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Jungkook first met Park Jimin the day he wandered into his shop, completely on accident.
He doesn’t remember why he had even been there in the first place; perhaps he’d been avoiding studying for finals. Maybe he was looking for a birthday present for Hoseok hyung, one of his best friends from university.
He remembers walking into the little shop and looking around at the shelves lining each wall. There were little bottles and jars off to one side, and small satchels off to the other. He heads towards the latter, picking one up and inspecting it. It seemed to be filled with crushed leaves and berries of some sort; the berries were a vibrant shade of fuschia. Jungkook had never seen a berry that color before.
“Hello! How may I help you?” A bright voice had interrupted his browsing, and he’d almost dropped the little bag.
Jungkook had turned around to see the most beautiful man he’d ever seen in his entire life.
“Hello,” he had squeaked back, blushing when the man gave him a raised eyebrow in return for the weak reply. “Are these all teas?”
For a moment, the man looked lost. Then he looked a little confused, like he didn’t get the question. The confusion only lasted for a second, however; his eyes had lit up in understanding and he had smiled, nodding. “They are. Lots of teas can be good for different problems that you may be having. Do you have any trouble sleeping, or with stress?”
Jungkook doesn’t even remember what he replied at this point. He remembers that he had stuttered out an answer, and walked out with a little bag of tea and some written instructions. He remembers that the tea had done exactly what Jimin had said it would—eased his stress, he thinks—and the following week, he had returned.
Over time, Jungkook had learned the shopowner’s name—Jimin—and they had slowly become friends. They started meeting outside the shop; usually at Jungkook’s apartment or a fast food restaurant. Soon after, Jimin began to bring Jungkook little teas for free whenever they met. Jungkook rarely goes to the shop anymore, months later, unless it’s to bother Jimin at work.
He's usually shoo'd away quickly, leaving Jungkook to pout until Jimin promises to drop by his apartment as soon as he closes up shop.
Maybe Jungkook bothers Jimin a little bit too much. Maybe he’s crushing, just a little bit. He can’t help it. Jimin is pretty, and he tolerates all of Jungkook’s shenanigans, and he flirts with Jungkook shamelessly, reducing him to blushes and stutters whenever he tries to flirt back.
Every now and then, however, Jimin will disappear for a few days, leaving Jungkook alone and very Jimin-deprived. He closes up shop, usually sticking to occasional texts and calls, if that.
I’m coming up with new things, Jimin had told Jungkook the one time he’d asked. And working on big orders. They have to get sent out on time, so I close up shop for a while to work on them.
Jimin has just shut himself up for one of these big orders when things start getting weird for Jungkook.
It starts when Jungkook feels his hands tingling, right around where he’s wearing his rings. Over the course of the day, the tingles get more and more annoying. By the end of the day, they’re painful, and he’s pulling his rings off with a frown, hissing as the tips of his fingers meet the metal.
The following day, he realizes it’s not just his rings. When his phone buzzes with an alarm he forgot to turn off for the weekend, he yelps when he touches his phone. It’s all he can do to turn the alarm off. He looks at his hands afterwards, troubled.
By an hour into the day, Jungkook has realized that it hurts to touch any metal. After he’s burned by a fork that he picks up for breakfast, he returns to his room to dig through his winter clothes. He tugs on the first pair of gloves he can find, scowling.
Now he can’t use his phone, of course, but at least he can use his utensils to eat his food. Not that he can pick his phone up from where it lays face-down on the table without burning himself either. He’s not even sure if that’s what he’s doing. There’s no marks where he touches the metal, it just hurts until he stops touching it, and it’s really annoying.
He decides that if this thing isn’t gone by the next few days, he’ll go to the doctor about it. He can’t have suddenly developed an allergy to metal, can he?
It takes him a long time to fall asleep that night, bothered every time he looks at his gloved hands.
The next morning, he’s woken up late when his phone rings. He hurries to pick it up, only able to see the words “Park Jimin” before the call ends. He groans, but his gloved fingers can’t even unlock his phone.
This would have been much less of a problem if he owned a plastic phone case.
He decides to deal with the problem of How to Safely Text Jimin Back later, instead shuffling to the bathroom to wake himself up and get ready for the day.
He’s just finished drying his hair after his shower when there’s a knock at his apartment door. He hurries to answer it, making sure he’s properly dressed before he pulls the door open. It’s Jimin. He grins widely when he sees him, throwing the door open to allow him in.
“Sometime you’ll have to let me go to your apartment, hyung,” he says, half-joking. “But as it’s been a while, you’re allowed in today. How have you been?”
Jimin makes a face. He’s never let Jungkook into his apartment before, and Jungkook is beginning to think he’ll never see it. He doesn’t know why—it’s one of the many small things that Jimin seems to keep from Jungkook. “I’ve been okay. Just working, as usual.”
