him before turning around greeting Namjoon's worried expression. 

"Did you hurt yourself, Jungkook-ah?" 

Perhaps Jungkook would never get used to the sight of his old soulmates again. The library was a loose term for what Veils had to offer; it was more like a grand and ancient archive. Long, stretching bookshelves required sliding landers just to be able to access the top sections of the bookshelves. The middle of the library had long, heavy mahogany desks available for the students. However, small, shorter desks were also littered around along with comfortable seating for anyone simply trying to read. 

Natural light seemed to flood the library, too. Windows lined the walls, filling the otherwise academic architecture with warmth. Namjoon stood before one of these windows, the light peeking around his silhouette and embracing his form. Jungkook hadn't taken the time to properly look over Namjoon, he had briefly glanced over him when moving in and during their last argument, but now Namjoon was before him and—and he looked beautiful. 

Yeah, Jungkook would surely never get used to the sight. 

There was a new sense of maturity in Namjoon's appearance, from the way his posture was straight yet still carried a certain mellowness. His face and features are now sharper and more defined. Six years had been a long time; somewhere along the way, all of them had gone from boys to adults. Of course, things would have changed. Jungkook just hadn't noticed it before, the intensity in Namjoons changed gaze. 

His style alone had changed too; back in the academy, Namjoon had never strayed from the required uniform, but on holidays, the mandatory dress code wasn't enforced; Namjoon had still chosen to dress in rather formal, business-casual attire at most. Jungkook recalled, rather fondly, how Seokjin and Jimin had dedicated nearly an entire day to pepping up Namjoons wardrobe. They had hunkered down in Jimins and Taehyung's shared room, clothes spewn half-hazardously across the floor, across chairs and their beds, Namjoon forced to parade in front of the full-length mirror like a personal manikin as they tried discovering Namjoons preferences together. Hopefully to stray from his interrogation-like style and more of a casual academic style. Their day hadn't been the most productive, but they did discover that Namjoon enjoyed certain styles over others. Jungkook had enjoyed that day, simply goofing off with his Hyungs and forcing his usually put-together Hyung in various styles and outfits. Having watched Namjoon be out of his element for once had quite the bonding factor for him, especially since Namjoon had struggled so immensely with showing his vulnerabilities. Vaguely, Jungkook couldn't help but wonder how much that has changed. 

Even now, Namjoon wore a soft set of grayish-brown suit pants—some habits never die, it seems—tied at the waist with a black leather belt that matched the black turtleneck that hugged his body. A loose, large-sleeved gray cardigan ties the outfit neatly together. Namjoon appeared soft but still put together enough that Jungkook assumed would make Namjoon feel comfortable. 

How could Namjoon simply look so effortless? It irritated him, mostly because he got caught staring. Who could blame him? He hadn't seen Namjoon in nearly six years; somehow, his eyes were still trying to catch up with the fact that Namjoon was real , that he was in front of him. Besides that, what frustrated him more was that within the past week, he had been asked the same question twice already by both Hoseok, Yoongi and now Namjoon as well. 

Jungkook had hoped silently that they could all just go their separate ways after their argument. At least they could all just pretend to hate each other, right? Hating them was easy. Even if Jungkook's feelings stretched far beyond just hate, what was going on was far more complex than just simply being sad or angry. Hating them was the only way it didn't hurt. 

Finally snapping out of his embarrassing stupor, Jungkook nodded. "Yep, just fine. Thanks." He murmured, looking around him to spot the book he had nearly taken the fall for lying on the floor. Bending down, he picked it up quickly. He wanted to leave. Lest he take a look into Namjoons all too familiar eyes. It was like taking a look at one's past while simultaneously glancing at one's own unachievable, daunting future. A world consisting entirely of what-ifs and had-beens. 

It scared Jungkook how much he was still able to hurt for these people. For him. 

"Well, anyways, I'll be going—"

Namjoon quickly stepped in front of him, stopping Jungkook from escaping the situation. Brows now furrowed in irritation, Jungkook took a step back. The string connecting them tugged lightly, almost unwilling to let him escape their unwelcome proximity.

"Namjoon, move." 

