Archive of Our Own

Dark magic. Changbin remembers the rush, the power, the danger. He remembers the feeling of pure, raw energy surging up through him, the current strong as the flooded rivers that once rose to decimate his whole village, intoxicating and addicting. Remembers the spin of his head, feet rooted firmly to the ground that fed him, dizzy with possibility, without the threat of limitations. And he remembers all too well what happens when magic is unrestricted, limitless. Changbin will never forget the corruption; even if he wanted to, the marks on his skin won’t let him. The grave he visits in his dreams keeps the memory fresh and burning. Dark days like today only bring the thoughts closer to home.

“Changbin?” Minho tugs at a stray thread on his shirt sleeve, pulling him from his thoughts and pulling apart his third piece of clothing this week. 

Changbin swats his hands away. “What?”

“Nothing.” 

Changbin narrows his eyes and Minho shrugs. He doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish when he grins. 

Maybe he’s just antsy. They have been cooped up inside for a while now . “Do you want to go out?” 

Minho glances at the window. There’s fog rolling in from the woods in great, thick waves. It’s easily enough to make anyone lose their way should they choose to venture out of the safety of home. Changbin wonders if it’s hit the town yet. Minho’s eyes flick back to Changbin and he nods, small but sure. 

“I’ll get my jacket then.” Changbin stands from the worn couch and Minho scoots over to curl up in the warm spot he leaves behind. The floor creaks a bit under Changbin’s feet, the old wooden boards groaning in complaint. They’ll probably require some long overdo care soon. Or maybe fix up the thick rug they used to have to cushion their steps until Minho and Felix tore it to shreds. They’ll want it for the oncoming winter anyway. For now though, he simply crosses the room and ducks into the closet under the stairs to retrieve his jacket.

When he returns to the sitting room, he finds a small black cat curled up in the dip of the cushions. “Oh, is it naptime now instead? You changed your mind that fast?” He asks, lips quirked up in amusement.

The cat lifts his head from tiny paws and levels Changbin with as scathing a look as cats can muster. Slow as melting ice, he pushes to his feet and arches his back, yawning loudly. Then he jumps down and slinks over to Changbin’s feet, tail curling around his calf. “That’s what I thought.” Changbin’s lips remain stuck in that almost smile. 

He steps forward carefully around the cat, which follows right on his heels until they pass through the house and stop at the back door. The thin lace curtain covering the window seems to flutter lightly despite the still air. The knob is cool to the touch. Changbin throws the door open and steps out into the mist. 

The cat meows, already impatient, and Changbin pulls the door shut behind him, locking it without another moment wasted. “All right, all right. Lead the way.” As the cat takes off, Changbin slips his arms through the sleeves of his jacket, tugging it tight across his chest, and hurries through the swirling gray after the cat. 

They’ve barely passed through the yard, past the little stone wall fencing off their property before it swells up a hill and into the woods, when Changbin can no longer see the flash of black slipping through the fog ahead of him. He follows by sense alone, focusing on the draw of his energy to stay behind the cat as he leads them around patches of tall grass in need of trimming to find the faint, worn path sloping upwards to the treeline. Changbin’s feet hit the ground lightly, enough to make only a soft rustling sound each time the damp fallen leaves give way under him. The cat makes no sound at all. 

Soon Changbin has clambered over two fallen trees signaling their divergence from the path, and leapt with bated breath over a smattering of large stones peaking just above the water of a small creek. When the cat’s presence starts to slip too far out into the foggy woods, Changbin reaches out, calling silently for him to wait a minute. The woods aren’t going anywhere, after all. He can feel the cat slow to a stop until he catches up to him again, watching him come into view through the drifting mist. 

“You know I only have two legs right?” He speaks quietly, but his voice still seems impossibly loud in the hush of the woods, where the fog seems to swallow all sound outside of their little bubble. The cat whines a little, threading between his ankles and nuzzling at them apologetically before taking off again. Changbin follows after him, the small upturn of his lips returning. 

Under the veil of mist, it’s hard to discern the passage of time while they wander through the forest, weaving through trees in the half light. Changbin’s skin is damp, though, and his jacket heavy and beading with wetness when he senses the cat come to an abrupt halt somewhere ahead of him. He freezes involuntarily as well, tension creeping up his back like a slow-rising tide. Despite the fog separating them, he can tell the cat is alert, sniffing the air for something, hair on his back raised angrily. Changbin approaches with care, quiet and at attention. For a moment, he waits, standing a few paces away, watching him stare out into the swirling gray clouds blanketing the woods around them. When he reaches out, trying to feel whatever has caused such a reaction, he finds nothing.

“What is it, Minho?” He whispers. 

Another beat of claws digging into the fallen leaves scattered across the ground, and then the cat turns to him. In the blink of an eye, Minho is standing in front of him again. “There’s something out there,” he says, voice low, eyes still wandering warily around them as if he can see through the fog. 

Changbin glances to his left, his right, behind his back. He turns back to Minho’s grave face, and something twists in his stomach. “What is it?” He asks again.

“It’s dark.” Minho says, watching Changbin’s hand fly up to grip the pendant around his neck even though it’s hiding beneath three layers. “Far off still, for how faint it is, but it’s strong for me to feel it. It’s dark ,” he says again for emphasis, as if Changbin doesn’t already understand all too well what this means. 

“Let’s get back.” Changbin somehow manages to keep his voice from shaking despite the dread making his stomach churn like the sea before a storm. He forces his hand down from his chest when Minho’s eyes linger too long on it. 

“Do you want to ride?” Minho’s voice has a note of concern Changbin hasn’t heard in some time. He shakes his head. Minho doesn’t hesitate before dropping back to the ground and racing away. 

Changbin follows after the black cat, a newfound sense of urgency in his footfalls. They trek back through the woods, Minho narrowly dodging a large patch of bramble in his hurry, Changbin nearly tumbling into the river the second time across. The fog swirls angrily around them as they disturb the eerie peace of the woods, leaving ghostly trails behind them. 

At the top of the hill, they break through the treeline and pause for air. Changbin’s throat  burns, part from hastening through the woods and part from suppressing the swell of emotion rising up from his chest before Minho catches notice of it - as if he hasn’t already. Looking out from the high rise, Changbin can see nothing but the mist, the low-hanging clouds burying the slope down to their house, the whole valley and town beyond it.  

“How far do you think it is?” He asks in between breaths. The cat glances up at him from where he has jumped onto the last standing wooden beam of a collapsing old fence. His eyes scan the land beyond their vantage point and he hisses, unsure.

“Okay, okay.” Changbin closes his eyes. “Seungmin’s supposed to be back tonight. Can you tell how far Felix is? Are they nearby?” When he opens his eyes again, the cat is focused on some spot far off through the fog. When he snaps out of the focused, half-trance, and turns to look up at Changbin again, the cat nods.

A small trickle of relief runs down from the base of Changbin’s throat to settle under the pendant hanging from his neck, just above the junction of his ribs. The cat watches him closely for a moment before leaping from the post and darting down the hill. Changbin hurries after, catching up only at the bottom, where the cat has stopped atop the stone wall fencing off their land. Here, Changbin lets out a light sigh. At least within the boundary of their property, inside the safety of the wall, he can breathe a little easier. The magic woven into the stones should shield them as well as the fog does. Whatever darkness is lurking near the town will have to practically stumble blindly right up to their doorstep to find them here. Light magic doesn’t reek and spoil the air around it like dark magic does; whoever is coming won’t be able to track them down by sense.

The cat bounds down from the wall when Changbin crosses through the gate and seals it tight, hitting the ground on two feet. Minho is now standing at his side. He’s so close that their arms are pressed together, the dew on Changbin’s jacket soaking into Minho’s thin black shirt. Minho doesn’t say anything, but his focus on Changbin’s face is so intense that Changbin knows he doesn’t need to speak to know what he’s feeling. 

“Come on,” Changbin says, and this time there is a traitorous tremor in his voice, “I need to change into something dry. My shoes are soaked.”

Minho nods, nothing more than a sharp downward jerk of his head, but it’s enough. Changbin reaches up to ruffle Minho’s already disastrous hair, and Minho nudges him forward with his shoulder.  

Inside the house, in thick, warm layers and ugly wool socks Seungmin had given him as a joke, Changbin collapses onto the couch after his near frantic buzzing around his room for clothes. Minho sits with his legs tucked under him on the cushion beside Changbin, staring at the painting on the wall across the room, blinking slowly. Changbin can feel his mind whirring, so he reaches out to thread his fingers through Minho’s hair again. 

Minho goes stiff for a hummingbird heartbeat before relaxing, a reflex Changbin doesn’t think he’ll ever shake. Minho doesn’t tear his eyes from the girl watering her garden of flowers on the far wall, but he leans into Changbin’s side, tilting his head to give him more access. After a moment, he starts humming - low and in the back of his throat - and pulls a blanket across their laps so he can tug at the loose strands. Changbin almost smiles, and for once, doesn’t swat Minho’s itching hands away from the fabric he’s intent on pulling apart. 

If they weren’t both so wired, Changbin thinks it might be easy to fall asleep like this, but there’s too much dread crawling in his stomach for him to settle enough for any chance of rest. And since Minho is subject to his emotions whether he likes them or not, they both remain resigned to wakefulness as the flickering lamp on the tea table slowly becomes the room’s only source of light.

It’s well past sundown when Minho shoots upright on the couch, back straight as a rod, and turns to Changbin with wide eyes. “They’re back,” he breathes, just before Changbin finally feels a hint of the soft, golden warmth of Seungmin’s presence. A few minutes later, the house buzzes pleasantly as Seungmin and Felix pass through the front gate. Then the front door is swinging open and Seungmin appears, glowing lightly to make up for the darkness outside, with a small honey colored cat wrapped around his shoulders. The glow fades as he lights the house instead, eyes flickering around the room at all the curtains drawn tight before falling to Changbin and Minho, who have risen from the couch. The cat slinks around his neck to sit precariously on his left shoulder, then launches into the air. 

Felix lands on the floor with practiced grace, all freckles and no smile today. His eyes find Minho’s and they stare intently at each other before Felix breaks the silence. “Do you feel it too?” He asks, voice almost too quiet after the loudness of Seungmin closing and locking the front door behind them. 

Minho nods. “Something’s coming. Something dark.”

Felix’s lips pull back the slightest bit, teeth flashing bright white, and Changbin is suddenly reminded of the first time he’d met him. Well, met is a loose use of the word, he supposes. He was draped over Minho’s back, barely conscious, bone-deep pain so crushing he almost didn’t care if the stranger acted on his hostility. What could light magic wielders do to him that dark magic hadn’t already? 

But then Felix looks back to Seungmin and his face evens out again. The memory passes.

Seungmin lets Felix latch back onto his side, both hands circling his wrist and rubbing absently at the skin there, and turns his attention to Changbin. “Do you think it’s just a coincidence?” 

Changbin wants nothing more than to say yes and to be right, but the twisting in his stomach feels too strong. Feels like too much of a warning. It wasn’t like this last time, when they got lucky. Tonight his nerves sing of an oncoming storm. “I don’t know, but something tells me it’s not.”

Felix’s grip on Seungmin tightens ever so slightly. 

“Could you tell how far out it was?” Minho asks.

“Not in town yet,” Felix says. “It got weaker the closer we got to home.”

“So we have the night at least?” Changbin guesses. Felix nods, but his face is still tight with worry, hands still clenched around Seungmin’s wrist. Changbin doesn’t have to be bonded to him to know that he’s thinking about the beach house. About what happened first time dark witches had found them. Well, had found him . The rest of them were just caught in the crossfire. He’d thought he’d been more careful this time, but maybe it’ll never be enough. Maybe they’ll just keep coming, and who knows how long his friends will be able to-

Changbin is forcibly removed from his thoughts by Minho smacking him lightly up the back of his head. Then, before he even has a chance to react, Minho is already stepping away. “I’m hungry,” he says over his shoulder, “I say we plan over food.” 

Seungmin shoots Changbin a look, but doesn’t press, and agrees to Minho’s suggestion. Changbin stands there a moment longer, watching Minho’s retreating back, but nevertheless ends up trailing into the kitchen behind the other three. 

Late into the night, while cooking and later eating, they come up with a loose kind of game plan. In the morning, they’ll fortify the defenses around the house, and, assuming the dark presence continues to grow closer, they’ll journey out into town under thick cloaking and protection and try to unearth the identity of whoever may be snooping around, hunting them down. 

When they finally disperse for the night and Changbin drags himself up the stairs to crash into bed, he’s exhausted down to his bones. He sags against the mattress, tugging up the blankets to his chin, and dispels the light from his room. In the darkness, alone with his thoughts, he doesn’t even get the chance to slip down a familiar spiral before the door to his room is creaking open and a small bundle of weight and warmth lands on the bed next to him. 

He doesn’t startle like he used to, just lets out a grateful breath as the cat kneads the mattress before tucking into the curve of his stomach and settling in. Changbin runs a finger down the cat’s back before curling around him. “Night,” he murmurs into his pillow, letting his eyes fall shut. Exhaustion drags him under before the demons in his head have a chance to wrap their claws around him again.

Changbin wakes to a different kind of claws digging into his arm, piercing right through his blankets and clothes like they’re nothing. “Fuck, ow ,” he hisses, blinking sleep from his eyes and trying to free himself from the cat’s sharp hold. “What is it, Minho?” 

But then he feels it too; nothing more than a slight tickle at the farthest reaches of his awareness, but unmistakable: the twisting lure of dark magic. He sits up straight in bed. A low growl resounds from the black cat as claws finally detach from Changbin’s arm, and he hears a high whine echo down the hall. 

Out of bed in an instant, Changbin’s socked feet travel noiselessly over the floorboards towards Seungmin’s room, a set of small black paws just as quiet beside him. He pushes Seungmin’s door open and peers inside. In the near darkness he can see Seungmin is still asleep, brown curls a mess against his pillow, with Felix pulled tight to his chest. As Changbin watches, though, Felix’s whining rouses Seungmin. 

He almost steps back out of the room, feeling like he’s intruding as Seungmin wakes, and without hesitation, smooths Felix’s sweaty hair out of his face and gently hushes him with a kiss to the top of his head. Before he can though, Minho is standing at his side and Seungmin turns his attention to them. The tenderness in his eyes is gone, replaced by a fierce determination. 

“It’s here,” he says grimly. It is not a question. 

Minho nods. “It’s here.”

First light finds Changbin and Seungmin sinking wearily onto the couch in the sitting room. The barriers around their home are now as strong as they’ll ever be, woven into the stone fence and the very walls of the house itself; their last line of defence should they need it. Seungmin is especially drained after exerting himself on the heels of his journey, and he sags into Changbin’s side as soon as Changbin wraps an arm around his shoulder. 

The two cats leap up to join them, the black standing on his hind legs to nuzzle his nose against Changbin’s chest, right over his heart, while the golden does the same to Seungmin. They offer what little energy they can spare, then drop down to curl up in a perfect circle between the two witches, black and gold meeting like the first spill of sun after an eclipse. 

