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For the second time in a week, Jimin shows up at Jeongguk’s hanok unannounced.
It’s easy enough for Jimin to pop by like this; he lives in the busier, central part of the witches’ district, but Jeongguk’s village is only a short distance away, on the outskirts. And really, it’s not like Jeongguk minds him stopping by. He doesn’t have any appointments for the rest of the afternoon, and he had gotten groceries only yesterday so he has plenty of snacks and drinks to offer Jimin. He also loves Jimin, of course, and is grateful for his company. The only problem, then, is that Jimin sometimes looks over at Jeongguk, his expression tinged with worry, and it makes Jeongguk squirm with guilt. He knows that they’re about to have the same conversation they’ve had so many times before.
“You know I worry about you, living out here all alone,” Jimin says. “Don’t you?”
The sun is low in the sky by this point, its bright beams snagging on the suncatcher hanging in Jeongguk’s window and sending rainbow-hued coins of light spilling across the table. They’re on their third round of green tea and the steam spirals up towards Jimin’s face. He’s smiling, as usual, but his gaze is serious.
Jeongguk sighs and shuffles on his cushion. It’s not that he wants to be alone all the time. In actuality, he’d rather not. The thing is, though, he’s never been very good with the whole . . . friendship thing. When it comes to other people, Jeongguk’s wary, and it’s not because he doesn’t trust his friends. It’s more like he’s worried that they won’t trust him. While he knows he’d never dabble in using his magic in ways that aren’t allowed, nobody else can truly know that, not really. He’s been hurt so many times before, people coming into his life and then retreating for good once they learn the real nature of his powers.
“Living alone isn’t necessarily a bad thing, hyung,” he tells Jimin, which is his go-to response whenever they wade into these waters."You used to live alone.”
“Exactly,” Jimin says. “I used to live alone, so I know how lonely it can get.”
Jeongguk remembers this, too. Jimin came around much more often in those days, arms laden with bags of takeout food and bottles of beer and soju. He’d been so full of restless energy, always seeking someone out for company and for comfort.
Ever since his familiar, Seokjin, moved in with him, though, he’s been much more settled.
Like he’s reading Jeongguk’s mind, Jimin’s eyes flash. “Hey, Jeongguk-ah,” he says. “Have you ever thought about bonding with a familiar?”
Jeongguk hums, shrugs and takes another sip of tea, thinking Jimin will drop it if he keeps answering so non-committedly. Jimin does no such thing, however, uncrossing his legs and kneeling to lean across the table.
“Why don’t I hook you up with the people who paired me with Seokjin?” Jimin asks Jeongguk, face flushed like he’s tipsy even though they’re only drinking tea.
“What, is it like an adoption centre?” Jeongguk asks, genuinely curious. He hasn’t really put much thought into how witches and familiars are initially connected.
Jimin shoves him gently. “No,” he says, laughing. “Familiars aren’t pets, Jeongguk-ah. They’re companions. Partners.”
“So, it’s more like . . . a matchmaking service?”
Jimin snorts, amused, but then he purses his lips into a pout, looking thoughtful. “Well, I guess it is a little like that, actually.”
“Yeah?”
“I mean, they ask you some questions and then match you up with a familiar according to how you answer them. Here—I’ll write down the number and you can hang onto it, okay?”
Jeongguk waits for Jimin to write down a few details on a slip of paper and then he pockets it, promising he’ll at least think about it. After, they finish off the pot of tea and Jimin heads out, toeing on his shoes just outside the door and waving an enthusiastic goodbye.
Jeongguk stretches and yawns and pads through to the other room to lie down in bed. The piece of paper Jimin had given him flutters out of his pocket and lands on the mattress. He picks it up and reads it. There are three names—Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, and Kim Namjoon—as well as a telephone number. He runs his thumb over the crinkles in the edges before stuffing it in his pocket again.
Looking up at his ceiling, Jeongguk thinks that maybe Jimin is right. Maybe he should enter an arrangement with a familiar. These days, what with there being so much movement between the realms, it’s odder not to have a familiar partner than it is to have one.
Witches have been making pacts with familiars—shape shifting demons, spirits, and goblins, mostly—for millennia. These pacts are supposed to be mutually beneficial; the familiar needs to bond with a witch in order to remain in the human world, and in return, the witch receives help in their magical practice. As such, a witch usually seeks out a familiar who has powers they don’t have, or ones they don’t excel at, at least—the capability to seek out sources, and places, of benevolent or malevolent magic, for instance, or divining abilities.
Jeongguk can think of one specific trait he would like his potential familiar to have but mostly, he just yearns for the companionship such an arrangement would bring. After living alone and working alone for as long as he can remember, he is lonely.
Jimin has always been right about that.
Jeongguk gets up, finds his phone, and adds the number to his list of contacts. Then, he goes to the kitchen to make dinner. By the time he’s ready to eat, the sky is fully dark outside. A half-moon dangles from a gauzy wisp of cloud, pale and yellow like a wedge of melon.
He feels it then, as he sits eating by himself: a tremulous sort of hollowness. An urge to turn to someone, and put his hand atop theirs, and ask them if they like the meal. To laugh and joke with this person, his person. His heart stings with want and he swallows it down, goes to put on some music to fill the silence as he finishes dinner and starts cleaning up for the day.
If I still feel even a twinge of this when morning comes, he thinks, as he curls up to sleep, then I’ll call it. I’ll call the number.
-
Jeongguk bikes to the centre of the witches’ district. It’s a breezy spring day and the trees he passes on his way are in the process of blossoming, their buds blushing furiously, a bashful pink. He left his jacket at home and while the exercise has him working up a sweat, the relatively cool air makes his t-shirt sleeves billow and his bare arms break out in goose pimples.
When Jeongguk had spoken to Kim Namjoon on the phone that morning, the man had said (in a rich, unique baritone) that their facility was huge and that Jeongguk wouldn’t be able to miss it. Sure enough, when Jeongguk’s phone chirps to signal he’s reached his destination, he finds himself braking and skidding to a halt in front of a very large building, one he’d previously thought a gallery, or library, whenever he’d passed it before, due to its sleek, modern exterior. He secures his bike on a nearby storage rack and heads up to the front door to buzz the intercom. Once he’s let through, he’s ushered down a hallway by a polite receptionist and let into a small room that looks like a study. He takes the empty seat that he assumes is for him—an armchair positioned in front of a long, bulky desk with pretty carvings in the wood. There are foxes, cats, wolves, and even dragons, all lined up as if in a parade. Familiars, he thinks, as he reaches out a hand and touches the ridges and indentations.
“Oh, you’re just in time.” Jeongguk recognises Namjoon’s voice from the phone and stands up to greet him, bowing as he says his hellos.
Namjoon is tall and has an aura that’s immediately charismatic. His silver hair is slicked back from his forehead and he’s wearing a pair of glasses with a bejewelled chain that loops down to rest on his shoulders. Over a shirt patterned with bright yellow suns and moons he wears a cosy-looking plaid jacket. He motions for Jeongguk to sit as they finish up introducing themselves properly.
“My colleagues are just on their way,” Namjoon explains, before taking a seat behind the desk.
Jeongguk just nods. Then, he’s back on his feet as two other men enter the room.
“This is Min Yoongi,” Namjoon tells Jeongguk, gesturing to the shorter of the two men.
Yoongi, who has fluffy, fawn-brown hair and is wearing a flowy shirt and slacks under a lavender-and-olive robe, nods at Jeongguk.
“And this is Jung Hoseok,” Namjoon continues, as the final man—a blond with pretty, delicate features who’s wearing a silk, burgundy robe over a checkered shirt and baggy pants—beams and waves at Jeongguk.
Jeongguk bows to both of them in turn before sitting once again. Jimin had failed to mention that everyone who worked at this place was exceptionally good-looking and Jeongguk tries not to get flustered as he takes in all three of them at once.
“I can start by covering the basics,” Yoongi says. Jeongguk recognises a hint of the Gyeongsang dialect in his pleasantly raspy voice. “You might already know some of this, or you might not, but it’s good to go over everything. Essentially, we are a rehoming facility for familiars who have previously been bonded to a witch, but for one reason or another, are bonded no longer.”
Hoseok smoothly takes over. Jeongguk can’t help but notice how his cheerful way of speaking complements his sunny exterior. “Temporarily, they are bonded to one of us, and they reside in this centre, until we can find them a new companion.”
“Wow,” Jeongguk breathes out, impressed. “You know, I didn’t even think about what happens to familiars who might separate from their witch.”
Namjoon gestures with his hands as he speaks. “The types of beings that familiars often are—these beings can stay in our world without a bond, but not for long. Simply being here, you see, is an act of magic and without a bond, they will grow weaker, and weaker, until they might fade away entirely. A bond with a witch, however, acts as a tether. It grounds them. That’s why it's so vital they have one, even temporarily.”