"No, please—" Namjoon exhaled, brushing his hair back with his hand nervously. He glanced around before finally locking eyes with Jungkook. It nearly took the sickly witches breath away, they hadn't been that close before, Jungkook hadn't seen those sincere eyes since— since then. 

It hurt.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook.” Namjoon began, frowning deeply. "For everything. Gods have mercy; there aren't enough ways for me to apologize to you for all that's happened. But also for our last argument, emotions were strung high and I—" Namjoon inhaled sharply, his exhale a little shaky. "You had every right to react the way you did, telling you to calm down was inappropriate of me. I spoke out of turn, and I'm sorry for that." 

Ever the diplomat, Kim Namjoon. Jungkook thought bitterly. However, an apology was better than none, Namjoon's reaction had been out of turn, no matter how diplomatically refined his apology came across. Jungkook stood silently between the narrow aisle of bookshelves, staring at the man he had loved endlessly six years ago as he let his apology dangle heavily in the air. But Namjoon was right, there weren't enough apologies in the world for his anguish to subside. 

Namjoons apology came too late. 

The silence between them made Namjoon nearly sink in on himself, the older witches hand hesitated as it briefly lifted to reach out for Jungkook, halting mid air before dropping limply to his side. Eventually, it balled up. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Jungkook." Namjoons usually relaxed voice sounded wobbly, unsteady as the pleading witch swallowed. 

And just like a dormant dragon, Jungkooks anger sprung back to life. Mostly because the sheer vulnerability within Namjoon's tone unsettled him, and another because the string connecting both him and Namjoon tugged weakly on his finger. He still wasn't used to that feeling; no, their bonds had remained devoid of any and all motion during the past years; feeling it move rattled him. There was something about seeing a shine to Namjoons's eyes that also irritated him. Why was Namjoon close to crying?—he had no right. 

Jungkook had been the one hurt here. 

The silence hanging between them was uncomfortable, nearly sparking from its intensity. None of them spoke, and with a resounding sigh, Jungkook's shoulders sank. 

"I'm not sure what you want me to say, Namjoon-sii." Perhaps that was the most level-headed Jungkook could be at this moment, but there was a certain defeat in his tone. 

"I can't say that everythings fine, that you are forgiven, that I don't hate you. None of that's true—" Namjoons remorseful gaze never left his, when had been the last time they had looked into each other's eyes? "—and you know that."

Again, the library's silence grew louder in its stillness. Namjoon seemed to be mulling over his own words, before he nodded. “I know that, Jungkook-ah. I'm not asking for your forgiveness," there was a pause, and Namjoon seemed to understand that asking for Jungkook's forgiveness was beyond him. That— that was something he wasn't allowed or able to request. 

"All I'm asking for is a chance—" 

"No." Jungkook cut him off, he wanted none of it. 

"Please, just to talk." Namjoon continued, a level of desperation as he pleaded. "Jungkook, I haven't seen you in six years. Please, I know I'm in no place to make requests from you—"

"So don't." 

Namjoon heaved a sigh, combing his hair back. "I've missed you."

Gods, what would Jungkook give to never hear Namjoon say that again. Such simple words, wrapping around his throat like a noose. 

But Namjoon continued, his own draconic eyes mirroring the desolation and fear that this could be their last time talking. "Please, Jungkook. Let's talk—we need to—to talk." 

Jungkook closed his eyes, inhaled sharply, and counted to ten until he opened them again. Keeping the wateriness at bay was futile, and he watched as Namjoon's hands itched to wipe his tears away. The elder stayed still, good. 

With a deep breath, tone cold and filled with a pained contempt, he spoke, perhaps a final time with Namjoon:

"You didn't just walk out of a room that day, Kim Namjoon." 

"You walked out on me."

There was a finality to Jungkooks tone, a bit unrecognizable to his own ears. But it needed to be said, Namjoon needed to hear it as much as he needed to say it. 

"The moment you walked out that fucking door. You relinquished everything you had on me. You have no rights to my life anymore. So don't—" Jungkooks voice quivered, forcing the sickly witch to swallow down his rising emotions. "—don't ask me to talk with you, especially when we have nothing to say to each other." 

