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“Is it still out there?” Jimin asked.
“I don’t know why you always want me to check,” Hoseok said. “Of course it’s out there.”
Jimin tried not to make a habit of thinking anyone’s familiar was annoying, on principle—he might not have one, but he knew well enough that a familiar was only an extension of its master’s soul. That meant personality, goals, what it thought was useful to do in a day. The dog-like familiar that sat outside Park’s Potions every evening, for example, believed that its time was best spent keeping watch over a bizarre potion ingredients stand, directly across from Jimin’s store. Its persistence would have been remarkable, if not for its possible goal of being as much of a drain on Jimin’s patience as possible.
He knew not to be annoyed at the familiar. But that just meant all the more ire he could direct at its master.
“Oh, Seokjin is here,” Hoseok said. “Jimin, you—”
Jimin was already out the door.
Seokjin’s back was turned when Jimin made it over to the little stand. The colorful sign above it, proclaiming that you were shopping at Jinnie’s Lamp—granting your wishes for any ingredient!, looked like it had gotten even more crooked since the last time Jimin had glared at it. It was probably a metaphor for other crooked individuals who were also associated with the shop, if you could even call it that.
Clearing his throat, Jimin eyed the broad line of Seokjin’s shoulders. “Back again, huh?”
“Jiminie!” Seokjin said, spinning around to face him. Beside him, his fluffy white familiar’s tail began to thump against the ground. “Finally come to buy something, after all this time?”
One of the most annoying things about Seokjin was his face. His features had been chiseled by long-forgotten gods, probably. It was unfair that someone with that face was making Jimin get so mad at him, when Jimin could be feeling something else entirely.
“We just got some shepherd’s mint in stock,” Seokjin was saying, “and some jultire, and we still have plenty of fairy’s breath. We’re just about to close up, but for you, I can extend our hours a little longer. Isn’t that right, Fire?”
The familiar pushed its head under Seokjin’s hand for pets. It always turned so docile for him, but Jimin knew the truth. Once, when Seokjin had first started setting up shop within Jimin’s line of sight, he’d watched for a bit, curious of how a familiar ran a stand all by itself. Someone had tried to steal something, as Jimin knew they would. Fire’s response had been to snap its jawful of massive white teeth very close to their hand, sit back, and give the customer a huge doggy grin too full of fangs. The would-be thief had dropped the goods and bolted off in a heartbeat.
“I already have a supplier for all of those things,” Jimin said, forcing himself not to get distracted. “In fact, I am my supplier for two of those things. You know why I’m out here.”
Seokjin was not deterred. “Then here,” he said. “A free sample, in case you want to change your mind.”
He presented Jimin with a small brown box, beaming when Jimin took it on instinct. Jimin wondered what he’d find inside this time. Seokjin was one of the most unpredictable people he’d ever met, but Jimin could almost always count on Seokjin shoving one of his ‘free samples’ at him before he left for the night.
Jimin glared down at the box, and then looked up to continue telling Seokjin off. Quickly, he realized shouldn’t have bothered.
Seokjin, his familiar, and his stand had vanished, magically swept back to wherever Seokjin’s home was—until, like clockwork, he returned the next day.
Jimin knew he was a perfectionist.
It had taken him a long time to see that fact as a potential problem, rather than the only thing that could drive him to reach his goals. He was the youngest potions merchant in the city, after all, and his motivation for that had to have come from somewhere. Forcing people to take him seriously, gaining respect in the potions field, learning the ins and outs of business—all fueled by a burning need to be the best. His parents were both prominent potions researchers, teaching at a witch’s university, and it wasn’t enough for Jimin to follow in their footsteps. Like anyone would, he wanted to surpass them. He wanted to be recognized by everyone, not just the niche researchers within his own field. The idea of a shop where he could sell his own creations came to him as he’d entered high school.
After years of work, he’d made it happen. The day before the grand opening of Park’s Potions, Jimin had stood outside the new shop with his employees.
“Well,” said Jungkook, who would be helping in the back. “There it is.”