“That makes sense,” Jeongguk says. Now that they’ve been explained to him, these things seem so obvious. He’s just never had a reason to give the logistics much thought before.
“You’re here, Jeongguk-ssi, because you’re considering entering a partnership with a familiar,” Hoseok says, his keen, twinkly gaze fixed on Jeongguk. “Are there any particular traits you are looking for in a potential familiar?”
“Um.” Jeongguk clears his throat. “There was one thing, actually. I’d like it if my familiar were, um, immune to the magic of the human realm? If that’s possible.”
Hoseok blinks, surprised. “Can I ask why?”
“My magic . . . I deal in memories? Like, I help people forget things, or remember them.” Jeongguk parts his lips and sips in a breath before continuing. “I can also . . . create new memories, or alter existing ones.”
Yoongi raises his eyebrows at him. “Can you tell us why that matters? Tampering with someone’s memories without their knowledge is illegal whether they’re a familiar, or a witch, or a regular person.”
“I know that,” Jeongguk replies immediately, twisting his hands in the hem of his t-shirt. “And I would never do something like that. But it is theoretically possible, and people— well, people don’t like this about me. So, to avoid any distrust, I think it would be preferable if my familiar was immune to that magic.”
Namjoon nods, understanding, and Jeongguk huffs out a sigh of relief. “That’s not a problem,” Namjoon tells him. “We have familiars here who are unaffected by human witches’ magic.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s good.” Jeongguk tucks his fidgeting hands between his thighs and offers them a smile.
Hoseok returns it easily. “Is there anything else you’d like us to know about why you’d like to enter a bond with a familiar?”
“I guess?” Jeongguk says. “Mostly, I— just want a companion. Someone to spend time with? Someone . . . nice.”
Yoongi, Hoseok and Namjoon all share a look between them and Jeongguk wonders if he’s said something wrong.
Then, Namjoon stands up and jerks his head in the direction of the door.
“Let’s walk and talk,” he says.
“Is that— does that mean you know everything there is to know about me?” Jeongguk asks.
Another indecipherable glance is shared among the three men. When they next look at Jeongguk, they simultaneously say, “Yes.”
Jeongguk freezes, momentarily dazed, and then he scrambles to his feet.
-
“Some of the familiars staying with us have been through hard times,” Namjoon explains as he and Jeongguk walk down a winding corridor lined with doors. “Taehyungie has been . . . unwilling to shift to a human-like form since he came to the facility, preferring to remain in an animal-like form. As such, we don’t know a lot about him, except that he’d been bonded to a witch who sadly passed away a few months ago. That event obviously led him to us.”
Jeongguk hums to show he’s following and Namjoon frowns as he slows his pace. “That’s not to say he’ll want to remain in an animal-like form forever, though, especially once the two of you start cohabiting and connecting. From the limited interactions we’ve had with him, he’s extremely warm and sweet-tempered. We just thought you should be aware of his background before we introduced you. Are you . . . happy for us to introduce you?”
“Yes, sure,” Jeongguk replies. He’s seen firsthand how well Seokjin and Jimin get along and he trusts Namjoon’s judgement.
Namjoon stops abruptly in front of a door with the number 6 on it. “Okay,” he says breezily, before knocking on it.
They wait for a response for so long that Jeongguk becomes convinced none will come. Then, a small, tentative mewl rings out from somewhere inside of the room.
Namjoon smiles at Jeongguk and pushes the door open.
There, pretzeled up in a disc of sunlight on a plush rug, is a chunky-looking cat with a black, orange and white-striped coat. The cat uncurls slowly, blinking up at Namjoon and Jeongguk with sleepy, ice-blue eyes.
Without meaning to, Jeongguk lets loose an enchanted, “Oh.”
Taehyung quirks his head to the side as he inspects Jeongguk from head to toe. Then, he hesitantly pads towards them, stopping at Jeongguk’s feet and pawing at the toe of his sneakers.
Jeongguk crouches down and takes Taehyung’s paw into his hand to shake it. “Nice to meet you, Taehyung-ssi,” he murmurs gently. “Wow. You’re such a cute kitty.”
Taehyung sighs while Namjoon laughs sharply, shooting Jeongguk an amused look. “Taehyung is currently a baby tiger, Jeongguk-ssi.”
Jeongguk startles. “He is?!” he blurts out, before turning back to Taehyung. “You are?!”
Taehyung’s ears twitch and then he gives Jeongguk a pointed look as if to say, obviously, before stretching and yawning, revealing his set of impressively sharp teeth.
“Well, I see it now,” Jeongguk admits weakly.
“Jeongguk-ssi is looking for a familiar partner,” Namjoon tells Taehyung. “We think you’d make a good match for him.”
Taehyung inclines his head slightly and looks off to the side, a gesture Jeongguk reads as uninterested. He almost asks Namjoon to repeat what he said about Taehyung supposedly being sweet-tempered.
“Um, Namjoon-ssi is right,” Jeongguk tries instead, holding his palm out to Taehyung. “I’m a witch and I live in the hanok village just on the edge of the witches’ district. My home is really bright and airy, with lots of room for you, Taehyung-ssi, if you— if you want it.”
Taehyung keeps his gaze on the wall, ignoring Jeongguk altogether. Jeongguk's chest feels itchy with the rejection but he determinedly leaves his outstretched hand where it is.
“Taehyung-ah,” Namjoon says, placating. “Don’t be difficult on purpose. You know you can’t stay here forever, don’t you?”
Taehyung stills at that. Slowly, he turns and eventually shifts forward to rest his chin in Jeongguk’s palm, huffing out a disgruntled whine as he does so.
Jeongguk’s heart lifts and he feels the corners of his mouth curl into a grin. Softly, he cups Taehyung’s head and starts rubbing the soft fuzz of his ears; Taehyung’s eyelids flutter as he begins to purr at the touch.
“Great,” Namjoon says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get the two of you bonded.”
-
After the bonding spell—a spooky-sounding incantation performed in a darkened room that makes Jeongguk think he’s at an exorcism of some sort—is completed by Yoongi, Jeongguk carries a heavier-than-expected Taehyung out of the facility and towards the bike rack.
Despite his bulk, Taehyung just about fits in the basket that’s attached to the front of Jeongguk’s bike. He stares up at Jeongguk inquisitively as Jeongguk wheels them onto the road to start biking them home.
Once they pick up speed, Taehyung makes a surprised sort of chirp. The breeze fluffs up his fur and makes his whiskers flutter. Cute, Jeongguk thinks, biting his lip.
Taehyung spends most of the journey back to Jeongguk’s village taking in the surroundings they speed past—the magic shops and amenities and then the trees and plants in the park. When they reach Jeongguk’s favourite part of the witches’ district, the bamboo tunnel, Taehyung lifts his head to look at the towering, jade-green stalks that seem to go up for miles. The rays of sun that manage to slip through the small gaps in between the columns dapple his tiny body in shadows and light.
When his eyes next meet Jeongguk’s own, they’re lit up with a quiet sort of awe.
“You’ve never been here before, hmm?” Jeongguk calls out to him as they whiz out of the other end of the tunnel. “Or on a bike before?”
Taehyung preens in the sudden sunshine flooding over them, not bothering to respond to Jeongguk’s questions one way or the other.
“Well, we can come back, or go cycling again, whenever you like,” Jeongguk tells him. “Okay?”
This time, Taehyung looks straight at him, something like doubt pinching his expression. It only adds fuel to the tiny fire already burning inside Jeongguk to get Taehyung to warm to him. “I mean it,” he adds, and he considers booping Taehyung’s nose to drive the point home but worries the action won’t be received very well.
They eventually get back to the village and Jeongguk carries Taehyung inside, cradling him in his arms while he expertly steps out of his sneakers and crosses the threshold into the hanok. He plops Taehyung down on one of the seat cushions by the table before taking a step back, crossing his arms over his chest and considering Taehyung very carefully.
“So, um, this is home,” he says, gesturing around the room vaguely. “I live here, obviously, but I also use this space to attend to customers when they come in for their appointments. My room is out back, and so is the bathroom, and so is the guest room—which is your room now, I guess. The kitchen is just over there, behind that screen.”
He points in its direction. “It’s a pretty small kitchen but everything works fine.”
Taehyung just gazes up at him, his unblinking stare revealing nothing.
Jeongguk puffs up his cheeks and pushes a breath out his lips. “Are you hungry?” He asks the easiest thing to ask. “Should I make us some dinner?”
Taehyung gives a scratchy mewl that Jeongguk interprets as a yes, before slinking across the heated floor towards the rug. Jeongguk watches him lie down and stretch out and then heads to the kitchen to start preparing dinner.
Jeongguk’s not sure what Taehyung likes, but figures meat is a good starting point, especially if he’s going to be staying in his tiger form for the time being. Jeongguk keeps things simple, frying up some good quality, well-marbled beef he’d been saving for a nice occasion and preparing some mildly seasoned noodles and veggies to go with it.