When Changbin rests his head in the crook of Seungmin’s neck, Seungmin lets his own head settle over Changbin’s. There, they rest in a trance of half-dreaming, half-waking, soaking in each other’s energy, regaining their strength and replenishing their spirits until the prickling of dark magic drawing nearer starts to lick and burn like real flames and they can wait no longer.

On the dirt road leading into town, Changbin and Seungmin discuss the plan again in low voices. Changbin has his jacket on, buttoned tight to ward off the cold. Seungmin is wearing a thick gray sweater, and he seems to melt into the fog that has stubbornly clung to the basin below the hills. As Seungmin tells Changbin he’ll sneak around the outskirts of town with Felix, while Changbin and Minho comb through the center, the cats seem to be having a conversation of their own. The two slink around the witches’ ankles, rubbing against each other and mewling barely loud enough for Changbin to hear. Changbin doesn’t think to pry, and focuses instead on Seungmin. There’s one last thing they haven’t covered yet.

“If anything goes sideways-”

“I know,” Seungmin interrupts, cutting him off with an abruptness that suggests he was expecting it. “I know.”

“Okay.” Changbin’s voice is small, swallowed by the fog. The rest of the trek from dirt to real road, then finally to town, passes in silence. The two pairs part ways, and under heavy cloaking, trail after the signature burning of dark magic. 

In town, the fog seems to have trapped most people inside, be it homes or shops, and Changbin floats along like a ghost, in and out of buildings while the black cat remains just outside the doors, alert and waiting. The closer they get to the town center, the more people they encounter braving the cold, wet mist blanketing everything as far as the eye can see. Changbin watches each one warily. 

Drawing nearer to the fountain that marks the dead center of town square, the darkness gains strength, continues to grow hotter and hotter until Changbin feels like he should be sweating, not shivering. Minho starts to stick closer and closer to him, and the knot in the pit of Changbin’s stomach twists until it’s unbearably tight. He knows they’re getting closer. 

When Changbin steps out of the tailor’s, it hits him with such force he almost stumbles backwards. They’re practically on top of it. He lurches out into the cold air, dragging in a lungful as he darts into the nearest alleyway, black cat hot on his heels. The air does little to help, and Changbin doubles over against the outside wall of the tailor’s, afraid he’s going to be sick. He’d forgotten how strong the darkness was. It takes all his strength to keep the cloaking up around them. 

Then Minho’s hand is on his back and he feels Minho’s strength as if it is his own. Changbin swallows hard and rights himself. He meets Minho’s eyes, nods to let him know he’s gotten a grip. Steeling his nerves, Changbin peeks out the alleyway, squinting through the fog. There’s someone walking down the street; he can see their shadow moving forward like black smoke, but more importantly, he can feel their magic swelling. Just a few more paces. Just a little bit closer and he’ll know what they’re up against. 

He shrinks back against the brick wall until only his eyes and forehead are visible around the edge of the alley. The shadow figure takes another step and its foot comes into focus. The fog gives way to reveal heavy boots, long legs, a too-large jacket, black as night. One more step. The smoke turns into a face. Slim jaw, straight nose, dark, oval eyes. 

Changbin’s breath catches in his throat and he slams his back against the wall. He’s shaking. “Jisung,” he chokes out, eyes blown wide. He can barely see Minho in front of him. “It’s Jisung.”

The hand in Changbin’s is warm, the fingers interlocked with his trembling ever so slightly. Changbin grips just a little bit tighter. Chan is burning hot where he touches both their shoulders, but Jisung is a slow, easy warmth, unfurling to melt away the bone-deep chill Changbin hadn’t been sure would ever leave him. Changbin can feel his warmth in the light press of their knees as they sit cross-legged next to each other, in the brush of their arms. He closes his eyes and the world shrinks down to three pinpricks of light glowing at his side. Jisung’s grip tightens too.

“Okay,” comes Chan’s voice from somewhere in front of them, “I’ll leave it to you now. Are you ready?”

Changbin nods, doesn’t open his eyes. Jisung must have nodded too, because then Chan’s hand is drawing away and Changbin can hear his retreating footsteps against the grass as he backs off to give them space. “Just remember what I said,” he reminds before falling silent and effectively disappearing. 

Changbin lets out a breath, focuses on the ground beneath him and the boy beside him. Breathe in. Feel the thrum of energy. Draw it in. The air starts to stir around him, and after a moment, Changbin feels something like a snowflake hit his cheek and melt into his skin. But it’s not cold like snow, it’s as warm as Jisung’s hand wrapped around his own. 

“From the earth,” Chan says abruptly, breaking off Changbin’s concentration. “Life comes up from the earth. That’s where we get our power.” 

The air falls still and the warmth bleeds from Changbin’s cheek. Jisung’s fingers twitch against his skin. They try again.

This time, Changbin places his free hand on the soil and lets the dirt stick between his fingers. He breathes out, breathes in. This time, he senses the stirring somewhere below, creeping up to the surface, answering their silent call. He pushes his palm into the ground, squeezes Jisung’s hand without entirely meaning to. Whatever is rising up beneath them finally reaches him. A small gasp slips from Jisung, and then Changbin can feel the same buzz in their interlocked hands.

It’s getting warmer, something - magic, his brain reminds him - swirling up through him, heating him from the inside out. But it’s hotter, brighter. It burns through him like Chan’s hand on his shoulder. Behind his closed eyes, everything acquires a red hue, like sunset painted on the inside of his lids. He sinks into it like sinking into a hot spring, and for a moment, panic squeezes his lungs; it’s too hot, too strong, too much. Then Jisung has a death grip on his hand and Changbin realizes he’s feeling the same thing. Suddenly it feels like power, like potential. Changbin can’t get enough.

“Changbin!” Minho’s urgent voice cuts sharply through the cloud in Changbin’s mind. “You dropped the cloaking. He’s coming .” Minho’s last word comes out more of a growl than anything as he shifts without hesitation. It slaps Changbin out of his daze, and he doesn’t waste another moment in slinging a leg over the back of the midnight black tiger now standing in Minho’s place. He wraps his arms tight around his neck, burying his fingers in thick fur, and they take off. 

Bigger than even normal tigers, and pushed forward by Changbin’s magic, now swirling through the air around them and blanketing them like the mist, each leaping bound the tiger makes sends them hurtling forward, away from the town square. It should be carrying them away from Jisung too, but Changin still feels the strength of his dark magic behind them, unflinching, refusing to fade. 

He doesn’t dare look back - not that he could see through the fog anyway - just wraps the protection of his magic tighter around them. It’s a miracle they don’t barrel into any buildings in their haste to escape before Jisung finds them, and only when they’ve cleared the town completely and can run freely does Changbin realize how much the tiger has been holding back.

They race across the ground like they’re flying, and it should be enough to shake Jisung from their tail. It should , but Changbin can still feel him burning up behind them, hot on their heels. All the way across a vast field of grass, up the sloping hills to the woods, and then deep into the cloudy maze of trees and bushes, Changbin can feel Jisung. He’s impossible to ignore; a second sun in the blazing sky. 

At the base of a deep lake, just after clearing the river feeding into it, Changbin realizes there is no more running from him. Jisung will chase him wherever they run. He tightens his hand in the tiger’s scruff and calls for him to stop. It isn’t until they’ve reached a knot of trees at the other end of the lake that the tiger listens. They skid to a halt under cover of mist and leaves, and Changbin slips from the tiger’s back. 

“Stay low,” he hisses. The cloak of his magic is still heavy over them, but he knows it’ll only stall Jisung for so long. A low rumble resounds deep in the tiger, but he sinks to a crouch at Changbin’s side and watches the fog warily through the veiny arm of a bramble in front of them. Changbin barely has time to catch his breath before a familiar voice breaks through the deafening silence of the woods. 

“I know you’re in here somewhere,” Jisung calls, though he hasn’t yet appeared through the mist. “You can’t hide in the fog forever.” 

Changbin’s chest seizes. The tiger presses his head into Changbin’s shoulder and he inhales. The mist swirls before his lips as he exhales, and again just beyond the knot of trees when Jisung emerges like a ghost out of the all-consuming whiteness. His head is on a swivel, eyes peeled for any kind of movement, any sign of life. 

“Changbin,” he says lowly, halting and peering down at the lake to the left of the patch of trees, “I came all this way just to see you.”

Changbin’s throat begins to close up. He squeezes his eyes shut, wraps his thick cloak of magic tighter around himself, air stirring though the mist appears untouched. He raises a hand, asking the tiger to stay as if he’ll actually let him walk out and face Jisung alone. It’ll buy him a minute - maybe - or two at best if Jisung has gained any patience in their time apart. 

As careful and silent as can be, Changbin maneuvers out from behind the shield of trees and bushes and rights himself a few paces away. Jisung’s attention snaps to him before he has a chance to even blink. Jisung’s eyes find Changbin’s through the haze, and Changbin can see anger and hurt burning in them even at a distance. 

Jisung takes a step forward, face as carefully blank as Changbin’s is transparent. His lips part as he scans Changbin from head to toe. “It’s been a while,” he says, so quiet Changbin almost doesn’t hear. Then the ground quivers beneath Changbin’s feet - all the warning he gets before Jisung lashes out. His dark magic cracks like a fiery whip, but it’s a weak move. Changbin has seen it too many times before to be taken by surprise, and from within his cocoon of light magic, he deflects the blow with ease. It isn’t an attack; it’s a test. 

“I didn’t want to believe it,” Jisung barks out a laugh, taking another step closer. “Was convinced you could never do that to Hyunjin, to the rest of us.” He doesn’t have to say to me ; Changbin hears it anyway. “I tried to figure out some other explanation for the stories, but I guess they were true after all. You really just left .”

Changbin can’t stop the pained grimace from twisting his face. He shakes his head. “Jisung, I-”

“Don’t!” Jisung cuts him off without hesitation, voice rising impossibly high before he reins himself in. “Don’t say my name like that. Like you’re sorry .” 

Changbin swallows hard. The anger in Jisung’s eyes is growing like frothing waves before they crash, seeping into the lines of his face despite his efforts to remain impassive. Where before the red haze appearing to emanate from him could have been nothing more than a trick of the light, now it deepens, gains strength until it’s clear that Jisung may very well be playing for keeps. The next strike he lands won’t be as gentle as the last. 

The ground beneath their feet rumbles, and before Changbin has a chance to wonder what Jisung’s going to hit him with this time, the earth gives out below him. Eyes wide with surprise, Changbin barely falls for a second before the tiger springs into action. Leaping out from hiding, he closes the distance between them in two swift bounds, and snatches Changbin out of the air with an open maw before he can tumble to an unfortunate landing at the bottom of the crater Jisung has blown out. 

The tiger lands on solid ground across the gaping hole and Changbin hits the grass, wind knocked right out of his lungs but otherwise unharmed. He hears Jisung curse distantly, then the tiger lets out a deafening roar that shakes the very mist in the air. 

Changbin scrambles to his feet and twists his magic, the feeling of warm summer rain spinning around him, seeping into his skin as he draws more energy to himself from the air to include the tiger in his sphere of protection. The move is to keep him safe just as much as it is to keep him by his side so he doesn’t try to go head to head with Jisung. 

“I know you’re angry,” he says, hands raised as Jisung stalks forward, still burning red. “But it doesn’t have to be like this.” His voice turns pleading. “We don’t have to fight.”

“I don’t care.” 

Jisung throws a hand out and the tree nearest Changbin tears in half, the mess of broken branches tumbling down at him. Changbin barely dodges, and it sends him skidding dangerously close to Jisung. Still, he holds the tiger at bay, makes no move to strike back. 

“Do something!” Jisung shouts at him, now a mere two arms’ reach away. Changbin shakes his head even as Jisung’s magic snaps out at him again, lasting this time, blazing like fire and chasing the fog from their small circle of woods near the lake. The heat is so strong Changbin can feel it licking his skin even through the barrier of his own magic.

“Jisung…” he tries again, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Fight me, dammit!” Jisung’s voice nearly breaks. Dark magic streams from him in erratic pulses of energy, shredding the leaves and bark from the trees around them. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Changbin says. The sight of Jisung falling apart tears into him with a force unlike anything his dark magic could ever compare to. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Then why did you leave !” 

Jisung doesn’t wait for an answer. He changes tactics. In one fluid motion, he draws all the escaping magic back into himself and turns his gaze on the tiger to Changbin’s left. Roots burst up from the ground and snake around the tiger with impossible speed, trapping him in an ever tightening cage of living wood. 

“Minho!” Changbin curses himself for being too caught up to notice the tiger slowly slip past his protection. The tiger roars again, and even as Changbin reaches out to break the wooden chains, Jisung drags the cage away from him, ripping up the ground between them. The tiger roars once more, and Changbin can feel his rage and the pain of being crushed. 

In the same moment that Changbin calls his magic to crash against the tangle of roots, the tiger seems to vanish from within the wooden cage. Jisung’s concentration breaks in his shock, and Changbin destroys the roots in one fell swoop. When the dust settles, a small black cat is racing across the ground, looping around Changbin before turning right back on Jisung, howling. As he leaps forward, he grows midair into a furious tiger once more. His paws hit Jisung’s shoulders, knocking him hard down to the ground. 

Changbin scrambles across the ravaged forest floor towards them. The tiger’s teeth are bared and his hind legs are dug into the ground, holding Jisung down as if the claws threatening to pierce right through his arms aren’t enough. Changbin doesn’t have time to think. He pushes out with his magic, nothing in mind to command the surge of energy but away . The tiger needs to get away from Jisung before they tear each other apart.

He feels more than sees what comes next.

The force of his magic hitting the tiger is strong enough that the air is knocked from his lungs as well. Changbin takes another stumbling step forward and the tiger starts to fall to the side of Jisung’s body. Then there’s a flash of silver. The tiger hits the grass and skitters away from Jisung, howling. Jisung pushes himself up quickly, just in time to see Changbin double over, face contorted in pain. A strangled groan claws its way out of his throat and his eyes burn as they track the tiger, limping on one of his front legs. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, righting himself with some effort thanks to the pain throbbing through his body, reaching out like slow growing flames, burning from the inside out. Jisung must still carry knives as a backup even after all this time. 

“Changbin?” Confusion is laced through Jisung’s voice. His eyes are wide, searching Changbin’s face, the anger in them dwindling down to embers even as Changbin watches. Something almost like fear flashes in his eyes instead, and the pain from earlier breaks loose across his face once more. Jisung takes a tentative step towards Changbin.

On Jisung’s other side, however, the tiger crouches, preparing to pounce. The move strains his injured leg, and though he may be able to cope with the pain, Changbin is not as strong. He gasps, clutching at his chest even though he knows the pain isn’t his and can’t be calmed by anything he might do. “Minho, don’t ,” he groans. The tiger leaps anyway.

A wretched cry tears from Changbin’s throat when the tiger lands hard on the ground in front of him, shielding him from Jisung although he’s made no move to attack again. Pain burns through Changbin’s core, lighting his nerve ablaze and blurring his vision. The tiger growls, a low rumbling in his throat that Changbin can feel in the trembling ground. And he leaps again. 

