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Lee Minho accepts reality of his situation the third time his instant ramen levitates out of his lap and smashes against the wall. I’m being haunted, he thinks despondently, staring at the noodles and broth dripping down the wall of his apartment. He’s not really scared of this new development, per say- he’s more nervous about how this revelation will affect his current outlook on life.
Anyone who knows Minho is aware that he’s a devout catholic. He’s always found solace in the linear ritual of communion, in the thick smell of burning incense, and the familiar repetition of church hymns. There’s no doubt in his mind that God and all of His angels exist; however, he’s always been hesitant to admit the existence of spirits.
The devil exists in some form or the other, sure- but the concept of spirits are a confusing grey area for Minho. In theory, they are neither wholly good nor evil- some are the echoes of people long gone, while others are the trapped souls.
For the longest time, Minho has dismissed the existence of spirits, content to stick with what he knows to be true. Now, as he watches his favorite coffee mug fly off the shelf and shatter against the ground, he realizes that he probably knows far less than what he’s previously assumed.
Minho is majoring in literature and spends most of his time watching trashy TV shows on his shitty laptop. He eats ramen most nights and goes to church on Sundays, and has a close knit but small circle of friends. He’s a little boring, to be honest, and hasn’t really done anything to attract any sort of negative attention. Well, he has a few bad habits here and there (see: one night stands ), but they’re irrelevant, for the most part.
He doesn’t live in a gothic mansion on a quaint house- he’s a second year university student, so his apartment on campus is cheap and a little ugly and is not prime haunting material at all.
He grabs his phone off the kitchen counter and slips on his boots and coat. A cold gust of autumn air hits him in the face as he opens the door, and Minho pulls his hood up around his face with one hand, locking the door with the other. For a moment, he stands on his front doorstep, processing what he’s just seen. My ramen just levitated and flew against the wall, he thinks, reaching up with one hand to clasp the cross pendant handing against his neck. The cross is a hand me down from his late grandmother, and while it technically doesn't do much, it's still comforting to Minho. What the hell am I supposed to do now?
Minho begins to walk briskly down the street in the direction of the closest coffee shop, which also happens to be the only coffee shop on campus. He opens up his phone to shoot a quick text to his best friend.
To: Chan
hey i know it's past nine on a friday night, but can you meet up w me @ nora's?
To: Chan
shit has just gone Down and idk what to do
From: Chan
You seriously have the worst timing, dude.
I was about to get laid when your text came thru smh
anyways Felix and I will be there
To: Chan
gross but thanks
From: Chan
;)
He slips his phone back into his jacket pocket and picks up his pace, walking briskly in the direction of Nora’s. Every small noise and rustle makes him jump; a small squirrel runs across the sidewalk and causes a small shriek to slip out of Minho’s mouth. He reaches for his rosary, and realizes that he’s left it at home.
There’s no way I’m sleeping at home by myself tonight, he thinks, pulling open the door of the coffee shop. The barista looks up, notified by the ring of the bell over the door, and nods at Minho. He’s a regular here, thanks to the good coffee and the free Wi-Fi- he does most of his homework for school in one of the big chairs by the window.
Numbly, he orders a tall coffee and sits down at one of the tables to wait for his friends. Chan and Felix show up when Minho is about halfway through his coffee, talking loud enough to make the barista shoot them an annoyed glare.
“Good to see you all in once piece, dude. You seemed pretty freaked out over the phone.” Chan says, plopping down in the chair opposite to Minho. His nose is a little pink from the cold, and his hair is messy.
“I’m more than a little freaked out,” Minho says, watching Felix order drinks. The younger man flashes the barista a smile, and Minho can’t help but smile himself as the flustered barista turns red, fumbling with the coffee cups.
Chan watches the exchange with a fond smile on his face. “He has that affect on people, doesn’t he? He’s so handsome.”
Minho fakes a gag, and laughs when Chan reaches over to whack him on the arm. Felix comes over with two steaming drinks, one of which Chan accepts gratefully.