It’s quiet in the other room—Jeongguk suspects Taehyung is dozing on the rug—but it’s not the flat, empty sort of quiet Jeongguk’s grown accustomed to over the years. Rather, it trembles with the beginnings of something which has an unknown shape. And yet, it’s peaceful. Companionable, in its own new, strange way.
Jeongguk plates up the food and goes to carry it through.
When he rounds the other side of the screen, however, he very nearly drops it.
There, lying in the middle of the rug, is a fully-grown adult tiger.
Its paws, which are the size of the dinner plates Jeongguk’s holding, are crossed demurely in front of it, and its tail playfully swishes from side to side, twisting into a curlicue at its end.
“Holy— shit,” Jeongguk exclaims silently. Even though he knows it’s Taehyung—must surely be Taehyung—the sight of an adult tiger lounging so casually in his home makes him freeze in his tracks.
Taehyung’s eyes are no longer baby blue as they bore into him. Now, they melt from corn-bright yellow into warm mahogany. They’re a predator’s eyes.
Before Jeongguk can say anything, the tiger begins to shift in front of him, limbs jerking and drawing in as its body rises upwards. There’s the faint cracking sound of bones rearranging themselves and Jeongguk distantly thinks that he’s surprised the shift doesn’t happen even more instantaneously, Taehyung vanishing and reappearing in a puff of smoke like in the cartoons.
When the change is complete, a man is standing in the centre of the room.
Jeongguk swallows, overwhelmed. Taehyung looks at him from under thick, dark lashes, eyes a rich, soft brown and distinctly human, and Jeongguk feels like he’s unravelling, like the bottom of his stomach is caving in.
It’s no joke; Taehyung is dazzlingly beautiful. Black curls fall across his brow. Moles dot his bottom lip, his waterline, the very tip of his perfect nose. His tanned skin glows, and his limbs are long and elegant, encased in robes of black and sapphire-coloured silk. Flowering under Jeongguk’s awed gaze, Taehyung cups his face in his hands and gives Jeongguk a grin of bared teeth.
Then, absurdly, he meows, the sound low-pitched and deep.
Jeongguk gapes at him. “You—”
“Just messing with you, Jeongguk-ssi,” Taehyung says, the words fluttering into laughter at the end. His voice is velvety and luxurious, and when Jeongguk feels his cheeks inevitably flushing, he frowns as if that’ll hide it.
“I thought I’d better introduce myself personally,” Taehyung goes on, walking closer to Jeongguk but stopping when he’s around an arm’s-length away. He bows deeply, remaining in the position for a brief spell and then rising. “I’m Kim Taehyung, your new familiar.”
“Hi,” Jeongguk says on an exhale.
“Hi,” Taehyung returns, smiling at him. “Aren’t those plates heavy?”
Jeongguk had forgotten he’d been carrying them and his arms suddenly wobble, cramping up. He hurries past Taehyung to put them down on the table.
“That looks good,” Taehyung tells him, appearing at Jeongguk’s shoulder so suddenly and quietly that Jeongguk wonders if he glided across the floor. “Thank you for cooking.”
“No problem,” Jeongguk mutters, still staring down at the food. He’s so flustered that he issues a silent order to pull himself together. “I hope you like it.”
They sit across from each other and begin eating, the quiet taking on a frantic sort of quality now. Whenever Jeongguk catches Taehyung’s eye, his gaze is so intense that it makes Jeongguk’s insides turn liquidy just to hold eye contact with him.
Taehyung seems unfazed, or potentially hasn’t even noticed.
“You’re young, aren’t you?” Taehyung asks.
“I’m twenty-five,” Jeongguk replies.
“Oh, so you’re the baby,” Taehyung coos. He uses his pinkie finger to brush his hair out of his eyes. “How cute.”
“How old are you?”
Taehyung hums thoughtfully. “I think I’m around twenty-seven . . . if we go by the human rules of time.”
Jeongguk doesn’t even bother asking what that means. “And you’ve been in our world for a while?”
“Yes, a while,” Taehyung confirms. “Namjoonie-hyung told you that you’re not my first witch?”
“He did.” Jeongguk tightens his grip on his chopsticks. “I’m sorry . . . about what happened.”
Taehyung stills, looking down at his food. When he next looks up, he shrugs. “That’s the way of things.”
Jeongguk nods. “Yeah.”
Taehyung changes the subject. “What kind of witch are you?”
“Oh, um, mostly I help people remember things they’ve forgotten, or are forgetting. Other times, I’m asked to help someone forget something they’d rather not remember.”
“You’re a memory witch.”
“Mm.”
“And how do you want me to assist you?”
Shit. Jeongguk hasn’t worked out how he'll answer this yet. He considers coming clean and telling Taehyung he’d mostly signed up to be paired with a familiar because he’d been lonely but when he opens his mouth to say so, the words hide at the back of his throat, reluctant to come out. ““I’m not one hundred percent sure yet,” he replies vaguely. “I have a few appointments tomorrow. Maybe you could sit in?”
“Oh, of course,” Taehyung agrees. “I’m all yours.”
Jeongguk warms inside. “Right. Okay. Great.”
When they finish their meals, Taehyung insists on cleaning up.
“You don’t have to— I’m used to doing it—” Jeongguk tries, following Taehyung into the kitchen.
“Jeongguk-ssi, we’re partners now.” Taehyung pouts at him as he starts filling the sink. “If you cook, then I clean up afterwards. That’s only fair.”
“Okay,” Jeongguk says, acquiescing. He feels like he should go but he finds himself swaying on the spot, stuck.
Taehyung laughs when he spots him lingering.
“Sorry,” Jeongguk says, wincing. “I just— I don’t know what to do with myself. This is all new to me.”
“What do you usually do after dinner?” Taehyung asks him over his shoulder.
“I usually listen to music as I clean up,” Jeongguk replies. “Sometimes I have some wine.”
“Then, why don’t you play some music for me and pour us a couple glasses?”
“That I can do,” Jeongguk says as he slides his phone out of his jeans pocket. He opens the Melon app as he reaches for an unopened bottle of red wine and goes about fixing two glasses.
Taehyung smiles at him as he potters about and while it’s soft in all the right places, Jeongguk senses some hesitance in it, too. But Taehyung only just got here so it’s expected; he’ll need time to take root and unfurl his petals completely and Jeongguk is patient.
Later, as they each retreat to their separate rooms after a glass or two of wine, they exchange polite goodnights as they drift away from one another.
Jeongguk rolls into bed feeling happy and tipsy; the quiet that lulls him to sleep is gentle, and full, like the steady hold of another hand entwining with his.
-
As Jeongguk gets ready for the day, placing a bowl of tangerines and a pitcher of water on the table for the customers to make use of, Taehyung shrinks down to baby tiger form and sets up camp on the rug.
“Try not to doze off, now,” Jeongguk teases him gently.
Taehyung keens at him brattily. I won’t.
Jeongguk hums a short laugh and then he spies Mrs. Park walking through the village towards his hanok.
He goes to the door to let her in, ushering her inside as they exchange the usual pleasantries. When she eventually spots Taehyung sitting on the rug, she startles.
“This is Taehyung,” Jeongguk rushes to explain. “My new . . . um, familiar.”
Mrs. Park’s expression softens and her mouth rounds into a surprised ‘o’. “A familiar,” she breathes out, clearly delighted. “How lovely for you, Jeongguk-ah.”
She sounds so sincerely pleased for him that it’s almost embarrassing. Jeongguk taps at his ears, a bashful habit from his teenage years he’d thought he’d kicked. “He’s just observing today,” he goes on. “Seeing how I handle things around here.”
Mrs. Park nods in understanding. “Nice to meet you,” she says in Taehyung’s direction, smiling at him tenderly.
Taehyung dips his head politely and Mrs. Park coos at him; Jeongguk can tell she’s absolutely enamored.
His next couple of clients are just smitten with Taehyung and react in that same, thrilled fashion when Jeongguk tells them he’s gotten himself a familiar. Mr. Choi even mutters a finally in that gruff manner of his, though his subsequent grin shows he’s genuinely happy for Jeongguk.
As far as it goes, all of the customers have quite mundane requests. Mrs. Park had forgotten a few key ingredients for a recipe she hadn’t cooked for years; Mr. Choi couldn’t recall where he’d hidden some magical trinket he was trying to keep out of his grandson’s reach. Jeongguk sees this sort of thing all the time.
He’s worried it’s all so boring that Taehyung might actually fall asleep on the warm, cosy rug but every time he looks over, Taehyung is watching the exchange carefully, his wide, blue eyes taking in the way Jeongguk cups the client’s cheek in his hand and closes his eyes, sending out tendrils of his magic to coax the memories out of hiding.
As the day passes, a neat box of sunshine floats across the hanok floor. The tangerines are taken from the bowl, ribbons of pithy, orange peel swept are into the trash, and the pitcher of water is emptied and refilled as often as the tea set is brought in and out of the room.