Jungkook's hand tightened around the spine of the borrowed book, taking a few steps back. 

"Not anymore," he murmured, giving a slight bow with a politeness associated with strangers. "Goodbye, Namjoon-sii." He whispered, holding onto a faulty sense of closure as he walked away.

The sharp sound of a book slamming shut, followed closely by an elongated sigh, broke the silence surrounding the laboratory. Glancing out the window, the sun had set hours ago; leaving the sky generously decorated by the stars. Yugyeom had left the lab hours ago, not without the firm prompting of the Im coven threatening to send over some of its members to collect Yugyeom personally (which they had); it had been cute. It comforted Jungkook how well-matched Yugyeom and the Im coven were. He glanced briefly at the empty food container on his desk, a gift from Jaebeom since Jungkook had made a habit of getting take-out since he didn't want to spend any more time in his shared apartment than necessary. 

Originally, he had only accepted the meal under the guise that the coven had simply made too much for dinner last night, but this being the fifth day in a row, he was beginning to have some doubts. 

It had been—what? Six days since Yugyeom and he had returned from Busan? It took nearly the entire train ride back to persuade him to tone down his fussing, and even now, Yugyeom focused more on his meals than ever. Apparently, he hadn't been all that subtle at the market. 

Nearly every morning, Yugyeom would come in with a hot drink in his hand, usually a type of tea and a little snack. The teas, always kept warm by simple magic, contained some type of health benefit. Youngjae began joining them during the mornings, explaining a little more about each current selection. Jungkook later found out that Youngjae was the one actually making and brewing the tea specifically for Jungkook's health, each day selecting something different. One day, it had been a brew specific for his metabolism, another for his muscles or heart, and something generic and basic. Occasionally—and thanks to much discussion—the Ims would only bring him food for lunch every once in a while. Now that he was receiving food nearly every night for dinner, also accepting a clearly homemade meal for lunch just felt like too much. Too leeching.

So on the rare occasion where Jungkook allowed himself to be manhandled off towards lunch, he'd eat with Yugyeom and usually some of his other coven members. Depending on who had time at the moment, Yugyeom rarely ate alone. Jaebeom was the head of the coven, prompting him to be significantly more busy than the younger members. But Jungkook managed to spend nearly most of his week with the Ims, and it was—it was nice. Mark and Jackson made him laugh more times than he could count; Youngjae was easy to fall into conversations with, especially regarding his growing herb garden. Jinyoung had traveled a lot before finding his soulmates, and Jungkook loved hearing about the man's adventures. Jaebeom gave off a sense of authority that Jungkook generally avoided, but as the days flew by, Jaebeom grew softer and more doting. BamBam, as it turns out, is as much of a brat as Yugyeom, roping Jungkook into whatever they had planned for the day. 

Glancing at the fresh bouquet of flowers in the corner by the windowsill, he couldn't help but wonder which of the Ims was responsible for replacing and filling the empty vase every two to three days. At first, Jungkook found the gesture cute for Yugyeom, if only the flowers hadn't been on his side of the lab each time.  

The flowers didn't come from Youngjae's garden, so he could only assume it was another form of encouragement from the coven.

Spending time with the Ims felt natural and easy. Despite all their poorly concealed fussing, no one looked at him with those solemn expressions he absolutely loathed. Besides the teas, the inconspicuous push of vegetables, broths, and not-so-subtle additions of meats to his plate, he was treated like a person—not a tragedy but a friend. 

It meant a lot to him. 

A soft, subtle knocking disrupted his poor attempts at getting anything done. Glancing away from the flowers, he knew he'd have to revisit the topic of nymphs and nereids at a later date, most likely tomorrow. 

The lab door opened before Jungkook could get up, glancing around to see if Yugyeom had forgotten his coat or phone again. 

"What did you forget this time, Yugs?" Jungkook hummed sarcastically, turning to look at the door before halting. His amused smile slipped, taking in the sight of Jimin holding a large bouquet of flowers. A delicate assortment of purple hyacinths, tulips, sunflowers, and white lilies separated by the occasional green leaf or branch. 

The bouquet was beautiful, as were the last few he'd received. They would've been even more beautiful if he hadn't just realized they had been coming from Jimin. 