Changbin yells for Minho to stop, but the tiger is consumed as much by rage as pain, and his cries fall on deaf ears. The tiger barrels into Jisung, teeth bared, and snaps his jaws shut without a trace of mercy, catching his jacket instead of flesh and bone only because of Jisung’s quick retreat. With none of the gentleness the tiger had held Changbin with mere minutes earlier, he leaps again, yanking Jisung like a ragdoll before he can make any move to defend himself, and dragging him across the ravaged ground. 

As he runs, the strain on his leg - each impact coming relentlessly after the last - sends Changbin to the ground, struggling to breathe through a constricting throat, his chest squeezing so tight he’s afraid it might collapse in on him. Jisung’s knife must have cut deep.

The tiger takes one last mighty bound forward and horror spreads like ice through Changbin as he realizes what’s about to happen. Fear burns freezing cold right alongside the raging flames of Minho’s pain. He hears himself scream, but this time it’s not for Minho. 

The tiger’s front paws land in the mud at the edge of the lake, sinking and sliding, and he hurls Jisung into the air while Changbin watches with wide, stricken eyes. Jisung’s name rings in the air, still a frantic cry on Changbin’s lips, as he tumbles gracelessly through the fog and plummets towards the water. The fog swallows him whole, and in an instant all that’s left of him is a loud splash and large waves spreading out towards the bank. 

Everything turns gray and staticy around Changbin, like the fog has swept back in to consume him as well. He drags himself forward, half crawling, half stumbling to his feet. Each step is a sharp flash of pain bowing him over, but he can’t stop. He won’t. All he can see is that deep, dark water. The ripples fade to nothing. Jisung does not resurface. Changbin trips over his feet, goes careening forward, and hits the ground hard, catching himself on his hands. He pushes himself back up. Jisung can’t swim. 

Closer, closer, he’s almost to the edge of the water when Minho is shouting his name and a strong hand is clutching his shoulder, yanking him back. 

“Changbin!” Minho says again, arm clutched to his chest, coated in shining blood. The sight cuts through the haze in Changbin’s mind, reminds him of the fresh pain twisting and curling around his ribs like thorns on blooming flowers. “We have to get out of here. Have to get back to Seungmin and Felix.”

Changbin’s eyes are wide when he looks away from Minho’s face and back to the still water. “No.” He stumbles as he tears his arm away. One step forward. The water is up to his ankles, biting cold. 

“What are you doing ?” Minho hisses through clenched teeth. “Get out of there!”

“No!” Changbin sinks down to his knees in the bitterly cold water. Minho grabs at him again and catches the neck of his jacket. Minho’s grip is too tight to shake, so Changbin lets his arms go loose and jerks forward, right out of the jacket and away from Minho. The momentum sends him careening forward, and he falls chest first into the lake. 

The frigid water wraps around him, cold seeping down to his bones in seconds and threatening to swallow him whole. Changbin gasps for air. Although his head is still above water, submerged in the freezing lake, he can barely breathe. 

“Changbin!” Minho cries again, chest heaving, composure slipping to nothing, “You can’t! We’re already hurt. You can’t .”

“I have to,” Changbin chokes out, shaking, slipping deeper until icy water hits his lower lip and his throat seizes. “I can’t let him-” Changbin’s last word is swallowed by the lake as it rises to swallow him whole. 

Beneath the surface, the world is dark and murky; Changbin can’t see a thing beyond his own blurry hands clenching in front of him. The water burns his eyes, so cold it stings sharper than saltwater, but Changbin doesn’t have time to waste. He kicks off from the silty ground under his feet and slips blindly through the water. 

Down here it doesn’t matter that his throat is closing up from the freezing temperatures because to drag in a breath would be to invite death right to him with open arms. The water cuts and ripples around him as he pulls and pushes against it with stiff limbs, and his heartbeat slows until all he can hear is the rush of water and a slow, barely-there beat of life within himself. At least the frozen depths have eased the burning flames of Minho’s pain pulsing through him to faint whispers, echoes of cries left behind at the surface. 

The world is on fire up above, but down here all Changbin knows is the burn of his lungs and the fast-fading heat of Jisung’s magic somewhere up ahead, drawing him in. He kicks out again and his fingertips hit something slick, which gives way beneath his touch. He pushes his arms out and drags them back to his sides to propel himself forward, and another catches against his skin, then another. He’s entered a maze of water lily stems. 

When Changbin kicks out again, the stems twist and wraps around his legs, threatening to hold him in place, keep him under until his lungs give out and it becomes entirely too late to reach Jisung. He kicks harder, and hears the distant splash of lily pads being yanked underwater. The roots let him go and he weaves through them like a water snake, pale, eerie light flickering around him in puddles as the canopy above him is set to churning by his frantic disruption. 

Still, it is by feel, not by sight, that he finds Jisung’s sinking body, half caught in the lily stems up ahead. Nothing but the faintest buzz of magic emanates from Jisung, and Changbin’s sense of urgency grows until it fogs his head as much as the blackness creeping in from lack of oxygen. He gives one last hard kick against the lilies and hooks numb fingers in Jisung’s billowing jacket. All the magic Changbin can muster pools in his chest and shoots down through his body, filling him with one last burst of strength and pushing him upwards as he drags Jisung closer until his arms are wrapped around a frighteningly still chest.

Despite open eyes, Changbin’s vision is fully dark until the moment his legs give one last weak kick and his head breaks the surface of the lake. Gasping for air like he’s never tasted anything sweeter in his life, Changbin tries to tread water and haul Jisung’s head up out of the water so he can breathe too. He’s barely gotten Jisung’s lips past the surface though, when the magic drains from his body and he sees the blurry world rush away from him again as the lake swallows him up once more. 

His heart beats loud and panicked in his ears, but even still, it is drowned out by the rush of water around him. Changbin tightens his grip on Jisung, still frighteningly limp, and kicks furiously against the lily stems and ice surrounding him. For one terrifying moment, he thinks he hears screaming come from somewhere above, and the stabbing pain from earlier returns with a fury to his chest. His heart seizes and drops, and his vision blurs so he’s unable to even see the rippling surface of the lake any longer. Minho . 

His kicks gain strength in his panic, and Changbin meets the air again just long enough to get a lungful before the angry waters jump up to claw at his nose and throat. Bubbles stream around him, and the water froths like ocean waves. Changbin thinks for a moment that the lake has somehow come alive to pull him under and hold him there until he can’t fight any longer, when he realizes that the foaming water feels warm and light, not at all the breath-catching cold it was before. And it isn’t dragging him down to the frigid, muddy depths, but upwards. He feels his body rising and lurching forwards like it’s being dragged by a string except.... no, he recognizes this. 

Changbin’s head breaks the surface again, Jisung’s following a heartbeat later, and there’s no denying it: this is magic. The burn of both the cold and the pain shooting through Changbin’s eases ever so slightly, and his chest heaves for air as magic pulls him through the icy waters to the lake’s edge. His eyes are still blurred from the lakewater, but he doesn’t need to see to know whose magic is wrapped around him as secure as his own arms around Jisung. He’d recognize Seungmin’s warm, golden light anywhere.

In a moment his legs catch against mud and weeds and he knows they’ve reached the shore. The magic fades, loses its tug, but stays wrapped protectively around him a little longer. Changbin drops one hand from around Jisung to grab at the grass beyond the lake, anchors his feet against the slippery ground, and hauls himself out of the lake, Jisung right after. Every inch of him wants to collapse, shivering and exhausted from the frozen water, from the shrieking pain bursting from his chest, and the shrieking out loud , though it barely filters through his buzzing ears, but Jisung is as frozen as the lake, and fear is a powerful motivator. 

Changbin pushes himself to his knees beside Jisung and lays a hand on his chest. He can feel almost no magic left in him at all, can’t feel any rise or fall of his body, any beat of his heart. Terror grips him and he pushes, with his arm and with his own magic, flowing through him and into Jisung. For a moment, nothing happens, and Changbin’s face is wet and his eyes burn, but it has little to do with the lakewater now. Another desperate swell of magic sparks between them, and Jisung’s name is a hushed prayer on Changbin’s frozen, wet lips. Again, there is nothing, and Changbin feels a sob threaten to burst from him. It can’t end like this, it can’t . One last flicker of pale white hope, and the sob claws its way out as Jisung’s lips part and he takes a small, haggard breath before coughing up a violent lungful of lakewater.

Changbin doubles over, head falling onto Jisung’s shoulder, breathing heavily and shaking so hard it hurts, but he’s alive, and he can feel the slow spread of life and magic beneath him once more. Jisung is alive too.

As if this realization has broken a dam, the rest of the world comes rushing in all at once. Three familiar voices are calling his name, and mere moments later, warmth blooms around him as his friends find themselves at his side. He can’t find the strength to lift his head, to do anything but grit his teeth, dig his fingers into Jisung’s sopping jacket, and breathe. 

“Changbin,” comes Minho’s choked cry as he drapes a dry jacket over Changbin’s shoulders and presses in close, his chest against Changbin’s back like a living blanket, “you almost died .” Minho is as furious as he is relieved that Changbin is still in one piece. “Why would you do something so stupid ?”

Changbin trembles, caught between Minho’s warmth and a still-freezing Jisung. “I couldn’t let him drown.” 

“What about you? About us ?” Minho hisses angrily, but his uninjured hand is gentle as it rubs up and down Changbin’s arm, assuring him that as mad as Minho is, more than anything, he’s simply grateful Changbin made it back out of the lake.

Changbin just shakes his head. He hadn’t been thinking about any of that. He’d just known he couldn’t let Jisung die at the bottom of a freezing lake when he was right there. 

Minho grips him tighter, trying to peel him away from Jisung as his shallow breaths start to grow stronger, but Changbin refuses to budge. “He hurt us,” Minho grits out, “would have killed us.”

“No.” Changbin feels like he’s being torn apart. “He stopped, tried to say something. He wanted to talk.”

“He attacked us. He just wanted to fight.” Minho pulls Changbin back into him until Changbin’s numb fingers give out and they go tumbling away from Jisung. 

Changbin cries out as the cloudy sky spins above him and he lands half on the grass, half caught in Minho’s arm. Minho groans as the air is knocked from his lungs, but doesn’t loosen his grip. 

“You don’t know him like I do,” Changbin says, weak as he struggles against the steady burn of his chest to try and sit up.

“It’s been so long,” Minho grunts, curling protectively around Changbin, letting him right them but not move any closer to Jisung again, “do you really even know him at all anymore?”

Changbin squeezes his eyes shut. He has to believe he does. He has to believe the Jisung he knows is still there, buried beneath the hurt and the anger. When he opens his eyes again, it’s because someone groans an arm’s reach away from him, and there’s only one other person on the ground with him that isn’t Minho. 

“Jisung,” he says, voice quiet but laced with urgency. He reaches out with the arm that Minho doesn’t have pinned to his side to brush against Jisung’s hand. It’s still cold as ice, but it twitches at his touch. Jisung’s face twists with pain, but his eyes open to slits. 

“Changbin?” He breathes, head twisting towards the sound of his voice. His eyes fight open to crecsents, and the twitching of his hand grows into fingers twisting around Changbin’s. 

“You’re okay,” Changbin chokes back another sob. He twines their fingers together tighter. It doesn’t matter that Jisung chased them to the woods, that he threw the first stone. He’s not strong enough to fight now even if he wanted to, and Changbin can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t. At least not anymore. 

Jisung blinks slowly, brows furrowing to make deep creases in his face. “The lake...what…” he coughs up another mouthful of water and his eyes squeeze shut again.

“I got you out.” He feels the slight tremble of Minho’s body against him, and wriggles his arm free so he can wrap a hand around Minho’s wrist and squeeze gently, the only comfort he can offer. A strange, muffled sound comes from somewhere above Changbin’s head and he becomes aware of Seungmin and Felix hanging back behind him again, watching. “We,” he corrects himself.

“You…” Jisung’s eyes open again, shining half moons. Something dawns on him and spreads across his face, twisting his features like a fresh wave of pain. “I hurt you.”

Changbin can only nod as Minho’s grip tightens further and he growls into Changbin’s shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Jisung’s voice shakes and it stabs through Changbin’s heart, makes the firey pain in him burn hotter than ever. “I just wanted to get you back. Bring you home.”

Minho growls again, deep and angry. Changbin squeezes Jisung’s hand and feels his face crumble. “Jisung,” he murmurs, “I can’t go back.”

“Why?” Jisung looks up at him, imploring. “Why did you leave?”

“I had to,” Changbin all but whispers.

Jisung shakes his head weakly. “You didn’t.”

“I did ,” Changbin insists. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me.” Jisung tugs Changbin’s hand until their palms are pressed together, fingers interlocked. “ Show me.”

Changbin’s breath catches. He feels Minho tense against him, and runs his thumb against Minho’s wrist to soothe him as much as he can in this state. “It’s not pretty,” he warns, eyes locked on Jisung.

“I don’t care,” Jisung breathes. “It’s you. I need to know.”

Changbin holds his gaze for several long seconds before making up his mind. “Okay.”

Minho’s grip tightens to the point where it almost hurts, and Changbin looks away from Jisung so he can twist stiffly in Minho’s arm. 

“Changbin,” Minho says, a note of warning in his voice, “I don’t-”

“I can do this,” Changbin cuts him off, hoping determination shows on his face despite his exhaustion. 

When Minho doesn’t show any signs of yielding, Changbin twists further, as much as he can without relinquishing his hold on Jisung, and maneuvers his free hand up to rest on Minho’s chest, right where he feels their bond the strongest. “Please, Minho. This is the only way. It’ll be okay; I can do it.”

Minho presses his lips into a thin line, but Changbin still sees them tremble. The resolve in Minho’s eyes wavers. 

“Trust me?” Changbin pleads.

Minho lets out a long exhale through his nose and it’s like the fight leaves him with the breath. His head falls gently against Changbin’s as he presses their foreheads together, and eyes close so that all Changbin can see is a sliver of silver. “Okay,” he concedes, shoulders sagging, “I trust you.”

Changbin lets out a breath of relief and nuzzles into Minho for a beat. “Thank you.”

“Don’t push yourself,” Minho warns as he loosens his grip on Changbin. “I can’t help you in there.”

Changbin nods, setting his jaw against a fresh wave of pain as Minho moves away. “Seungmin,” his eyes flick up to where Seungmin has been standing, silent and waiting all this time, “can you bandage him until we can get to-” he cuts himself off before saying the healer’s name. As much as he wants to believe in Jisung, he can’t risk putting an innocent, unaligned friend in danger by exposing them to Chan’s coven. 

Seungmin nods, eyes already on Minho’s bloody arm. Felix, standing rigid at his side, teeth bared with distrust, doesn’t let his gaze waver from Jisung. Changbin figures that’s all he can really expect from him anyway.

Changbin looks back to Minho, a silent word of understanding passing between them. Changbin gives Minho’s good arm one last reassuring squeeze before turning fully back to Jisung. The world narrows down to just him, cold and dripping lakewater on the ground in front of Changbin.