Eventually, Jeongguk’s final client arrives, a Mrs. Lee he’s actually never worked with before.
He introduces himself the usual way and motions to Taehyung, too. Mrs. Lee greets them both with a shaky smile and Jeongguk gets the feeling that her request might not be as simple as the others he’s had that day. He offers her some tea and lets her get seated while he goes off to prepare it.
Mrs. Lee thanks him in a quiet voice as he pours her a cup and sets it down with a gentle clack. On the rug, Taehyung starts itching at one of his ears with his paw. The patch of sunlight is at the far side of the hanok now; half of it has crept onto the bottom of the wall.
Mrs. Lee holds onto her teacup as she begins speaking, her other hand placed against her sternum, where she fidgets with the end of the headscarf she’s wearing. When Jeongguk meets her gaze, her eyes are wet, and he gets the sense he knows what’s coming.
“I lost my husband many years ago,” Mrs. Lee tells Jeongguk.
“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk replies.
The corners of Mrs. Lee’s mouth lift into a small smile. “It’s okay. We were together for a long time and we were always happy.” She takes in a deep breath. “That’s why I’m here today. Recently, my memories of him are fading. Some have even disappeared entirely. I’m worried that there will come a day when I don’t remember him at all.”
This last part she utters in a whisper and Jeongguk’s heart tightens. He hears Taehyung shift on the rug.
“Can you— do you think you help me hold on to him?” Mrs. Lee asks.
Jeongguk nods as he leans across the table. “I can.”
-
After Mrs. Lee has left, Jeongguk takes the teapot, pitcher and fruit bowl through to the kitchen to wash up. When he returns, Taehyung has shifted into his human form, but he’s still sitting on the rug, knees drawn up to his chest.
He looks thoughtful. Surprised, even.
He glances up at Jeongguk. “I thought people would want to forget the memories of those they’ve lost.”
Jeongguk opens his mouth to respond but Taehyung cuts him off. “I mean, isn’t it less painful that way?”
“A lot of people think that,” Jeongguk admits. “When I tell someone what I do, they assume I spend my days helping people forget things that have hurt them, or those who have left them. But— it’s actually the opposite. In my experience, people are way more determined to hold on.”
Taehyung just continues to gaze up at Jeongguk, his fingertips trailing through the fuzzy strands of the rug. Then, he simply says, “Oh.”
“Anyway, that’s us finished for today,” Jeongguk says. “How did you find it?”
“It was . . . interesting,” Taehyung says. “I’m still not sure how I can help you—”
“Look, you don’t actually have to help me,” Jeongguk tells him. “Not if you don’t want to.”
“But—”
“You’re free to spend your time however you like, Taehyung-ssi.”
Taehyung’s brow wrinkles in confusion.
“If you really want to, you can help me with greeting guests and chatting to them about why they’re here and what it is they’re seeking, and stuff,” Jeongguk continues. “But don’t feel obligated. Really.”
Taehyung swallows. Jeongguk watches his Adam's apple bob in his throat. “Okay,” he says, eventually.
Jeongguk nods at him, feeling awkward. He waits for Taehyung to ask him why he sought out a familiar if he doesn’t actually need any specialist help but Taehyung just gets to his feet, seemingly done with the conversation.
Work is finished for the day, and it’s a little early to start prepping dinner. Jeongguk would usually head to his room right about now to decompress and recharge by playing a game or watching YouTube or something, and he supposes his routine doesn’t have to change now that he’s living with someone. Taehyung seemingly follows his train of thought; he shoots Jeongguk a knowing glance before he starts shuffling off to his room.
As Jeongguk moves to follow Taehyung out of the room, though, he finds himself blurting out, “Have you ever played video games, Taehyung-ssi?”
Taehyung stops in his tracks and looks over his shoulder. There’s a hint of wariness in his eyes and Jeongguk gets the distinct impression that he’s going to blow him off. Before disappointment can worm its way through him, Taehyung’s expression shifts, warming gently. He shakes his head.
“No,” he says. “Show me?”
-
“No, no, no,” Taehyung yells. He’s up on his knees looking completely distraught as Jeongguk’s kart crosses the finish line whereas his own has just been knocked back to twelfth place.
Jeongguk laughs, scrunching up his nose.
“I suck at this,” Taehyung says like it’s a shock to him. He groans loudly as his kart gets stuck against a wall and then does this thing where he leans from side to side as if he’s steering it with his body.
“Ah, you’re not that bad,” Jeongguk says, trying not to laugh at him again.
Taehyung puts the controller down in his lap and turns to Jeongguk. “I suck,” he says very seriously. “But I’ll get better. Let’s go again.”
“Okay, okay.” Jeongguk resets the game.
They play for hours, Taehyung getting steadily better until he’s not placing last anymore, a development that greatly excites him.
When they stop, Jeongguk realises it’s way later than he’d thought and they haven’t even thought about what they’re going to have for dinner. “Want to order something in, Taehyung-ssi?” he asks.
“Sure,” Taehyung says. He’s glaring at the screen showing the ranking of the last race. He hadn’t wanted to stop playing until he’d beat Jeongguk at least once. “You know, you can talk to me informally if you like. We live together after all.”
Jeongguk sucks in air through his teeth and shakes his head. “I can’t do that,” he says. “But— I could call you hyung, maybe?”
Taehyung’s gaze unsticks from the screen and slides over to Jeongguk. All the heightened energy from their gaming session is gone, replaced with a shy sort of surprise. Jeongguk wonders what could be going on in his head but the shift in his countenance reverses as quickly as it came.
“Sure, call me hyung,” he says, visibly brightening. “I’d like that.”
Jeongguk nods and then grabs his phone to pull up the food delivery app. “I think I’ll get jajangmyeon. You want the same, hyung?”
Taehyung spins on his knees to face Jeongguk. His smile is billboard-wide, eyes so starry they’re nearly blinding. “Oh, Jeongguk-ah, it’s like you read my mind. Jajangmyeon is hyung’s favourite.”
-
“So, my friends Jimin and Seokjin are really excited to meet you,” Jeongguk tells Taehyung, flopping down next to him on the floor.
Taehyung has been practicing playing video games recently and when he’s concentrating really hard, the tip of his tongue pokes out from between his lips. Jeongguk thinks it’s real sweet. “They invited us over for dinner this evening. You wanna go?”
“To meet your friends?” Taehyung checks. “Yeah, I’d like to meet them, too.”
“Nice.” Jeongguk quickly messages Jimin to tell him they’ll be there. “We should stop by a store to pick something up to take with us.”
“We’re going to get groceries?” In the short time they’ve been living together, Taehyung has become a huge fan of going to get groceries. His previous partner always got them delivered for convenience. He switches off the console and jumps to his feet, stretching in such an exaggerated way that his loose-fitting pyjama shirt rises and reveals a strip of his soft, golden tummy.
Jeongguk reflexively looks away so he’s not caught staring, blinking a few times in quick succession. “Yeah, we’ll go get groceries.”
“Score!” Taehyung brushes the tips of his fingers under Jeongguk’s chin before he scampers out of Jeongguk’s room to change.
They end up stopping by the supermarket closest to Jimin and Seokjin’s place, a busy one in the centre of the witches’ district that Jeongguk hardly ever frequents.
“We should get a basket,” Taehyung announces, dashing off to go to pick one up before Jeongguk grabs his sleeve, stopping him.
“I don’t think we’ll need one, hyung,” he says. “We’re just getting a small thing to take to dinner.”
“Oh.” Taehyung frowns. He loves carrying the basket. “Okay.”
They aimlessly meander down the first aisle. “What should we get?” Jeongguk wonders out loud. “Some booze?”
“Something sweet,” Taehyung says. “Chocolate. Dessert.”
“Ah, hyung, that stuff— it’ll ruin my diet.”
“What on earth are you dieting for?” Taehyung shakes his head. “You’re already in perfect shape.”
Jeongguk feels something swoop dangerously low in his stomach. He barks out a laugh and shoves Taehyung playfully in some weird bid to exorcise it. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious,” Taehyung squawks, shoving him back. “You’re— yeah.”
Jeongguk doesn’t know what this means and he’s worried what will happen if he ever finds out so he doesn’t ask. “Let’s just get booze,” he says, moving to march in the direction of the alcohol section.
Taehyung stops in his tracks abruptly. When Jeongguk turns to see what he’s doing, he’s looking pleadingly at Jeongguk. “But look at these individual pies, Jeongguk-ah” he says, drawing out the last syllable in a whine as he gestures to the desserts in the fridge. “They have fruit in them which means they have to be healthy, right?”
Jeongguk squeezes his eyes shut. He thinks Taehyung might actually be the death of him, he genuinely can’t remember being so affected by another living entity in all his life. “Get the pies,” he says. “We’ll take dessert and booze, screw it.”
Jeongguk hears Taehyung whoop as he stomps off in the direction of the beer. When Taehyung eventually catches up with him he’s got around twelve plastic containers full of tiny fruit pies balanced precariously in his arms.