“So,” Felix says, stirring his drink idly, “What’s going on? Chan said you actually swore over text, so something big must have happened.”
Minho chooses to ignore the jab and takes a moment to collect his thoughts instead. “You’re… probably going to laugh at me,” He says slowly, “But just hear me out, okay? “ Chan and Felix lean in a little closer, nodding.
Minho stares down into his coffee cup, and lets out a long sigh. “It all started… about three weeks ago? I kept waking up in the middle of the night with the feeling that somebody was watching me. I chalked it up to too much late night reading, but the sensation of being watched persisted. “
He pauses.
“And then my ramen started levitating.”
Chan guffaws. Felix pinches him on the arm to get him to quiet down. Minho is too lost in his thoughts to note the interruption.
“The first time it happened, I thought that maybe I was just seeing things. Like whatever I saw could be chalked up to staying up too late, right? The bowl would just hover four or five inches above the table. It was so surreal that I just kind of ignored it?” Minho swallows down the last of his coffee before shoving the shredded napkin bits into the empty cup.
“In hindsight, ignoring it was probably a bad idea. Ever since then, it’s gotten more persistent… more violent. This is the third time my ramen started floating, but it’s the first time it’s been thrown against the wall so violently. My favorite mug also got smashed.
To be honest, I don’t know what to do now. Please tell me I’m not crazy,” Minho pleads, finally looking up and over at his best friends.
Thankfully, neither Felix nor Chan seem to be mocking him; rather, they both have serious, contemplative expressions on their faces. Chan hums lowly, leaning back into his chair. “Not to freak you out, dude, but that seems kinda serious. What you’re describing sounds like some poltergeist shit.”
Minho whines, and allows his head fall with a dull thunk onto the wood table. “I’m actually so freaked out! I didn’t even believe in- in ghosts until now.”
A solemn silence falls over the trio.
Felix snaps his fingers. “You know-I have a friend who’s an expert in these kinds of things. He runs his own shop and everything. If you want, he could totally help you out.” He rubs his fingers together. “You’d probably have to pay him, though.”
“What kind of shop does he run, exactly?” Minho says suspiciously.
Felix offers a half hearted shrug. “Not sure? A something- physical shop. He’s a good guy- I can give you my word on that. I’ve been there once or twice, I could give you the address if you want.”
Is he really desperate enough to pay somebody to get rid of a ramen slinging ghost? The answer, Minho realizes with a faint sense of disappointment, is yes. He’d rather pay somebody than go to the church for help: it’s less embarrassing.
“Yeah,” Minho mutters, dragging a hand over his face. “I’ll take the address.” Felix grins and nods, before pulling out a pen and jotting down the street on a discarded bit of napkin. Chan checks his phone. “Damn, we’ve been here an hour.” He looks up at Minho, a twinkle in his eye. “I’m guessing that you’re sleeping over at our place tonight?”
“I’d owe you my life,” Minho says, maybe a little too desperately. Chan smiles, holding his arm out for Minho to take.
“Oh, Minho, you already do.”
They give Minho a spare mattress to sleep on, but he ends up clambering on to their bed and sleeping in between them anyways. Chan just sighs and sleepily slides Minho one of his pillows. Felix grumbles, but pats Minho’s hair gently until he’s relaxed enough to finally fall asleep.
**
The next morning finds Minho in a foreign neighbourhood, utterly lost. Chan kicks him out right after breakfast, telling him to go get the spirit thing sorted out because he was not sleeping in he and Felix's bed again.
Minho is best friends with Chan and Felix; he's as close as brothers with the two, but there’s no way he’s going to be able to stay overnight like that again.
“Maybe Felix got the street number wrong?” He mutters, looking around confusedly. The address (and google maps) have led him to a rural street off campus; either sides of the street are densely populated with trees and brush, and the houses are spread out on large amounts of acreage.