“Here,” Changbin says, releasing Jisung’s hand and reaching forward to clasp both sides of Jisung’s heavy jacket at the opening, “can I?” 

Jisung nods, grimacing as he tries to lift his shoulders so Changbin can get the jacket off - they’re probably bruising from the force of the tiger’s impact. It takes a minute of uncomfortable shifting, but eventually the sopping material is flung off to the side where it can no longer trap Jisung’s body like a blanket of ice. As soon as it’s discarded, Jisung’s hand wraps tight around Changbin’s once more.

“You ready?” Changbin asks, vaguely aware that while he can hear Seungmin fidgeting with something behind him, Minho hasn’t moved from his spot just shy of where Changbin is kneeling beside Jisung. 

Jisung nods again, and the action is weak, but his eyes are set, resolute. 

“Okay.” Changbin reaches for Jisung’s other hand as well, and twists their fingers together. This, at least, is something familiar, something he could do in his sleep. It makes what’s going to come next a little easier. “I’m sorry,” he whispers to Jisung just before closing his eyes to concentrate. ( Whether it’s about what he’s already done or what he’s about to do, he isn’t entirely sure. )

The air stirs around him and spots of warmth melt into his skin like snowflakes without a trace of cold. The calm heat seeps through him to pool in his chest, and the last thing Changbin can feel before the whole world falls away is Minho’s hand on his shoulder and Jisung’s hands locked with his own. Take me back , he thinks.

For a moment there is nothing but darkness, and the feeling of falling, down down down . This is farther back than he’s ever gone before. Then Changbin hits the bottom and color bursts in his eyes. He blinks at his surroundings, thin and blurry like they’re made of smoke. He recognizes them regardless. Beside him, Jisung takes a gasping breath, hand tightening in Changbin’s.

“This is…” 

“Yeah,” Changbin says softly, watching the ghost of himself walk past them. He can feel his own old excitement thrumming under his skin, dark magic buzzing right alongside it, and he knows Jisung can feel it too. 

Hey, Hyunjin, wait the fuck up! Changbin’s ghost calls out towards the figure ahead of them.

The scene shifts around Changbin and Jisung. The ghosts of Changbin’s memories drift around them, while they stay perfectly still, watching everything unfold before their eyes. Changbin watches his old self glow a deep red and shoot off the ground after Hyunjin, crashing into him and knocking them both to the ground.

Ass , ghost Hyunjin snaps, appearing angry until a wide grin breaks out across his face and they both burst out laughing. Maybe if you weren’t so slow, it wouldn’t be a problem. Changbin’s ghost zaps Hyunjin with something, bright light flashing for a moment before he scrambles to his feet and rockets off, almost flying. Hyunjin shouts and races off after him, and the scene scrambles again. 

Changbin watches with a growing sense of dread as his past starts to spin all too quickly in front of him. He watches himself reach the spot that had once been so familiar to him, where he and Hyunjin used to spar without ever laying a finger on each other. Where they used to go when their magic sat still in them too long and they got antsy, overflowing with power and pride. Changbin watches ghost Hyunjin catch up to the echo of himself, watches the match start. 

He can feel everything he’d felt then swimming through him again now, until at some point it grows so strong that suddenly he’s the one swimming in it . And then ghost Hyunjin lands a hit a little too hard and Changbin sees and feels himself get swept under, carried away by the power searing through him, hot and angry and ready to strike. He knows what’s coming next, and he’d thought he could handle this, but bile rises in his throat and he can’t watch any longer. As he averts his eyes, burying his face in Jisung’s shoulder without entirely meaning to, he becomes aware of his death grip on Jisung’s hand. But Jisung doesn’t say anything. He stands stock still, wide eyes focused on ghost Changbin’s every move. 

Changbin feels it coming. It’s the moment where the wave feels as clear as crystal before it breaks around the edges and crashes down. The moment of deathly silence, of bated breath between bright lightning and angry, deafening thunder. Changbin feels it, but worse than anything else, he remembers , as clear as day. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget.

Jisung sucks in a sharp breath beside him as Changbin’s ghost lets loose like neither Hyunjin or he himself have done thus far. Even as observers to a misty recollection, they can tell it’s too much. Changbin hears ghost Hyunjin shout out, feels himself - no, his old self - not register it, too caught up in the thrill, in the rush of power. The younger, darkness-filled him realizes a beat too late that he has lost control, and spins away from Hyunjin. 

Then comes the scream, high and pained, and Changbin grits his teeth so hard it hurts. It’s one thing to hear it in his nightmares, another thing entirely to relive it. Every nerve in his body is on fire, overloaded from shouldering the pain of both his past and present. Beside him, Jisung is barely breathing as he watches Changbin’s ghost blaze brighter than he’s ever seen, a red sun taking human form. More magic courses through the echo of Changbin than his body is capable of holding back, and it’s dark as night as it crashes from him in violent waves. The scream comes again, weaker this time, like that of a dying animal. 

If Changbin and Jisung weren’t watching from the safety of a different time, they would have been knocked to the ground, destroyed by the outburst. 

When the sunset spill of red has drained completely from Changbin’s ghost and all that remains is the darkness coating every inch of the memory like slick oil, Jisung gasps. Changbin pulls away from Jisung and forces his own eyes open. He sees himself on his knees before them, doubled over and shaking with a fury. Behind him, Hyunjin is buried under a thick layer of protective magic - the only reason he’s still alive to witness the aftermath. 

“Was that Hyunjin screaming?” Jisung asks, voice deathly quiet.

Changbin’s eyes burn and he feels a hot tear slip down his cheek. “No,” he breathes. He watches himself shudder violently, remembers the freezing cold that had enveloped him the moment the scorching blaze of dark magic had left him. 

The barrier around Hyunjin drops and he lets out a wretched cough, but pushes himself to his feet and stumbles over to Changbin, dropping to his knees again an arm’s reach away. Changbin, what the fuck was that. How did you channel that much power?

I didn’t , comes Changbin’s choked reply. Lost control , he heaves, more like it was channeling me.

Ghost Hyunjin sits back on his heels, bracing himself with an arm against the ground. He looks shellshocked beyond belief. I’ve never heard you scream like that.

Changbin’s blood turns to ice in his veins just as it had that night. That wasn’t me , he hears himself say. 

Changbin tenses against Jisung as the memory shifts again, and the ghosts of his past appear closer than ever as the then-Hyunjin helps Changbin to his feet. If it wasn’t you… 

Jisung gasps sharp as glass when the misty memory clears around the edges and all four of them lay eyes on the body splayed out on the ground ahead of them. A sob wrenches its way out of Changbin’s throat because he remembers this like it happened yesterday, and it hurts now like the pain is fresh again. No, no no no, he hears himself say in a voice dripping with panic. No one was supposed to be out here. But there is no denying the truth as his past self stumbles forward, away from Hyunjin, and crashes to the ground at the body. 

Jisung’s grip on Changbin’s hand tightens. The body is still as stone, half Changbin’s size. It’s just a kid. Dark hair splays against the ground by the child’s head, half covering their face. The skin not covered is marred by scrapes and magic burns, an angry red so dark it appears almost black. In the absence of magic, in the absence of life, the child is cold as ice when Changbin’s ghost reaches out with a shaking hand to slide their eyes closed. 

Jisung is speechless at his side as they watch Changbin collapse in on himself, sobbing so hard he can’t breathe. The pain of the past washes over them and tears stream freely down Changbin’s cheeks - his current self’s and his ghost’s. He feels himself sinking under, drowning again. This time it’s not in magic, not in water, but in his own mind. He tries to pull them out - they’ve seen enough - but Jisung keeps them rooted in place.

Changbin loses his sense of time. The scene unfurls, unending before him. He watches himself cough and cry and fall apart, losing a piece of himself that he still hasn’t been able to get back. 

It feels as though years have passed before the ghost of Hyunjin recovers enough to pick himself up again and make his way to Changbin. He pulls Changbin to his feet and starts dragging him away from the child’s body. Don’t tell anyone, he mutters, eyes narrowed. We were never here. This didn’t happen. 

The scene shifts and spins as Changbin protests, struggling weakly against Hyunjin, before everything turns too misty to make out. Changbin’s magic is weakening, draining. He’s not sure how much longer the memory will last. But even as he tries a second time to pull them from the dream, Jisung once again keeps them there. Foggy shapes of familiar people and places fade in and out around them, until color pours into a place more familiar than anything else. 

Changbin and Jisung land in Jisung’s old room. It’s night, and the room would be dark if not for the weak light spilling in from the city streets out Jisung’s windows. The blue glow from a nearby storefront casts then-Jisung’s skin pale and ghostly where he lays sleeping in his bed, blankets tucked up to his chin, knees curled into his chest. 

Changbin lets out a small sound of surprise as he watches himself slip into the room. He remembers this. But of course he does, because these are his own memories, and this one is as precious as it is painful. At the time, he’d thought this would be the last he ever saw of Jisung. 

On the other side of the door, he knows his knapsack is packed with just a spare set of clothes and food and water he’d snuck from the kitchen, ready to go. This is only a few hours after what they’ve just seen, after Hyunjin dragged him back home from the wreckage he’d left behind. 

He has since cleaned himself up - or rather, after they returned, Hyunjin forced Changbin into the shower with him and scrubbed all the evidence off their skin until Changbin came back from where he’d retreated into the deep recesses of his own mind - and if not for the way he still trembles and looks downright haunted, everything would appear to be fine. If he weren’t wearing street clothes instead of nightwear, it would look like he’s just getting ready to climb into bed. But Changbin is not there to sleep. 

Jisung stares with rapt attention as Changbin’s ghost picks his way carefully across the floor and comes to a stop just shy of the bed. This is where his resolve crumbles. Changbin watches himself sink to his knees and reach a tentative hand out to brush Jisung’s bangs from his face, touch feather light so as not to wake him. Not a moment later, he draws his hand back and ducks his head, letting out a shaky breath and bracing himself against the bed frame. When this ghost of Changbin looks back up, his lips are trembling, and even in the lowlight, his eyes shine. He presses his lips together, breathing slowly through his nose, trying to compose himself even though no one is awake to bear witness to anything.

“I’m sorry,” he says, barely loud enough to hear. “I hope you know. I hope you don’t hate me.” He hangs his head again, and Changbin can feel old shame brewing alongside determination. “I don’t want to leave you, but-” he cuts himself off despite knowing Jisung can’t hear him “-but I can’t stay.” 

Jisung’s grip on Changbin’s hand tightens again as they watch the memory come to a hazy close. Changbin’s ghost sighs, long and heavy, pushing himself to his feet, and for a moment he is Atlas bearing the weight of the entire sky. “Goodbye, Jisung,” he breathes. As the magic weakens and fades, the last thing visible before darkness falls again is a faint press of lips to Jisung’s cheek. Then there is nothing, and Changbin and Jisung are falling again. 

Down down down they tumble, and Changbin is gripped by the fear that he won’t be able to pull them back out. He squeezes his eyes shut against the darkness and tries to feel for something, anything, that isn’t the endless night. Everything is cold, and it’s as though they are submerged in the lake once more. Even Jisung’s hand in his is freezing. 

As panic claws at Changbin’s throat, he finally feels it: a spark of heat. Somewhere to his back, there is warmth. His focus shifts, latching on like a drowning man to a life vest, and he chases. It takes all of Changbin’s strength to drag them back up and out of the void of his vanished memories.

He opens his eyes to light. The ground is solid beneath him, and the fog has remained parted around the edge of the lake, pushed out by all the magic, but Changbin doesn’t truly believe he’s escaped the past until Minho comes into focus before his eyes. 

Minho’s injured arm is still cradled close to his chest, but the bleeding has been subdued, the wound bandaged. The pain is now more throbbing ache than shooting flames. Minho’s other arm is stretched out, beyond where Changbin’s eyes can see, but oh, that’s what the warmth at his back is .

“Sun above, you fucking scared me.” Minho looks like he wants to say more, but he presses his lips into a thin line and settles for simply drawing Changbin closer. 

Jisung’s hand has gone limp around Changbin’s, so there’s nothing to stop Changbin from leaning into Minho and being tugged to his feet. As he stands, Changbin becomes aware of more than just Minho’s warmth; to his left he sees Seungmin and Felix, one pair of eyes filled with concern and fixed on him, the other glaring daggers down at Jisung. Without thinking, Changbin follows Felix’s line of sight back to Jisung.

He must have pushed himself up when Changbin stood, because he’s now half sitting, chest propped up by knees curled into his body. His face is carefully blank again, and he ignores the glares and untrusting gazes levelled on him. Jisung looks at Changbin like he’s the only thing he can see. “What now?”

Changbin can’t tell if the question is meant to sound like a dare, but he knows it is directed solely at him. 

“Now you should count your blessings that I haven’t paid you back for everything you’ve just done,” Minho growls from Changbin’s side. His free hand moves from Changbin’s back to wrap around his shoulder, as if to keep him in place. 

Jisung blinks up at Changbin. His eyes hold Changbin as tight as Minho’s hand. Changbin doesn’t know what to do.

“We should leave,” Seungmin says when the silence draws on too long, when the air grows too thick to bear. His voice is carefully guarded, so much that Changbin nearly misses the tremor in it. He glances away from Jisung to see Seungmin is still watching him, while Felix is his second pair of eyes, remaining focused on Jisung. 

Changbin finds himself nodding. He looks back to Jisung, a sense of finality hanging over him. He must understand now. He must. What Changbin hasn’t showed him of that night, Jisung already knows. Changbin can never go back. 

In spite of this, Changbin finds himself surprised when Minho takes a step back and the hand on Changbin’s shoulder encourages him to follow. Seungmin and Felix step away from Jisung like a single being. Changbin realizes they’re going to leave Jisung here. He plants his feet firm against the ground.

“You can’t stay here,” he says. With eyes only for Jisung, he misses the looks that flit across his friends’ faces. “Did you spend the night at the inn?”

Jisung stares at Changbin for a long moment, unblinking. He nods. 

Changbin takes back the ground he lost when Minho pulled him back and holds a hand out to Jisung. 

“We are not bringing him back to town,” Minho grits out. Changbin can feel anger simmering in him, but he greets it with nothing but bitter determination. Leaving Jisung here, sopping wet in the cold air, lost in the depths of the murky woods, drained of magic and exhausted, would mean Changbin hauled him from the lake for nothing. Changbin won’t leave him here to succumb to the dark day all alone, not when he has the choice and the ability to help him back to some semblance of safety. Now that he’s not backed into a corner, running for his life, he’ll do the right thing. 

Changbin doesn’t draw his hand back to his side until Jisung has taken it and the movement is necessary to pull Jisung to his feet. 

With four fingers wrapped around his water-logged jacket, five fingers curled around Changbin’s, Jisung sways a bit where he stands. 

“Changbin,” comes Seungmin’s voice from behind him. A warning.

Changbin’s focus remains on Jisung. “Are you done fighting? Will you go back home?”

A small, bitter smile worms its way onto Jisung’s face. “It doesn’t feel much like home anymore.”

Changbin’s chest grows tight, like Jisung’s words have wrapped around his heart and squeezed. 