Jeongguk gapes at him.
“What?” Taehyung raises his eyebrows. “I told you we should have gotten a basket,” he says, grinning smugly.
-
Seokjin and Jimin live in a cosy, little apartment that’s plonked directly on top of Jimin’s magical beauty and skincare store, Crow’s Feet. Jimin greets them in the stairwell, kissing Jeongguk on both cheeks and then slapping his ass as he shoves him to the side to get a good look at Taehyung.
“Oh my gosh,” Jimin gushes, beaming up at him. “It’s so good to meet you.”
“Oh, you, too,” Taehyung replies, mirroring Jimin’s million-watt grin. Jimin links his arm through Taehyung’s and pulls him inside, chattering away in his ear like they’re already best friends and leaving Jeongguk in the hall.
Jeongguk sighs as he takes his shoes off, closing the front door before following them through to the kitchen.
“You are just so pretty, Taehyung-ssi,” Jimin is saying, standing on his tiptoes to peer at Taehyung’s face, which he’s reverently cupping in his hands ( I am allowed to take a professional interest in a nice face, okay? is what he’d said when he’d done the exact same think to Jeongguk upon meeting him). “Isn’t he just so pretty, hyungie?”
Seokjin, who’s preparing something by the counter, spins on his heels to face them. “He is,” he says, squinting at Taehyung a little suspiciously. “Let me guess: in whatever realm you come from, you were a prince?”
Taehyung doesn’t miss a beat before he replies, “That’s right.”
“I was kidding—” Seokjin splutters, just as Jimin and Jeongguk simultaneously yell, “You are?” (the former in delight and the other in abject horror).
Taehyung looks around at them all blankly then shrugs. “Well, yeah. It’s no big deal.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jeongguk asks, flabbergasted.
“It never came up.”
Seokjin turns around and looks at the various, completed dishes he’s already got lined up on the counter. “If I knew we were cooking for royalty tonight, Jimin-ah, I might have put in a little more of an effort.”
Taehyung laughs. “Hey,” he says. “It doesn’t matter, does it? That was another world, another life.”
Jeongguk is so shocked he’s not sure if he’ll be able to speak again for the rest of the evening.
Nevertheless, they head through to the lounge, which Jimin’s decorated with string lights and paper lanterns. Taehyung and Jeongguk are made to sit and then they’re brought fancy, tropical-hued cocktails and an impossibly huge array of appetisers. Once the four of them are seated around the table, they make a toast to welcome Taehyung and then they start picking at the food.
“Okay, so, I don’t think I can wait any longer to ask,” Jimin begins. “What does Taehyungie transform into?”
Taehyung’s lips quirk into a smile that’s only slightly fluffed up with flirt and Seokjin shoots Jeongguk a look.
“A menace,” Taehyung tells Jimin, sipping at his cocktail.
Jimin snorts and looks to Jeongguk for confirmation.
“He said it,” Jeongguk grumbles.
Jimin makes a thoughtful, humming noise as he picks up a piece of translucent sashimi. “Is it something scary?” he asks.
Taehyung’s gaze shifts to Seokjin. “What do you transform into?”
Seokjin swallows the piece of lamb he was chewing. “A hamster,” he says simply.
“A hamster,” Taehyung repeats dryly. “Why did you choose that?”
“Why?” Seokjin looks perplexed by the question. “Because it’s cute, of course.”
Taehyung hides his mouth with his hands, laughing. “That’s exactly how I chose mine.”
“Oh, so it’s something cute?” Jimin claps his hands together. “Does Jeonggukkie just melt every time you shift?”
Jeongguk scrambles to shift focus before it lands on him entirely. “Ha ha,” he replies dryly, feeling thankful the blush he knows is colouring his cheeks won’t show under the reddish mood lighting. “He’s a tiger. Mostly a baby one.”
“Shit, that is cute,” Seokjin admits ruefully.
“I like it,” Taehyung says, doing this happy, little shimmy with his shoulders. “I think Jeonggukkie likes it, too.”
Jeongguk stuffs his face with a lettuce wrap but he doesn’t get off that easily. Taehyung just continues to watch him expectantly, waiting for an answer,
“Yeah, you’re real cute, hyung,” he says, rolling his eyes.
Taehyung fistpumps triumphantly like a dork and Jeongguk laughs at him, leaning in to fondly flick the underside of his chin. He feels the weight of Jimin’s gaze on the two of them and dares not look over to the other side of the table lest he burst into flames from the embarrassment of it all.
Keeping his head down, he shoves a few more lettuce wraps in his mouth, one after the other.
After they’ve all eaten their fill, Jimin and Seokjin take the leftovers through to the kitchen. Afterwards, the four of them drink a few more cocktails before moving on to the fruit pies and dark beer that Jeongguk and Taehyung brought.
At some point, Jimin announces, “I’ve got this new product that we could try if you guys are interested in doing a little self-care,” before running off to grab said new products without even waiting for an answer.
He half-runs, half-waddles back into the lounge carrying four thin, crinkly packets. “These are sheet masks,” he tells them excitedly, fanning them out on the table. “I call them Hexfoliation sheet masks. They’ve got peach extract, rose water, and a wee bit of fairy dust in them.”
“Real fairy dust?” Jeongguk checks.
Seokjin offers him a nonchalant smile. “I know a guy who knows a guy.”
“That shit will make your skin glow,” Jimin says.
“Alright, give it,” Jeongguk says, reaching for one.
They each apply their sheet mask and then sit there looking like a group of ghouls as they attempt to sip their beers through the tiny holes at the mouths of the masks, a task that inevitably leads to them laughing until they’re nearly wheezing, Jimin doubled over on Seokjin’s lap as Jeongguk’s mask slowly peels away from his face before falling to the table with a wet splat.
Taehyung and Jeongguk leave not long after this, Seokjin forcing half of the leftovers on them as they head out. The two of them tumble into the cool, early-spring night, leaning into each other a bit as they tipsily zigzag along. They’re not even at the end of Jimin and Seokjin’s street, though, by the time Taehyung abruptly halts.
Jeongguk stops in his tracks to see what’s caught Taehyung’s attention. Taehyung is staring into a store window, the dim light from inside leaking out to weakly illuminate him in the shadows. Jeongguk glances up at the sign and sees they’re standing outside Thrifty Witch, a thrift store selling all kinds of knick knacks and garments. Taehyung has his eyes fixed on a mannequin in the window that’s wearing a violet jean jacket covered in tiny pin badges that have witchy puns on them.
“T’yeongie-hyung?” Jeongguk calls out to him, reaching to tug on his sleeve.
“‘S pretty,” Taehyung says, pointing to the jacket then at the other clothes adorning the shop mannequins: flowy, wide-legged pants in a range of loud, floral patterns, pin-striped velvet blazers, and gauzy, transparent shirts in a various degrees of glitziness. The clothes on offer are so different to the traditional robes Taehyung always wears and he looks enamoured by them.
Jeongguk gently tugs on his sleeve again. “We can come back,” he says in a sweet, quiet voice, a voice crafted for the night-time and yet new to him, a voice for Taehyung’s ears only.
Taehyung blinks at him a few times in rapid succession, and then grins, excited.
“I’d like that,” he says, mimicking Jeongguk’s soft, cutesy tone in a similarly hushed voice. “I’d like that a lot.”
-
Jeongguk works a half day on Friday so in the afternoon, he and Taehyung take to the small, wooden veranda. They’re sitting back-to-back as they read their books, tall glasses of iced citrus tea and a split-open bag of honey twists at their side, and Taehyung rolls his neck to lean his head on Jeongguk’s shoulder, shifting backwards until his lips are skirting the edge of of Jeongguk’s earlobe.
“Jeongguk-ah,” he murmurs, right into the shell of Jeongguk’s ear, causing Jeongguk to experience a full-body shiver.
“Hm?” Jeongguk grunts out, still half-engrossed in his book.
“Could we go to that place again?” Taehyung asks. “With all the bamboo?”
“The witches’ district park?” Jeongguk clarifies. “Sure. I even have a spare bicycle you can use.”
“Oh?” Taehyung laughs. “I don’t know how to ride one of those things, Jeongguk-ah.”
“It’s easy,” Jeongguk replies. “Don’t worry, I can show you.”
Taehyung sucks in a breath through his teeth. “You can try,” he says, unconvinced.
Which is exactly how they end up biking to the park on Saturday morning, Taehyung slightly ahead of Jeongguk and so, so wobbly. The bike frame teeters precariously on its two wheels, and if he wasn’t worried Taehyung might fall off at any given moment, Jeongguk might find the whole thing hilarious.
They stick to quiet roads on their way to the park and to wide paths once they’re in it. The cherry blossom trees are in full bloom across the whole district now, and some petals have dropped to the ground already, their colours faded so they look like splatters of white paint on the concrete.
