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So magic’s, like, a thing. A thing that exists. That some people can wield. And of course that’s really cool and all—magic-wielders (aka witches) are awesome, with so many exciting and unique powers—but San’s not that fussed about being a plain, normal, non-magicky person. Having magic sounds like a bit too much hassle, he thinks.
Some non-magic people are hugely into all the magic stuff—they buy all the “no magic required” spells (which literally never work but the industry is still somehow thriving), keep up with the more powerful and thus more famous witches, all that jazz. San’s never really been massively into the magic world. (Except one time when he was seven and he wanted his older cousin to freeze a lake so they could skate on it, only to realise that the other boy’s ability was more for things like small glasses of water and puddles. The latter wasn’t very fun to skate on. He slipped over immediately.)
So, yeah. Magic’s a thing, a pretty awesome thing, but it’s a pretty awesome thing that San is more than happy to passively observe from a distance.
Until recently.
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
San’s so cold. It’s early October and there’s a bite to the air. He rubs his hands up and down his upper arms, hoping the friction will at least fractionally warm him up. It doesn’t feel like it’s doing anything.
He should’ve brought a jacket. He huffs, kicks an empty 7up can on the pavement, and tries to pick up the pace. If he speed-walks the whole way, he might be able to make the next bus.
He’s pretty unfamiliar with this part of Seoul, which isn’t surprising—it’s nowhere near his university campus or any of the shops and cafés he frequents—he’s only here this morning because of a tinder brunch date he agreed to. And what a waste of time that was. The dude was a bit of an asshole, quite frankly—he showed up 20 minutes late and sent his food back three separate times for the stupidest reasons. So San had foregone a lie-in and a warm jacket on a frigid autumn morning for a mediocre, overpriced breakfast with a bland as hell guy. (The jacket situation was obviously his own fault, but San had noticed the way said tinder date’s eyes lingered a little too long on his sculpted arms fully on display, so it feels a little worth it.)
San’s so caught up in his sullen train of thought, he almost trips right over the scraggly bundle of fur in the middle of the pavement. Luckily, he catches himself just in time to realise that the furry heap is actually a small black cat, having a leisurely snooze right in the centre of the pathway. Noticing its current spectator, the feline stretches and stands on its gangly legs, looking sleepily up at San. It’s missing an eye, and it lazily blinks (winks?) its remaining eye at San a few times. What a cute little guy. San crouches down and gives it a gentle tickle behind the ears. It lets out an incredibly endearing rumble of a purr, and San wants to take it home and feed it every tin of gourmet cat food he can find. His roommate, Mingi, is allergic to cats though; San’s heart breaks a little bit. His fingers brush against a collar with a small gold tag with the name “Engelbert” engraved on it. Ah. He’s got an owner anyway. But who the hell names their cat “Engelbert”?!
While San’s once again caught up in his thoughts, the cat—San is seriously not gonna refer to it as Engelbert in his head—decides to start walking further down the pavement. San stands again and watches as it walks away, though every five seconds or so the cat pauses and looks over its shoulder as if to say, “What are you doing just stood there like an idiot? Follow me,” and how could San say no? He’s probably missed his bus by this point, anyway, and he didn’t check to see when the next one after it was.
So San follows this peculiar (yet incredibly cute) one-eyed cat along this street, feeling quite bemused. This was not how he anticipated his morning to go, but he can’t say he’s complaining at all. This random cat has supplied him with more entertainment in five minutes than that obnoxious tool supplied in an entire hour.
Just as they reach the end of the block and San assumes the cat’s about to turn onto the next street, the fluffy feline suddenly turns right and wanders straight into a small, fairly inconspicuous shop on the street corner. San obviously walks right in after it. This must be where its owner lives. Despite the collar, San had still been slightly hopeful that he could coax the cat back to his apartment anyway. He can’t say he isn’t a little disappointed.
The first thing San notices about the shop is how toasty it is. Being caught up in the cat’s shenanigans had temporarily distracted San from the frosty bite to the air, and he’s now pretty grateful for the warmth being supplied by a fairly grand-looking fireplace set into one of the walls.
It’s a magic shop from closer inspection, which are fairly common—they sell “magic” artefacts for people to buy (that’re never actually magic, but people still totally buy into it). It’s not really the sort of place San frequents nowadays—he only knows about them thanks to his numerous visits with his grandpa to the few in his family’s hometown when he was younger.
The cat winds itself around San’s legs. He takes in the entirety of the little shop—it’s quite dark, though faintly flickering candles of every size and colour sit among and between the trinket-packed shelves and surfaces. It likens the small space to a sort of cave, filled with glittering crystals and treasures.