Hoseok, who would be helping in the front, grinned. “Looks pretty good.”
Jimin would be doing anything and everything, working in the tiny greenhouse with Jungkook, running the storefront with Hoseok, and brewing a large portion of their stock. He already felt tired, thinking of all the work he needed to do. In the long run, three people weren’t enough, but he hoped to make the money to hire more soon.
Silently, they took in the building that in a matter of hours would become their workplace. Through the windows, shelves of potions were visible, as well as the cauldron that had been set up for Jimin to brew less intense potions while customers watched and chatted with him. The sign over the building’s door was eye-catching and colorful among the grayscale cityscape. Jimin’s surname, and his life’s passion, up there for the world to see.
You made it, Jimin thought to himself.
But he felt nothing. There was too much more to be done.
Jimin’s goal had been to become one of the best-selling potion shops in the city. He knew his potions were miles better than some of those with the highest revenue. But by the time they’d been open for a year, they were still sitting around a low medium in the rankings.
He’d thought he’d been brooding over that fact on a quiet, non-obtrusive level, but his moods hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“I’ve got you pinned down,” Hoseok had said one night, after they had just closed and it was only them in the shop. Reality felt tilted somehow. Going from dealing with customers all day to complete silence always had that effect. “You know what your problem is? You’re such a perfectionist that you can’t see that there’s multiple ways of doing things. You get, like, stuck in what you think is the only way to achieve your goals, and then when it doesn’t work out the way you’ve idealized you think you’ve failed.”
The knee-jerk reaction to someone psychoanalyzing him like that was to defend himself. Jimin had opened his mouth, thought for a moment, and then closed it.
Patting him on the back, Hoseok had grinned. “Relax a little, okay? We’re still open. We’re doing good.”
It was a few months after that that a customer had told him how nice it was that he was partnering with Jinnie’s Lamp. “Seokjin is such a sweetheart,” she’d gushed, not noticing how confused Jimin was. What the hell was Jinnie’s Lamp?
His answer appeared across the street from his shop within the next few hours.
If Jimin had met Seokjin anywhere else, he would have allowed himself to marvel at Seokjin’s good looks. Seokjin was the kind of cute-handsome that Jimin had always found compelling. But it was easy, once Jimin came outside to see what all the fuss was about, to deduce that Seokjin was standing in front of a business, and—no, no, Jimin had not picked a location that was far away from any competitors only for one to arrive at his doorstep. He’d worked too hard for this.
Jimin had put on his best scowl and stomped over.
“Ah, the shop owner himself!” Seokjin had called, spotting him immediately. He’d stuck out a hand once Jimin reached him. “I’m Seokjin. It’s nice to meet you. Do you know Jinnie’s Lamp?”
Jimin ignored the hand, the pleasantries, and the question. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I haven’t given anyone permission to run a stand outside my store.”
“Oh, not to worry,” Seokjin said. “I have a permit from the city.”
When Jimin demanded to see it, Seokjin had seemed more amused than anything else. He’d dug out a piece of white paper with a sloppily scribbled I do what I want.
Jimin almost reeled from anger. “You—”
Seokjin barked out a laugh. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just fucking with you. Here’s the real one.” The next piece of paper he offered Jimin was much more official looking and, as Jimin found out when he made a few calls the next day, much more genuine.
Jinnie’s Lamp was a traveling store. It sold various ingredients for home-brew potions, as well as cauldrons, bottles, and other essentials. While Seokjin was out securing their stock, his familiar watched over their goods. The stand made its rounds to several locations in the city throughout the day, appearing and reappearing with use of a dial on the side of the structure that said things like 1ST STREET and THAT GOOD ITALIAN PLACE and HOME. It always, always ended its business hours across from Jimin’s shop. When Jimin had pointed out that setting up right outside of a potion shop might hurt that potion shop’s business, Seokjin had frowned.
“What we sell is totally different, though,” he’d said. “Restaurants don’t go out of business if there’s a grocery store across the street, do they?”