He refreshes google maps and decides to retrace his steps again, and as he does so, he bumps into someone. “Oh, sorry, my bad-,”
“No, don’t worry about it,” the stranger says, kneeling in front of Minho to collect the greens that have spilled from the basket he was holding. Minho crouches as well, picking up the plants as carefully as he can.
“You seem kinda lost,” the man says, smiling in thanks as Minho places the last of the spilled greens into the wicker basket. “You looking for something?”
“Yeah, actually,” Minho chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s uh, this address here?” He shows the man his phone, and sighs in relief as the man’s eyes light up.
“I do! I’m going there right now, so you can just follow me.” The man motions for Minho to follow, and he does so, feeling grateful and slightly wary of the cheerful man. “My name is Han,” the stranger says, shifting his basket to his other arm. Han has bright eyes, a round face, and an electric shock of red hair. And a pretty smile, Minho thinks, before promptly shoving that thought deep into the recesses of his mind.
Minho clears his throat, walking a little faster to keep up with Han’s quick pace. “I’m Minho,” he says, noting the amount of piercings the other man has in his ears. He’s always wanted earrings, but his mother had forbidden it, telling him that ‘ only deviants and homosexuals got their ears pierced, Lee Minho! Which was, you know, bullshit, but Minho has always stopped himself from getting piercings regardless.
Han hums, tipping his face up towards the early morning sun. Minho tries not to stare at the curved line of the redhead’s neck, and fails. “Minho is a nice name. It’s reliable.”
>Minho coughs into his hand awkwardly. “Uh. Thank you?” Han just smiles in response. Han is a little weird, for lack of better words. Something about the man makes Minho a little nervous. He just can’t pinpoint just what it is. It is then the road turns sharply to the left, and Minho realizes that the building in front of him is much, much weirder than Han.
It seems to defy all conventional laws of gravity; the second story leans dangerously to the side, and the windows all have wind chimes hanging off of them. It’s covered in various shades of paint; the only similarity between them is the fact that none of the colours go together. The building is wood, and is surrounded by a garden, surprisingly lush for late fall. A small path lined with various stone statues leads up to a simple wood door. Han unlocks the latch on the small white fence surrounding the property, and looks over to Minho, who is standing frozen in place.
“You coming in?” Han says, picking a couple of rosebuds off a nearby bush and throwing it into his basket.
“I mean. Um. Shouldn’t we knock first?” Minho says weakly, watching with a growing sense of alarm as Han opens the rickety wooden door with one hand. Han smiles, tilting his head. “Why? I live here, after all.” Oh.
He disappears into the house, leaving a stunned Minho to collect himself. “What the hell have I gotten myself into?” Minho whispers, gingerly walking up the path to the front door. As he steps onto the porch, Han calls out from somewhere inside the house.
“Take your shoes off before coming inside; I don’t want any dirt or other nasty things coming inside with you.”
Minho kicks off his sneakers and places them neatly on the porch before stepping inside. The first thing that hits him is the overwhelming smell of incense. He breathes in the notes of vanilla and cinnamon, comforted by the familiar smell. “I’m in the kitchen- two doors down to your right!” Han says, voice slightly muffled.
The house is heavily decorated- rugs cover the wooden floor, and trinkets and beads hang from every possible surface. Minho spots more than a few pentagrams, causing his hand to instinctively slip underneath his shirt to touch the silver cross around his neck. Be nice , a small part inside Minho whispers, this Han could really help you . A larger, more insistent part screams at him that just being inside this place goes against all of his good catholic values. He does a couple Hail Mary's, just in case.
Steeling himself, Minho moves down the hallway, and opens the second door on the right. Jisung is standing on a stool over a large pot, stirring insistently. The whole kitchen smells strongly of mint and orange- two things that should smell awful, but end up making Minho inhale a little more deeply. “Take a seat,” Han says, throwing a handful of something red into the pot, “I shouldn’t be more than two minutes or so.”