Well. It’s a very charming little shop and all, but San’s not too sure as to why he’s still stood here if not to stroke the cat for a bit longer. None of the stuff on sale is really his taste, despite its variety—jewellery boxes, watches, goblets, bookends, rings, and almost every other kind of small miscellaneous object line the walls but it’s all a bit too not-this-century for his liking.
Just as San’s about to bid his goodbyes to the cat and make his way out, said cat whines a great Meow and pads over to a slim wooden door in the corner of the room that San had completely missed before this moment. A second later, the door swings open to reveal…
San’s eyes can’t help but widen fractionally.
A tall, black haired beauty of a man steps into the room. He looks fairly close to San’s age, and he’s wearing a garish paisley-patterned silk shirt tucked into a pair of slim-fitting trousers. He totally pulls it off (not literally, unfortunately). And he’s absolutely not the sort of person San would expect to be running a shop like this.
The mystery man crouches down to give the cat a tickle behind its ears, which is when he looks up and notices the semi-dumbstruck San stood in the middle of the room.
“Oh, hi!” Mystery man grins—a flash of immaculate teeth. “Welcome to my shop. Can I help you with anything?”
He’s so pretty. Pretty in an angular, ethereal, princely sort of way. San’s words have left him. He’s not sure if he’s ever seen someone so stunning in his entire life. His mouth flaps open and closed a couple times, making him feel a bit like the fish printed on the cans of cat food he noticed by the till.
He’s already forgotten what the guy had asked him. Unsure of what else to do, San points at the black cat and stammers, “Is he y-yours?” Well, duh. Why else would there be a stack of cat food tins?!
Oblivious to San currently mentally kicking himself and also seemingly unaware of the fact that San never answered his original question, the boy grins again and looks down at the cat.
“Ah, Engelbert. Yeah, he is. Well, sort of.”
“Sort of?” San asks, confused.
“Yeah, I mean he just appeared on my doorstep a couple of years ago, collar and all. I assumed his owner must’ve lived nearby, but I’ve put posters up several times to no avail. So now I’ve just sort of adopted him.”
The boy’s eyes narrow slightly, his expression turning somewhat conspiratorial.
“Y’know, he told me that he’s actually a 3000-year-old warlock stuck in the form of a cat.”
San gapes. “Seriously?!”
The boy laughs, a pretty sound. Obviously.
“No, he’s just a cat.”
“Oh...” San laughs too. Not just a cutie, but a cutie with a sense of humour. San’s day was just getting better and better. The boy grins at him again.
A chubby stub of a candle next to him goes out, and he opens a small cupboard next to where he’s crouching which is chock-full of more candles, one of which the boy pulls out. He replaces the burned-out candle with the new one, and clicks his fingers over the wick. The candle instantly lights.
Whoa. San can’t help but quietly gasp.
There’s a lot of cool magic in the world, but San’s never heard of someone who can create fire. Sure, there are people who can warm things up, from chilly toes to an entire room, but producing actual fire? Unheard of. Well, until now.
The boy must’ve heard San’s intake of breath, because a light dusting of pink settles atop his perfect cheekbones. He half-smiles, looks at the floor self-consciously. “Pretty neat, huh?” He looks back up to San. He looks almost nervous.
San can understand that. The poor guy probably gets his fair share of gawkers with a magic as rare as that. He feels quite disappointed in himself for not controlling his surprise better.
In an attempt to redeem himself, San attempts at changing the conversation topic.
“What’s your name? I’m San.” He flashes his trademark eye-crinkling smile at the black-haired boy.
“S-Seonghwa.” Was it just San, or did the blush look even more pronounced now?
“Well, Seonghwa, I love what you’ve done with the place.” He gestures to the copious quantities of knick-knacks surrounding them both. (He can’t say it’s his favourite choice of décor, but there’s no harm in being nice, right?)
Seonghwa quietly laughs. “Thanks.”
It occurs then to San that he’s stood in the middle of this guy’s shop, with no clear reasoning other than that he was following a cat and with no obvious intention to actually buy anything. He feels a bit guilty. He picks up the closest object in arm’s reach to him—a small, age-worn ceramic bird wearing a waistcoat. “Ah! Just what I was looking for.” San just hopes he sounds convincing enough.
Seonghwa, looking a mixture of both amused by San’s poor acting skills and perhaps slightly disappointed, rings up the purchase on the slightly rusty antique till and hands it to San in a little black-and-gold striped paper bag.
Up close, San can see the subtle eyeliner smudged around the other boy’s eyes.
“Thank you, please come again soon!” Another flash of pearly whites.
“Oh- I forgot to ask, what’s its charm?”