He had a small point, but Jimin had his pride. Seokjin might have had permission from the city to do business, but he didn’t have Jimin’s permission to darken his doorstep every evening.
And so their one-sided feud began.
Jimin would have slammed the door as he went back inside, but he didn’t want to risk any damages made to the building. Hoseok, counting money at the cash register, saw the look on his face and grimaced.
“What did he give you this time?” Hoseok asked.
“I haven’t opened it.” Jimin wished it could stay that way, but he knew himself. His curiosity would get the best of him.
Hoseok took both the decision and the box out of his hands. Peering at the box’s contents, he let out a low whistle. Before he could even say anything, Jimin ducked around to his side, wanting to see what could garner that sort of reaction. Nestled inside were six perfectly round pieces of chocolates. Jimin took one of the chocolates out and stared hard at it as if it held answers. Lining the bottom of the box was a sheet of paper with a familiar logo.
“These are from that expensive place over on fifth,” Hoseok observed.
Of course. Of fucking course.
“I can’t believe that scammer can’t even give me something from his own shop,” Jimin seethed. “Free sample, my ass. He says that every time. And chocolate is only used in like, two potions!”
“You know,” Hoseok said, “I think he might be flirting with you? Just a thought.”
“No way,” Jimin said immediately. “I considered it, but if he is, he’s too bad at it. All he does is give me stuff I didn’t ask for, make bad jokes, and then leave right after like he can’t get away fast enough.” He let out an aggravated sigh. “Guys who look like he does don’t flirt badly.”
“If you say so.” Hoseok still looked doubtful, but he let the topic go. “By the way, I sent Jungkook home, since he finished up early. Was that okay?”
“Yeah, of course. You can go too, if you want. I’ll finish up here.”
Hoseok made Jimin promise not to stay up too late and headed out with a smile. Jimin tracked down the shop’s broom and started to sweep up. He regretted having to lie to Hoseok, but he would only worry, if he knew how many late hours Jimin kept in the shop.
The best version of a potion to ease migraines required that the drinker wait an hour for its effect. Jimin’s little brother suffered from migraines; Jimin wanted to shorten that time to thirty minutes. He was so close to a breakthrough he could taste it. He had promised himself he would do better to take care of himself. But taking care of himself could wait, for this. His mind was set.
Even so, he wasn’t looking forward to the solitary hours ahead to be spent hunched over a cauldron.
Jimin leaned the broom against the front counter and reached for the box of chocolates. As expected, tucked against the inside of the lid was a handwritten note. Seokjin’s scrawling handwriting detailed every flavor of chocolate in the box, as well as its relative (minimal) usefulness in potions. At the bottom of the message was a reminder to stop by Jinnie’s Lamp any time. If Seokjin was flirting after all, then the only decision Jimin could make was whether to turn him down with gentle words or harsh reprimands. It was lucky, Jimin thought as he replaced the note against the lid, that Seokjin was definitely not flirting.
The shop was cold when it was empty. On Jimin’s tongue, the taste of chocolate sat rich like a dragon, chasing a bit of his loneliness out into the night.
Jimin knew that one day he would successfully talk Seokjin into leaving. There was nothing in the empty patch of grass across the street that was worth dealing with an irritated shop owner every day. Even if Seokjin stayed out of pride, or because he thought Jimin was funny, eventually Seokjin would move on. And then Jimin would never have to listen to one of his terrible jokes ever again.
Needless to say, life never did seem to go the way Jimin had planned.
He could not laugh. He should not laugh. He would not laugh.
“So I told her,” Seokjin was saying, entire body quaking, like the punchline of his joke was already shaking its way up his throat, “that the secret was in the bubble. Then she started looking in the potion for bubbles, right? And she said, ‘there aren’t any.’ And then I said—“
“No,” Jimin said, despairing, as a smile overtook his expression, “No—”
“—that she should look closer, because it was so clear that this potion was unbelie-bubble.”