The pot starts to shake and rattle, and Han winces, looking over at Minho apologetically. “Make that five minutes, actually.”
Minho takes a seat at the counter, looking around. There are jars everywhere- lining the shelves, stacked on the counters, and covering the ground. Some are filled with various coloured liquids, and Minho tries really hard not to inspect them too closely. Bundles of herbs hang from a wooden stand in a corner, and several garden tools lie next to it. A soft mrrow captures Minho’s attention, and he looks down to see a tiny black and white cat. Without hesitation, he picks up the cat, and lets out a small sound of joy as the cat begins to purr and bump his head with its chin.
“That’s Saffie,” Han says, wiping his hands on the black apron tied around his waist. “She’s a real sweetheart, but she only lets certain people pick her up. She must really like you."
“She is a sweetheart,” Minho coos, chucking the kitten under the chin and clucking his tongue softly. Han smiles softly and leans against the counter, watching the two. Saffie curls up on Minho’s lap, purring contentedly. Minho looks up, a little embarrassed. “You need my help?” Han says, resting his chin on his hands.
“Yeah,” Minho says, stroking Saffie absentmindedly. “Felix recommended you to me? I have a… situation at my apartment.”
Han grins. “Felix! It’s been a while since I’ve seen him. How’s he doing?”
“Good! He going to graduate from university this year, actually. He’s been dating my best friend, Chan, for a little over a year now.”
The redhead nods and lets out a small hum. “I’m happy for him. You, however, don’t seem to be quite as happy. Are you experiencing paranormal activity?” Minho nods, anxiety creeping back in full force. Han whips out a small, leather bound notebook and pen. “Tell me everything- when it first started happening, what you felt- all of it.” Minho nods, and talks.
He tells Han about the sensation of being watched, the levitating ramen, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he tells Han about the things he couldn’t mention to his friends. Han frowns. “You’re telling me that your Bible was ripped in half?”
“It wasn’t so much ripped as it was shredded.”
"And you've been having night terrors?"
"Every night for the past couple weeks."
“That’s… alarming,” Han admits, tapping his pen against his bottom lip.
Minho watches the other man’s mouth as he talks, which is probably a little creepy. He knows he’s being impolite, but he really can’t look away. He has really nice lips , he thinks a little dumbly.
Minho?”
Oh my god, I’m such a freak, Minho thinks, tearing his gaze away from the other man. He fakes a yawn and blinks up at the redhead.
“Hm?”
“I said,” Han continues, a knowing glint in his eye, “I’ll probably have to visit your apartment to figure out just what we’re dealing with. It sounds like a poltergeist, but you can never be too sure when the dead are involved. You okay with that?”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Minho says. “How are you planning on getting rid of it?”
“Like I said, depends on what we’re dealing with. Sometimes a simple banishing ritual will do, other times I need to bring out the big boys and perform an exorcism.”
“An exorcism? Isn’t that more of a… church thing?”
Han smiles wryly, and Minho gets the sense that Han isn’t a huge fan of churches in general. “Nah. Most fathers can’t exorcise for shit. Witches have always done it better, always will. No offence to you,” The redhead adds, nodding to Minho’s cross pendant, which has slipped out from under his shirt in the time since he’s entered the house.
“No, it’s not a big deal, I don’t mind,” Minho stammers, tucking the pendant back under his shirt. Saffie stretches in his lap, yawning widely, white teeth showing. “I didn’t know there were male witches? I thought those were warlocks.”
Han sighs, moving back to the pot and using a ladle to pour it into several empty jars. “Pop culture has ruined you, my dude. Witches can be male or female. Warlocks are exiled witches. Not people you wanna hang around with.”
“Ah,” Minho says faintly, focusing on petting Saffie. The air in the kitchen is a little tense, now. “I didn’t know. Sorry.” Han shrugs. “Common misconception. People also think that we have big orgies and all worship Satan. Which we do not do,” he says, gesturing with the ladle. Minho ducks as some of the liquid splashes his way.