Jimin looked shocked, as if he wasn't expecting Jungkook to still be in the lab. Which was wild, considering that it was his laboratory. His eyes were wide, staring back at Jungkook in a slight stupor. He wore a white puffer jacket that was zipped up all the way, a gray scarf tucked snuggly around his neck. His cheeks and nose were dusted a light pink from the cold, the hand holding the bouquet a cold pinkish as well. 

Jungkook seemed to snap out of his surprise first, clearing his throat as he mimicked his nonchalance. "What are you doing here?" 

He sounded calm and insouciant. Jimins' presence bothered him, and so did the newfound knowledge that the bouquet of flowers he always spent time admiring each morning was from him. But it was well past midnight, and Jungkook had woken up early that morning to head to the library—his interaction with Namjoon still heavy on his shoulders. Working just helped in that regard, with each word he read and every page he studied. Devoting himself to what truly mattered helped sway the focus back to where it should be; his cure. 

As if snapping out of a trance, Jimin perked up before tumbling over his words. "What?—OH, yes—yeah, I just umm… came here to replace the—uh, flowers." Jimin looked sheepish, which was rare considering that hardly anything made Jimin flush back in the day. At least, they hadn't been able to. Jimin had been open to, well— most things. Besides little embarrassing hiccups around strangers, hardly anything could deter Jimin's unwavering confidence back in the day. 

Did—

Did Jimin consider him a stranger? 

Somehow, between all the bitterness and sorrow he felt when looking at Jimin, the thought of being reduced to a simple stranger bothered him. Not when they had known each other for longer than they hadn't. Not when Jimin had meant everything to him. 

"Ah," for a moment Jungkook wished he could string together an actual intellectual sentence. But it was hard to think around any of his old coven members, there was something about their mere presence that overwhelmed him with emotions. Clearing his throat, he glanced away bashfully as Jimin's gaze softened on him—fondly? 

"I wasn't aware you were the one leaving those." Jimins lip quirked upwards at his words, the witch rolling on his feet before Jungkook let him in with a stunted nod. He walked over to the vase, carefully taking out the resting flowers. Besides a few petals here and there, the bouquet never managed to look withered before Jimin supposedly replaced it. He tended to them with a level of care that borderlined on affection, and Jungkook couldn't handle the thought of any of them, including Jimin, being affectionate with him. 

"Yeah, I had wanted to talk to you after you got settled in. But when I got to your lab, you weren't there." Jimin explained, his voice composed and warm. He took the new bundle of flowers, removing its rapping carefully before summoning a quick set of pruning scissors and beginning to prep the ends. Jungkook sat still, unable to process the normality of Jimin's behavior. 

Maybe Jungkook was just really tired. He still hadn't fully recovered from his episode in the market, or maybe he just hadn't slept enough. But having Jimin in his laboratory felt strange, and so did his warm, gentle tone. It was just so Jimin. 

It had been years. Nothing about the man before him should still feel familiar. 

"I just noticed how dull everything looked, y'know?" Jimin went on, skillfully beginning to arrange the set of flowers he bought into the vase. 

"This is a laboratory, not a gallery, Jimin-ah." Jungkook retorted, crossing his arms. 

Jimin laughed, lightheartedly and airily. Like the gentle music Jimin's laughter had always been, even with how soft and quiet it was now, it eased Jungkook's tense shoulders. After all these years, Jungkook still found himself so weak for Jimin. 

A weakness he couldn't—shouldn't allow. This was about himself, his protection, his self-preservation, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to usher Jimin out of his sanctuary. He only lowered his head, picking at the soft fabric of his sweater.  

"I just—" Jimin paused, hand trailing over the stem of a white Lilie. "Remembered how you used to like picking flowers every spring; the seasons are changing and all, but I thought you'd like a little color in here regardless." Sighing quietly, Jimin stepped back to admire his work. The flowers were arranged beautifully, even if Jungkook didn't want to admit it. 

A silence stretched between them, lingering lonesomely. "This room gets a lot of light. So I thought sunflowers would look quite good in here." Jimin mused, glancing around Jungkook's filled work desk curiously. 