Jimin covered his face and tried to will himself into stoicism. He still hadn’t decided whether Seokjin’s cackling was at his own expense or at Jimin’s by the time Jungkook poked his head out the shop’s front door and called his name, startling Jimin out of his helpless laughter.
Clearing his throat, Jimin shouted back, “Yeah, Jungkookie?”
“We’re all done here,” Jungkook told him. “I’m gonna head out. Don’t stay too late!”
Again, Jimin promised that he wouldn’t, even as his mind began to hum with plans for the night’s brewing session. His migraine potion wasn’t coming along well. If Jimin was honest with himself, the lack of progress was due to his lack of one ingredient, but mercyflower was so expensive and hard to find that he didn’t see the point in dwelling on it. Best to work on finding a cheaper alternative.
He turned back to Seokjin. Seokjin was already looking at him, something perceptive in his eyes that was a complete 180 from the guileless joy he’d been projecting moments ago. Seokjin had been examining him like that a lot, lately. Sometimes it felt like Seokjin knew that as the weeks drew by, Jimin’s impatience with him was winding down. Jimin’s sales hadn’t suffered from Seokjin’s presence. If anything, they’d grown, and Jimin had become used to the sight of the stand, the owner, and the familiar lingering across the road. He and Seokjin talked about their small business-owning experiences sometimes.
But Jimin was stubborn. He wasn’t ready to admit that Seokjin felt more like a friend than an enemy these days.
“I’d better go,” he said, reaching a hand up to push his hair back from his face. He froze before he could complete the motion. The reason Jimin pushed his hair back like that was usually because he wanted to look good, for whatever reason. Why would he need to look good for Seokjin? There was absolutely no reason he needed to look good for Seokjin.
Unaware of Jimin’s sudden internal turmoil, Seokjin began to busy himself pushing various drawers in the stand shut. “Are you sure?,” he asked, back to Jimin. “I’m going on a business trip tomorrow, so you’ll be deprived of this handsome face until I get back. Might be good to get your fill while you can.”
You’re not even facing me anymore, Jimin almost told him, but that sounded like he wanted Seokjin’s attention. “No thanks,” he said instead.
“Fire is coming with me, so my friend Yoongi is going to be watching the stand all day. Be nice to him. He gets cranky when he has to sit in the sun for too long.”
Jimin didn’t respond. He was trying to think up a way to ask Seokjin how long he would be gone, without actually asking how long Seokjin would be gone. Seokjin turned back around. His eyes swept up and down Jimin’s frame, so fast that if Jimin had blinked he would have missed it. Fire came and shoved its head under Jimin’s hand, forcing Jimin into petting it. The white fur was as soft as feather down under Jimin’s fingers.
Something about the interaction must have flustered Seokjin. The tips of his ears turned pink as he hauled his familiar away from Jimin and closer to his chest. “Okay, see you,” he chirped, and then turned the dial on the side of the stand to HOME.
Jimin didn’t bother going out to talk to Yoongi. He never saw Yoongi up close, just his head of vibrant blue hair through the shop window. He rationalized to himself that it was because talking to Yoongi was useless; Yoongi wasn’t the owner of Jinnie’s Lamp, so Jimin couldn’t convince him to get the stand away from Jimin’s building.
He could admit to himself that not talking to Seokjin at the end of the day was...weird. Left things feeling off-kilter. Seokjin had become too much a part of his routine.
Jimin spent a lot of time planning the lengthy tirades he would give Seokjin once he returned. But the day he glanced out the window and saw Seokjin’s familiar form, not Yoongi’s, he barely had the strength to sigh. Jimin loved his store more than anything, but one thing he didn’t always love was dealing with the customers that came with it. There had been one too many people that day who’d decided it was more important to yell at Jimin than to let him actually go and solve their problem. Issues that would have taken two minutes to fix ended up, like something out of a tragic comedy, taking ten because of the sheer amount of polite nodding Jimin had to do beforehand.
Leaving the shop for a minute to go scold Seokjin felt more like going through the motions than anything else. Jimin was just so tired. He wanted to go home and curl up on the couch and watch Chopped reruns. Instead, he refused to let himself slack off. He had a few more hours of potion brewing ahead of him. Best to stick to his routine. Talk to Seokjin, take a breather, then get to work.