“You’re always working, hyung. You should take some breaks sometimes.”
Jungkook can tell when Jimin notices that something’s off, because his eyes lock onto the gloves on Jungkook’s hands as he closes the door. “Jungkook, why are you wearing gloves?” He asks, confused. “It’s like, the middle of July.”
Jungkook looks down at his gloved hands and sighs. “It’s a weird story, actually,” he says, dropping his hands back down and shrugging, as if dismissing the whole thing. “I’ve been really sensitive about touching certain things lately. Wearing gloves is the only thing that seems to help, except I can’t text while I’m wearing gloves. Sorry, by the way. For not answering your call earlier.”
Jimin starts to look concerned. “Sensitive as in...pain? What kind of things can’t you touch, Jungkook? You might need to go to the doctor about an allergy!”
“It hurts, I guess,” Jungkook admits, settling down onto his couch. Jimin sits next to him, visibly worrying his lip in his concern. It’s a little distracting. “It sucks to touch anything metal, pretty much. But I’ve been feeling fine outside of that, so I didn’t plan on going to the doctor unless it was still bothering me in another week or so.”
Jimin starts to look slightly panicked, and suddenly he’s leaning forward, close enough that Jungkook has to lean back some, crossing his eyes to keep looking at Jimin. “Jungkook, you were wearing rings when the metal allergy started, right?” he asks, and Jungkook nods a hesitant yes. “Can you take off your gloves for me? I want to see your hands.”
Jungkook looks confused, and a little weirded out, but he nods, starting to tug at the gloves in order to pull them off. “Yeah, sure. There was nothing there though—”
He freezes at the sight of his hands, and Jimin hisses a breath through his teeth.
It’s easy to see where the rings once were. There are bands of scarring around the pointer and middle fingers of his left hand, as well as the pointer and ring fingers of his right. The scar tissue is bright red, raised and jagged as it creeps up the back of his hands and down his fingers. The skin flakes around the edges of the tissue, peeling back in a pretty nasty way.
“Jesus Christ,” Jungkook says, and he’s finally starting to really be scared. “This wasn’t there when I first put on the gloves, I swear.”
“I believe you,” Jimin reassures, obviously doing his best to keep his voice steady. The effort doesn’t do much to reassure Jungkook. “Have you had any other side effects? Like dizzy spells, maybe? Or hot flashes of some sort?”
Jungkook frowns. “What’s a hot flash?” Does Jimin know what’s wrong with him? How could he?
“It’s like, when you get really overheated all of the sudden, but for no particular reason.”
“Yeah, I’ve had a few of those. I thought the air conditioning was just shutting out for a bit. I was going to try and submit a request to get it fixed today."
Jimin laughs. “No, your air conditioning is fine.” He sobers up quickly, bending back over Jungkook’s hands to look more closely at the scarring. “What’s not fine is the fact that you have this at all. How would you even get this? You’re not susceptible. Unless—”
Jimin’s rambling is beginning to thoroughly freak Jungkook out. He’s acting like he knows what’s going on, like he’s seen whatever the fuck is wrong with Jungkook’s hands before, and he’s both scared and confused. It’s making Jungkook start to panic more than he had been when he thought it was just some allergy that would make it so he’d never be able to hold his phone again.
If he’s more worried now than he had been when he thought he was going to have to live without the internet for the rest of his life, there’s something incredibly wrong.
"Jimin,” he says, trying very hard to keep his voice steady, “you’re really freaking me out. What’s going on? Do you know?”
“I do, and if we hurry I can fix it. It’s just—you shouldn’t be able to get this disease at all. You can’t; you don’t have any magic in you, do you? You don’t have like...a grandparent, maybe? A great grandparent?” Jimin looks earnest, serious in his questioning, but Jungkook can’t get over the absurdity of the questions.
He scoffs, shaking his head. “What are you talking about, Jimin? Magic isn’t—it’s not— real. ”
“Guess not,” Jimin says, then pushes himself to his feet. “Okay, come on. We’re going to my apartment. I can’t fix this without any of my things.”
“Fix this? You think you can fix this?” Jungkook questions, before the first part of the sentence actually hits him. “Wait, you’re letting me go to your apartment?”
Jimin looks almost pained, but he nods. “Yeah. I don’t know exactly how long it’s been since this...allergy...started, and I don’t want to risk letting it fester for any more time. It’s already going to be really rough on you to get out. So come on, get up, no more questions. I’ll answer them later, when you’re better.”
Jungkook still has no idea why Jimin is so worried, or what the fuck he’s even on about— plus the magic questions, what was up with that —but Jimin seems to be dead serious, so he pushes himself off the couch.
Only for the world around him to go dark when he gets hit by a wave of dizziness as soon as he gets to his feet.