Seonghwa gives him a knowing smile. “It ensures good luck to whoever owns it.”
A magic shop classic. San can’t help but feel a teaspoon of bitterness about being low-key conned by such a beautiful man. Ah well. It’s worth it, he supposes.
San gives him a final smile and a wave as he heads out. Damn it, he’d forgotten it was so cold outside.
As he makes his way to the bus stop, goose bumps fully raised along his chilly arms, San can’t help but feel regretful, like he left the shop too soon.
He wants to see Seonghwa again.
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
It’s totally a valid excuse.
Or at least, that’s what San tells himself. Jongho’s birthday was coming up in a couple of days, anyway.
A shop selling dubiously “magical” objects with a primarily elderly consumer base was obviously the perfect place to look for a present for a soon-to-be 20-year-old.
So, San finds himself stood outside the magic shop, less than 24 hours since his first visit. He’d been running a couple minutes late for the bus, but luckily the bus was too, so he’d got it just in time.
A little bell above the door tinkles as he makes his way inside the shop. Seonghwa’s behind the counter where the till is in the corner of the room, just finishing up serving a sweet-looking old lady. As she makes to leave, Seonghwa’s dazzling eyes meet San’s from across the room. San swears he sees the taller boy’s expression brighten, if only slightly. He’s wearing another chaotically coloured silk shirt, this one a sort of purple, green and blue floral print, and he pulls it off just as successfully as he did yesterday’s. It must be pretty difficult to look bad in something when you’re that stunning.
“Hello! San, was it? Can I help you with anything?” Seonghwa asks, pushing the till closed.
San eagerly nods, walks over to the counter and starts explaining the reason for his visit. (Not the Real reason, but just that it’s his friend’s birthday soon and he needs to find a gift.) They end up getting completely lost in conversation; Seonghwa seems pretty excited to be talking with someone close to his own age (San doubts he gets many young people coming in here). San finds himself telling Seonghwa all about university and his music course and his friends; he discovers that Seonghwa’s also quite a music fanatic, and he’s 21, a year older than him and started running this shop when he was 18. He doesn’t really go into specifics about how exactly he came into the business, but San assumes it must’ve been in the family or something.
They chat back and forth about their various interests as they pick their way around the shop, San picking up different trinkets and Seonghwa stating their charm. Each time, the dark-haired boy takes a few seconds to think about it, and sometimes even has to hold the object for a moment to remember what specific charm it possesses. San must admit he’s fairly impressed—the boy was doing a stellar job of looking convincing. Either way, San was getting a tickle of butterflies every time their eyes met for a millisecond too long, or the conversation drifted away for a few moments, leaving only taut quiet in its wake. It wasn’t awkward, though. No. The candles seemed like they were burning brighter than they normally would have.
San realises that some objects, perhaps the slightly newer ones, harbour more youth-targeted charms—hangover prevention, study motivation, even a “10/10 kissing skill” charmed alarm clock, but San’s hand settles over a little vintage toy soldier.
Seonghwa looks at the figure, a fond smile warming his features.
“Ah, he’s been here a while. I call him Leon.”
“What charm does he have?” San looks from the soldier back to Seonghwa. He has to keep himself from counting one-by-one the smattering of freckles the older boy has across the bridge of his nose. The same nose that’s scrunched in momentary thought as Seonghwa considers.
“He’s another good luck charm. Certainly not a cure-all, none of these are, but it makes the likelihood of things going one’s way slightly more probable.”
“Sounds good! I’ll take it- sorry, him.” A quiet giggle.
And as San watches Seonghwa put the purchase through the till and hand him the little soldier in another black-and-gold paper bag, this time with little stars patterning it, he can’t help but once again feel like he doesn’t want to leave. He has a lecture soon, though.
He’s just gonna have to think of another excuse tomorrow.
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
His grandma wants a souvenir from Seoul. That’s it. That’s the only reason why San finds himself stood outside the shop for a third day in a row. Well, it’s the truth at least, but San was originally just going to get her some tat from one of those tourist-magnet shops that funnily enough, primarily sell fridge magnets. And no, San is not neglecting his studies to be all the way on the other side of the city, absolutely not, he had a 9am lecture today that he actually did attend, thank you very much Mingi. (He’d actually forgotten to set an alarm for said lecture, but just so happened to wake up in time for it anyway. Weird.)
Why does it feel even more nerve racking today? San has to psych himself up slightly before making his way inside. He tugs his beanie down a little further over his fluffy tufts of blonde hair, and pushes the door open, the little bell above sounding its familiar tinkle.
Engelbert wails a happy meow and pads over to San’s feet, where he weaves around them a few times—San’s come to realise this is a favourite of the cat’s pastimes.