“Sorry. Not that having big orgies for Satan is bad, or anything- you know, I’m just going to shut up now. I’m sorry, this is highly unprofessional.” Han is looking a little flustered, the tips of his ears going red, and Minho can’t help but note how cute that is. Minho grins lazily, and though he doesn’t notice, Han turns a little bit redder.
“Anyways, if you want to give me your address and phone number, I can come to your place tonight with my equipment and take care of the issue?” Han says, capping the last lid on the jars. Minho nods, and gives the other man the information.
“How much?” Minho says, pushing Saffie gently out of his lap, and pulling out his wallet. Han blinks, surprised. “What?”
“Do you need like. A starting fee or something? Sorry, I’ve never really done anything like this before.”
Han waves his hands back and forth. “You don’t need to pay this time. Think of it as a favour to Felix through you.” Minho raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I mean, this is taking up a lot of your time-,”
Han rests a hand on Minho’s arm, effectively shutting him up. “I’m sure,” the redhead says softly. “It’s on the house.” The witch is close, much too close for Minho’s comfort, and he’s suddenly very glad to be seated. His knees feel like jelly. Is this a witchcraft thing?
The witch’s eyes are big and brown, with little flecks of gold in them. Han smells of cherries and thyme, and Minho tenses, half hoping for the redhead to lean in closer. Han searches Minho’s face for something, and ends up dropping his hand from Minho's arm, eyes a little sad.
Minho can’t help but feel like he’s done something wrong, but he can’t pinpoint what.
“I’ll text you when I’m on my way,” Han says quietly, sweeping some flower petals off the granite counter. Minho can tell that he’s being dismissed. Confused and a little hurt, Minho stands up. Saffie stops him once he reaches the kitchen door, weaving between his legs. Minho pauses and reaches down to give her a final pat. Clearing his throat, he meets Han’s gaze. “Han. Thank you for doing this. Seriously- I owe you one.”
The witch smiles and bows his head, a little shy. “It’s no trouble. I’ll see you soon, Minho.”
Minho raises a hand in farewell and walks back down the hallway, moving a little slower than when he had entered. He’s grateful to the witch- he’s relieved that he’s not going to have to fear going to bed at night. He tugs on his sneakers, leaning against the doorframe for balance. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Han is more than a little attractive.
Minho has always known that he’s liked both boys and girls, but few others know this- in fact, even Chan and Felix still think he’s straight. Maybe it’s his parents’ strict upbringing, maybe it’s his irrational fear of angering God- but he’s never come out to anybody about his bisexuality at all.
Twenty years of hiding one of the most important parts of yourself would probably mess you up a bit, Minho thinks, latching the gate on the garden and starting down the dusty dirty path.
Han steps out onto the porch, Saffie cradled in his arms. “You like him, don’t you, girl?” The witch murmurs to his familiar, watching as Minho fades from his sight.
“I think I like him too.”
**
When Minho gets home, all feels and looks normal. Putting on some music, he cleans up the now congealed ramen noodles and broken mug, and vacuums the floors just to be safe. He decides to take a shower, but he takes down the shower curtain and avoids looking at the mirror for too long- just in case. He makes sure that his rosary is wrapped firmly around his wrist, almost like a bracelet. He sends Felix a quick text, letting him know that all went well.
Now, all he has to do is wait for Han to show up.
He opens his laptop and tries to work on his literature essay, but is unable to focus on it. He stares at the blinking cursor on his blank Word page, thoughts drifting. He can’t stop thinking about Han, can’t stop remembering how he looked and smelled and moved. Han carries himself with an elegance that Minho himself could never possess; maybe that’s why he finds the other man so incredibly attractive.
You should ask him out on a date, a tiny voice whispers. Hold him, kiss him.
Or, a larger, meaner voice says, you could do that and have your parents disown you. “Shut up,” Minho mutters to the larger voice, slamming the lid of his laptop shut. Logically, he knows there is nothing wrong with how he’s feeling, but bad childhood experiences are hard to forget. His stomach rumbles, reminding him that he hasn't eaten anything since lunch the previous day. Stretching, he makes his way over to the kitchen.