When he wakes up, he’s not entirely sure where he is at first. He’s in a bed, he can tell, but the room around him is speckled with light in a weird pattern, like the light streaming in through the window is blocked by the leaves of a tree. It throws off his vision, although he thinks he can see vines twining through a trellis nailed to the ceiling. There are baskets hanging from the trellis, overflowing with flowers and leafy plants that Jungkook can’t name.
He tries to push himself up, to look around the room better and figure out what the hell is going on, but panic builds in him when he realizes he can’t. His arms shake when he tries to push himself up, and his hands are starting to burn where the scars are.
He’s getting ready to just start yelling for someone to help him when the door finally opens.
“You’re awake,” Jimin says, surprised. “If the ivy starts to bother you, tap one of the buds. It likes to try and wrap around new people.”
“Ivy?” Jungkook starts. “What—”
He looks down to see thick branches crawling its way up the bed, twisting over his legs and reaching almost to his hips. There are flowers peppering the branches, dark purple buds that haven’t yet bloomed. He panics at the sight of plants moving like they’re alive and they think, but he forces himself to reach out and poke one of the purple buds anyway.
The branch seems to shy away from his touch, curling back. The rest of them follow, withdrawing from the bed to—underneath?
Not very comforting.
Jimin sits down at the edge of the bed, looking down at Jungkook with a sigh. “How do you always get into trouble like this?” he asks. He sounds fond, despite shaking his head and rolling his eyes, and Jungkook wishes he could reach up for him.
“I don’t even know what kind of trouble I’m in,” Jungkook says, frustrated. “I can’t even sit up, hyung. What’s wrong? Am I really sick? Why are vines moving?”
As much as he hates to admit it, he’s scared. And Jimin’s expression isn’t helping him.
“You’ve got something going on, and yeah, you’re sick. You’re pretty sick, Jungkook. If we had caught it when the metal allergy had just started, this would have been easy. But now, with the scarring, and the hot flashes, and passing out—I can fix this, I promise you,” Jimin reassures. “But it’s going to really, really suck.”
“How can you fix this?!” Jungkook cries. “You sell tea for a living!”
“No I don’t,” Jimin says with a small smile, reaching out to brush back Jungkook’s hair. “And I think you’ve figured that out by now. I’m a witch, Kookie. I make potions, and I sell them in my shop, the shop that people without magic shouldn’t even be able to see. I’m a potions witch, and a pretty damn good one.”
“Magic isn’t real,” Jungkook argues weakly.
Jimin sighs, then makes a fist in front of Jungkook’s face. When he opens his hand, a flame flickers in his palm. It’s light blue, and then it’s green, and then it’s pink. When he closes his hand again, the flame disappears. “Yes it is. You’re just never supposed to learn about it unless you grew up with it.”
Jungkook stares at Jimin’s hand for a long time. “So this allergy stuff—it’s like a magic disease?”
“A really dangerous one, yeah,” Jimin says. “You’re lucky I’m a good witch, or I’d have no chance of helping you. I’m just in here to check up on you while the liquid boils down on my remedy.”
“Oh. Thanks for that, then.” Jungkook is pretty sure he would have completely panicked if Jimin hadn’t managed to come in when he did. “Are you sure I’ll be okay?”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Jimin says. He reaches forward, cups Jungkook’s face in his hand. “You’ll be absolutely fine.”
Jungkook is about to respond, to nod and agree, when pain flares up on his cheek. He yelps, jerking away from Jimin’s touch—then frowns when he sees what caused it. Jimin’s wearing several of the silver rings that he always has on, and Jungkook wonders if he wears them because they have some sort of magical properties. Whatever the case, one of them touched Jungkook’s cheek, and he can feel the burn forming.
Jimin’s expression turns serious when he sees it, leaning close to inspect the inflammation. “That’s not good,” he mutters. “It’s progressed further than I thought.” He looks down at his ring and curses.
Jungkook cranes his neck to try and see whatever he’s looking at. The ring is inscribed with a pattern around the outside, but towards the inside of the ring, right where it had touched Jungkook’s skin, it’s smooth. Like someone ground it down, or it wore off.
“What happened?” he asks.
“Several layers of the metal just got pulled into your skin where I touched you,” Jimin says. “It’s how the disease works. If you check your rings and whatever jewelry or metal you touched when you get home, they’ll look worn like this, too.”
“The disease...pulls metal through my skin?” Jungkook asks, trying to wrap his head around it. Around anything that’s going on. “What for?”
“Well—” Before he can answer, an alarm goes off, drawing both of their gazes to Jimin’s pocket. He pulls his phone out, shutting the sound off and standing. “I’ll tell you in a bit. If you have any problems, just call for me, okay? Especially if anything starts hurting, or you feel any chest pain.”
He’s gone before Jungkook can say anything else, leaving him to stew in his disbelief.
