Chapter Text
When Hongjoong finally decides to go for divine intervention, it's not because he believes in it. He's an atheist, everyone and their mother knows it. He does it because he has run out of caffeine and patience at the same time.
His apartment looks like a war zone fought between academic despair and processed sugar. Sticky notes are plastered across the desk, the wall, his lamp, one clinging to the sleeve of his hoodie like a desperate reminder of an equation he still doesn't understand. Snack wrappers cover half his keyboard, reminding him of every meal he has skipped to try and get something out of data that doesn't want to cooperate. A lollipop hangs from his mouth like a peace offering to his own exhaustion, and starvation— he's pretty sure delivery is a viable option even at this hour of the night, but to leave his room would mean to walk, and he has walked around the laboratory all day already.
He’s so tired his survival instincts don’t even bother to show up.
Even though he's sucking the life out of the lollipop, it doesn't stop him from ranting on the phone, voice only half–muffled by sugar.
“Wooyoung, they knew I wasn't going to achieve shit by processing this data. And they had me do the tests over and over again anyway!"
"Maybe they believed in a miracle?"
Wooyoung snorts, not even bothering to pretend he believes what he’s saying.
"We both know nothing's gonna change even if you keep staring at it. Just go to sleep, ask for a meeting and present what you have as it is."
"But it sucks! None of this makes any fucking sense. I swear, it looks like someone's interfering with the experiment while I'm away."
Hongjoong grunts, letting his head fall backwards, lollipop carefully stuck in his right cheek. He's not trying to choke to death, yet.
"Or the experiment is cursed. You didn't even find papers to back up what you're doing."
"I found one..."
Hongjoong sighs, moving towards the desk, eyes scanning the surface in hopes of finding said paper.
"It didn't work for them, too. But it's ancient, half of what we know now was a mystery back then—"
"So it's not reliable— dude, you're two years ahead of me, should I even be explaining this to you?"
"No, I know. And don't fucking call me dude again."
"Sorry, hyung."
Wooyoung giggles, clicking his tongue before exhaling deeply.
"I truly believe it's best if you just stop obsessing over it. You slept ten hours in five days and barely ate. You can't risk forgetting safety protocols again. Just sleep tonight. It's late already."
"I can't!"
Hongjoong almost whines, his pitch tragically close to a spoiled kid who didn't get what he asked for Christmas.
"I need to solve this, my brain won't stop processing this stuff until I do— It's cursed. I swear either the study, or the data is cursed."
"Surely seems like it."
Wooyoung sighs.
"Should I send you some delivery? A proper meal to fuel your brain, you know."
"Too tired to get up."
Hongjoong mumbles, head tilted to the side, heavy enough that it almost rests on his own shoulder. It's incredibly uncomfortable, but he can't bother to move.
"I might just try to summon the angel of university or something. Maybe he can fix my methodology section with his magic wand or something."
"I think you mixed up religion and Harry Potter— that's not how it works, hyung."
Wooyoung cackles on the other end of the call.
"And, anyway, I fear it would be more like a demon that takes care of uni. This place is hell. I regret complaining about community college."
"Should I summon a demon then?"
Hongjoong stares right outside the window in front of his desk, his eyes completely ignore his reflection to focus on the cloudy sky that doesn't allow him to see the moon. He loves the moon. It's truly the worst day ever.
"Hey— no! Don't even fucking think about it! That's serious stuff."
Wooyoung doesn't yell, but the urgency in his voice is clear to even a zombie-like Hongjoong who's wondering how to reach the moon to live on it.
"And I'm seriously desperate."
Hongjoong mutters.
“If the demon can fix my stats, I’ll give him my soul and a pack of ramen.”
“That’s a terrible deal.”
Wooyoung's voice picks up.
He also says something else about how Hongjoong really shouldn't play with that side of the universe, but it comes in on ear and right out of the other. Hongjoong wonders if it's a full moon tonight: the clouds are a such bright shade of gray.
“Then he can have two packs.”
He adds, tilting his head to the other side when his neck starts hurting.
“Okay, seriously, don’t—”
“I’m lighting candles as we speak.”
Hongjoong mumbles, playing with Wooyoung while looking around his room for another lollipop since the one in his cheek is quickly melting in his mouth. His room is a mess, just like his desk, just like his head, but he's confident he can remember where the last lollipop he has is stored.
“Don’t mess with this crap, for real!”
Wooyoung’s tone turns almost serious, making Hongjoong chuckle.
“You’ll end up haunted, and I’m not up to look for exorcists in your area.”
“Relax. I'm joking.”
"That only makes me worry more!"
Hongjoong repeats a couple of times that Wooyoung should just relax and go to bed, turning tables like he isn't the one in need of days of sleep. But he means it, he's out of himself but he means it.
It is a joke when he hangs up.
It is a joke when he finally finds his lost cherry flavored lollipop.
It still is a joke when he goes back to his desk and melts into the chair.
It starts not to sound like a joke anymore when he opens a new tab on his laptop. Out of curiosity he types divine focus energy ritual in the search bar.
It definitely stops being a joke when only one website comes up and it looks shady as hell. That should have been enough to make him take a step back, but it isn't. For some reason, it only makes it more believable and tempting— he's drawn to it like a fly to the light.
It can go back to being a joke if he just closes the tab after scrolling past ads promising eternal youth, wizards' shops and accessible ritual tools you can find at home.
He doesn't.
For Hongjoong, the new tab was the point of no return.
He finds red glittery birthday candles in a drawer in the living room, the lighter is in his backpack, the salt is inside a cupboard in his kitchen and the black pen is sitting already on his desk, on the back of a copy of his Method paragraph.
He has read the summoning recipe just once, while quickly scrolling through the site, yet he moves like he has done it a hundred of times already. His body moves on his own, smoothly, to set the perfect scene, while his mind is drowning in a hazy mist, probably caused by the lack of sleep.