He should've asked Jimin to leave the moment he entered. But Jungkook was at a wits end for tonight, between too much work and little sleep, spending the better part of a day trying to figure out a way to get occasionally man-eating goddesses to help him out. 

It can't be that hard, right? 

Jungkook kept his gaze on the flower arrangement, there was something ironic about the sight of sunflowers without any sun to bask in. Jimin had a light affinity, a literal, breathing, sun. 

"You shouldn't be here this late, Jungkook-ah, it's not healthy—" 

"You were like the sun." Jungkook croaked, projecting a silence against the room. Faintly, one could hear the soft calling of crickets outside despite the laboratory being on the upper floors. 

His eyes lingered on a sunflower protruding from the arrangement, a strange sense of melancholy erupting within him. Jungkook was exhausted, there just wasn't any room for anger tonight. Looking at Jimin, all Jungkook felt was a bittersweetness that edged more on sorrow than anger.  

"You were my sun." Had his voice always sounded so fragile? There was a lump in his throat forcing him to swallow.

"And—" 

"—and when you left ." 

Jungkook looked up, his absent gaze finding Jimin's rueful ones. His old soulmate's waterline glistened, a wetness threatening to spill over if Jungkook went on.  

"You took the sunlight with you." 

Just because a witch had an affinity didn't mean they had to share a personality with their abilities. Necromancers didn't have to be edgy and downright creepy, nor did seers have to be reserved and wise, but Jimin— Jimin was like a ray of sunshine. 

When they had met Hoseok for the first time, it had been like two stars colliding. Erupting to create a light so warm, so gentle that they had all been drawn to it. 

"I—I spent years in that darkness, not able to see where I'm going, where I'm heading, it was all just empty." How many times, prompted by the jinge of the bookstores bells, had Jungkook wished he'd see Jimin's familiar face? 

"So when I finally—Finally managed to light a candle, you show up." He didn't mean to sound so grim, but their reality was; in fact, far from perfect. It had always been the two of them, like Bonnie and Clyde or Robin Hood and Marian. Until it suddenly wasn't. 

"And I don't care, I don't care that your presence promises me sunlight." 

"Jungkook-ah—" Jimins voice quivered, sounding watery. "Can I just please—"

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

Had he been too dependent on Jimin? Of course not; they had been soulmates, after all.  

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

Jimin had always shone so beautifully; if he had been the sun, then Yoongi would've been the moon. Only now did Jungkook realize that in all his life he had never been anything more than a mere sunflower.

"—like, like it was easy to leave me." 

Autumn was approaching; Jungkook hadn't noticed it before, the subtle chill joining the breeze brushing past him. The leaves were beginning to change colours, greens migrating into different shades of yellows and oranges. The park's gravelly path wasn't littered with foliage yet, but occasionally, a leaf would separate from its twig and dance through the air before landing on damp grass. 

It was early. Early enough in the morning, that the park was still a tranquil haven, cloaked in the soft hues of dawn. The trees stretch out the shadows of the rising sun, its golden hue forcing the dewdrop-covered leaves to practically sparkle as the warming light peaked through branches. The air still had a certain bite to it, a crisp that usually faded throughout the later mornings, currently carrying the sweet fragrance of dew-kissed grass and blossoming flowers. 

Jungkook wasn't usually an early bird; he was late to rise and even later to rest. But it had been Yugyeom's suggestion for Jungkook to indulge in other things outside the laboratory, which is why he was here now. Caring a small bag Yugyeom had gifted him consisted of nothing besides a small sketchbook and pencil. It was an old hobby of his—to draw. Quite frankly, he had ceased all of his hobbies after his diagnosis. It felt bittersweet; Jungkook hadn't really realized just how much he had given up that day. 

Jungkook consistently trod the delicate line between elation and guilt. Throughout his years of study, he carefully avoided any and all thoughts of his inevitable death. He could—He couldn't accept it. Every action he took, every chapter, every essay, every paper he read was done with an innate sense of dedication—of urgency. 

He wasn't going to die. 