Jungkook wonders for a bit if maybe he hit his head a few days ago, and everything since then has just been an absurdly vivid dream. Because magic isn’t real, and this has to be some kind of huge prank otherwise.
Except vines are moving on their own, and Jungkook is suddenly allergic to metal, and Jimin can make fire change colors and hold it in his hand. It’s a lot to digest.
It makes sense, almost. Every time that Jimin has made an excuse for Jungkook to stay out of his apartment has been because of this. The reason Jimin was so confused the day they met—Jungkook wasn’t supposed to even be able to enter his potion shop, not his tea shop. Every weird thing that has happened around Jimin and his friends; all of it can be explained if that one thing is true. If magic is real.
It even makes sense why Jimin always kept things from him. For a bit, he entertains the thought of being mad at Jimin for lying to him, angry for the secrets. Then again, he gets why Jimin wasn’t able to tell him, especially if he’s not supposed to know. And he can’t ever be mad at Jimin. Not really. Not for something like this.
It takes a while before Jimin comes back into the room. Jungkook doesn’t have any way of telling the time, but he thinks it must have been at least an hour. That, or he’s just incredibly impatient. He has a bowl balanced in the curve of his arm against his body, and another held in his hand as he shuts the door behind him.
He places them both on the bedside table, then sits at the edge of the bed and starts to tug off each of his rings, placing them on the bedside table one by one. “Here’s how this is going to go,” he says. “I’m going to slather your hands and cheek with the salve from one of these bowls. You’re going to drink the other one.”
“And they’ll make me better?” Jungkook asks hesitantly.
Jimin sighs, picking up one of the bowls and looking down at the goop inside. It’s not very liquidy; Jungkook isn’t quite sure how he’s going to drink it. “For the most part. This is kind of like a detox, Jungkook. It’s going to be really, really awful because of what it’s doing.”
“What is it doing?” Jungkook isn’t really sure he wants to hear.
“The metal in your system isn’t just causing the scarring,” Jimin starts. “It’s pulling together into shards the closer it gets to its target—your heart. You’ll die of internal bleeding if they make it there, and most people only get two and a half or three days. Even a little bit is enough; it’ll burn right through anything, poisoned with the bad magic in the disease.”
Two or three days. Jungkook feels cold, remembering how long ago it’s been since the burning of the rings on his fingers started.
“They’re already really far along,” Jimin continues. “Which is why I’m having you drink a slightly altered version of the salve as well. I put honey in it to try and make it taste a bit better, but it’s pretty nasty. Sorry. The potion you drink is going to dissolve any shards close to your heart and pull them into your stomach as well. Once they dissolve, they shouldn’t cause any lasting damage. Unfortunately, we have to get them out of your body, so you’ll be throwing that up as soon as the potion is saturated with the metal.”
“That does suck.”
“That’s only half of it,” Jimin reminds him. “The topical salve is going to pull out any metals in the scar tissue, and try to sap as much of it out of you as possible. That means it’s going to be pulling these metals the opposite direction they’re trying to go. I’m sorry, but it’s going to hurt. You should probably drink the potion before I start applying the salve.”
Jungkook is severely hating the thought of this solution to his metal allergy by now. “Is there nothing else we can do?”
“I could extract them all by hand, but that will just rip them straight through muscle tissue and skin instead of pulling them out the way they came in. Probably more painful than this, and less accurate. I might miss something on accident and I don’t want to risk it.”
Jungkook grimaces. “Okay. Just hand me the potion.”
Jimin holds a bowl out to Jungkook, who tries to take it from him and almost drops it. In the end, Jimin is forced to just tip it into his mouth. It’s nastier than Jungkook thought it would be, which is saying something.
Finally, he can’t stand the flavor anymore; bitter and burning . He pushes the bowl away weakly, and Jimin frowns when he sees how much is left. “You’ll have to drink the rest of this as soon as you throw up,” he says. “I can’t risk letting any of that metal stay in your body.”
Jungkook nods, closing his eyes when Jimin picks up his right hand. His stomach feels warm, and weirdly constricted, but not bad. Not yet.
He doesn’t feel any pain at first when Jimin begins to apply the salve, rubbing the cool paste into his skin anywhere there are scars. He works as quickly as he can, fingers massaging the skin between Jungkook’s fingers, up the back of his hand and past his wrist; the scars have traveled a long way in a short time.
Jungkook only starts to feel it when Jimin has already let Jungkook’s right hand rest at his side and begins to work on the left. It starts as a slight tingle, feeling almost as if his hand is falling asleep.
It gets worse quickly. It feels hot afterwards, too hot, and then begins to feel like burning. Not only that, but the burning starts to spread, starts to push tendrils of white-hot pain into his skin and veins, shooting up his arm and almost to his shoulder.