Eventually, they make it to the bamboo tunnel without any major accidents occurring, pulling into a clearing that has a viewing platform and also marks the beginning of a short trail into the small, nearby forest. They lean their bikes against a railing before sharing a bottle of water while looking out at the thick, sunlight-wound stalks of green. It’s quiet but for the occasional birdsong and rustling of animals amongst the plants, and Jeongguk feels a stillness surrounding them. A tranquility.
“I thought it was so lovely the first time you brought me here,” Taehyung says, eventually. He’s resting his arms on the railing, the sun lining his bare skin with thick tiger-stripes of light while the breeze plays with his hair, gentle like a lover.
“I remember,” Jeongguk says. “It was the first time that day that you didn’t look unimpressed with me.”
Taehyung grins, though it flattens out into a wince at the final moment. “My last witch, Seojoonie-hyung, he was a good friend, and a good witch, but we didn’t get to do much exploring of the city because we lived so far out. And at the facility— well, I hadn’t been in the mood to leave my room most of the time.”
Jeongguk swallows and waits for Taehyung to continue. This is the first time he’s mentioned his last witch by name.
Taehyung sighs. “The place where I’m from, the realm I grew up in—we live exceptionally long lives. I’d never experienced a loss like that, not really, not one as final and irreversible as death. I had no idea.”
He trails off, gaze faraway. “He was a good friend,” Taehyung repeats, more fiercely this time. “And then he was gone, and it hurt, and the hurt was . . . confusing, and miserable, and lonely. It was a shock to me that I could come to care for someone so much in so little time, and that I could miss them so badly.”
When Taehyung next looks at Jeongguk, his eyes are damp and the smile on his face is an unsteady one. “If I was ever cold towards you, you have to understand— I was worried, I think, about going through that again, but— working with you for these past few weeks, I’ve learned a lot about grief. I’ve learned that it’s something you don’t get used to. It doesn’t have a set schedule, or operate by set rules, and— if you’re going to be around people, allowing yourself to love them, then it’s an unavoidable thing.”
Jeongguk breathes out in one heavy rush. He gets it; he has lost people, too. Family, friends—in different ways and at different times in his life. What Taehyung is saying is true. As long as you seek people out and let them into your life, you’re at risk of being wounded again.
He places his hand atop Taehyung’s on the railing, lacing their fingers together and squeezing down. “I’m here for you,” he says, and then, because while nobody cannot promise always, he needs Taehyung to know he doesn't plan on going anywhere, he adds, “I’ll be here.”
Taehyung nods and looks down to the place where their fingers are locked, knuckles slotted together perfectly. “Thanks,” he says. “For bringing me here that first day, and for bringing me again, today.”
“We can come anytime you like, hyung,” Jeongguk tells him again, feeling bashful all of a sudden but holding on to Taehyung’s hand steadfastly anyway.
Taehyung laughs brightly and pushes off the railing, sweeping their hands down to swing between them as they return to their bikes and finally, reluctantly, break away.
-
That night, Jeongguk struggles to get to sleep. He’s preoccupied with replaying the day and the conversations he and Taehyung had over and over again in his mind. One thing sticks out particularly—Taehyung saying that it was a shock that he could come to care for someone so much in so little time—because that’s how Jeongguk feels, too. He and Taehyung haven’t been bonded all that long, really, but Taehyung’s presence in his life already feels like it’s a constant, a necessity. Jeongguk already can’t imagine what it would be like if he weren’t here.
And yet, in many ways, things aren’t so different to how they were before Taehyung. Jeongguk does the same things: he works, he eats, he rides his bike through the district, he lies down in bed at night, hands resting on his tummy and hair fanned out on the pillow as he looks out of the window and allows his mind to wander. Right now, the night sky outside is a glittering obsidian, a world of black glass cracked by stars, and it, too, is the same as it’s ever been. All that’s different, then, is that there’s a person on the other side of the wall, one who makes the quiet feel not so lonely anymore.
With that comforting thought, Jeongguk’s eyes start feeling heavy. Before they can slide shut, though, there’s a small, tentative knock on the door.
Jeongguk sits up in bed. “Yes?” he calls out.
The door creaks open and Taehyung pokes his head in. “Hey,” he whispers. “Can I come in?”
Jeongguk nods and Taehyung smiles, padding across the floor in his bare feet before rolling onto Jeongguk’s bed and curling up on his side, kitten-like.
Jeongguk’s heart leaps in his chest. “Oh,” he says, somewhat belatedly. “You meant, like, come into bed?”
Taehyung’s grin gets even wider. “Well, yeah,” he replies, hugging his knees up to his chest. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” Jeongguk breathes out. “Of course.”
Taehyung makes a pleased noise and shuffles closer to Jeongguk. His hands unwind from his knees and flutter up to Jeongguk’s shoulders. “What about this?” he murmurs, his voice feather-light, pitched dangerously low. “Is this okay?”
Jeongguk nods and Taehyung’s hands slide behind Jeongguk’s neck to lock together. When Jeongguk forgets to stop nodding, Taehyung laughs at him.
Breathing out, Jeongguk becomes keenly aware that his and Taehyung’s faces are as close as they’ve ever been; he’s practically breathing into Taehyung’s mouth, and the thought makes the next one catch in his chest.
Taehyung, however, gives a satisfied, little hum as he closes his eyes and shuffles into the mattress to get comfortable. Jeongguk’s gaze flits around every part of Taehyung’s face and then he slowly unclenches his hands and cautiously reaches out with his right hand out to rest it upon Taehyung’s waist. Taehyung makes no more noises, nor says anything. The only hint he’s even still awake is that his lips curve into a smile, one that it looks like he’s trying to suppress but can’t. Jeongguk presses his own lips together at that, swallowing down the million or so butterflies swarming his throat as he grudgingly allows his eyes to close.
For the second time that night, though, he’s dragged away from the cusp of sleep when Taehyung suddenly says, “Hey, Jeongguk-ah.”
Jeongguk’s eyes open wide in a heartbeat and he’s met with the sight of Taehyung looking straight at him. “Hm?” he answers.
“I’m really glad we’re bonded,” Taehyung tells him, like it's a secret he’s happy to be sharing. “Really glad.”
Jeongguk’s belly pools with a very real warmth. “Me too,” he replies.
“I just—ugh, it’s cringey, but—I like being here with you, and I like seeing your face when I wake up in the morning and— what you said today, about being there for me, I’ve been thinking about that all day.” Taehyung stops talking to laugh at himself. “Had to come tell you that I wanna be there for you, too. I wanna be someone— someone you can rely on.”
Holding his breath, Jeongguk tugs Taehyung a little closer to him by his waist. If he dared, he would lean down to bury his face in the crook of Taehyung’s neck.
If he dared.
“Hyung,” he says, exhaling hard. “That’s— I already do rely on you. In ways you don’t even realise. Let’s look out for each other, okay? Pinkie promise?”
Taehyung’s soft expression crinkles at the edges with confusion. “Huh?” he says. “What the heck is pinkie promise?”
Jeongguk laughs through his nose. He brings the hand he’s not using to hold Taehyung into the space between them and holds up his pinkie finger. “You do the same, hyung,” he instructs Taehyung.
Taehyung pouts a little at having to withdraw a hand from where it’s settled on Jeongguk’s nape but he obeys, sticking his pinkie finger out next to Jeongguk’s so that Jeongguk can lace them together and squeeze down.
“There,” he murmurs. “Now it’s a promise.”
Taehyung blinks across at him, his lips moving to silently repeat the words, a promise. Jeongguk nods and then their hands part. Taehyung moves to return his touch to Jeongguk’s neck but his fingertips glide along the slope of Jeongguk’s shoulders instead. He repeats the motion, a gentle swish, and Jeongguk looks at him questioningly.
“Like your shoulders,” Taehyung half-whispers, his long nails ghosting against the bare skin of Jeongguk’s back as they dip beneath the collar of his t-shirt to trace unintelligible things there. “They’re warm. Nice ‘nd smooth. Big.”
Jeongguk’s mind sort of just . . . empties. In the absence of any clear thoughts, he just laughs. “What's this? All of a sudden?”
Taehyung scoots forward to hide his face against Jeongguk’s chest and Jeongguk’s grip on his waist tightens. Taehyung inhales sharply, pressing into the touch, pressing into Jeongguk all over. “No,” he says. “Not all of a sudden.”
The room presses down on them all of a sudden, its walls and objects melting away to become formless and blurry. It’s like it’s the only place in the universe and all there is in that moment is them. The space is filled with make-believe noise and colour; the very air around them is fraught with possibility, sizzling with light and sparks. So many things could happen, Jeongguk realises, if either of them were to act.
So many things.
A moment passes, and their grips on each other slacken.
The room becomes a room again, soft with shadows and quiet, but for the husk of their breath and the rustle of bedsheets when they eventually shift and settle down to sleep once more.
-
A week or so passes.