With the new lollipop fueling him through every move, he takes care of the books and the stacks of papers on his desk. He cleans the surface only to be able to properly draw the symbols shown on the site; he sucks at drawing, when he checks the result he trusts the universe knows what his intentions are.
Right on top of the paper, Hongjoong arranges the candles in what should be a pentagon. It's like playing domino, he fixes one in position and his elbow knocks another one down. So it takes him a while to paint the perfect picture, but once he's done he's almost proud of the result: it looks like the very start of an horror movie— the shivers down his spine suggest the experiment is going to work.
"Here goes probably nothing."
He sighs as he turns the desk lamp off, the only light in his room now is from the candles and the screen of his laptop.
"Angel of university, or whatever department you belong to, give me a fucking chance before rejecting my plea. Please."
He mumbles, sitting on the very edge of the chair, going through the Latin paragraph he has to read for the summoning to work.
"I really just need a hand to get out of this maze of parameters before my body collapses."
Hongjoong talks to himself more than he usually does, only because the atmosphere in his room has become pretty eerie. He's never going to admit it to Wooyoung, that would be like signing with red ink his sentence for a life of teasing— he can't take it.
He sits cross-legged on the chair, a shiver away from bringing his knees directly against his chest. His mind is still pretty hazy, if he has to be honest, but there's so much adrenaline going through his body that he can almost see through the haze. He's more awake than ever, not ever a power nap works this well.
The setting is ready, nothing's missing on his desk, so there's really one last thing to do before the candles completely melt on the paper. He has to read this strange incantation in a language he has only heard in a couple of classes before.
Latin is not new to him, but he has never had to read it out loud before. He figures it should sound close to Italian, so he tries to remember that one time he and Wooyoung went to an Italian restaurant, and he uses the same accent.
He's aware he's doing a very poor job the moment he starts reading, butchering one word every five, but there's not turning back from there— he feels almost a physical urge to keep going, to read every line until his lungs give out.
He doesn't take one single breath between the first and tenth line of the supposed incantation, the lack of oxygen and already hazy mind making him believe whatever he's saying is actually working. But when he's done, nothing happens.
He leans back on the chair, his legs relax and his feet touch the ground again.
"Nothing? Really?"
He scoffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“Of course the one time I try something supernatural, it respects my privacy.”
He adds flatly, moving towards the desk ready to dismantle the pentagon. He doesn't want the apartment to catch fire because of him, his brother would not forgive him.
His hand is not even halfway to catch the first candle when a gust of wind coming from behind him blows them out all at once.
For a second, he just stares at the bright red glittery candles and their smoke curling in lazy, mocking spirals right in front of his face.
"Right, I must have left a window open somewhere."
He says, straightening his back and looking outside the room to maybe catch the window of the living room open wide— because the one in front of him it's closed, sealed. That one is closed too, the curtains lifeless against the glass.
Still, he forces a scoff out to sound nonchalant. It sounds more like a weak cough but that's for him only to know. And whoever is in there with him.
"Thank you for the help, I guess?"
He says, quickly gathering the candles, ripping the paper where the melted wax has reached it. He tosses them right in the bin next to the desk and is just about to do the same with the paper full of weird symbols when his laptop screen goes black.
"You drain battery too? Very not helping with the productivity, angel."
He taps a key as he speaks, nothing happens. Then he presses the power button, still nothing.
"I needed this for the presentation I'm working on, by the way."
He moves to grab the charging cable, but his hand barely graces it when he jolts in his chair out of shock. All at once, every light in the apartment clicks on. The floor lamp he keeps in the living for some company is still on, but so are the ceiling lights of his room, the hallway, the living room and the bathroom— which is everything he can guess from his room, and he's not willing to get up and check either the kitchen or his brother's room. Even his desk lamp and the tiny LED strip above his bed are on. The brightness hits him so hard he physically flinches, squinting his eyes like a vampire caught at sunrise.
"What the fuck?"
He breathes out, his hands falling right in his lap, forgetting every task he had set for himself— like destroying the piece of paper full of weird symbols.
He can feel the air around him change, become denser somehow. It's heavy in his lungs, makes it hard to breathe. It's cold on his skin, the fine hairs on his arms stand up. It's loud in his ears, a faint sound of static buzzes around him.
The lights flicker, all of them at once. He swallows hard, heartbeat thudding somewhere in his throat.
"Young-ah?"
He calls out, voice much louder than he means it to be.
"If this is you, I swear I'm going to make you choke on the food you brought me."
No answer.
He glances towards the living room, half expecting Wooyoung to pop out from behind the door a bag of friend chicken and his phone out to record him. He doesn't. Wooyoung is not in the apartment with him. He has half an idea to call him right away, admit everything and ask for help— but his phone is no longer on the desk.
"I'm not looking for supernatural roommates."
He mutters, trying to cut the dense air with a joke. It doesn't work, he still shivers every time the static seems to turn into a low hum.
"If you're that angel I tried to summon, or a demon since you're trying very hard to scare me— at least be good at science."
A pulse of warmth runs down his spine, completely opposite to the shivers he was feeling just seconds prior. Suddenly he feels dizzy, his breath catches and the edges of the room blur a little. The air only gets heavier, the gravity stronger and the room seems to be tilting to the left like some sick amusement park attraction.
He grips the armrest, trying to steady himself but he's got no strength whatsoever— his hands slips back on his lap and all he can think about is running to the bathroom to throw up.
It's almost like he's feeling the starvation, lack of sleep and excessive strain on his body all at once. Like it has been a month of this reckless life, and not just five days.
"Don't you dare.. my research.. away from it.."
Hongjoong mumbles a second before blacking out.