The grass, still dappled with the glistening remnants of the night's dew, crunched underneath Jungkook's boots as he wandered off the path and towards an empty bench looking out onto the lake. A sense of renewal pervades the air, and the stillness carries a promise of unknown possibilities. Mallards still stayed floating on the water's rippling surface, heads tucked on their backs and against their wings. The birds nesting amongst the surrounding trees had gradually begun to sing, soft chirps and boisterous calls echoing through the rustling leaves. It was almost as if the park itself was awakening with the day, ready to unfold its wonders for those fortunate enough to witness its early morning beauty.

Jungkook almost found it amusing how Yugyeom's exuberance rekindled his own. How, in his steel-fortified focus, he hadn't recognized the depths of his own isolation. Along the way, toeing between different kinds of grief and sorrow, he had somehow convinced himself that companionship was unnecessary. Now, he had someone holding his hand again. Looking out onto the lake, Jungkook watched as the first ducks began awakening, beginning to prune their feathers before he glanced at the small beige tote bag Yugyeom had handed to him. 

It felt surreal—how things were beginning to change. Jungkooks own echelon was beginning to form, and watching the ducks cluster together as they awoke made Jungkook oddly happy. He had his Halmoni, now Yugyeom and Balam, and he was even becoming evermore familiar with the Im coven from their frequent visits to his shared laboratory. 

With every passing day, Jungkook felt his head slowly emerge from the water he felt himself sinking into. He had always boasted about his ability to move forward after his verdict, but comparing his current now and his previous then.

Had he ever really moved forward? 

His eyes caught onto the still resting form of a swan, the bird's long neck laid across its back and eyes closed as it drifted across the lake. He couldn't help but wonder lazily, what was the saying—Swans mate for a lifetime? Moving to grab the tote bag, Jungkook grabbed the small sketchbook and pencil, perching the notebook on his lap before beginning to sketch the idyllic swan. He was rusty, no doubt from his six-year gap, but he quickly familiarized himself with the nostalgic peace sketching gave him. 

But the reposed silence didn't last long, the sound of someone sitting down beside him had Jungkook tensing. The slight edges of annoyance filling his aura, as a quick glance around gave way to several empty benches. Glancing to his side, Jungkooks breath caught in his throat as he looked at Taehyung. 

The witch wore a long, gray-textured wool coat that reached a little past his knee. A large, red and dark gray chequered scarf draped over the back of his neck, leaving his neck exposed. Jungkook wanted to scoff, partially because wearing the scarf was pointless like that, and to resist the urge to wrap it around Taehyung's neck properly himself. The hell was up with him?

The witch also wore a pair of auburn brown pants that matched well with his white sweatshirt. Taehyung's entire outfit gave off a clean but simple look, matching well with the growing autumn colours. Taehyung had yet to look at Jungkook, eyes instead gazing forward and observing the same picturesque scenery Jungkook had been soaking up all morning. Most specifically, Taehyung seemed to be watching the rising swan. 

Jungkook hated it. He found it abhorrent how his hands itched to fix the witch's scarf, how he couldn't keep his eyes from marveling at the stark change between his Taehyung and this Taehyung. However, he figured the worst part of all—was how beautiful Taehyung still was. 

Jungkook was no longer looking at a rough-looking delinquent with smokey eyeliner and overly moussed hair, and neither was he breathing in the smell of old leather or subtle spray paint. No, the Taehyung beside him was entirely different. He smelt of subtle cologne and wore no make-up at all, adorning a well-picked-out outfit for autumn that complemented his stature entirely too much. Taehyung, when did you change? 

"The others told me not to talk to you." Taehyung began, and somehow Jungkook couldn't help but connect the opposing witches' aura to their surroundings; somehow Taehyung carried the same nippy frost the freshening air did. 

"But I don't care," Taehyung added, and despite the clear disregard towards his own wishes—he found Taehyung's disobedience comical, familiar. "Jimin told me about what you said to him." 

Ah, Jungkook had almost forgotten just how close they all were with one another. Jungkook had accepted the fact that his path would never align with his soulmates again—he came to terms with that. But that night, all of them had split up. Jungkook had remained unaware that while he trotted around the world like a pariah, they had been wandering together. 

Jungkook inhaled, his shaky breath coming out quivery as it clouded against the fresh morning air. There was no way that that realization would ever not hurt him. 