He’s making a can of instant soup and struggling with the can opener when the familiar feeling of being observed creeps up on him. The back of his neck tingles, the hairs standing on end. Goosebumps rise on his arms, causing Minho to shiver. The air grows tangibly colder and thicker. Swallowing, he turns his head slightly, and catches movement from a dark shape in the corner of his eye. Fear runs through him, and his finger slips and catches against the jagged edges of the soup can.
“Shit!” Minho curses, putting the cut against his mouth and sucking on it. The sensation of being watched is heavier now, more malicious. Minho feels frozen in place, breath caught in his throat. His phone buzzes, and Minho find himself able to move. He almost trips over himself in his haste to unlock the phone.
From: Unknown Number
testing testing 1 2 3
To: Unknown Number
han?
From: Unknown Number
that would be me! is it okay if i come over right now?
To : Han
yeah, that would be great!
thank you so much
From: Han
anytime ;)
To: Han
what?
From: Han
what?
i’ll be there in 20
To: Han
sounds good! please hurry, its already starting
From: Han
wait are you in your apartment?
To: Han
yes?
From: Han
wHY
ARE YOU SERIOUSL GET OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOWPLEASE
Slowly, Minho locks his phone and casually makes his way towards the door. He's about halfway down the hallway when something smashes into the wall behind him, and that’s when he starts running. He manages to reach the door and unbolt it before something heavy hits him squarely in the back of his head, causing stars to blossom in front of his eyes. Head throbbing, he barely has time to think before something hits his head again, causing the carpeted floor to rush up to meet him.
Unconsciousness swallows him up, and Minho falls down into it.
**
When Minho wakes up, the world is upside down. His head throbs painfully, and he can taste blood in the back of his mouth. His apartment is a mess: furniture is overturned and desk drawners have had their contents scattered across the floor. He lets out a small groan, and finds that he's unable to move.
Have I been robbed?
Despite his blurry vision, he can make out a figure standing over him. It’s a young woman, dressed in a simple black dress. Her expression is empty and grim. “Who are you?” He sputters, trying to sit up. Its as though he’s been frozen; the only thing part of his body that he can move is his head.
The woman watches him struggle, her face blank.
“Holy shit,” he says faintly, finally starting to comprehend what's going on. “I’m floating.”
He’s closer to the ceiling that he is to the ground, spinning slightly. Is this a nightmare? He really hopes it is. The throbbing in his head intensifies.
“You’ve been a bad boy,” the woman says quietly. A harsh light has entered her eyes, and her face twists slightly. Her body flickers in and out of existence and Minho freezes, eyes wide.
“What?”
“I’ve seen your thoughts, boy. I’ve seen the way you look at other men. Disgusting. Is that why you bring so many women home? To try and pretend that you’re not a monster?”
Minho shudders as the woman reaches out and passes a cold, transparent hand through his chest.
“God will forgive you if you repent. I’ll help you. I’ll fix you.”
The woman smiles, far wider than is natural for a human being, and Minho is terrified.
“No,” he says, despite the fear crashing over him in waves, “No, there’s nothing wrong with me. God has nothing to forgive me for.” The woman screams at this, her face twisting grotesquely.
Objects begin to levitate, whipping around the apartment, and Minho cries out as a heavy book hits him in the stomach.
“Abomination!” She shrieks, sending a fork at his face. Minho manages to move his arms to shield his face, and he screams as the fork sinks into his arm. “This is so fucked up!” He shrieks back, pulling out the fork and narrowly avoiding a spoon to the eye. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because she’s a goddamn wraith!” A new voice growls, and Minho whips his head in the direction of the front doorway.