Just one breakthrough. That’s all he would ask for today. Just one small breakthrough.
For the most part, Seokjin looked as he did on any other day of the week. Dark hair styled carefully, dress shirt hanging from his frame as if it were sculpted fabric in marble artwork. There was some sort of cloth bag hanging from his side, which was new. It almost looked like a baby carrier, but the bag was for sure not holding a baby. Something bulged at the center, but it was too short to poke out of the top, obscuring it from sight.
Whatever it was, it was none of Jimin’s business.
“Jiminie!” Seokjin called out, waving as Jimin made his way across the street.
Normally, Jimin would have responded with a pointed comment about how Seokjin still hadn’t vacated the premises, but his exhaustion reached to his very bones, it felt like. He needed coffee. Or a particularly powerful vitality potion.
“Hey,” he managed to say, and that was when Seokjin shifted just enough for Jimin to see what was inside the cloth bag.
It was like a pure lightning bolt of energy zipped through Jimin’s system.
“Is that…” Jimin swallowed hard. “Is that a dragon egg?”
“Hm?” Seokjin followed his line of sight to the deep red egg tucked into the baby carrier strapped to his side. “Oh, yeah, it is. I’m transporting it to a friend of mine, who looks after dragons—you may have heard of him? Kim Namjoon?” At Jimin’s nod (he’d seen some of Namjoon’s work on dragon conservation) Seokjin continued, his expression darkening, “I found it up in the Aurens, with its mother dead beside it.”
Jimin had known, on a certain level, that Seokjin was powerful. Only witches who studied for years had familiars, after all. Manifesting a familiar wasn’t something the average witch could accomplish. But hearing Seokjin mention going to the Aurens so casually was a confirmation that Seokjin was not a witch to be trifled with.
The Aurens were a tall mountain range located on the west coast. The cluster of peaks was known as one of the last truly wild places on earth, teeming with magic and well-populated with all manner of animals, dragons included. It was not a place to be visited on a whim; its untamed magic often got the best of its visitors, leaving injuries both physical and mental. Jimin had never been. He would probably never be able to set foot there, with his specialization being in potions, not defensive magic.
The Aurens were also the only place to harvest mercyflower.
The universe had granted Jimin an opportunity, but it wasn’t the opportunity Jimin wanted. It felt cruel, to have this solution that he absolutely couldn’t use dangled in his face. Jimin already felt like a failure, for not being able to get this recipe right by himself. Before the thought had even fully formed, Jimin decided that he wouldn’t let himself ask Seokjin to go get some mercyflower for him—not at the risk of Seokjin laughing in his face for finally giving in and buying something, for not being powerful enough to make the trip himself. It was a matter of pride, sure, but also of the growing realization that he had missed Seokjin. He was starting to think of Seokjin as a friend. If Seokjin laughed, then Jimin would have to live with his own misplaced trust.
There was another way, some alternative method he hadn’t tried yet. Jimin had to believe that he could still do this on his own.
A week after Seokjin returned from his next trip, Jimin decided that he felt comfortable enough in the shop’s earnings to hire another employee.
He wasn’t usually in the practice of selecting, interviewing, and hiring a person all in the same day, but Taehyung was a special case. For one thing, he was a regular customer; he’d been coming into Jimin’s shop for months now, greeting employees and fellow customers alike with a cheerful grin. He’d fumbled over some of his answers in the interview (work history, relative skill in potion-making) but he’d been eager to talk about how Jimin’s shop had helped his family. Apparently, Jimin’s potions were working magic on his grandparents’ aches and pains. They were helping his younger sister focus on studying. His mother no longer sneezed around dogs. Taehyung was full of such compliments. Whether he was faking it for the interview or not, Jimin couldn’t tell, but Taehyung’s words felt genuine enough that Jimin figured he wouldn’t be terrible at customer service.