Taehyung comes to Jeongguk’s bedroom every night to sleep at his side, and despite the way they’d nearly devoured each other whole that first night, that’s all that happens. They come together to sleep in each other’s arms and they wake in pretty much the exact same position that they fell asleep in. After, they go about their day. Business as usual.
Except, not really, as Jeongguk starts one day feeling fine and gets increasingly sicker as it progresses. A headache oozes its way into his skull around five minutes into his first appointment, a bout of sneezing makes him need to leave the room during his second, and he’s hit by a fatigue so crushing that he ends up having to cancel his third and final one, Taehyung fretting over him as he stumbles into his room to crash on the mattress before the sun has even started to set.
All he knows is that he feels sick. He feels tired. He doesn’t feel like himself.
He’ll be fine after a bit of rest, he supposes, curling himself around his cushions and letting his eyes shut.
Everything becomes a blur after that. Whenever his eyes are open, the light feels offensively bright. His head feels like it’s stuffed with fuzzy, scratchy wool and everything aches. His temperature pendulum-swings between too-hot and too-cold and he alternates between kicking the blankets away from his body and hugging them close. It’s like he’s swimming; being awake is like being above water, under a too-bright sun, and being asleep is like being trapped under the waves. Everything is blue and blurry and there are unknown creatures swimming past him. Sounds are muffled and strange-sounding.
He dips in and out of micro-dreams. Dreams like comic strips or short stories (but then, when is a dream ever a full novel, anyway?), surreal narratives that wrap up ambiguously before he wakes in a daze.
Whether he’s in his room or in a dream, Taehyung’s face drifts in and out. Taehyung looks worried most of the time, asking Jeongguk how he feels, asking Jeongguk what he should do. Jeongguk can never remember if he’s already answered or not. He just feels cold.
“Cold?”
Taehyung’s voice is a floaty thing. The end of a balloon string. Jeongguk just wants to grab it and let it fly him away someplace nice and new where nothing hurts.
“You’re cold?”
Jeongguk could nest inside that voice. If it were a tangible thing, it would be the softest thing in the universe. Like a blanket fort of bed sheets that have been washed one too many times, or a favourite sweater with an old spritz of perfume lingering at the collar and cuffs.
Jeongguk hears something rumbling; it’s like thunder but gentler. A stormy lullaby. He chases the sound and his hands meet silky-smooth fur. Whiskers tickle his face and he thinks he giggles, happy like a baby. He must be dreaming again, surely, unless he fell asleep in the forest. For it smells like one—wild and like rain, like flowers and earth. Home, his head tells him, and he realises that’s true. It’s the smell of home, and of Taehyung, and of being in Taehyung’s arms.
And now that he’s thought it, he feels it. There are arms around him, steady and warm, enveloping him, and oh, he thinks.
Hyung’s here.
Hyung’s here, so of course he’s home.
-
Groggily, Jeongguk wakes and takes stock of himself. His head still hurts, his pulse a throbbing thing in his temples, and his nose is still blocked up, but he’s lucid, at least, neither too hot nor too cold but awake, aware. Perhaps most crucially, a tiger is holding him. Its paws are heavy against his back and its tail is loosely wrapped around his leg and Jeongguk’s face is practically flush against the tiger’s chest. His head is moving in rhythm with the slow rise-and-fall of it as the tiger breathes in and out. A low, growling sound comes from somewhere within the tiger and the tiny vibrations tickle Jeongguk’s cheek.
“Taehyungie-hyung?” he tries.
The tiger’s eyes flutter open, fiery amber and hazel glinting in the light—and even though Jeongguk knows it’s only Taehyung, he startles anyway, stilling in the tiger’s embrace.
As if sensing his unease, Taehyung shifts. His body folds in on itself as he shrinks and re-arranges, a sight that takes Jeongguk’s breath away even though he’s seen it happen many times by now. Taehyung’s gaze pinning Jeongguk down is the only thing that remains a constant, even as the colour of his eyes darkens from gold to brown like a pear over-ripening. Once he’s fully a man, he pulls Jeongguk close and nuzzles his shoulder.
“You said you were cold,” he says by way of explanation, his subsequent sigh blooming warm against Jeongguk’s skin. “I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry . . . for scaring you.”
Jeongguk pets Taehyung's curls before moving to rub comforting circles in the small of his back. “It’s okay,” he tells him. “I think you did. Keep me warm, that is.”
When Taehyung doesn’t respond, Jeongguk clicks his tongue and adds, “Hey. I know I’m safe with you. Thanks for looking after me.”
Taehyung sighs again and then pulls away from Jeongguk. He pointedly raises his pinkie finger, scowls and Jeongguk, and says, “We promised, remember?”
Jeongguk does remember. The remembering makes his heart feel tender, and he leans down to press a kiss to the tip of Taehyung’s pinkie finger, earning himself a pleased hum in response.
“So— you feel better?” Taehyung checks.
Jeongguk nods. He’s still sick but he feels more like himself again and that’s what matters. “I do,” he replies.
Taehyung makes a relieved noise and scratches the back of Jeongguk’s neck.
Jeongguk loops his arms around Taehyung’s waist and pulls him close, partly to say thank you, and partly just because he can, and it’s not until later that he belatedly hopes that familiars are immune to human colds.
-
Familiars, it turns out, can catch colds, and while Jeongguk shakes off his own quite speedily, Taehyung is wiped out for an entire weekend, one he ends up spending curled up on Jeongguk’s lap in baby tiger form, shivering and groaning.
“Sorry.” Jeongguk apologises continuously—in aegyo, even—all while giving Taehyung’s ears a scratch every time he gives a grumpy sigh.
To cheer him up, Jeongguk promises Taehyung that they’ll go visit Thrifty Witch once he’s better, so that’s exactly what they do the following weekend, when they’ve both recovered and are fully rejuvenated, fresh as two flowers that have pushed through winter snow. They cycle to the centre of the district, taking their usual route through the park, and while the trees are shedding their petals in a slow, steady rainfall, they’re still beautiful, and Jeongguk calls for Taehyung to stop so they can take some pictures together under the white-and-pink spring moult, the two of them throwing up peace signs and grinning so hard all their teeth show.
When they get to Thrifty Witch, Taehyung takes off down the aisles, stalking with purpose like a tiger on the hunt, his fingers skimming the bars of the racks. Meanwhile, Jeongguk potters about looking at faded print tees and plaid shirts. When Taehyung eventually re-emerges, popping up at Jeongguk’s side, he’s got around twenty hangers squished onto his fingers and wrists and forearms.
“What do you think of this?” he asks Jeongguk, flicking through the garments and pulling out a baby-pink denim jacket with sequins fixed along its stitching.
“Honestly? Hyung, it’s kind of hideous,” Jeongguk replies.
Taehyung sucks in a breath through his teeth, frowning. “Try it on.”
“Oh, it’s for me?” Jeongguk says, surprised. He shrugs off his hoodie and puts the jacket on, finding it a perfect fit, before spinning to look at his reflection in a nearby full-length mirror.
Taehyung hums appreciatively before hooking his chin over Jeongguk’s shoulder and catching his eye in the mirror. “Hideous, huh?” he teases. “And yet, on you . . .”
Taehyung lets his sentence trail off and then he takes Jeongguk’s hand and pulls him over to the changing rooms.
Between them, they try on nearly all the items Taehyung had picked out, and in the end they come away with a couple of bags full of stuff—silk shirts, a felt peacoat, and a wide-brimmed hat among other things for Taehyung, and the denim jacket as well as some t-shirts, beat-up jeans, and a new belt for Jeongguk—all of which they let dangle from their bike handlebars as they cycle home.
It begins to lightly shower as they journey home, the rain a welcome and cool balm against Jeongguk’s sun-warmed skin. Once they arrive back at the hanok, Taehyung goes to take a shower and change while Jeongguk dozes in bed, listening to the gentle pitter-patter of rain against the window. He wakes, half-dazed, when Taehyung saunters into the room and plops down onto the bed beside him. He’s wearing a couple of the pieces he’d picked out at Thrifty Witch—a pair of wide-legged slacks and a sheer, black robe with red and white flowers embroidered into the delicate fabric.
Underneath the robe, there’s nothing. Jeongguk looks from Taehyung’s steam-flushed face to the damp column of his throat and then at the expanse of his bare chest to see golden skin flecked in places with old, translucent scars. Jeongguk swallows and shifts up onto his elbow. When he next looks at Taehyung, Taehyung is looking right back at him, his gaze so intense that it sends a great, big swoop of a shiver careening down Jeongguk’s spine.
“Hi,” Taehyung says, his lips quirking into a smile.
“Hi,” Jeongguk breathes out in a rough whisper.
“Do you want to touch me?” Taehyung asks.
Jeongguk swallows again. A bead of water from Taehyung’s shower-wet hair lands just below his collarbone and trickles down towards one of his nipples, shining like a beacon there. Jeongguk follows its trajectory, thinks about leaning down to touch his tongue to the spot it lies, wonders how Taehyung would feel, how he would react. He nods.