“But I’m done. I guess I came all this way for nothing.” He lets out a humorless laugh, but he doesn’t tug his hand from Changbin’s grasp. Exhaustion seeps through the pained creases of his face. It’s enough for Changbin.

“I’m not leaving him here,” he says, finally turning to face three pairs of wary eyes. 

Minho moves to protest. Seungmin squints, disapproving and not entirely understanding. Felix continue to glare openly at Jisung.

“Just to town,” Changbin promises. “Then it’s over. We never see him again.” The words bite on the way out. One goodbye had been hard enough.

Minho must feel the sharp sting of defeat in Changbin, because he bites back his protest and exhales through his nose, head tilting in acceptance. “Fine,” he sighs. His eyes shift to Jisung and lose every trace of warmth they have when he looks at Changbin. “Do anything and I will tear you to shreds,” he hisses, the threat as sharp as tiger’s claws. 

Jisung says nothing, but he nods silently. When Changbin takes a step forward, he tightens his grip on Jisung’s hand, just in case he tries to let go, and though Jisung remains at arm’s length, shaky as he walks, his fingers stay curled firmly around Changbin’s.

The group moves forward through the woods uneasily. Silence hangs heavy over them, the air taut with nearly palpable tension. They reach fog again and the world shrinks around them. Minho maneuvers himself back to Changbin’s side and keeps him steady even as he tries to keep Jisung steady despite his own exhaustion. The attempt proves futile when they finally make it to a familiar path and Changbin’s right foot catches on a dip in the ground and he stumbles far more than he should. He loses his hold on Jisung, and if not for Minho, he would taste dirt in a fall. 

Their slow progress comes to a halt. “You can’t drag yourself and him,” Minho says with both irritation and worry in his voice. This time, Changbin can’t argue. He lets himself be pulled away from Jisung as Minho adjusts, wrapping his good arm around Changbin to keep him upright. Jisung looks seconds away from crumbling to the ground, but remains silent. For a moment, there is nothing but the hushed whisper of the trees and the mist surrounding them. 

“I’ll take him,” Felix says. 

All eyes turn to him, wide with shock. Seungmin appears to ask him a silent question, which Felix answers with a small nod and a quick brush of fingers against Seungmin’s.

“How do I know you won’t just spill my guts across the grass?” Jisung asks as though he has any other option - as though his voice doesn’t shake like burnt orange leaves about to tumble from near barren branches. 

Felix narrows his eyes and stalks closer until he can grab one of Jisung’s arms to throw over his own shoulder. There is no trace of Felix’s usual gentleness in the gesture, none of the care of Changbin’s hands where they’d touched Jisung before, but not a sound of complaint slips past Jisung’s lips. He must understand the situation well enough. He’s no longer in a position to be picky. “You don’t,” Felix finally answers. 

Changbin tenses against Minho at the thought, though he knows Felix won’t do anything unless Jisung moves first, and Jisung is in no shape to be moving at all. Minho squeezes his middle, light, but enough, and Changbin breathes out. He wraps his own arm around Minho and they continue.

Silence falls again, even heavier than before. Each step towards town feels like walking across a delicate pane of glass, just waiting for it to shatter. Veiny cracks in this glass appear in the form of Jisung seizing up in a fit of coughs and Felix almost shoving him to the ground, of Changbin tripping again and straining Minho’s injured arm enough that the both of them cry out at the sharp jolt of pain, of Seungmin jumping at the sound of a crashing branch somewhere deep in the woods and turning accusing eyes on Jisung even though he’s barely getting one foot in front of the other. But though the glass chips and threatens to break at any moment, it remains intact. 

When the last tree of the forest falls away behind them and they’ve successfully made it out of the misty maze, it feels like a long-awaited miracle. No one has made a move against anyone else. They’re all still alive and kicking. The slightest bit of tension leaves Minho’s shoulders, and as Changbin feels Minho’s tight muscles loosen against him, some of the fear ebbs from his own body. The fighting is over.

Town comes next, quicker than anticipated, and dread creeps back into Changbin’s chest to dance alongside his relief. It’s over. When they get to the inn, that’s it. The last he’ll see of Jisung is his shaking figure retreating into a too-dark room, closing a door in Changbin’s face. The last he’ll see of Jisung is a tired, crumbling man. He pushes the thought away. 

Minho must sense his unease returning, because he tightens his grip ever so slightly. It’s not the time or place to say anything, so Changbin remains silent, but he finds the gesture reassuring regardless. He might be losing Jisung - again - but this time he’s not leaving his entire life, his entire world behind. This time he’s not alone. He shouldn’t forget that.

“Can’t we just drop him here and let him fend for himself? Maybe get what’s coming to him?” Felix asks, breaking Changbin free from his own thoughts. The words come through gritted teeth, with no care that Jisung is right there and can hear everything. “He’s dark. Why-” 

“This is for Changbin,” Minho cuts in before Felix can finish griping. It sends a jolt of shock racing up Changbin’s spine. “That’s why. Besides,” he juts his chin out towards the building coming into focus through the fading fog, “that’s the end of the line right there.”

Five pairs of eyes swivel to the inn. 

“Thank the stars,” Seungmin mutters.

At the first door, Felix shoves Jisung away like he’s on fire. As Jisung catches himself on the wall with a pained grunt, Felix moves back to Seungmin’s side. Changbin understands that this is as far as they’ll go, and he’s not at all surprised. If anything, he’s just impressed they came all this way in the first place. 

Minho shows no signs of letting go of Changbin, so with one arm still around him, Changbin reaches his other hand back out to Jisung. They hobble through the doorway together, an odd, exhausted trio, and head down the hall towards the room Jisung had crashed in the night before. Changbin tries very hard not to think about the fact that he’s sandwiched between his past and his present, which repel each other like magnets, but keep him caught in both their pulls. At least, until the door closes behind Jisung and the connection is severed. 

“Right here,” Jisung says, slow as he starts to pull away from Changbin so he can find the key to his room. Where Changbin expects him to reach into a pocket, Jisung surprises him. Jisung’s hand goes not to his jacket (no longer dripping) or his pants, but to his neck. A chain emerges as Jisung tugs the hem of his shirt down, and when he pulls the rest of the thin metal into the light, Changbin’s breath catches in his throat. Minho stiffens on his other side.

Two things hang at the end of the chain. One is a key, presumably to the room they’ve stopped in front of. The other is a startlingly familiar pendant. Its twin hangs just above Changbin’s heart.

When Jisung angles away from them to unlock the door, Changbin can feel Minho’s eyes on him, questioning. He does his best to ignore it as the door falls open and Jisung takes a step forward so he’s half in and half out.

“You won’t tell anyone where we are, right?” Changbin finds himself asking instead of saying goodbye.

Jisung takes another step, and, from the other side of the door frame, turns to face him. His grip on the edge of the door is so tight that his knuckles appear white. “No.” He shakes his head. “I won’t tell anyone you got a pretty new town and a happy new family.” The words sound like they’re meant to be cutting, but there’s no bite in Jisung’s voice - just disappointment. “Besides, Jungwoo would probably actually kill you if he could find you, and I guess I owe you for getting me out of that lake. Even if it was your guy that threw me in there in the first place.”

“You stabbed me,” Minho hisses under his breath. Jisung pretends he doesn’t hear. He keeps his eyes on Changbin.

“Jisung….” Changbin isn’t even sure what he wants to say.

Jisung just shakes his head. “It was nice seeing you.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but even Jisung winces as it leaves his lips. 

They stare at each other, tongue tied, unable to say anything. Changbin can feel Minho getting impatient as clearly as he can see pain creeping back across Jisung’s features, darkening his pretty brown eyes like storm clouds blanketing a twilight sky. 

“I’m sorry,” Changbin finally says.

“Sorry,” Jisung mumbles at the same time.

Changbin’s eyes widen in a mirror of Jisung’s, and the air breaks. Changbin takes a step back, and Jisung does too. “Goodbye,” Changbin says, so quiet it’s almost a whisper.

Jisung blinks and tips his head. The door starts to close, inches of the room disappearing before Changbin’s eyes. He takes another step back. Jisung is the last thing in the room to vanish, with the echo of a goodbye slipping out as the door kisses the frame and the lock clicks shut.

Changbin lets out a shaky breath. It’s over.

Fatigue hits him like a stack of bricks, and he slumps against Minho for a moment, pausing in front of the door that will open up to Seungmin and Felix. Minho lets out a long exhale through his nose, but takes the extra weight, and waits for Changbin to straighten before reaching for the handle of the door. 

When they first step back out into the weak sun and thinning fog, Changbin worries he’ll be greeted by an onslaught from Felix, but the second Felix gets a good look at him, he snaps his mouth shut. Changbin supposes that maybe looking like utter shit has its advantages sometimes.

The trip from the inn to the small shop tucked away on the other edge of town passes by like a hazy fever dream. Changbin is occasionally aware of Seungmin and Felix speaking to each other in hushed voices, but he can never make out any clear words. All he focuses on is getting one foot in front of the other, even if every step takes him farther and farther away from Jisung and everything he didn’t get the chance to say. 

Minho, like Felix, bites his tongue all the way to the small brick front building that houses a small clinic on the bottom floor and smaller living quarters up above. Inside it is the brightest Changbin has seen anything since the sun vanished behind autumn clouds a few days earlier. Everything has a warm golden glow to it, almost as welcoming as Seungmin’s aura, and Changbin figures it makes sense; Seungmin says hues can sometimes run in magic families.

“Seungmin!” A voice calls out to them from a back room. “You’re back!” Jeongin appears with the greenest plant Changbin has seen since summer cradled in his arms, and an excited smile on his face. The smile drops quickly when he catches sight of Seungmin’s entourage. His eyes zero in on Minho and he sets the potted plant carefully on a counter and hurries across the floor to them. “What happened?” 

“Knife,” Minho grunts. 

Jeongin’s eyes widen and he places a gentle hand on Minho’s shoulder so he can lead him over to the chairs tucked against the far wall. Changbin doesn’t want to leave Minho’s side, so he trails right along after them and drops into the seat beside Minho. Jeongin doesn’t comment on it.

“How long ago?” He asks, reaching for the makeshift bandages and starting to undo them.

Minho bites back a groan. “Feels like years.”

Jeongin gives him an unimpressed look.

“An hour? Three?” Minho guesses. “I don’t know.”

Jeongin sighs, and sighs again when he gets a good view of the injury. “This might hurt,” he warns.

“Can’t be worse than the real thing.” Despite his words, Minho shifts so that he can clutch Changbin’s hand as Jeongin bends into a crouch to get a better angle on Minho’s arm. Changbin squeezes lightly and hopes the action is as comforting to Minho as it is to him. 

Jeongin wraps careful hands around either side of the wound and makes eye contact with Minho once more before dipping his head and letting his eyes fall shut. He starts muttering lowly under his breath, some kind of tongue Changbin still can’t discern even after all this time. For a moment, nothing changes. Then all the light in the room seems to dim, and Jeongin starts to glow. 

Soft gold - almost as warm as Seungmin - emanates from Jeongin, moving steadily down from his chest, through his arms, to his hands. The glow seeps into Minho’s skin and his grip on Changbin tightens. Minho’s jaw clenches as gold moves under mostly-dried red blood and skin and muscle begins stitching itself back together, but not a single pained sound slips from his lips. 

Changbin counts the breaths until the glow fades and Minho’s arm looks like Jisung’s knife had never been anywhere near it. One… two… three… Minho’s grip tightens further. Four… five… six… Minho’s seventh breath is a heavy sigh as he slumps in his chair. The pain that has been steadily wearing both Minho and Changbin down dissipates like salt dropped into water, dissolving into nothing. Jeongin’s work is done. That should be it.

Apparently it isn’t. 

Jeongin’s eyes open and land on Changbin. There’s something in them - part sympathy and part pain - that makes Changbin want to squirm. Jeongin tilts his head a bit and Changbin thinks, despite his discomfort, that Jeongin’s resemblance to Seungmin really is quite striking sometimes. “I can’t do much for you,” Jeongin says, finally breaking the silence. “I’m sorry.”

Changbin blinks at him. “Yeah,” he mutters uncertainly, “I didn’t really take any hits? Just cold water.” The statement sounds much more like a question than he’d like it to.

Jeongin hums at the back of his throat as if in agreement, but his eyes narrow ever so slightly and tell a different story. “I’ll do what I can, at least.” 

Changbin can do nothing but nod dumbly as Jeongin pushes himself to his full height and moves his hands from Minho’s arm to Changbin’s shoulders. He motions for Changbin to stand, and Changbin finds himself getting to his feet even though he’s not entirely sure what Jeongin means by all this. Minho, hand still tight around Changbin’s, stands as well. Changbin can’t tell if the confusion and curiosity swirling inside of him is Minho’s or his own. It’s likely both. 

Jeongin’s hands drop down to Changbin’s chest, landing just above his ribs so they bracket the pendant hidden beneath his many damp layers. Again, Jeongin closes his eyes and mutters something unintelligible to Changbin’s ears. This time he doesn’t glow quite as bright, and as the gold sweeps over Changbin, there’s no pain involved. All he feels is warmth washing over him and driving out a bone-deep chill and easing the knots out of his tense muscles. Some of the tightness in his chest loosens, and he marvels at how much easier it is to breathe without so much weight pressing down on his lungs, constricting them. 

Jeongin drops his hands much faster than he had with Minho, and although he’s done wonders for easing Changbin’s discomfort after the lake dive, he appears unsatisfied with his work. Nevertheless, he steps away from Changbin and Minho, and when the brightness returns to the rest of the room, he has a smile on his face that makes Changbin wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing. 

“You two are both all right?” He asks as a courtesy more than anything; he’d know without their answers if they weren’t. 

Seungmin and Felix nod, returning Jeongin’s brightness with weak smiles of their own. 

“You should all be good to go, then.” He glances back to Changbin and Minho. “I’d feel better if you came back tomorrow though. The healing… it can be finicky sometimes.”

Minho nods for the both of them, and Jeongin’s eyes linger a moment longer on Changbin’s slightly dazed face before he wraps Seungmin in a quick hug and spins on his heel to head back into the room he’d been tinkering in before they arrived. 

“Stay safe,” Jeongin calls out as a parting farewell when Seungmin and Felix reach the threshold with Changbin and Minho on their heels. 

“Always try to,” Seungmin calls back, “Thank you! For everything.”

“My pleasure,” comes Jeongin’s muffled reply as Changbin is the last to step out of the small building and pull the door shut on the tail end of the words. 

As soon as the door closes behind them, silence falls again. Though Minho is now puncture-less and perfectly steady on his feet once more, Changbin is sure he can still feel the unease coiling in his stomach at Jeongin’s words, Jeongin’s too-knowing looks, and it’s keeping him as subdued as Changbin himself. The day’s events as a whole are a heavy damper on the usual light mood, not that Changbin is all that surprised. He’s fairly sure the minute they get home they’ll all be crashing into bed regardless of the hour. The day feels as though it has lasted a lifetime already. He wants little more than for it to just be over .

He doesn’t quite get what he wants.

“What the fuck was that?” Felix whisper shouts the second the front door of the safe house closes behind them.