"He looked for you." 

Taehyung hadn't looked at him as he spoke, but it carried a curtness he was familiar with. There was a subtle, pensive sweetness to the familiarity; that despite the physical changes, Taehyung would always remain Taehyung. It took Jungkook a moment to catch onto exactly what he had said, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion before realization dawned on him. 

Briefly, the scene of Taehyung entering the auditorium and jogging towards Jimin's brooding figure during Yugyeom's presentation flashed through him. The sight of Jimin's turbulent thoughts vanishing, practically melting under Taehyung's doting affections. They were so close to one another. Bonded. 

"What?" Jungkook piped, looking out at the grooming swan. It was ironic to be surrounded by so much ataraxia and yet remain utterly troubled. 

Jungkook watched as Taehyung's blank expression cracked, the facade quivering as he whispered, "We—well, we looked for you." 

This time, it was Jungkook's turn to avoid eye contact because—what was he supposed to do with that information? Give Taehyung a participation sticker? A part of him wanted the other witch to stop this conversation entirely because, despite his efforts, his unbridled hate and contempt for everything regarding soulmates—Jungkook still bled for them. With every word, with every encounter, his heart would begin to weep all over again. Taehyung's words hurt, an ache entirely different from anything that could've been caused by insulting him. It was a deep, visceral kind of throbbing.  

"We searched for years," Taehyung whispered, and perhaps if the park wasn't nearly as serene and empty as it was, Jungkook would've lost the softness of them to the wind. 

A moment passed, Taehyungs gaze lowering to the ground as his expression contorted into one of mild frustration. Jungkook vaguely remembers a similar reaction to a conversation they had long ago, where Taehyung confided in him and complained about his inability to properly express himself. Jungkook couldn't help but wonder if those words still applied today. 

"There wasn't—" Taehyung paused, inhaling as his tongue flicked to wet his lips. "There wasn't a pebble we left unturned Jungkook." Please, Jungkook thought pleadingly, please don't say my name like that. 

As if the world depended on Jungkook believing him. 

"Jimin hyung," Taehyung began again, "Jimin even went to your parents." The witch let out a dry, bitter-sounding chuckle that was more spiteful than anything else. Jungkook instantly understood, his own surprise at the information wearing off. His parents were huge, bigoted classists who were pretty prejudiced against gifted witches—those who weren't born into a witching bloodline—opposed to their superiorly born witches. 

Jimin was a gifted witch, as in he hadn't actually developed his abilities until the MCA classified him as a magical. There wasn't necessarily any difference between the abilities of a born witch and gifted witch, but prejudices still existed nonetheless. Jungkook never cared for any of that bullshit. But to imagine Jimin, a man who has always been viewed as inferior by his parents, knocking on their door and asking about his whereabouts stirred his mixed emotions even more. 

"You could imagine how well that went." Taehyung cursed, hands scrunching up. "The old hag tore him apart—rightfully so, but Jimin only ever repeated his question." 

A small flock of ducks flew down towards the lake, circling it once before slowly lowering into the waving water with energetic wingstrokes. They squeaked and squawked, playfully circling each other as they occasionally ducked for food. Gradually, people began entering the park too. The lonesome jogger or dog walker following the path outlining the body of water. 

"So I went to find Jimin, and together we began combing through Hangawoondae together." Taehyungs expression never truly changed as he recounted what occurred after Jungkook left. His fists were hidden in his coat pockets, but Jungkook could tell that he was cycling through a restrained pattern of clenching and unclenching his fists. 

"But together, we couldn't find you either." Somehow, Taehyung still managed to tone his words with a level of despair that made Jungkook wonder if he was still missing. "So we went to find Namjoon and Jin." 

Jungkook knew he shouldn't be indulging Taehyung like this—he should've left. But another part of him wanted to know , he wanted to know what they did when he left. The first weeks on his own were gruesome, a collaboration between being cold, hungry, and lonely. When all Jungkook had was an empty park bench to lay on for the night, his gaze cast up into the desolate starry sky. Wondering vacantly where they were, whether or not anyone was out there looking for him.   