Seonghwa’s sitting in the fairly grand fauteuil chair that’s behind the till, his legs dangling over one of the arms as he winds the chain of the necklace he’s wearing through his fingers. He perks up at the sight of San, swinging round to face forwards on the chair, a slight smirk tugging at his features.
“Hi! Can I help you with anything?”
Too embarrassed to continue standing rosy-cheeked in the middle of the room, San walks over to the counter and launches into his fool-proof reasoning (see also: excuse) of needing to find a gift for his grandma. She’s old, so she probably likes old things, he concludes. Seonghwa nods along, his features continuing to glow with the hint of a suspecting smile.
Seonghwa’s wearing some dangly earrings today, gold and layered to look like bursts of flame. They complement his skin tone beautifully, San thinks. Who is he kidding?! San couldn’t care less about whether or not the gold suits the honey tone of Seonghwa’s skin well or not. They look cute. They look pretty. Seonghwa looks pretty. The necklace Seonghwa’s twiddling through his fingers has a small pendant on the end of it in the shape of a cat. Cute. He’s also of course wearing another luridly patterned silk shirt, this one a deep red and orange depicting some Korean-style fighting dragons on the front. And, of course, he looks great in it. San’s worn the same plain black hoodie in here three times now, and he’s starting to feel like he’s underdressed.
They go about the shop very similarly to yesterday; picking up the odd object, Seonghwa pensively squinting at it for a few seconds before stating its charm between them chatting about other unrelated things. They speak about university again; San tells Seonghwa about his lecture that morning and how he’d forgotten to take a pen, but the dude next to him—who actually usually borrows San’s pens—had a spare pen to lend (it was probably San’s anyway), San finds out about Engelbert’s favourite cat food type (tuna) and Seonghwa’s favourite music genres (jazz and deathcore) before they finally settle on a small photo frame depicting some crocheted doves, and Seonghwa states that this one’s charm is for good recipe turnouts. San has to try very hard to keep a straight face; Seonghwa must have a lot of fun making up all of these random so-called charms on the spot. Maybe Seonghwa’s trying just as hard not to laugh at San spending his money on them. He looks fairly solemn, though.
San leaves the store for the third time, feeling pink-cheeked and warm-hearted for the third time, and thinks about how their hands brushed ever-so-slightly as Seonghwa handed him his little black-and-gold paper bag (this one with polka dots), for the third time.
He posts the gift to his grandma that same afternoon, with a little note stating the object’s charm (his grandparents were massively into all that pseudo-magic stuff), along with a handwritten letter telling them about how he was finding university and city life (“way less cows, way more air pollution”).
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
Mingi points one of his toast crusts at him accusatorily. It’s a few days later, and he and San are perched at their breakfast bar, trying to munch their sleepiness away.
“You’re never at home between lectures anymore. I’ve had to start inviting Wooyoung round to play video games with me, which is unfair because he always beats me at them. The other day I went round to his and Yeosang’s apartment and they beat me 20 games out of 20. My reputation is in tatters.”
Mingi’s huffing, shaking his head. San sighs. Trust him to be dramatic.
“Dude, I’m home literally every evening. Why don’t we just play then instead?”
Mingi immediately opens his mouth to reply, but then shuts it again and considers.
“That…hadn’t crossed my mind. But don’t think you’re in the clear—I still don’t get why you’re suddenly obsessed with all that fake magic shit. You’re literally the least magicky person I know. Something weird’s afoot.”
“It is not! Exploring other parts of Seoul is good exercise. And it’s healthy to change up your daily routine. Maybe you should try it.”
Mingi just scoffs, goes back to eating his toast.
It wasn’t weird.
Well, that weird.
Was it?
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
San’s grandma calls, tells him thank you ever so much for the gift, it’s the most thoughtful thing she’s received in years. All of her recipes are coming out amazingly, even the slightly weirder ones. Grandpa’s so excited he’s even started inviting the neighbours round to try them.
San feels happy that his gift was so well-received, and yet he can’t manage to shake that underlying feeling of guilt that he’s basically helping to con his own relatives.
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
San visits the shop again. And again. And again. It’s getting close to two weeks now. More chatting. More wandering around the shop together. More stolen glances. Seonghwa tells San about his least favourite customer—a creepy old man who smells distinctly of mouldy turnips and who asks every week if Seonghwa has any cursed parrot bones for sale (he doesn’t). San learns that when the fireplace dims to an ember, Seonghwa relights it by clapping his hands over it once.
Seonghwa starts picking out objects with different charms specifically for San. He starts just giving them to San for free.