He clenches his jaw. “Hurts,” he manages, then groans when the tingling begins on his left hand almost as soon as Jimin finishes. He tries to tilt his head away, but Jimin rubs it into his cheek as well, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. The burning on his face starts almost immediately.
It feels worse, way worse than when the metal touched his skin first. This time is agony, the feeling of the poisoned metal being pulled through his flesh the same way it burrowed in nothing but horrific pain. He’s sweating from it, tears beading in the corners of his eyes as he tries not to cry, because he knows as soon as he starts he’ll be begging, pleading for it to stop and he doesn’t want to see the helpless look in Jimin’s eyes.
The pain gets worse.
Jimin pulls him close when he finally starts crying, whimpering that he wants the pain to stop, because it hurts and he hates it. He feels Jimin brushing cool fingers through his hair, pressing them against his temples and kissing his forehead.
“You’ll be okay,” Jimin whispers, over and over again, like he’s reassuring himself as much as Jungkook.
It seems to last forever.
It’s probably only a few hours that Jungkook is in pain, the white paste turning dark as it sucks the metal from his skin. Twice, Jimin wipes it off with a towel damp with cool water, and both times Jungkook thinks it’s over. Instead, he holds back his pleading as Jimin applies new coats to his hands and face.
The nausea gets bad after the first time Jimin replaces the paste on his hands, and Jimin barely gets a bucket to him before he’s throwing up into it, absolutely miserable.
As soon as he’s done, he’s made to drink as much of the potion as he can again. He only manages half of what’s left.
By the time both bowls are empty, Jungkook is exhausted. He’s shivering in the bed, tears dried on his cheeks. He almost doesn’t believe it when Jimin is wiping the last of the paste off of his skin, shiny with silver.
“Is it over?” He asks, grimacing. His throat hurts from the stomach acid, making his voice more hoarse than it usually is.
“Just about,” Jimin reassures. “I’m gonna make you one last little potion to get rid of the disease entirely, so you can’t touch any metal until you drink that or I’ll have to draw it out again. I’ll also give you some paste for the scars. They’ll heal up in a few hours and you shouldn’t have any lasting marks.”
His hands look much less worse already, more like old wounds than the angry, pulsing red they had been when he was still infected. They’re still obvious, though, creeping up his wrists and making him wrinkle his nose. “That would be nice,” he agrees.
“Hold on,” Jimin says, and leaves the room before Jungkook can protest. He’s back in less than a minute, a plastic container, spoon and glass in his hands.
Jimin sets them next to the empty bowls on the bedside table, helping Jungkook up before he hands them to him. Jungkook drinks quickly, grateful for the water that soothes his throat before he finally turns to the container. It’s filled halfway with rice and topped with a few slices of beef.
“Sorry, it’s not a meal or anything,” Jimin says. “Just leftovers, but they should be good enough for now.”
The meat is cold, but it’s good anyway. Jungkook eats quickly, starving after losing so much of his strength. He feels better already—like he could stand, or maybe even walk all the way across the apartment.
“Thank you, hyung,” Jungkook says quietly when he’s eaten through about half the container, letting the spoon rest in the rice. “For all of this. For coming to check on me earlier.”
Jimin breaks into a kind of helpless smile, one that brings a small one to Jungkook’s face in return. “Of course, Jungkook-ah. I’m glad I came to find you. I don’t know what I would’ve done, if—”
The words ‘if I’d been too late’ go unsaid.
Finally, Jimin clears his throat. “I’m going to go finish that cure for you. If you want, feel free to follow me into the living room. But only if you’re able to walk on your own.”
Jungkook laughs, and nods. “Okay. I’ll see if I can join you soon.”
“Be careful,” Jimin says, gathering up the bowls and standing again. “Call me if you need me.”
“I will.”
Jungkook finishes the rest of his meal quietly, not doing much other than being thankful that everything seems to be over. As soon as Jimin gets him that cure, he’ll be okay.
He had been so scared.
He pushes the thought aside forcefully, shaking his head as he drops the plastic spoon into the empty container and sets it onto the bedside table. He wants to find Jimin, to see what it looks like when he’s making a potion—doing magic. He hopes he’s actually well enough to walk on his own.
It takes him several tries, but he’s finally shuffling slowly across the room. He’s careful not to touch the door handle, just pushing the door open with his foot instead.
He takes in the room with wide eyes. There are shelves lining one of the walls, filled with rows of jars and bottles all filled with what Jungkook assumes are potions. It looks similar to the one time he was in Jimin’s shop, and Jungkook figures that this must be where he makes everything. Some of them glow, a few of them hover and one of them seems to be humming softly, the closer he gets to it. He’s careful not to touch any of them, but he reads the handwritten labels on several of them— headaches, werewolf bites, stress and anxiety. Jungkook wonders if the last one is supposed to be the cause or the cure.