Changbin winces and freezes with a foot still poised for his escape up the stairs to his bedroom. He squeezes his eyes shut and silently hopes he’s just hearing things, that Felix isn’t actually demanding answers he doesn’t know how to give. 

“I’d quite like to know too,” Seungmin says into the silence.

Changbin sighs. Of course there’s no getting out of this one. He opens his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to turn and face them. “I don’t know,” he admits, voice painfully small.

“That’s not-”

“Wait,” Minho cuts in before Felix can finish. “He’s exhausted. Fuck, I’m exhausted. Let’s get settled before we get into all this, okay?”

“Right,” Seungmin says, and Changbin glances back to see him nod. “Upstairs then.”

Changbin tries not to make his breath of relief too obvious. 

In his room, Changbin breaks away from Minho to snatch the first dry clothes he can find, and peels layer after layer of damp fabric off his body until he’s shivering inside a mismatched set of a sweater and sleep pants. 

“Socks,” Minho reminds him as he ushers the others into the room as well.

Seungmin and Felix set up camp in the worn down chair a few paces from the bed where Changbin sits with his legs tucked under himself once he’s followed Minho’s instruction for socks. He holds a small pillow in his lap, resisting the urge to hug it to his chest, and instead reaching for the hand Minho offers him as he sinks onto the mattress beside him. 

“I don’t even know where to start,” he says quietly, trying to will his arms to stop trembling because he shouldn’t be as cold as he is right now.

“Start with who that was,” Seungmin says. “You knew him. Before, right? He was in your coven?”

Changbin nods. He’d forgotten in the mess of everything that was happening that Minho is the only one with a vague idea of who Jisung is. Seungmin and Felix went along with everything Changbin asked even though all they saw was a dark witch he couldn’t bear to let get hurt. They trust him - in spite of everything - and he trusts them. 

“That was Jisung,” he starts. The words are hard to get out, but he doesn’t stop. He tells them that when he first joined the coven, when he first learned how to use magic - dark magic - Jisung was there. Jisung was just as new and just as green as he was. “We learned to wield together. Magic and Jisung were one in the same for me for… I don’t even know how long. At first I stuck to him because he knew the city better than I did, and he stuck to me because I took to the lessons better than he did, but after a while we just… stuck.”

Changbin sucks in a breath. He hadn’t thought this would be easy, but he didn’t expect it to be this hard. He’s not sure how much more he can say without breaking down. It feels like losing Jisung all over again, again . And if today has been any proof at all, he isn’t anywhere near strong enough for that. 

“So you were friends,” Seungmin summarizes.

“Family.” Changbin doesn’t even think before correcting. He glances away. “I almost didn’t leave because of him. Almost couldn’t do it. When you’re with someone for that long, when they’re that important to you… it feels impossible to leave them.” Seungmin and Felix exchange a glance. “But Jisung and dark magic went hand in hand, so I couldn’t - I had to get away. I had to leave. Everything.” This is an oversimplification of the truth, but it’s what his friends will understand. It’s all Changbin can bear to say.

“So he came all this way for you? To find you and what? He said it was to bring you home?” Seungmin’s brows furrow. “But you fought. He fought you. How’d he make that jump?”

Changbin shakes his head. He knows they don’t - can’t - really understand. They don’t know Jisung. “I left without warning. Without saying goodbye. Without saying anything . Like he wasn’t the person I cared about most in the world. All this time and he never knew why , and it’s easier to be angry than to admit that you’re hurt and confused. But-” Changbin lets out a deep sigh and feels himself sinking “-I guess it’s hard to get over that much history no matter how angry you are. He knows now though, so that’s all there is to it. I can’t go back. He can. It’s over.”

For a moment, there is only the sound of their quiet breathing. Changbin feels himself sink deeper. “Right,” Seungmin says softy, breaking the silence. He stands from the chair and nods for Felix to follow. “Thanks for telling us. I appreciate it, really. We’ll let you rest now.” 

As soon as the door closes behind Felix’s back, Changbin crumbles. He sags back against the blankets and all the air rushes out of his lungs. The only part of him that isn’t sinking steadily deeper is his hand, still wrapped safely in one of Minho’s own. 

“Will you stay?” Changbin breathes, clutching tight to Minho’s hand like a lifeline. 

Minho shifts on the bed and tilts his head. “I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

“No-” Changbin gives Minho’s hand a small tug “-I mean like this. Will you stay?”

Minho’s lips part in understanding, and for a beat he only blinks at Changbin. Then he offers a slight nod and clambers over Changbin’s legs to tuck himself in the space between his body and the wall.

Changbin rolls with the pull on his arm, correcting himself so his head hits the pillow instead of the comforter. From here he can kick back the blankets and hope burying himself under them will help calm the cold that has taken hold of him again. Minho tugs the covers higher and reaches his free arm over Changbin to tuck the edges under his side. When he’s done, his arm remains where it lays curled around Changbin’s chest. 

“Thanks,” Changbin mumbles, rolling onto his side so he can face Minho, “for…” he trails off. He doesn’t even know how to name every reason why he’s grateful. “You know,” he shrugs.

The corner of Minho’s lips curl up. “Yeah,” he nods.

“And I’m sorry.” Changbin glances down at their hands because it’s easier than watching Minho’s face even out from what was almost a smile. “You got stabbed because of me. I put us in danger so many times. I just-”

“I understand,” Minho cuts him off with surprising gentleness. “I do.” 

“Yeah?” Changbin wonders if this is about the witch Minho was bonded to before him. The one he doesn’t talk about. He decides not to push the subject after such a long day, and instead throws an arm around Minho’s middle as he’s accustomed to doing when they sleep, even if he’s not accustomed to Minho being in this form when he does. This time, instead of curling around a small black cat, Changbin curls into a warm chest, encircled by protective arms.

When he sleeps, he has nightmares he won’t remember.

Morning comes with dull sunshine through the curtains, and Minho gone. Changbin’s head feels heavy and quite like it’s being slowly compressed from the inside out when he sits up and glances around the room for any sign of life. He finds nothing. 

Changbin drops back down the mattress and pulls the top blanket over his head. He feels heavy, weighed down by everything he still carries from the day before. He should be rested now - he slept before sun down and has awakened now after sun up - but his eyes burn, and although he’s strangely restless, he can’t find the will to move. 

Changbin watches the thin pinpricks of light that filter through the weaving of the blanket. He does not think about Minho leaving him alone. Doesn’t think that Minho is probably downstairs with Seungmin and Felix, telling them what he felt yesterday, what Changbin felt yesterday, coming up with another plan in case Jisung doesn’t keep his word. In case Changbin can’t actually let him go again. The thoughts don’t drive him so mad that he throws back the covers and abandons his bed to go in search of his friends - he only gets up because he’s unbearably hungry all of a sudden. That’s all it is. 

Downstairs, everything he wasn’t thinking about is right there before his eyes. The kitchen table has two empty chairs tucked under it, one vacant due to Changin’s own absence, and the other because Felix has forgone his in favor of perching on the tabletop next to Seungmin. Changbin glances from the two of them to Minho alone on the other side of the table, back to him. It’s Seungmin who notices him standing across the room first.

“We made food,” he says, waving Changbin over. Felix’s head snaps up to find him walking closer. Minho turns to look at him only when he’s pulling out his chair at the table. 

Changbin eats silently while the rest of them exchange glances for one painfully long minute before resuming their conversation. Changbin tries to listen, but can’t hold on to any of the words, and eventually gives up. He stands as soon as he finishes his food, and heads without a word to the couch to curl up in a pool of dim sunlight. He feels an anxious look on his back, but simply tucks himself into a tighter ball and buries his face in the cushions. They don’t disturb him.

Changbin drifts in and out of wakefulness until a hand on his shoulder rouses him. “Hey.” Minho appears… cautious? Changbin squints up at him. “My arm started aching last night,” he says, “Jeongin wanted us to head back over anyway.” It’s a statement, but Minho delivers it like a question. Will you come with me?

Changbin stretches out of his spot on the couch and stands. “I’ll get warmer clothes.”

When he makes it back downstairs and stuffs his feet into shoes, Minho is waiting by the door. Changbin twists the knob and then holds a hand out to Minho. He doesn’t say anything, but the gesture is a question on its own. Minho accepts the offer after a beat, and they head out of the house together. 

Minho seems tense as they walk towards town, and Changbin considers trying to talk to him, but everything feels so strange now. Something about yesterday must have gotten to his head - or Minho’s - to make it feel like they’re no longer on each other’s sides anymore. And if there’re things Changbin isn’t telling Minho, he has a feeling there’s as much if not more that Minho isn’t telling him. But he pushes that thought down. This isn’t about the past. He doesn’t want to live in days gone by, none of them should. Changbin sets his eyes on the road ahead as they pass the village mart and near the center of the town. The past is over. It’s not coming back.

Just as he thinks this, a gloved hand clamps down on his mouth. “Please don’t panic,” a familiar voice whispers in his ear. Changbin blinks and suddenly the town disappears, replaced by a brick wall in a back alley that Changbin barely recognizes. He rips the hand away from his mouth and spins on his heel.

“Jisung! What-”

“Changbin!” Jisung’s eyes are wide and panicked. “I know this seems bad-”

“Understatement! Where are we? Sun above you’d better have a good fucking resason for this.”

“We’re across town. I couldn’t get us any farther away with this weak magic.” Jisung wrings his hands together and his anxiety starts to sink in to Changbin.

“Why?” He asks, worry now as strong as every other turbulent feeling writhing in his chest. 

“Remember when I said Jungwoo would probably kill you if he could find you?” Jisung asks. He’s quiet, eyes cast to the ground, ashamed. “He and Hyunjin… they followed me here. They know this is where you’ve been hiding out since Nayeon’s coven destroyed your last safehouse.” He looks back up, shame replaced by urgency. “We have to get away before they find you.”

Changbin feels fear twist sharp and fast in his gut, but grits his teeth. “I’m not leaving.”

Jisung’s face drops. His hands clench at his sides. “Why not?”

“I can’t-” Changbin realizes what he’s about to say and the words die in his mouth. I can’t leave my friends. “If they’re looking for light witches and I’m gone, all they’ll find is Seungmin. The last time dark witches found him when they were looking for me, he and Felix almost died. I can’t let that happen again. I have to warn them. And I can’t leave Minho; he’s my familiar.” Changbin’s chest squeezes at the thought of being separated from Minho. There might be some strange strain in their bond right now, but their magic, their spirits are entwined. Losing Minho would be losing a piece of himself. “Take me back to him.”

Jisung squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t think you understand how furious Jungwoo is. You almost killed Hyunjin when you made your great fucking escape. He’s not a forgive and forget guy. Whatever you think he’ll do to your friends, it’ll be worse for you. If we don’t get out of here now he will hurt you.”

“Of course I understand! If I leave Minho, Jungwoo won’t have to hurt me; I’ll be doing it to myself. And if Jungwoo finds him first and hurts him then I’ll get hurt that way anyway ! Now take me back!”

“How would that even hurt you unless…” Jisung trails off as realization sinks in on him. “So when I…”

“Yeah,” Changbin grits out. “So no more stabbing please. Now if this is so urgent, will you take me back already.”

Jisung stares at him for a long moment before his face twists in frustration and he takes Changbin’s arm. “Fine. Only because you won’t do this any other way. Just warn your friends and let’s get out of here.”

When Changbin blinks again, he opens his eyes to a different street and an absolutely livid Minho. Changbin has to leap in front of Jisung and back the both of them against the front of the shop to stop Minho from lunging at him.

“Minho, wait!” He raises his hands up to try and calm him, but he can feel anger bubbling up and frothing over.

“I thought you said you were getting the fuck out of here,” Minho snarls at Jisung. “Why are you still trying to drag him back to your vile magic?” He turns burning eyes on Changbin, “And why are you still defending him?”

“He came to warn me!” Changbin rushes to say before Jisung can get a word in and make the situation even worse. “No one is dragging me to anything, okay? But there’re other dark witches on their way. We have to warn the others.”

Minho’s face goes slack in a matter of seconds. “What?”

Changbin nods, reaches out to grab Minho’s good arm as gently as he can while still conveying the newfound sense of urgency. “They’re after me, so if you go back to warn Seungmin and Felix, I’ll see if I can draw them away before they find the wrong witch.”

“What?” Jisung demands, squeezing out from behind him to level him with an incredulous glare. “That wasn’t the plan.”

“You two’re making plans now?” Minho’s anger begins to rise again.

“No!” Changbin says, “No, forget it. The only plan is making sure none of you get hurt.”

Minho’s composure slips. “But if they get you then I’ll-”

“I know.” Changbin gives Minho’s arm a gentle squeeze. If Jungwoo and Hyunjin really are here, they don’t have time for this. “I won’t do anything reckless today. Making sure none of you gets hurt includes me being careful, okay?”

Minho looks like he wants to argue more, but concedes with a heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll warn the others. Head for the healer’s - you need to get off the street and that’s the safest building in town.”

As soon as Changbin nods in agreement, Minho vanishes from his line of sight and a small black cat races off down the road. 

“Cute trick,” Jisung mutters. 

“Can you-” Changbin turns to try and ask Jisung to just hush for a moment and let him figure out where they are so he can map out the fastest route to Jeongin’s, but the second he stops and looks at Jisung, really looks at him, the words die on his tongue. “Are you okay?” He finds himself asking instead. 

Jisung’s eyes are shadowed by dark circles, but beyond his eyes, his skin is pale enough for worry to prick at Changbin’s insides. He’s in the same clothes as the day before, and when Changbin glances down, he notices a slight tremor racing up and down his body.

Jisung blinks at him, taken aback for a moment, before shrugging and schooling his face back to passivity. “Fine.”

Changbin narrows his eyes, but the short response snaps him back to the present, the problem at hand. “Okay. Come on then.” He reaches out, takes Jisung’s hand, and spins them in the direction of Jeongin’s shop as soon as he figures out where they are. “We have to hurry.”

Jisung stumbles briefly before drawing up even to Changbin as he walks as quickly as he can without looking like he’s running. 

“How do you know Jungwoo and Hyunjin are here? That they followed you? We haven’t sensed anything.”

Jisung lets out a half laugh. “You haven’t sensed them because they didn’t want you to know they were coming. And they didn’t want me to know either. They haven’t been using magic near enough to feel. Had a lock on me and just followed at a distance until the fight yesterday drew them in. And I know because they fucking told me.”

Changbin almost stumbles at the revelation. 

“Hyunjin showed up at my room at the inn earlier to let me know I should stay out of the way. Thank the stars for his heart, otherwise you’d be completely screwed.”

“His heart?” Changbin scoffs, though he does remember how caring Hyunjin was in his own way. When he wanted to be. “Where was it when he forced me to fight my way out of the coven? When he knew what’d happened and he still tried to stop me from leaving?”

Jisung is silent for a beat. “He had his reasons. And it’s been a long time since then.”

“You’re right. Here he is on his way to help Jungwoo kill me. Clearly he’s reformed. I’m so grateful.”

“You left him for dead, what did you expect ? A thank you card?”