“This one helps you to stop forgetting your umbrella,” He says when San comes in drenched two days in a row.
“This one helps you to swear less,” He says the day after San tells him about how he keeps accidently cursing when on the phone to his parents.
“This one makes your wifi faster,” He says when San complains about the games he and Mingi play constantly lagging.
It’s sweet and all, like seriously sweet; San is a blushing mess literally every single day for some reason or another (always related to Seonghwa), but is he supposed to be believing that these “charms” are actually doing anything? Yes, he hasn’t forgotten his umbrella since. It hasn’t rained. Yes, he hasn’t cursed during a phone call. He hasn’t had any conversations long enough to. Yes, the games stopped lagging. San doesn’t have an excuse for that one, but that sort of magic just isn’t real! Charms aren’t real magic! Everyone with common sense knows it. Maybe some warm and fuzzy feelings for a certain raven-haired boy are starting to cloud his judgement.
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
San stretches his legs out.
He’s been sat cross-legged on the floor with his back against Yunho and Jongho’s sad-looking sofa for the better part of 3 hours.
They’d put a horror movie on, and San has no idea whose idea that was because it certainly wasn’t his. Luckily it had just finished and San hadn’t cried…much.
Yunho reaches over him for another slice of pizza. They’d ordered it to celebrate the soccer team Jongho plays on winning their first match of the season, as it’d been against a team that had quite a reputation for absolutely thrashing their opponents. Jongho had scored the winning goal.
“So,” Yunho starts between doughy mouthfuls, “Mingi tells me you have quite the collection coming along.” He looks at San, eyebrows raised, shit-eating smile on full display.
“Collection…? Wha-“ Oh. Goddammit, Mingi. Of course his roommate had noticed the constantly growing array of trinkets San had devoted an entire shelf to. And of course he had told Yunho.
“Didn’t have you pinned as the charm-buying type…” Jongho’s smirking. He knows too? San wouldn’t be surprised if his entire friend group knew, then. Maybe his university lecturers as well. Maybe some distant relatives too. Maybe the entire freaking universe knows about San’s new hobby.
Yunho gives him a nudge.
“So…is he cute?”
San splutters. “No! I mean…yes…but it’s not like that.”
Yunho just rolls his eyes slightly and goes back to chewing on his pizza slice.
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
San’s excited to see Seonghwa today.
Well, he’s always excited to see Seonghwa, but today he’s especially excited as he just had a super interesting lecture about the history of jazz, and he wants to tell the other boy all about it.
Only, when he gets to the little street corner shop, the sign in the door—which on every single other visit had proudly displayed the word “Open! :D” in red and orange marker—is flipped, with a sad “Closed :(” in blue marker instead. San is befuddled. Seonghwa’s shop is always open (during the day). Sure, staying open 7 days a week must be quite a task for a shop you work alone in, but it’s been open literally every other day San has visited, which is coming up to three weeks on the trot now.
Just then, San sees Seonghwa through the window, pottering around the shop as he often does; straightening the odd object, wiping invisible dust from the shelves. San raps on the door a few times and Seonghwa whirls around, momentarily startled. He quickly comes over to the door, unlocks it, and opens it so he’s face-to-face with San. A blush, more pronounced than any San has ever seen on the other boy is starting to stain Seonghwa’s cheeks.
San clears his throat, drops his gaze.
“Sorry I…I didn’t realise closing was something you…did.”
Seonghwa looks mildly taken aback.
“Oh, I must’ve forgotten to mention, I close every third Wednesday of the month.”
“That’s…very specific?”
Seonghwa giggles.
San feels like a bit of an idiot standing on the doorstep like this.
“Sorry, I-“
“Do…do you want to come in?” Seonghwa looks almost…nervous?
Words are coming incredibly slowly to San’s brain today. “…If you don’t mind?”
Seonghwa’s face visibly relaxes at that.
San follows him inside. He greets Engelbert—who’s currently lounging on the counter next to the till—with a tickle behind the ears.
Seonghwa’s stood somewhat awkwardly by the little narrow door in the corner of the room. Who’d have thought that this borderline goth would be such a bundle of nerves?
“Did you want to…come upstairs?” He doesn’t say it like he’s implying anything, but San’s cheeks can’t help but heat a little bit.
“If you want? I don’t want to keep you from your shopkeeping, or anything…”
“No! No, of course you’re not. I just like to tidy and rearrange things to pass the time. I like staying busy when I’m alone…which is fairly often. Well, it used to be fairly often...” Seonghwa’s blushing again. He’s blushing, San’s blushing, neither seems to be able to stop blushing; they’re both probably gonna end up melting like a pair of popsicles if their cheeks stay that temperature.