Jimin’s only hesitation had come in the form of the tiny dog-like familiar that sniffed impatiently around the room for the entire interview. Why would a witch powerful enough to have a familiar want to work the cash register in Jimin’s potion shop? But when Jimin had tested the waters, asking who Taehyung had been studying under when his familiar had manifested, Taehyung only blinked like he didn’t know what Jimin was talking about.
So their number of employees rose to four, and Jimin breathed easier knowing he could give himself a little more time off.
By the time Taehyung’s first day of work came along, Jimin had mostly shaken off his thoughts of asking Seokjin to go find some mercyflower for him. Mostly. The idea kept coming back, like an itch, or a door to door salesman with more dedication than sense.
Somehow, he managed to concentrate on Taehyung’s training. He even explained a little of his process with the migraine potion; despite having little training in brewing, Taehyung seemed eager to learn. While Jimin had only expected his new hire to man the register, he knew that every bit of knowledge could be helpful. Jimin’s focus lasted him all the way up until Taehyung glanced outside at the end of the day and asked, "Who's that?"
Through the window, Jimin could see Seokjin bending down and ruffling Fire's brilliant white fur. Fire’s fluffy tail wagged from side to side. Seokjin’s mouth was moving, so he was either talking or singing to the familiar. Jimin sighed. "That's Seokjin."
"His familiar is really adorable," Taehyung said.
"Uh-huh."
"Like," Taehyung said. "Really adorable. How could anyone ever resist just...going over and petting it. All that fluff, you know."
Jimin could take the hint. And Fire was pretty pettable. "I might as well introduce you, I guess."
For better or worse, Seokjin and Taehyung took to each other like leaves curling towards the sun. Taehyung chatted away about his training in the shop, how happy he was to be working there. In return, Seokjin told him about his recent business trip as he packed up his wares. It was when Seokjin mentioned the Aurens by name that things went downhill.
“Ah!” Taehyung said, snapping his fingers. He turned towards Jimin. “That’s the place you mentioned before, right? Where you can get mercyflower?”
Jimin nudged Taehyung and shook his head, imperceptible to anyone not watching him closely. Seokjin, whose sole purpose was to make Jimin’s life difficult, picked up on the motion and frowned.
“You can,” Seokjin said. “Why? Are you finally going to take advantage of my services?”
He said it like he thought the answer would be ‘no’, which made it all the worse when Taehyung brightened and said, “Yes! Jimin needs some for a potion he’s making. Do you sell any?”
Jimin braced himself for laughter, ridicule, for Seokjin to rub his victory over Jimin in his face. After months of pestering, an ingredient that could sway Jimin’s policy of not buying from Jinnie’s Lamp. Jimin had been so stubborn. Could he really blame Seokjin, if he acted smug?
Instead, Seokjin hummed. “Not usually, but I could make an exception. Jimin?”
Jimin could say yes, and all his problems would be solved. His progress on the migraine potion would jump forward twenty steps.
“Don’t worry about it,” he forced out.
Taehyung opened his mouth as if to question him, then closed it, as if remembering that Jimin was his boss. Seokjin looked at him with an unreadable expression. Jimin couldn’t tell if he was projecting judgement onto the other witch’s handsome features.
“Anyway,” Jimin said, desperate to end the conversation, “now that the two of you have been introduced, I need to go show Taehyung how to close up shop. So. If you’ll excuse us.”
Seokjin let them go, brow furrowed like his thoughts were a million miles away. It was only after Jimin had walked Taehyung through the entirety of closing procedure, explaining each step with care, that he realized he hadn’t even thought to tell Seokjin to find a new location for his business.
A week. That was how long Seokjin had been gone without a single word to Jimin. An entire week.
His stand still appeared every evening, watched over by Fire, and collected by Yoongi at the end of the day. Jimin actually went out to talk to Yoongi this time, but the conversation didn’t go anywhere when Jimin wasn’t willing to straight out ask where Seokjin was, and why he hadn’t said anything to Jimin. He did spend a lot of time petting Yoongi’s dog-like familiar, Holly, while he and Yoongi complained about Seokjin, so. He gained a couple new friends, at least.