“Jungkook,” Jimin calls.
Jungkook turns around to see Jimin in the corner of the room. There are more plants everywhere, several hanging from a trellis on the ceiling, similarly to in his room. There’s a watering can floating above one of the baskets, tipping itself and watering the plant inside.
To get to Jimin, he walks past a bookcase that’s lined with old books. He wonders how many of them are for recreational reading and how many of them are actually spellbooks. In the corner, the cauldron floats above a fire that’s burning right from the carpet without catching anything on fire. It’s much smaller than Jungkook would expect a cauldron to be; it’s only about the size of a coffee mug.
“Why is it so small?” He asks before he can help himself.
Jimin snorts. “Because the potion I’m making is small,” he responds. “It was much bigger when I made your salve. It grows and shrinks to accommodate my needs.”
He narrows his eyes as the liquid in the cauldron turns from red to clear and begins to bubble. “There we go,” he mutters. He picks up a small cup from the cupboard to his right and and sets it down on the ground. The cauldron pours its contents into the cup, then rights itself as the flame shrinks to only a few small coals.
Jungkook watches this whole process in fascination, eyes widening when Jimin picks up the cup and blows across the surface. It immediately stops steaming.
“Here, drink this,” Jimin says. “Then you’ll be able to touch metal again.”
Jungkook pinches his nose and downs it. It tastes almost like nothing at all. “I wish the other potion tasted more like this,” he grumbles as he hands the cup back.
“The other one would’ve tasted even worse if I hadn’t added honey to it,” Jimin reminds.
Jungkook shudders, unable to imagine how the potion could ever taste worse than it did.
“Here,” Jimin says suddenly, holding his hand out to Jungkook.
Jungkook stares at it uncomprehendingly. “What?” he asks. Is he supposed to hold it? He’s not opposed, just a bit confused.
“Touch the ring,” Jimin explains. “I want to make sure you don’t have any bad reactions to the metal.”
Jungkook wonders vaguely when Jimin put his rings back on, but reaches out anyway. “What if I do have a reaction?” he asks.
“Then I’ll put the last of the paste on your hand and draw it out quickly. It won’t be half as bad as long as we get it before it’s spread very far,” Jimin reassures. “I promise. I’m sure you’re fine, I just want to double check.”
Jungkook touches the ring before he can convince himself that it’s a terrible idea. He holds his breath, but there’s no burning. There’s nothing at all, really. Just the feeling of a cool metal ring warming up under his finger tip.
He lets out the breath as Jimin breaks into a grin, then grabs his hand, interlacing their fingers to hold it properly. “You’re all healed,” he says.
“Thanks to you, hyung,” Jungkook points out. “I would have died without you. Thank you. You’re the best witch ever.”
Jimin laughs, a bright sound that makes Jungkook feel warm inside, safe. “Not by a long shot. But I’ve definitely earned my right to brag. I’m a pretty damn good potions witch.” He bites his lip, sobering up a bit before he continues. “I was scared to lose you, Jungkookie. I didn’t want for that to happen. I don’t know what I’d do without having my favorite non-magic person around.”
“Hey,” Jungkook objects, nudging Jimin with his shoulder. “I should be your favorite person in general, not just non-magic person.”
Jimin rolls his eyes, but can’t stop the fond smile from gracing his face. “You are my favorite person. I think you already know that.” He leans in, and Jungkook’s eyes widen as he leaves a kiss on his cheek. His cheeks are warm as Jimin leans back, and Jungkook is sure he’s blushing.
“Good,” he breathes.
He whines when Jimin finally lets go of his hand, getting to his feet and wandering over to his shelves of potions. “Now we need to get something for your scars,” he says, flicking through a few identical-looking jars before he grabs one of them, satisfied. “Come sit on the couch.”
Jungkook huffs as he pushes himself up; he’s still not at full strength yet. He gets to the couch without incident, thankfully, and plops down on it. Jimin settles to his knees in front of him, twisting open the jar. It’s full of a jelly-like substance, off-white in color. It smells like eucalyptus.
Jungkook holds his hands out obediently as Jimin dips his fingers in the salve. He’s gentle as he rubs it into the scars left by the poisoned metal, making sure to rub it into the skin enough to be certain that everything will heal. In a few hours, Jungkook’s hands will look like nothing ever happened to them.
“Jimin?” Jungkook asks while he watches Jimin work, silently enjoying the feeling of Jimin’s fingers rubbing the salve into his hands.
“Yeah?”
“Does this mean I’ll be able to come over to your house more?” he asks. “Now that I know about magic and everything. You won’t have to keep secrets from me anymore. We can...you know.”
He trails off, noticing that Jimin has slowed in his work. “I don’t know,” Jimin hedges quietly.