“Well, I wouldn’t mind a glass of water, or something?” San shoots him a shy smile. Maybe that isn’t the best therapy for an already blushing boy.
“O-of course!” Seonghwa stammers. “Sorry, I’m not great at the whole ‘hospitality’ thing. Follow me~” And with a shy smile of his own, Seonghwa’s opening the little door, and San’s following.
It opens onto the foot of a staircase, which they both head up.
“It’s kinda messy, I wasn’t preparing to have visitors- not that I’m annoyed you’re here, or anything!! I’m not at all, in fact I’m very glad, just…don’t judge too harshly, please…“
They reach the top of the stairs, which open out into a combined kitchen/living space. San can’t help but laugh. It’s honestly one of the most immaculately clean and tidy apartments he’s ever been in. He never wants Seonghwa to see his room if this is what the other boy regards as ‘messy’.
As he further takes in the details of the space, San realises that compared to downstairs, it’s much closer to a normal 20-something-year-old’s apartment. Well. Except for the definitely-not-yankee candles still dotted around and the crackling ornate fireplace in the living space. But overall, it’s very charming, and very Seonghwa. San loves it. There’s succulents and various other potted plants scattered around the room, and a vinyl player next to one of the sofas, with a whole display case of records. San turns back to Seonghwa, who’s still stood by the doorway, hand scratching nervously at the nape of his neck.
“You collect vinyl?! Me too!” San’s never been so excited to chat about his most expensive hobby.
Seonghwa’s face positively glows. “Really?!” He asks, elated.
“Hell yeah! Show me your collection!” San’s cheeks are starting to hurt from how much he’s beaming.
Seonghwa looks like he’d honestly love nothing more, but he stops in his tracks.
“Wait, I’ll get you that drink first. Did you still want a water? Or I’ve got plenty of herbal teas, too…”
Moments later, they’re stood in the petite kitchen whilst Seonghwa lists all the types of tea he has in his cupboard (there’s a lot). San settles on apple and cinnamon (with a spoonful of honey) as that sounded the most autumnal to him, and he grips it between sweater-pawed hands. The mug’s got a picture of a black cat wearing a witch’s hat on it, and Seonghwa says that he likes to think it’s a depiction of Engelbert before he lost his eye.
San plunks down onto the sofa while Seonghwa rifles through his vinyl collection, and picks out an obscure jazz record to play. He brings the pile of records onto the sofa and San goes through them, picking out different ones as Seonghwa tells him a bit about each one, like where he got it or why he likes it. San loves listening to him speak because a) it’s lovely to hear him talk so passionately and intelligently about things, and b) he has a really, really nice voice.
Seonghwa’s wearing a slightly more muted silk shirt today in a lustrous abalone-blue. His hair looks slightly more unkempt that it usually is when he’s running the shop. Cute. San notices then, as the other boy gesticulates, that Seonghwa’s nails are painted a shimmery blue, perhaps to match with his choice of shirt. And his hands are so pretty. Of Course they’re pretty, San can’t notice a single detail about Seonghwa without his brain immediately placing a mental sticker on it with the word “pretty” in swirly writing. And maybe San would love to hold those same pretty hands.
“San?”
Seonghwa’s half questioning, half very amused expression pulls San out of his sappy stupor. “Yeah?” San asks, worried he did something wrong. Like say all of that out loud. He suppresses a shiver just thinking about it.
Seonghwa huffs a laugh.
“I said, your tea is probably cool enough to drink now.”
San looks down to the steaming mug sitting between his hands. Ah, yes. He’d forgotten about that.
They carry on chatting back and forth, both sat cross-legged on the couch, facing each other. Every time Seonghwa laughs, his entire body tilts forwards and it makes San’s heart leap in his chest.
But there’s this tiny little kernel of worry in the pit of San’s belly. He’s trying to ignore it but it’s staining his throat like a burnt piece of popcorn.
Was all this—San coming here every day, worming his way into Seonghwa’s life like a caterpillar through a nicely dressed spinach plant—weird? Did Seonghwa want him to? Or was he just too polite to say “Hey, dude, can you tone it down a bit? There’s being friendly and there’s well…whatever you’re doing.” He thinks Seonghwa’s fine with it…but he’s never specifically asked. He just assumed. San shifts uncomfortably, trying to shake the doubt that’s starting to cloak him.
Seonghwa must notice his expression start to cloud as he immediately asks if he’s alright. So San spills the words collecting in his throat, not all of them, but enough to ask Seonghwa whether or not him visiting every day was unwanted or making the other boy uncomfortable at all.
Seonghwa looks, frankly, quite baffled. He snorts a laugh, but sobers up fairly quickly when he notices that San isn’t laughing too.