Seokjin arrived back with the same lack of fanfare he’d left with and a yellowing bruise on his cheek. He came into Jimin’s shop for the first time and waited in silence as Jimin rang up the last customer of the day, and then watched as Jimin went and flipped the sign in the window to ‘closed’.
Jimin sat behind the register again and pretended to count money. “How was your trip?” he asked, fully aware that he was being passive aggressive.
“Good. How was the shop?”
“Same as always.”
Seokjin stepped up closer to the counter. “Jimin. Hold out your hand, please.”
Sighing, Jimin put the money back in the register and did as instructed. He still wouldn’t meet the other witch’s eyes. Uncaring, Seokjin bent to dig around in the bag he’d brought, and then delicately placed a large bundle of flowers in Jimin’s outstretched palm.
Men had given Jimin flowers before. But this wasn’t just any flower. It was exactly the flower Jimin needed most.
“You—” he breathed out, and then fell silent, overwhelmed.
“A free sample,” Seokjin said. “For my favorite non-customer.”
Too much. Jimin knew then that he had a crush on Seokjin. He couldn’t ignore it any longer. It was the irony of life, making the person Jimin was so determined to dislike so absolutely wonderful. Seokjin’s easy joy in the world, his willingness to embarrass himself with bad jokes just to make Jimin laugh, his quiet work ethic towards the success of Jinnie’s Lamp. Jimin couldn’t ignore any of it.
“This is the first useful free sample you’ve given me. Maybe Jinnie’s Lamp can stay after all,” Jimin joked, heart thumping an insistent rhythm in his chest. “I don’t know why you would do this for me, but thank you. I know it can’t have been easy.”
Seokjin took Jimin’s hand in his. Jimin’s breath caught in his throat.
“Jimin,” Seokjin said, “You have to know, I did it because…”
Seokjin’s eyes were beautiful, deep brown, easy to get lost in. Jimin knew he was staring. He couldn’t look away. He leaned in to Seokjin, expectant of the confession he knew was coming, buoyed by the tension between them. Seokjin took in a shuddering breath, and then seemed to deflate all at once.
“...uh, because of course, I need to continue providing excellent free samples from our store. You’ll do business with me someday, I’m sure,” he said, and winked. Jimin’s face fell.
Had Jimin looked too eager for Seokjin to ask him out? Did Seokjin like him better when he was being contrary, instead of sweet? Jimin couldn’t fathom what else could have changed Seokjin’s mind about him in such a short amount of time. He watched as Seokjin stepped out of his space. He couldn’t say a word as Seokjin made some excuse about needing to tend to his familiar. As fast as Seokjin had grabbed his hand, his presence was gone from Jimin’s shop.
Slumping down in his chair, Jimin stared down at the counter, trying regain the motivation to close up shop.
Jimin could be Seokjin’s friend. That was no issue. He just wished Seokjin hadn’t gotten Jimin’s hopes up before he’d changed his mind.
Jimin didn’t want to say that things between them became worse, exactly. That would be an exaggeration. They still talked every day. With the mercyflower Seokjin had brought, Jimin’s migraine potion rapidly improved. Jimin was aiming to complete the recipe before his brother’s next birthday. He still wanted to find a cheaper alternative for mercyflower, but at the very least, he could give his brother a bottle of the potion. He thanked Seokjin once, very formally, for his assistance. Seokjin gave him a strange smile and said that he was happy to have a hand in Jimin’s success.
The odd tension between them didn’t improve.
“That’s weird,” Hoseok said.
Jimin hummed to let him know he’d heard, but didn’t turn around. He was busy restocking a display with one of his latest creations, a potion that would instantly rejuvenate dead garden soil. The bottles had been flying off the shelves all weekend. Hoseok would tell him what was so strange in a second.
“Weird,” Hoseok repeated.
Or maybe Hoseok wouldn’t tell him. “What?”