Jungkook knew that despite all the supposed hate and disassociation he had prided himself on, he never lost a certain hope throughout the beginning. With every jingle of the front entrance bells at his Halmoni's store, Jungkook had hoped to see a familiar face. But that day never came, and those hopes died after the third year had passed. 

So Jungkook remained seated, his pale hands resting on his knees, fingertips dusted a light pink from the cold. Though the temperature hardly bothered him, his body didn't really heat up anymore. His mana too preoccupied at keeping himself stable to waste energy on heat.

"Namjoon and Jin went and found your Grandparents—fuck, we even tracked down your Uncle," Taehyung muttered. Jungkook frowned; he had cut all ties with his family when he left. There wasn't one member worse than the other, and they were all just dreadful. But to hear they had managed to track down his salacious, estranged Uncle? That must've come from Namjoon's connections. 

"Hoseok and Yoongi had apparently already searched for you on their own," Taehyung said that strangely—spitefully? And here Jungkook thought they were all lovey-dovey with one another. He had to stifle a snarky remark, but despite all that could've changed with Taehyung, they were still so much alike. And Jungkook knew that if he interjected now, Taehyung might close up and leave. 

"Not even Yugyeom knew where you were." Taehyung pushed through, and unlike the seething stare Jimin had centered around his best friend only a week ago, Taehyung had managed a look of anguish instead. 

Jungkook didn't know where to place that information, the thought of them looking for him. But then why hadn't they just cast a spell? A tracer. Hells, they could've just followed the red soul string connecting them if they had wanted to. It wasn't and never had been impossible to find him. 

Taehyung twisted to face him, steely, determined eyes nearly taking his breath away. "I'm not saying this to guilt you, Jungkook. I just—I want you to know. Know that there wasn't a day you were out there where I wasn't looking for you." There was an unyielding tone to Taehyung's words as if daring Jungkook to disagree. 

"Years we searched the media for any sign of your apprenticeship. But nothing, you were just—gone." Taehyung went on, an almost reminiscing look casting over his gaze. 

Distantly, birds sang, chatting and flitting through the air. Taehyung sighed, scrunching up his face before meeting Jungkooks. "We fucked up!—more than just that—we royally screwed up everything good in our lives." 

Jungkook felt a bubble of protest stuck in his throat because that couldn't be true. It just couldn't. They fucked up, yes. But Jungkook hadn't been that quintessential to their coven; they had moved on without him. How far would they have gone still if he hadn't shown up on orientation day?

As if sensing his straying thoughts, Taehyung reached over and grabbed one of his icy hands. Weakly, Jungkook could still make out the now unfamiliar tingles the touch of a soulmate provided. "Jungkook-ah," Taehyung called out softly. 

"Jungkook, you don't have to forgive us." When had Taehyung garnered the ability to look so vulnerable? Where had the turbulent man of his youth gone? It nearly pained him to look up at Taehyung to meet his soft, pleading features for longer than he already had. 

"Losing you," he began again, looking out onto the lake briefly as the swan swam closer to them before subsequently passing them by. "Was the greatest mistake I ever made." 

The handing holding his squeezed, and Jungkook wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to pull away or not. "I'll be the first to admit it. One year is what I get with you," and for a second Jungkook's heart sank before he realized that the Veils program only lasted so long.  

Suddenly, Taehyung's warm eyes were back on him. "But don't think that I—we won't spend every minute of it trying to make up for those mistakes." 

A silence stretched between them as Jungkook searched Taehyungs face for any integrity, or perhaps anything to promote the opposite. Softly, Taehyung began to chuckle. Letting go of Jungkook's warmed hand to comb his hair back, breathing deeply to relieve the phantom pressure that had settled over the older witch. "Big words, huh?" He mused, trying to lighten the mood. 

"I'll prove it to you, I—"

"Why didn't you just follow our bond?" Jungkook interrupted stubbornly as he looked up at Taehyung. But the pure confusion that met him somewhat derailed him. Taehyung's eyebrows had pulled together as the other now searched his face for signs. 

"What?" The unease settling in his gut made him feel antsy; why did Taehyung look so confused? 

"Jungkook," Taehyung's voice cut through the tension between them. 

"Your soul-string faded away after you left."