“Why don’t you know?” Jungkook finds himself pressing. “I thought—”
“Just let me work for a bit, Jungkook-ah,” Jimin says finally, voice harsh.
Jungkook shuts his mouth, frowning while Jimin finishes with his hands. Jimin sits back, scooping a bit more of the salve onto his fingers.
“Your cheek,” he says, leaning up to reach it. “This one may still leave a small scar, by the way. Because it was such a harsh one. I’m sorry if it does.”
“That’s okay,” Jungkook responds. “It’ll be my little reminder of the time I learned about magic. And how it almost killed me in the process.”
Jimin’s lips flicker up in a smile for a moment. The salve is cold against his cheek, and Jungkook hisses in a breath until Jimin’s fingers warm up the substance. Finally he pulls away, picking the lid up from where he’d set it on the floor and screwing it back onto the jar. He sets it back on the shelf, then scoots over to another row of jars.
He picks up a small test tube that floats in line with several others. His fingers are shaking as he pops the cork out of it.
“Jungkook, I need you to drink this,” he says. His voice sounds a little funny, like he’s starting to get a cold but hasn’t fully lost his voice yet.
Jungkook takes the small glass tube, looking at the liquid inside. It’s a cloudy, pale purple-blue. It makes him feel uncomfortable.
“What is it for?” he asks.
He looks up to see Jimin with tears on his cheeks. He’s crying . Panicked and confused, he stands up, barely avoiding upturning the whole tube as he stumbles towards Jimin, reaching for his face to brush away the tears that just keep coming.
“Hyung?” he asks, feeling helpless. “Jimin hyung, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“It’s a memory potion,” Jimin manages.
“What?”
“A memory potion,” he repeats, looking regretful. “To make you forget.”
Jungkook looks at Jimin in shock. He looks at the potion, cloudy liquid swirling in the small container, innocent. He takes a step back, then holds the tube back to Jimin. “No,” he says, voice small. “I won’t take it. I don’t want to forget.”
“You won’t forget me,” Jimin insists. “Just—magic. All of this.”
“Magic is part of you!” Jungkook exclaims. “I can’t forget this! I can’t believe you tried to give this to me. You weren’t even going to tell me what it was!”
“And I should have lied to you about it!” Jimin exclaims. “I should have told you that it was to help with a side effect of the cure, but I didn’t. So please, Jungkook. Don’t be difficult about this. I need you to drink it. Non-magic people aren’t allowed to know about magic. The results could be catastrophic. I’d be arrested if anyone found out I’d let you know about magic. Namjoon-hyung would be forced to turn me in if he knew I didn’t make you drink this potion!”
“But I don’t want to forget you,” Jungkook whispers. He feels traitorous tears building in the corners of his eyes again. “I don’t want to forget magic. You’ve always been hiding this from me; it’s always felt like there was a wall between us because of this. I don’t want that again. I want to be close to you. I—I like you, and I know that you can tell I do. Isn’t this why you’ve never done anything about it? Why you always pull away when I get to close to you?”
He’s just saying things at this point, desperate things that he’s not even sure are true—but they are, because Jimin looks more and more devastated as he speaks, shrinking into himself.
“I like you too,” Jimin forces. “But it can’t happen. It’s not allowed. I can’t do that to Namjoon hyung, or to Yoongi hyung. I can’t make them keep a secret like this.”
It’s not really about them—about Jimin and Jungkook —Jungkook realizes. It’s about magic, and the number of people that would be hurt if Jungkook was allowed to remember it. Jungkook hates that he understands, and hates himself for what he’s about to do.
“One kiss, then,” Jungkook whispers. It’s his ultimatum. “One kiss, and then I’ll drink the potion. I’ll forget everything.”
Jimin’s eyes widen, like he can’t believe that Jungkook is agreeing, and he takes a step forward, closing the distance between them again. “One kiss,” he agrees. “One kiss, and then you’ll forget.”
Jungkook nods, biting his lip to stay quiet.
This is more than just about them.
As Jimin’s lips meet his, Jungkook desperately wishes that there was a way.
He finds himself melting into the kiss, his already shaky limbs turning to rubber as he wraps his arms around Jimin’s shoulders, pressing up against him, tilting his head down to kiss him better. Jimin is warm as he reaches up to thumb at Jungkook’s jaw, to push his fingers through Jungkook’s hair and anchor him in place, tight against Jimin.
Jimin kisses him like he’ll never get the chance again—and he probably won’t, not once Jungkook drinks this potion. He nips at Jungkook’s bottom lip, teeth dragging against the skin before he soothes over it with his tongue. Jungkook whimpers, parting his lips as Jimin deepens the kiss, tongue pushing into his mouth to taste, to claim.