“Jinnie’s Lamp isn’t here today,” said Hoseok. Jimin straightened up immediately. Before he could work himself to a panic, Hoseok continued, “But Seokjin is.”
Jimin hurried out of the shop, throwing a distracted request to continue restocking behind him. He tried to slow his steps as he crossed the street, but he couldn’t tamp down the thought that maybe this was the day Seokjin was leaving. That he’d found another place to operate Jinnie’s Lamp. That Jimin wouldn’t have an excuse to talk to him anymore.
There was a man standing next to Seokjin that Jimin recognized as the dragon activist, Kim Namjoon. When Jimin came into the pair’s line of sight, Namjoon gave him a smile, patted Seokjin’s shoulder, and left. Jimin barely watched him go. He was focused on the way Seokjin fidgeted in place, blinked hard, showed too many signs of nerves. Jimin’s heart sank. Seokjin couldn’t really be leaving, could he?
There was only one way to find out.
“What’s up?” Jimin asked, glancing around the empty patch of grass. “Where’s your stand?”
Seokjin had put on a careful veneer of assured confidence, but the rosy pink at his ears gave him away. “Didn’t need it. I’m only selling one thing, today.”
Instantly, Jimin relaxed. Seokjin wasn’t leaving. Just...selling something? He didn’t even have a bag with him. Fire was nowhere to be seen. Was it an ingredient small enough to fit in his pocket? It seemed an odd time for Seokjin to whip out some weird new sales technique. Jimin frowned. Seokjin took a deep breath, and then let it out.
“A date. With me.”
Jimin stared.
It was impossible not to think about the time Seokjin had come into the shop and decided not to ask Jimin out after all. Jimin had been so certain of what Seokjin was about to do, only to have the witch turn his expectations around on him. The same thing was happening again, only in the opposite direction. Jimin hadn’t pushed, that day in the shop. He was starting to think that maybe he should have.
Finally, Jimin huffed out a laugh. “And this is available to anyone?”
“No,” Seokjin said. “A special offer to those who visit me every single day.”
There was only one person, to Jimin’s knowledge, who visited Seokjin’s stand every day. Who stopped by to talk and listen to Seokjin’s terrible jokes. Who was silly enough to start falling for Seokjin’s squeaky laughter even as he convinced himself, at the beginning, that it meant nothing. “Seems like a bad business plan,” Jimin said. “You know, since there’s so few people in that category.”
Seokjin looked like he was two steps from breaking into a cold sweat. “Jimin. Please put me out my misery before I go drown my sorrows in ice cream and the Great British Bake Off.”
How had Jimin ever convinced himself that Seokjin would be good at flirting? Probably because then he would have had to confront how fucking endearing Seokjin was whenever he tried and misstepped. This whole situation was cheesy, and horrible, and Jimin hated how much he adored it.
Seokjin, in a nutshell.
“How much?” Jimin asked.
“A ‘yes’ should cover it.”
“Then yes.” Jimin mirrored Seokjin’s smile. The air between them relaxed. This time, he took Seokjin’s hand. “Why didn’t you ask me before, when you brought me the flowers?”
Seokjin tangled his fingers with Jimin’s. “I was going to. But you kept staring at me, and—you’re very intimidating. I lost my nerve.”
Jimin snorted. “You always throwing chocolate at me then running makes so much sense now.”
Standing across the street from Jimin’s shop, they made plans for a date. Seokjin wanted to know where Jimin liked to go, and Jimin liked to go anywhere, so they spent a long time bickering back and forth. It was fun. Seokjin’s hitching laughter had become a familiar and precious sound. Nothing about Seokjin had gone the way Jimin had thought it would, but maybe that was a good thing.
“Just so you know,” Jimin said, “I don’t kiss on the first date. So if you want to kiss me anytime soon, you’d better do it now.”
The tips of Seokjin’s ears really did turn the cutest shade of pink when he was shy. Despite his embarrassment, he let out an unsteady breath of a laugh and leaned down. Jimin squeezed Seokjin’s hand, tilted his face up, and met him in the middle.