“Wait, you’re serious?!” Seonghwa’s pretty, long-lashed eyes widen almost comically. “No, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all.” He looks down, shy. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t really have many friends…”
And that’s how San ends up inviting Seonghwa to Wooyoung and Yeosang’s party next Friday. They exchange numbers (finally!) and San writes down the address.
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
So San keeps visiting, sometimes stays after the shop closes for a bit and chills with Seonghwa upstairs, but don’t worry, he’s still making sure he spends a decent amount of time playing games with Mingi. He roomed with him for first and second year of university because they’re best friends, after all.
And maybe there is something going on. Maybe. Can he listen to Seonghwa talk for hours and hours and never get bored? Yes. Does he spend most of his time daydreaming about a certain boy, to the point of getting butterflies when he so much as sees a garish silk shirt on sale, or even just a candle? Possibly. But maybe Seonghwa isn’t flirting, maybe he’s just being friendly. Maybe he’s just grateful to have a friend at all. And San doesn’t want to risk ruining that.
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
It’s the evening of Yeosang and Wooyoung’s party—well, less of a party and more of a gathering consisting of pizza and alcohol. San’s had a couple of drinks and is starting to wonder if Seonghwa’s gonna turn up at all, and of course it’s at that exact moment that there’s a knocking on a door, which is opened to reveal an incredibly bashful Seonghwa, a posh-looking bottle of red wine clutched in his hand.
San rushes over to the front door to greet him as Seonghwa looks slightly overwhelmed with the room full of eyes on him. He takes the older boy’s knee-length trench coat and hangs it up for him, and then walks with him to the kitchen to fetch a glass for his fancy wine. Seonghwa leans against the doorframe whilst San tries to remember which cupboard holds the glasses, and San steals a few subtle glances at Seonghwa’s outfit while he makes a show of opening and closing the cabinets.
Seonghwa’s ditched his usual attire for a plain black button-down and a pair of ripped black jeans. San gulps. This boy was seriously going to be the end of him. He looks unreal.
They walk back into the lounge to find all eyes on them once again, but luckily they promptly avert after a sharp “What?” from San.
They play a few different drinking games, and San introduces Seonghwa to his friends. “So guys, this is Seonghwa…he does really cool fire magic...” Nice one, man. Stellar introduction. Idiot.
Luckily, Jongho asks, “Have you ever accidently set fire to your hair?” to which Seonghwa replies, “Well, funny you should ask that, because there was actually this one time last year when-…”
And that’s basically how the evening progresses.
A couple hours later, and Seonghwa has successfully charmed every single member of San’s friendship group. San is so relieved and so, so happy for the other boy; his heart truly might burst out of his chest. He’s sitting on sofa watching Seonghwa get taught various different card games by Yeosang and Mingi, his expression must’ve looked a little too obviously fond as Hongjoong—whom San had originally come to know on his course as the ‘very-cool-and-slightly-intimidating third-year’—gives him a subtle nudge to help him snap out of it.
Other than Seonghwa, Hongjoong’s one of the only magic-wielders San personally knows. The boy in question is currently swirling his soju in arcs through the air around him. Wooyoung says that’s gross—he’s probably picking up loads of dust particles. Hongjoong giggles and spirals the liquid back into his glass. He looks at San and then across the room at Seonghwa sitting cross-legged on the floor between a quarrelling Yeosang and Mingi, and his lips quirk in a knowing smile. San rolls his eyes.
“Don’t you see the way he looks at you?” Hongjoong pushes, looking very amused.
San frowns at him, his eyes crinkled in a squint.
“It’s probably just because I’m his only friend.”
Well, was his only friend.
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
San convinces Seonghwa to close early a couple times so that he can show the older boy his favourite haunts in his part of the city.
They visit his favourite coffee shop, boba place, fish cake stall, clothes shop. They go for a group meal with San’s (and now also Seonghwa’s) friends at their go-to fried chicken joint, and finally, on a biting November afternoon, his all-time favourite place to visit—the local park.
They sit on a bench overlooking a section of river, glossy-eyed and rosy cheeked (this time due to the cold, or at least that’s what San’s telling himself).
Seonghwa’s fiddling with a loose thread in his scarf. He opens his mouth to speak, and closes it again. He attempts again, and looks at San (who’s 100% looking at his eyes and no other facial feature at all, he swears).
Seonghwa looks down again shyly, wringing his hands together nervously. “I just wanted to say…thank you. Thank you for inviting me into your life.” He pauses and gives San a small smile. “Thank you for adding such vibrancy to my life. I’m so, so grateful for it. And for you.” Seonghwa quietens again, looses a shaky breath.