Jungkook has kissed people before, but it’s never been like this. Not so desperate, damp with their tears as they cling to each other, wishing for something they’ll never be able to have. It’s not perfect—Jungkook bites Jimin’s tongue a little too hard, and Jimin giggles through his tears—but fuck, Jungkook would give anything to be able to do it again.
To be able to have Jimin.
Jungkook is panting, making soft, needy noises into Jimin’s mouth when the witch finally pulls away, fingers uncurling from his hair and head tilting to kiss across Jungkook’s cheek, then his jaw.
“I’m gonna miss you,” Jimin breathes as he pulls away.
Jungkook leans forward, steals one last kiss from Jimin’s soft lips, then takes a step back. “I—”
He’s interrupted by a phone ringing.
Jimin frowns, fishes his phone from his back pocket and sighs when he sees the contact. “It’s Namjoon hyung,” he says, clearing his throat and wiping at his eyes. “Let me get this.”
Jungkook knows that this is just a distraction, something to allow them to avoid him taking the potion for just a little bit longer. “Okay,” he says quietly.
“Hyung?” Jimin says as he raises his phone to his ear. “What did you find? Hold on, let me put you on speaker. I’m just finishing up with Jungkook.”
He takes the phone away from his ear in order to set it to speaker, and both of them are able to catch the latter end of whatever Namjoon’s sentence had been: “—Jungkook take the potion yet?”
Jimin and Jungkook’s eyes meet, panicked, but Jimin turns back to the phone in his hand. “He hasn’t taken it yet. He will after this call. I told him what it was for.”
“Don’t take it, Jungkook-ah,” is the first thing that Namjoon says, voice vehement. “You don’t need to take that memory potion.”
Jungkook looks at Jimin, eyes wide. “What?” he asks.
“Did you tell Jungkook what I was doing?” Namjoon asks instead of answering.
“No. I forgot to,” Jimin says, voice turning slightly sheepish.
Namjoon sighs over the phone. “Jimin-ah told me about you getting that disease. You probably got it by touching a cursed object, since you can’t sense magic. No one with any ability to sense magic would’ve gone near something that harmful. But I was contacted since you shouldn’t be able to get that disease at all. It acts on magic in your bloodstream, pulling on it to become more potent. Really strong wizards would die from something like that in less than a day.”
“But I got it anyway,” Jungkook says, confused.
“Yes. I was looking into past cases, trying to find any evidence of a non-magic being with the disease. I couldn’t find any. It didn’t make sense anyway, so I went to look into your family history instead.”
“My family history?”
“Yes. Jungkook, your grandfather on your dad’s side was magic. He hid his magic side entirely in order to marry his wife, since it’s absolutely forbidden to let non-magic people know of our world. Your dad never knew about the existence of magic, so you never learned, either. Usually, that amount of magic in your blood wouldn’t be enough for anything, but you must have gotten lucky—or unlucky. You’ll never be able to sense magic or do it, but you have a very slight affinity for it.”
Jungkook feels like his world has tilted on its axis for the second time that day. “I’m magic?”
“Not really,” Namjoon responds. “And usually, you would still have to drink that potion, since you have no ability to sense or perform magic. But that affinity of yours is enough to still be affected by things that should only affect magic people—that is, we could argue that you need to know about magic, for your safety.”
“Hyung,” Jimin interjects. “Is that why Jungkook was able to find my shop all that time ago? Even though non-magic people shouldn’t be able to see it at all?”
“That’s exactly why,” Namjoon responds. “And if he’s going to continue to be able to expose himself to magic, he needs to know about it. I looked into past cases; it’s a really good one. He’s almost guaranteed to be able to keep his memories.”
Jungkook tunes out after that, as Jimin and Namjoon talk about the logistics of who to tell, where to submit paperwork and what will have to be done to make sure Jungkook keeps his memories. He stares at the little test tube instead, swirling with a potion that he would have willingly took if Namjoon hadn’t called in that exact minute. He almost cries again, this time out of pure relief.
He blinks himself out of his thoughts as the little test tube is plucked from his hands. Jimin pushes the cork back in and sends it back to float with the other ones. He’s ended the call while Jungkook was tuned out, and Jungkook is only able to watch as Jimin steps close to him, rests his hands on his waist.
“So,” he says.
“So,” Jungkook echoes brainlessly.
Jimin giggles, leaning forward to kiss Jungkook’s cheek. “You won’t have to forget me, now. Or my magic.”
Jungkook can feel the grin stretching across his face as it sinks in, elation beginning to rise up in him. “Does that mean I can have more kisses?”
Jimin laughs out loud at that, full-bodied, resting his cheek against Jungkook’s shoulder. “Yes,” he assures. “You can have as many kisses as you want.”
“I want one now.”
“Of course you do,” Jimin sighs, entirely fond. “Come here.”
Jungkook leans in eagerly for his kiss, lips smiling against Jimin’s, confident that this right here— this is real magic.