There, Han stands, Saffie beside him. Han holds up a stick of white chalk in one hand, and a worn, dog-eared book in the other. Minho has never been so relieved to see another human being in his entire life. “You,” Han says lowly, pointing at the cracking figure of the wraith, “are gonna get fucked up.”
Minho watches with awe as Han crouches and begins to draw out a series of intricate circles on the floor, muttering quietly under his breath. He can’t make out the language the witch is chanting in- is it Latin? English? Minho is too preoccupied dodging flying cutlery to figure it out. Han finishes drawing the last circle, and the wraith screeches, her body contorting.
Han smiles, and it’s a dark, dangerous thing. “Let’s send you back to where you belong, you bitch.” He slips a small, dark dagger out of his belt and begins to draw in the air with it. Minho gets stabbed in the leg by an errant spork, and he pulls it out absentmindedly, eyes tracking the redhead’s every move.
Saffie moves towards him, nimbly dodging flying objects with effortless ease. With a gentle mmr, she leaps up on a half collapsed bookcase and reaches up towards Minho. He holds out a shaking hand, and as soon as her nose touches his skin, he falls to the ground with a crash. He lies there for a moment, before Saffie trots over and paws at his face insistently.
“Okay, okay, holy shit,” Minho mumbles, following the cat around the edges of the room, behind Han and out to the hallway. The witch is standing still with his eyes closed, mouth moving silently. Sweat beads his forehead, and Minho finds him so incredibly beautiful in this moment that he forgets how to breathe.
Saffie yowls at him, reminding him that now is not the time to be ogling Han, and Minho finally makes his way out of the kitchen and into the hallway. He leans against the wall and slides down to the floor, body aching. "That was intense, Saffie. Thanks for saving me back there." Saffie clambers into his lap and rests against his chest, purring loudly. Minho sends up a little prayer of thanks.
In the other room, the wraith lets out a long, shrill cry before falling silent. Minho is suddenly very tired.
“Is it possible to die from a spork wound?” He murmurs to the kitten, eyes heavy.
“I certainly hope not,” Han says amusedly, slipping his knife back into his belt. He looks beautiful; he seems to glow in the dim light of the hall. His hair is tousled and sweaty; Minho has never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his entire life.
“You get rid of her?” He slurs, squinting up at the witch.
Han crouches down next to Minho, sighing. “I sure did. Figured out where she came from, too. She was in your necklace- an echo from the past, trapped in there. Guess the prolonged contact with your skin brought her out.”
“Wait… so she was like, a reflection of my unconscious fears?”
Han quirks an eyebrow. “No, she was just the warped fragment of a long dead bitch.”
“Oh,” Minho says. Despite probably being concussed, and covered in spork wounds, he feels pretty damn good. “Maybe this was what I needed, you know? A little near death experience to get things going.”
Han slides down the wall to sit next to him, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. “What?”
“I’m bisexual,” Minho says dopily, “And I want to like. Date you date you, Han.”
Han does laugh this time, and it’s a joyful, full body kind of laugh that lights all of him up. “Jisung,” Han giggles, “My real name is Jisung.”
Minho blinks. “Jisung?”
“It’s my true name; us witches only tell it to certain people. People they trust. “
Minho nods, vision blurring a little bit. “Jisung. Jee-sung. I like it,” he says, and Jisung cuts him off with a soft kiss that makes his head spin. Maybe that’s actually his concussion, but whatever. Jisung tastes like cherries and vanilla, and his lips are soft and warm on Minho’s.
I like you , Minho thinks, letting his eyes flutter shut, I like you so so much.
He kisses back eagerly, nipping at Jisung’s bottom lip with an eager mouth, and whines in disappointment as Jisung pulls back. The witch giggles, eyes sparkling.
“Easy now, tiger. We need to get you to a hospital. Those spork wounds might actually need stitches, and you definitely need your head checked out.”
“Wanna go on a date after?”
Jisung smiles, wide and genuine. “Yeah, I do.”
(For the record, kissing Jisung is a much better experience for both of them when Minho is not concussed.)