San can most certainly say that he wasn’t expecting that in the slightest. But he isn’t complaining, not at all. Words…what were those, again?
San feels a blush rush all the way up to the very tips of his ears. His face cracks into a warm smile, and ever so tentatively, he reaches over. Seonghwa’s hands still.
In a small, fragile voice, San asks, “Can I?” to which Seonghwa fervently nods, a succession of tiny chin dips, his pretty brown eyes like saucers. Softly, San threads his fingers through the other boy’s. Seonghwa’s hands are warm from where they’ve been tucked away in his coat pockets all afternoon. San strokes his thumb across the back of Seonghwa’s hand.
San’s heart thunders a mile a minute. “Thank you, Seonghwa. Thank you for…existing.” San huffs a bashful laugh. He wishes he could recite an entire monologue about what a lovely, incredible person Seonghwa is, but his brain’s way too frazzled by the feeling of Seonghwa’s soft hands in his to be able to string together complex sentences. Seonghwa’s close enough to him that San can smell the wood-smoke and cinnamon scent the older boy carries.
Seonghwa looks down at their joined hands, and back up at San, the prettiest smile playing at his lips. His lips. San’s eyes quickly whip back up to Seonghwa’s own, but it’s too late. He’s been caught. Seonghwa’s breath stutters and, with his gaze dropping briefly too, he breathes “Can I?”
San answers his question by closing the remaining distance between them by softly pressing his lips to Seonghwa’s. He feels Seonghwa sigh into it; a tautness in him now relaxing. San can taste his strawberry lip balm. He heart is jackhammering in his chest, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the warmth of Seonghwa’s mouth and the feel of Seonghwa’s hand carding gently through his hair.
When they part, San leans his head on Seonghwa’s shoulder. He takes hold of Seonghwa’s hand again, squeezes it tight.
Just then, a fat raindrop lands on San’s cheek. And another. And another. And another; the sudden rain shower starts picking up pace. They both laugh, San gets up and runs, dragging Seonghwa with him towards some trees for cover. Neither boy has an umbrella on them. San says as much, to which Seonghwa amusedly replies, “Well, I did say the charms aren’t completely fail-proof.” San has no idea what he means for a moment, but then he realises the older boy is referencing the bumblebee paperweight he gifted San with the charm that helps you not forget your umbrella. Does that mean that Seonghwa truly believes those charms work?
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
They’re back at Seonghwa’s place, chilling on his sofa after getting dried off and warmed up with some herbal tea. Seonghwa’s sitting upright, and San’s laying on his back with his head resting on the other boy’s thighs. Seonghwa’s gently massaging San’s scalp. San thinks he could probably fall asleep right this minute if he wanted to.
Seonghwa clears his throat. San slowly opens his eyes to see the black-haired boy peering down at him, smiling that heart-stopping smile of his.
“I…I have something I need to tell you.” Seonghwa says, his hand pausing in San’s hair.
San sits up at that. Seonghwa looks happy, but it’s evident there’s something on his mind. San takes hold of his hands, gives him an encouraging smile. “What is it?”
“This is gonna sound…pretty weird. But I feel like you should know.” Seonghwa takes a deep breath, steels himself. “You’ve probably noticed that I never really speak about my family…”
San had noticed. Seonghwa never brought them up and was incredibly vague about anything remotely family-related, so San had never pushed.
“Well, there’s a reason for that. I used to have a…different form. And five years ago I was cursed and got transformed into a human. There were rumours of a magic artefact that could undo the spell, so I’ve been searching for it ever since.”
“So the shop…collecting ornaments…isn’t just some hobby of yours?”
Seonghwa looks fairly amused at that. “No. I can test whether an object possesses magic by holding it in my hands and channelling my own magic through it for a few seconds. My shop is just a collection of all the objects I’ve obtained and tested, but to no avail.”
“What…were you?” San urges, voice barely a whisper.
Seonghwa’s taken aback. “You haven’t figured it out?”
San goes to reply No, but then he stops, and thinks. The fire magic. The hoarding. His eyes go wide.
“A-a dragon?”
Seonghwa’s smile is answer enough.
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
“So if you’re a dragon, I’m guessing that fire isn’t the only magic you possess?”
“Certainly not.”
“So does that mean…the charms are…real?”
Seonghwa breaks into a disbelieving laugh. “Of COURSE they are! I add them myself!”
San’s face heats from sheer embarrassment, and the kisses Seonghwa plants on his cheeks do little to help.
“…Wanna know something?” Seonghwa’s voice is softer now. San nods. “Meeting you has made me realise that being a human isn’t so bad after all.”