“I did not !” Changbin has to lower his voice as it rises. He can’t draw any attention to them, and he doesn’t want to shout at Jisung. He doesn’t want to fight. “Jungwoo was well on his way before I got that last hit in. Hyunjin was never going to die.”

“Try telling them that.”

“Do you really think I could’ve killed him?” Changbin’s voice drops painfully low, but it’s no longer because of his efforts to remain composed. “After all that? Do you really think I would have left him there if I thought he was going to die?”

Jisung slows and catches his eyes for a moment. Under the fear and worry turning them glassy, there’s remorse. “No,” he sighs, and they pick up the pace again. “But before… I didn’t know what to think. It felt like I had no idea who you were anymore, for vanishing like that, leaving Hyunjin like that, leaving me .”

“I didn’t want to,” Changbin murmurs.

“Didn’t want to what? Leave Hyunjin half buried and barely breathing?”

“No. Well, yes , obviously. I didn’t want to fight him at all,” Changbin rushes to correct himself before a sigh slips from him and his voice lowers again. “But I mean I didn’t want to leave you. Especially not like that.”

“Then why did you?” Jisung’s doesn’t look at him when he asks.

“I told you - I couldn’t stay.”

“That doesn’t mean you had to leave me,” Jisung says, deathly quiet.

“I… what?” Changbin has to force himself not to stop right then and there to turn and look Jisung dead in the eyes to see if he’s serious. But did he ever say things he didn’t mean? 

Jisung clears his throat and keeps his focus on the road beneath their feet. “You could’ve told me what was happening, what you were going to do. You could’ve given me a chance.”

Changbin’s grip on Jisung’s hand tightens and he bites down on his lip. “I couldn’t,” he says, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. 

“I would’ve listened,” Jisung’s voice is thick when he speaks. 

Changbin shakes his head. “I was too scared.”

“I would’ve done anything,” Jisung tells him, the honesty in the words enough to make Changbin’s throat seize.

Changbin blinks hard, forgetting for a moment that they’re supposed to be worrying about Jungwoo and Hyunjin. All he can think about is the image of Jisung the night he left, fresh in his memory once more. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

For a heavy moment all that fills the air is the sound of their footsteps and shop doors opening as they pass by. A shuddering breath from Jisung breaks the silence. “ Why ?” 

“I just…” Changbin hesitates, but there’s no point in holding out on him anymore. Jisung deserves the truth. “I was scared that if I had to face you I wouldn’t be able to go through with it. Scared that I’d end up asking you to leave with me. But-” he takes a deep breath “-but I was more scared that you’d… say yes.”

“Would that have been so terrible? Would it really have been worse than leaving me behind like that?”

 “I don’t know,” Changbin admits, eyes flitting across the markers on the buildings around them so he doesn’t miss his turn. So he isn’t tempted to look at Jisung, to see the look on his face. “I just didn’t want to make you give up everything. Not because of me.”

“It wouldn’t have been everything.” Jisung’s voice is so soft Changbin almost doesn’t hear him.

“It would’ve been our coven, our magic . How is that not everything?” 

When Jisung doesn’t respond, Changbin barrels ahead. “You told me the coven was the first family you ever had, the first place that was ever really home. I couldn’t live with myself if I’d even asked you to give that up for me. And your magic… I thought you never wanted to be powerless again after everything. You would’ve regretted it.”

“How do you know what I would’ve regretted?” Jisung snaps before reeling himself back in. He sighs, part frustration, part resignation. “Sun above, you really are as thick as always. The coven was family because you were there, fucking idiot. Chan was always busy, Jungwoo and Hyunjin could never tear themselves away from each other for long, and no one else was around enough to matter. It was home because of you . And I was never powerless, even before Chan taught us. You can’t survive in the city on the streets if you’re weak or stupid. That was never the problem. The worst part of it all was just being alone .”

Changbin’s brain grinds to a halt so fast his body stops as well. A good thing too, or he’d have led them right past Jeongin’s shop. He points numbly to the building, and this time it’s Jisung who has to drag him forward. Changbin’s heart is splintering in his chest. All this time with a thousand what-ifs running through his head, nights spent drowning in regret he could only escape by convincing himself he’d done what was best for Jisung, just for Jisung to say all he’d done was hurt him in exactly the way he’d been trying not to. 

The only thing that stops the thoughts from eating him alive is the sudden flash of panic that races through him mere moments before Jisung pulls open the door to Jeongin’s shop. The panic is not his own. His eyes go wide as he snaps out of his stupor, and by the time the door is falling shut behind them, the panic has spread through his entire body and holds him so tight he can barely breathe. 

As he tenses, Jisung finally turns to him. It doesn’t take any time at all for him to realize something’s not right. “What’s wrong?” he asks, just as hot pain lashes through Changbin and makes him double over into Jisung’s arms. 

“Minho,” he chokes. “Something happened.” Another flash of pain has Changbin groaning into Jisung’s shoulder. “They must have found him somehow.”

Distantly, Changbin hears a door open and the sound of hurried footsteps, but he doesn’t register what they mean until Jeongin’s hand is on his back. For a brief moment, a wave of calm sweeps over him and the pain subsides, and though it returns as quickly as it had gone, the reprieve is enough to grant him clarity again. 

“Changbin?” Jeongin doesn’t bother asking what’s wrong; with his gifts, he can feel it just as well as Changbin can.

Changbin draws in a lungful of air that tastes stale and empty on his tongue. “Can you get a message to Seungmin?”

Jeongin nods, hesitant but letting him continue.

“Tell him there are more dark witches in town. They should stay home. Stay safe. I’m going to get Minho back.”

Even as Jeongin nods again, Jisung recoils like Changbin has slapped him. “What? You can’t!”

Changbin turns to him. The pain is easing. Whatever they did to Minho, they haven’t done again. But who knows how long that will last? Changbin needs to get Minho back to safety as soon as possible. They’re a team; he can’t lose him. “I have to.”

“But that wasn’t the plan,” Jisung hisses.

“The plan is for no one to get hurt, and that-” he cuts himself off, the words dying on his tongue as he sees Jisung’s face twist with anguish. “That includes you,” he finds himself saying instead of the more callous words that’d almost slipped out. “Jeongin? After you get the message to the others, will you…” he nods in Jisung’s direction. It seems to get his point across, because Jeongin clicks his tongue and doesn’t say no before returning his focus to the more pressing task.

“Shouldn’t it include you too?” Jisung asks, one of his hands returning to Changbin’s arm like he can’t bear to let him go. 

“Believe me, I don’t want to get hurt. I’m not going to throw myself into being anyone’s punching bag, but I can’t let Minho get hurt in my place. Whatever they’re planning, whatever fight Jungwoo and Hyunjin have, it’s with me. I won’t let Minho be collateral for something I brought on myself.”

Jisung grits his teeth and stands his ground. “Look, I get that you’re in love with the guy or something, but didn’t he say that if you got hurt it’d just hurt him too anyway?”

“That’s not-” Changbin registers the first half of the sentence a beat too late and tastes bile “-sun above, I am not in love with him! He’s my familiar ! ” He suppresses the perturbed look trying to show on his face because right now he’s worried about Minho, dammit, not nauseous at the thought of ever having to kiss him. “I know what he said, but I can’t just sit here and do nothing while someone I care about is in danger.”

“But what about you ?” Jisung demands. “By that logic I should be doing everything I can to keep you here, safe in this shop.”

Before Changbin has a chance to respond, Jeongin’s attention has returned to them, and Changbin realizes he’s been so caught up in this argument that he missed the entirety of Jeongin’s delivery of his message. The thought makes his stomach churn ever so slightly, enough that as Jeongin steps towards Jisung, Changbin lets the fight drain from his body. His tone softens and he places a hand over Jisung’s on his arm. “Well before you do anything, can we get you fixed up a bit?”

Jisung frowns, confused by the change of pace. He glances between Changbin and Jeongin, who has stopped a safe distance away, but is looking at him expectantly. “What d’you mean?”

“Jeongin’s a healer,” Changbin explains, keeping his tone gentle. “And you look like you could use some healing, especially if you’re wanting to keep me from doing something reckless and getting hurt.”

“Are you trying to say I look like crap?” Jisung asks with a weak laugh.

Changbin is taken by the sudden urge to wrap Jisung up in his arms and hold him tight until the weariness leaves his eyes and his hands stop trembling. Instead, he tugs the hand on his arm down to link their fingers, and gives Jisung a small nudge towards Jeongin. “Just saying that after yesterday you might want a little TLC.”

Jisung mumbles something under his breath at this, but goes silent the moment Jeongin places his hands on his chest and begins to mutter in that same strange tongue as always. Changbin watches with part amusement, part hope as Jisung’s lip part at the sight of Jeongin’s growing golden glow. Then the hand on his tightens and Changbin finds himself inching closer to Jisung’s side as the purest of magic seeps through him, chasing out the pain and the darkness that had been there before. 

When the glow fades, Jisung stands straighter than before. His grip on Changbin’s hand remains just as secure. He’s speechless for a long moment before finding enough words to say a quiet, rushed thank you, before quickly turning away from Jeongin. Jeongin doesn’t appear fazed or surprised; in fact, the look he gives Changbin reminds him of the look he’d gotten just a day earlier, when Jeongin told him there was some pain in him that couldn’t be healed with magic: a little too knowing for his comfort. Changbin doesn’t linger on what that might mean.

“I’ve never felt magic like that,” Jisung says in a voice so quiet Changbin almost doesn’t hear. A confession he knows is meant only for him.

The words make something twist in Changbin’s chest, and the urge to hold Jisung returns like the tug of a riptide. Changbin lets himself be swept out only as far as closing a second hand over Jisung’s, and leaning in close enough to ensure that the tremors have indeed left his body. “You’d be surprised,” he says, matching Jisung’s tone, “it doesn’t all feel like what Chan taught us.”

Jisung watches him, frozen for a beat, before a cautious softness chases some of the hardness from his eyes. He leans in closer still, and just like that, he’s all Changbin can see. “Maybe you can show me… sometime when all this is over.” There’s a note of hope in his voice that makes Changbin think, just for a moment, that maybe this won’t be the end of his entire world. 

It takes all of two seconds for that hope to come crashing down.

Three things happen in quick succession. First, Jeongin reminds the room of his presence by announcing, “Seungmin and Felix are on their way.” Startled, Changbin stumbles away from Jisung so abruptly he tears one of his hands away from around Jisung’s. Then, before he has a chance to regain his bearings, a wave of terror not his own crashes over him. What follows is far worse. 

Halfway through a shaky breath, searing pain like nothing Changbin has ever felt before bursts to life in his chest. In an instant, the air is burned from his lungs, leaving him choking on smoke. He clutches frantically at his jacket, clawing at the fabric as if shedding it like a skin will reveal the cause of this pain. Through blurred vision he tries in vain to make out a physical ailment, half expecting to find a knife protruding from his chest. But there is nothing but the feeling of hot coals searing through him, carving a gaping wound inside of him. The withering, unforgiving knife that is not there suddenly twists, and Changbin’s ears ring with the sound of screams. 

He does not realize they are his own before his body gives out, unable to withstand the pain. The last thing Changbin sees before the darkness rushes to consume him whole is a churning sea of red.

  The city jungle falls away behind Changbin as he picks up the pace, not daring to look back. In time, it gives way to true forest. Trees rise as high as storefronts, then higher and higher until they are swallowed by the velvety night. The creep of dawn blushes pale blue and gold on the farthest end of the horizon, but Changbin cannot see it through the canopy. To him, there is nothing beyond the expanse of moonlight dappled green. There is nothing but bark and leaves so dark they could disappear into the night if Changbin loses his focus again. There is nothing but a world swathed in shadows. 

It is the darkness from which he runs, and the darkness into which he flees. 

He knows the joke, but he does not dwell on it. There’s no time for cruel irony when he cannot move forward without stumbling on a twisted leg, when each step is slightly swayed, when every chirp and crash whispering to him from the depths of the forest is another shot of stabbing pain through his skull, when he sees stars in his eyes despite the cloudy sky. 

It is the murky gloom just before daybreak that does him in. One blind step wrong and the ground slides out from beneath Changbin’s feet. The black of night is absolute before he even stills, a crumpled mess, at the bottom of the sloping ravine. 

When Changbin’s eyes open to light, he doesn’t believe it. Minho’s name is a choked cry on his tongue as he gasps for air, terrified he really is back in the ravine where he surely would have died without Minho. 

“Changbin, Changbin !” A familiar voice calls his name, and it is enough to help him see more than just light. A pale wall comes into focus, the edge of a window, a painting of blooming yellow flowers, the foot of his bed. He’s home, but… something is wrong. As Changbin takes another gasping breath, he realizes his chest feels empty, hollow. Something is missing. 

Minho. The air rushes from his lungs again and all of a sudden he can’t breathe. Minho is gone. Changbin can’t feel him anymore. All that remains is a vacant cavern in his heart where Minho belongs.

A broken sob spills from his lips and he curls in on himself, hands fisted in his shirt like the pressure can replace the touch of a missing soul. His gasps grow short and thin as violent shakes wrack his body. His throat burns from trying in vain to swallow back a rising tide of tears. 

The room disappears. His home vanishes. The bed no longer holds him up. Changbin is slipping again, sinking. In the blink of an eye, the terror of getting lost in the darkness threatens to take hold of him once more. But then there are hands holding him, on his arm and around his back, and the touch is far too gentle to be fear, to be darkness. 

“ Changbin ,” the voice comes again like a beacon, drawing him back. Jisung is calling him home. 

He stops struggling and lets himself be tugged into open arms. Jisung’s hands shift, pulling Changbin closer to cradle him against a solid chest, and he curls instinctively into the junction of collar and shoulder. Cheek pressed firm against soft fabric, teeth dug hard in his lower lip, Changbin stifles his cries as best he can as a gentle hand works slowly up and down his back, as soothing as it is grounding. The voice murmurs to him in between sharp breaths and shaky sobs until the panic gripping Changbin loosens its hold and his cries subside. 

Left with nothing but silent tears and tremors, the feeling of nothing, of emptiness within Changbin is so acute that he almost wishes for the burning knife to return. But the pain doesn’t strike again, and Changbin remains hollow, alone save for the familiar body beside him. He presses in even closer. 

“He’s gone,” Changbin whispers, voice hoarse, “I can’t… what happened?”

“You… we were with that healer and you just started screaming. You collapsed, blacked out. It took all your friends and me to get you back here.” 

“But Minho-” Changbin’s breath catches in his throat “-I can’t feel him anymore.” His voice drops until he can barely even hear himself, so petrified by the answer Jisung might give to his question that he almost doesn’t ask again. “What happened?”

Jisung hesitates, shifting nervously on the bed before continuing. “The healer said you’re fine - physically. But you’re just… you. Something’s blocking your bond with your familiar. Jungwoo must have done something.” 

“But he not-” Changbin’s voice breaks and he can’t bring himself to say the word.

“Your healer doesn’t think so. And the other one - angry blonde - doesn’t think so either.”