Taehyung entwines his hand with Jeongguk’s and tugs it towards himself.
Sucking in a breath, Jeongguk places his palm flat against the dip of Taehyung’s waist and begins smoothing it upwards.
Taehyung’s skin is velveteen, petal-like. Something long held together is finally unravelling inside of Jeongguk and he pushes Taehyung down to lie on his back, rolling on top of him and breathing in one long, ragged breath before bending down to kiss Taehyung on the lips.
Taehyung sighs into the kiss and Jeongguk nudges his mouth open with his own, deepening it. They kiss like that a while, all unhurried and languid like the raindrops slowly sliding down the window pane. They’re tender-hearted creatures, Jeongguk knows this. They’re soft and gentle with one another, their eyes bright and wide whenever they pause for a breath.
A cloudy sky is a soft thing, too.
And yet— sometimes, a storm happens.
Jeongguk clenches down where his hands are entwined with Taehyung’s own, pinning him down. When he next kisses him, it’s with hunger, and Taehyung makes a noise of surprise and delight when Jeongguk nips Taehyung’s bottom lip with his teeth.
The rain batters the window with urgency now, all while a low rumble of thunder rolls on in the distance.
Taehyung is malleable under Jeongguk’s touch, firm and yielding, willing to be bent and re-arranged. Jeongguk is entirely entranced by him, thinks that he could kiss him forever. Taehyung’s mouth parts, a pretty, taut bow, and when he gasps directly into Jeongguk’s mouth, his breath is hot. It fills Jeongguk up like clouds. Jeongguk rolls his hips, grinding down against Taehyung slowly, and then there are moans spilling out the both of them. Beneath their bodies, the blankets rustle and crease. Jeongguk moves down Taehyung’s body, littering his chest with kisses, and then he strips Taehyung of his slacks so he’s naked except for his robe, his bare legs golden and long against the emerald green of the bedsheets, kicking, impatient.
Jeongguk trails his fingertips along Taehyung’s trembling thigh, and he’s smooth, silk on silk, and Jeongguk stills for a moment, needing to commit the sight to memory. Taehyung’s robe is askew, his collarbone kissed-red, and the surface of his stomach is tense enough to quiver. He lies beneath Jeongguk, waiting patiently for whatever’s given to him, even as his entire body is crying out for more.
Jeongguk leans down, sucks at the skin of Taehyung’s neck until it shines a ruby red. He wants to leave a trace, something that says, I have been here, and he wants to leave a trail, something that says, I’ll be here again.
Taehyung’s eyelids flutter and his lashes obscure his eyes for a moment, turning them a hazy, impossible black. Something long held together is finally unravelling inside of him, too, Jeongguk realises. He seems almost overwhelmed with want, with the wondering, what could be? He grabs at Jeongguk desperately, drawing him near and curling himself around him. He’s a little clumsy but he moves like it comes natural, like it’s a reflex, an impulse. A reaction caused by Jeongguk and Jeongguk alone.
Kiss me here, touch me there—his requests go on and on and Jeongguk happily fulfills every one of them, his hands heavy but graceful as they trace each elegant swoop and curve of Taehyung’s body before they press down to pin him in whichever place Jeongguk wants him.
“Stay,” Jeongguk murmurs, licking up Taehyung’s throat.
Underneath him, Taehyung whines, nodding his head up and down.
Jeongguk’s desire is immeasurable. He doesn’t know how to contain it, doubts if it can even be contained. It’s obvious, perhaps embarrassingly so, that he’d do anything.
“You can do anything,” Taehyung bites out, as if hearing the thought. “Please, just— show me. Show me what feels good.”
Something in Jeongguk softens and melts; it seems Taehyung’s desire matches the shape and size of Jeongguk’s own.
“Okay,” he says, spreading Taehyung’s legs and pushing them up, holding him open and in place by the backs of his knees. “I will.”
Taehyung swallows. If he’s shy, he doesn't show it. “Please,” he says again.
Jeongguk presses his lips together and digs his fingertips into Taehyung’s skin. “Wait here,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”
Taehyung whines huffily. “But then you’ll have to stop touching me.”
Jeongguk laughs as he playfully smacks Taehyung’s thigh. “Just be patient. You can hold yourself open like this for me while I’m gone.”
Taehyung sighs again, frown blooming into a pout, and Jeongguk thinks he might be in love.
“Don’t you want me to make you feel good?” Jeongguk asks, voice soft and bordering on cutesy even as he tightens his grip on Taehyung’s thigh, gaze swarming dark with all the things he wants to do to him.
Taehyung’s pout falters and slips. His hands rush to replace Jeongguk’s. “Yes,” he says, pleading, and he’s so utterly gone, Jeongguk thinks, as he begins to beg for it, voice like the night sky when it’s starriest.
“Look so pretty like this,” Jeongguk murmurs, pecking Taehyung’s forehead before getting up to go fetch what they need. “I’ll be back in a second.”
“Hurry,” Taehyung tells him. “Hurry.”
Outside, there’s a flash and a thunderclap. The rain pelts the windows.
"I'll be right back," Jeongguk promises. He moves just as fast.
-
-
-
All the blossoms are chased from the trees.
-
-
-
Summer comes, then fall, then winter. Finally, spring is all that’s left. It’s the period after the sentence, something that feels as if it’s been here all along, in waiting or in hiding, the noise muffled under the quiet, and it has been a whole year since Taehyung and Jeongguk bonded.
They feel it’s important to honour this in some way and decide to host a small get-together. Jeongguk invites Jimin and Seokjin while Taehyung asks if it’s okay to invite the hyungs from the familiar rehoming facility, all of whom had been so kind to him when he’d been in one of the darkest places he’s ever known, retreating into himself, using his magic as a blanket. Happily, everyone they invite confirms they can make it and then the two of them spend an entire day both decorating the place and putting together the biggest feast the hanok’s ever seen.
Serendipitously, Seokjin and Jimin arrive at almost exactly the same time that Yoongi, Hoseok and Namjoon do. Taehyung greets everyone, exchanging hugs and kisses with Seokjin and Jimin before bowing politely to the hyungs.
“You look great, Taehyung-ah,” Namjoon says, lingering near the doorway with Taehyung while everyone else goes ahead to get settled, Jimin immediately pouring everyone a round of drinks while a quietly flustered Jeongguk greets them.
Taehyung looks down at the outfit he’s got on—a loose-fitting black cardigan with oversized buttons over green overalls and a grey-and-white pinstripe shirt. “Thanks,” he replies. “I got all of this from the clothes store I’m working at now. Maybe you’ve been there before, hyung—it’s called Thrifty Witch, and it’s sort of near the facility? Anyway, working there is really fun but I always spend about half my paycheck picking up new stuff, most of which I’d brought into the store in the first place. It’s terrible, really.”
Namjoon listens to Taehyung talk with a smile on his face. “The clothes are nice,” he replies, once Taehyung’s stopped chattering away. “But I meant that you look well, Taehyung-ah, you know? Happy.”
“Oh!” Taehyung laughs brightly. “That’s— well. I am. Happy, that is.”
Namjoon hums and toes off his brogues. “I’m glad. Thanks for inviting us.”
“It’s good to have you here,” Taehyung says as they wander over to the table to join the others. “Jeonggukkie has cooked up the most amount of food I think I’ve ever seen.”
“Good,” Seokjin says. “I’m hungry.”
“Already?” Jimin squawks. “We only got here five seconds ago.”
“I can start bringing food out now?” Jeongguk asks, already turning to head to the kitchen. “I mean, everything’s ready.”
“Please,” Seokjin begs teasingly, lacing his hands together as if pleading.
“Okay, okay.” Jeongguk waves him off good-naturedly before grabbing Taehyung’s hand and tugging through to the kitchen to help carry through the food.
Taehyung kisses Jeongguk on the cheek before shimmying across the floor in his bare feet to grab plates and bowls and chopsticks for everyone, singing some old pop song as he goes.
Jeongguk watches him out of the corner of his eye and his heart feels all messed up, like it’s pinballing about the walls of his chest. He presses his lips together, suppressing a smile. His love for Taehyung is a formless thing. Spreading and spreading.
He picks up the steaming pot of jjigae and heads back to the other room. As he goes, he contemplates how different his life would be if the hyungs had paired him with a different familiar that day, or even if he hadn't taken Jimin’s advice and gone to the facility in the first place.
Then, he begins to wonder what the hyungs saw in him and Taehyung that made them think, yes. These two. They’d be perfect for one another. He thinks he might ask them, a little later, maybe, when he’s had enough shots of soju to feel brave. But then, he puts down the pot, stands up, and catches Taehyung’s eye. They swap grins and Jeongguk realises he doesn’t need to know the specifics, the particulars. To him, it feels like it couldn’t have been anyone else; it had to have been Taehyung.