Changbin feels a fresh wave of tears, and the hand that’s not fisted in his own shirt reaches for some part of Jisung to hold. Despite the arms around him, he needs reassurance that Jisung really is there.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Jisung says, voice going soft as Changbin clutches his collar. “We’re gonna figure something out. You’ll get him back. You’re going to be okay.”

Changbin squeezes his eyes shut against the tears. He wants to believe Jisung, he does, but… “It doesn’t feel like it,” he says, barely breathing, “not when I’m this alone.”

“Hey.” Jisung’s hands pause in their journey along Changbin’s back. One leaves his side to cup the cheek not pressed into his chest. “You’re not alone.”

“I am,” Changbin chokes, because he aches like half his heart has been ripped out through his ribs. 

“You’re not,” Jisung says again, voice still soft but so, so sure. He slips a thumb under Changbin’s chin and lifts his head gently up from where he’d tried to bury it in the fabric of his shirt. Jisung’s left hand floats up from Changbin’s side to cradle the back of his head. “You’re not alone, Changbin.”

Changbin’s eyes are wet, tears still dripping down his cheeks when he blinks, as Jisung’s thumb stroking through his hair encourages him to finally meet Jisung’s gaze. His face is lined with worry, hair falling in disarray over his forehead, lips drawn tight, but his eyes are clear, focused entirely on Changbin. 

“I just-” Changbin’s hand clenches tighter in his shirt “-I can’t feel anything .”

Jisung lets out a soft breath and pulls Changbin even closer. The hand carding through his hair drops to join Changbin’s own hand over his heart. Jisung threads his fingers delicately over Changbin’s and squeezes. “You can feel me,” he murmurs, “I’m right here.” 

Changbin feels the hand cupping his cheek angle upwards, feels his own heartbeat against his palm, feels Jisung’s breath ghost over his jaw. “Stay,” he whispers to the watery image of Jisung before him. “Please.” I can’t let you go again .

Jisung dips his head, runs his thumb feather-light against Changbin’s cheek, catching a tear as it falls. “I will,” he promises, just a breath away, and presses a gentle kiss above Changbin’s jaw.

A wounded sound slips from Changbin’s throat, and he crumbles. Jisung is so close he barely moves when Changbin clutches him weakly and cries for comfort. He tilts Changbin’s head with so much care it makes Changbin dizzy, his touch as ginger as a butterfly lighting on a flower when he guides Changbin’s lips to his own. 

Twin tears track down Changbin’s cheeks when he closes his eyes, but Jisung is reverent. He kisses Changbin tenderly, one hand a gentle press against his cheek, the other guarding his heart. His lips part and he tastes salt, and even as all Changbin’s pain swells up from his chest and overflows past his lips, Jisung offers only the faint, sweet brush of his tongue and the soft sounds of his breaths in the moments they’re apart.

Changbin is familiar with Jisung’s fire, and with the warm, glowing embers that remain when the blaze dies down. He thinks this is some combination of the two: pleasant heat curling through Jisung to him, the forgiving lick of flames against his skin. He wonders if he would have felt this sooner, had he stayed with Jisung that night instead of taking flight. But then it would’ve had the same bitter sting it has now, impossible to ignore like the salt fresh on his tongue, lingering on Jisung’s. 

Changbin’s hand slips away from his chest to clutch Jisung’s waist as he pulls back, ducking into Jisung’s neck so he isn’t tempted again. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, “I didn’t want it to be like this.”

Jisung’s pulse thrums against Changbin’s cheek, and his throat hums when he says, “It’s okay.” He keeps a hand pressed lightly over Changbin’s heart, and the other slides back through Changbin’s hair, down the nape of his neck, to settle between his shoulder blades. As Jisung rubs small circles into his skin, he assures Changbin again, “you don’t have to apologize.” 

Changbin lets out a shaky breath and feels goosebumps rise on Jisung’s neck. He tears himself away again. “I…” he freezes, chokes, doesn’t know how to say the words.

“It’s okay,” Jisung whispers once more, eyes focused on Changbin with an intensity he’s afraid to put a name to. When Jisung leans closer, Changbin almost hopes he’ll kiss him again in spite of everything, but Jisung’s lips brush lightly against Changbin’s temple, nothing more, and Changbin is grateful. 

Changbin’s grip on Jisung’s collar loosens and he moves to wrap his arm around Jisung’s middle, to assure himself that he isn’t going anywhere. He drinks in the sight of Jisung in front of him, clearer now than before, for as long as he can before it becomes too much and he has to close his eyes again. 

Jisung says nothing more, just holds Changbin close and lets him breathe until he can trick himself into thinking the air in his lungs is enough to fill the void within him. Changbin listens in silence to the steady beat of Jisung’s heart until the sound of footsteps down the hall steals his attention away. 

The door opens to reveal first Seungmin, then Felix, then Jeongin. They’re cautious as they file into the room, slow, almost hesitant, looking at Changbin like they don’t know whether they should be averting their eyes or not. It’s the first time Changbin has seen such unease on Jeongin’s face. Felix clings to the back of Seungmin’s sweater like a child afraid of getting lost in a crowd. There’s an almost haunted look in Seungmin’s eyes, one Changbin hasn’t seen since the beach house. It makes him realize how terrifying this must be for the two of them, who have been bound together since Seungmin was a child, since Felix was as small and green as a spring bloom. Discovering that there’s a way to cut off the familiar bond against the witch or familiar’s will must have shaken them to their cores. If it’s this bad for Changbin, how unbearable would it be for them?

Jisung’s grip on Changbin tightens as Seungmin takes a step closer than everyone else and sits down on the bed, just close enough to reach out and lay a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m glad you’re back with us,” he says, and his voice is as gentle as his touch. “We were scared.”

Changbin feels fresh tears prick at his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, averting his eyes and trying not to shrink all the way into Jisung. Seungmin hasn’t said this is all his fault, but he must be thinking it. Changbin is.

Seungmin’s brows furrow. “You have nothing to be sorry for. We’re glad you’re still here. Just glad.” 

“But I-”

“Nope.” Seungmin gives his nose a small flick and the protest dies on Changbin’s tongue. “We have a plan,” Seungmin continues like Changbin hasn’t said anything of consequence. He gestures for the others to come closer, and Felix sits down beside him while Jeongin finds his seat on the cedar chest at the end of the bed. 

“For the record,” Felix says without looking past Changbin to acknowledge Jisung, “I think it’s a terrible plan.”

“Well for the record ,” Seungmin retorts, “it’s the only plan we’ve got.”

Changbin pushes himself up, still in Jisung’s arms, but no longer trying to make himself smaller, to hide. Jisung tenses until he realizes Changbin isn’t going anywhere, and strained muscles relax against Changbin again. “What’s the plan?” Changbin can’t help but worry about what will come out of Seungmin’s mouth next. What idea could he have come up with that is so terrible, even Felix’s faith isn’t steadfast?

“Those dark witches are looking for something light, right?” Seungmin, to Changbin’s surprise, directs this at Jisung. Jisung’s silent nod in return is even more surprising. Changbin feels like the world has tilted on its axis in just the time it took to get from Jeongin’s shop to his own home. “Well, if that’s what they want, that’s what we’ll give them.”

Changbin blinks at Seungmin with vacant eyes. “What?”

“He’s going to create a beacon to let them know where we are. He’s gonna lead them right to us,” Felix supplies.

Changbin swears his heart stops beating in his chest. No wonder Felix hates this idea. The three of them know all too well what happened last time they had a confrontation with dark witches at what was once their home. A home which no longer exists. Even Jisung tenses again at the revelation. 

“You can’t be serious,” Changbin says, voice shaking with disbelief. 

“I am. This is the only way.”

Changbin fixes startled eyes on Felix, but even he can only nod and avert his gaze.

“Defensively, this is our best shot,” Seungmin explains. “I know it sounds crazy to bring them right to us, but think about it - we already fortified the property, the house even more. If we try to bring the fight to them, who knows what they could have set up. We’ll have nothing to fall back on. At least if they come here, we’ll know every inch of the playing field. Worse comes to worst, after we get Minho back we can always try to hunker down and try to outlast them in here if things go sideways. Or escape to the woods. Unless you can think of anything better, this is all we’ve got.” 

Changbin watches determination set in Seungmin’s eyes like steel. There’s something equally terrifying and reassuring about it, and he finds himself glad that Seungmin is on his team. Although nothing quite compares to having Minho on his side, there’s a warmth to Seungmin, a calmness about him that almost overshadows his incredible strength, and makes him just as precious as a friend, an ally, as family. Changbin trusts him completely, and even as he wracks his brain to churn out a safer plan, he knows Seungmin is right. If they want to get Minho back, to get the darkness off their tails, this is their only option.

“It won’t be that easy,” Jisung says. His voice is quiet, but so unexpected that it cuts through the air as if he’d shouted.

Felix looks ready to snap back despite his own doubts with the plan, but Seungmin holds a hand up to give him pause. “What do you mean?” Seungmin asks like he genuinely cares about Jisung’s answer. Changbin can only stare in shock and wonder what on Earth could have happened while he was out cold. “You know them better than we do. Is there something we should know?”

Jisung’s arms tighten unconsciously around Changbin. “They know each other inside and out, make up for each other’s weaknesses with their own strengths. Hyunjin alone you could probably beat, but Jungwoo… he’s a different beast. Together, not even other dark witches want to mess with them.”

“Appreciate the words of encouragement,” Felix mutters under his breath.

Seungmin, however, appears thoughtful. “So we should be trying to separate them? Get Hyunjin out of the equation first?”

Silence hangs over the room a beat too long after the question falls without response, and Changbin disentangles himself from Jisung to get a good look at his face. There must be a reason for his muteness. Changbin keeps a hand near Jisung’s hip, not wanting to part fully from him, but the look on Jisung’s face - like he’s just bitten into something extremely sour - makes his fingers tremble against the fabric of Jisung’s shirt. 

“Jisung?” 

“If you hurt Hyunjin, you’ll put Jungwoo on the warpath for all your heads, not just Changbin’s.” Jisung averts his eyes, and a wisp of unease swirls in Changbin’s gut. 

“What else?” Changbin presses.

Jisung glances at him and looks away just as quickly. “I just… I don’t think fighting is your best bet.”

Changbin clenches his jaw. “Well what do you suggest? Do nothing? They have Minho; we can’t just run or hide. We need to face them and get him back.”

“What about talking, reasoning with them?”

“Like they’d listen to anything I say,” Changbin scoffs. “You made it sounds like Jungwoo would rip me to pieces in seconds, and I don’t doubt that. Now you think we should try to reason with them?”

“Let me try,” Jisung pleads.

“Seungmin…” Felix murmurs, a quiet warning. Changbin doesn’t hear.

“What makes you think they’ll listen to anything you say? Aren’t you doing exactly what Hyunjin warned you not to?”

“Yes, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s worth a shot,” Jisung insists, “Hyunjin might listen to me.”

“Why? He never cared enough to before.”

“We-” Jisung’s eyes drop to his lap, like he can’t bear to look at Changbin right now “-after you left, we got closer.”

It sounds simple enough, but the way Jisung says it, the way he looks like he’s afraid of Changbin’s reaction, tells a different story. Changbin feels something drop in his gut, a noose tighten around his neck, making it harder to breathe. 

“And Jungwoo was… okay with that?” Changbin whispers so his voice doesn’t break.

Jisung’s gaze jumps back to him in an instant, like an instinct he can’t shake, like morning flowers turn to the rising sun. “He knew it wasn’t like that for Hyunjin.” A breath. “Or me.” His eyes burn with an intensity that makes Changbin think it’s Jisung who embodies the sun, not him. Then, softer, so that Changbin is sure he’s the only one who can hear, “There’s only ever been room in here for one.” He laces his fingers gingerly through Changbin’s once more and lifts their joined hands to his heart.

Changbin swallows thickly and the noose loosens and falls away from his neck. His next breath comes easier. “If you think he’ll listen to you-” he lets out a deep sigh “-I guess it’s worth a shot.”

“How do we know this isn’t a trap. That it isn’t part of some plan they all came up with before this?” Felix asks, mistrust loud and clear in his voice once more.

“They’d have to have come up with an insane plan to account for everything that’s happened so far, don’t you think? I’m not sure that’s possible even with magic,” Changbin says after a mere moment’s consideration. “And besides, I trust Jisung.” On this, he is resolute. 

“I think he makes a fair point,” Seungmin tells Felix, “I trust Changbin’s judgement.” And just like that, the doubt is crushed. This is what they’re going to do. They’re going to get Minho back. A light witch, a dark witch, a changed witch. A familiar, a healer. They’re going to do this. Together. 

Seungmin’s idea of a beacon is outrageously simple. As soon as the five of them finish ironing out the details of their plan and preparing for what’s to come, Seungmin steps just beyond the barrier protecting their home and sends a jetstream of magic straight into the sky. A breath later, gold light spills across the faded blue above them, painting it like a shining dawn before raining back down across the earth like sunlight refracting off a hundred thousand water droplets. When the last of it has settled into the browning grass and dirt, giving the ground a new glow of faint life, Seungmin steps back through the front gate, sealing it tight behind himself, and returns to the house. Then, they wait. 

As time passes, Changbin feels the numbness in his chest more and more acutely. He shifts back and forth, exhausted but anxious. If he can’t feel Minho anymore, it means he can’t feel his pain either. Minho could be hurting to no end and Changbin wouldn’t have the faintest clue. The thought makes his stomach turn, makes him want to scream almost as much as it makes him want to cry. If anything happens to Minho while they’re separated, he’ll never forgive himself. Yet another thing to add to the list.

Seungmin has been sticking right by his side since sending off the beacon, and he must understand Changbin’s fear, because he places a gentle hand on the small of his back. Through the physical connection, Seungmin’s calmer magic whispers to Changbin’s, easing some of its uneasy twisting within him. Changbin does his best to soak in Seungmin’s energy, his steadiness, while keeping both eyes glued to the path beyond the window. Hyunjin and Jungwoo could appear any time now. They have to be ready. 

Jisung has to be ready. 

Changbin glances sideways at him. Jisung’s front teeth are working at his bottom lip, his brows are furrowed. When Changbin looks lower, he sees Jisung’s hands stuck with a nervous twitch at his sides. He reaches for the wrist closest to him and lets his fingers brush against it, an invitation. It’s all he can think of to offer for comfort now when he doesn’t even know how to comfort himself. 

Jisung flinches so slightly Changbin wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t had such a close eye on Jisung, but when he turns and sees that there’s no threat, just Changbin offering the smallest quiet support, some of the tension leaves Jisung’s shoulders. Jisung accepts the silent question and slips his hand into Changbin’s with the ghost of a smile. It’s the best Changbin can expect for now.

Moments drag on longer and longer, like spilled syrup in the winter, like slow melting ice in the early spring. It becomes almost unbearable. Changbin is seconds from breaking down from frustration when the air finally shifts. The sky out the window darkens, and a heavy weight settles over the room. It becomes increasingly hard to breathe. Two figures come into view beyond the glass. 

This is what they’ve all been waiting for. Right here, right now.

This is the beginning of the end.