Chapter Text
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
There is a forest somewhere, and deep deep deep in that forest a grey house where lives a witch and his familiar. The witch is not very experienced and the familiar is not very helpful, but they make it work.
Most of the time.
"Wait, wait! This time I'm gonna do it right."
"…is what you said all your previous attempts before failing miserably."
"Yoongi," he whines.
"That's hyung to you, brat."
"Not when you're in cat form, it's not. Age is a relative thing anyway," Jungkook claims pouting, his hands covered in dirt and his eye twitching a little from all the effort.
Yoongi doesn't say anything this time, just flicks his black tail right in Jungkook's face and leaves. Not like he was useful here anyway, Jungkook thinks before focusing his attention back on the soil.
"Thirteen's time is the charm," he mumbles, going through the instructions in his head yet again as he lets all the irrelevant to the process thoughts crawl into a designated box.
The witch takes a deep breath, does everything exactly the way the book says. (Says an in literally, because the book likes to chat, and when it starts, there is no natural force powerful enough to shut it up. It's a problem sometimes.) He centers. Gathers all the energy into one place, feeling the familiar warm buzzing under his skin. Pronounces the enchanted words. Releases the energy back into earth.
And—
Nothing.
The pansies are still under the ground, stubbornly refusing to come out.
"Stupid pansies!" Jungkook exclaims, frustrated, immediately regretting the harsh words when he senses the hurt rumbling underneath. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. You're not stupid, you are very smart individuals," he says. After all, making the enemy with the plants will not help the cause at all.
He has to get them out because they are not going to sprout on their own. The pansies are too stubborn to share with him why, but he can guess, can sense their uncertainty. It's warm and safe where they are, nothing and no one to harm them, the energy of the earth so much more concentrated. And the surface is scary and much colder, especially considering the absence of the sun these past few weeks. There are animals and occasional humans here, all kinds of insects. Were Jungkook in their place, maybe he wouldn't want to leave the ground either.
But the point is, they can't stay there forever, they need to sprout and grow and bloom, and it can't happen underground.
He tells the pansies as much but knows that he's already used up all the attempts for the day.
The plants stay quiet.
"Why are you so irritable anyway?" Yoongi asks him when it starts raining again and Jungkook finally gives up and comes inside the house, still pouting and absolutely exhausted despite achieving nothing, but now also cold and drenched.
"I'm not irritable," he replies, bitterness seeping all over the words the same way the water from his clothes keeps dripping all over the carpet.
"Sure. Does it perhaps have something to do with Walpurgis Night?" Yoongi tries again. He is still in his cat form – the form he prefers most of the time – lying lazily near the fireplace that definitely wasn't lit when Jungkook's left and now that he looks around, he can also notice dried gardenia scattered around the room. Powers: love, peace, spirituality, he remembers the book screaming one full moon at 2am when he was trying to sleep.
He also sits down in front of the fire, sighing in relief when he can feel his fingers again – they've been numb for quite a while from all the magic and the cold.
"Walpurgis Night? Oh, right, it's today, isn't it?" Jungkook asks, trying to sound nonchalant but failing because that's just how his life is – failing and failing and failing no matter how many celery seeds he eats or how many spells he learns.
If Yoongi were in his human form right now, Jungkook knows he would definitely roll his eyes. Instead, Yoongi sits up, his tail snaking around the boy's legs.
"So you are not at all sulky because you weren't invited again and will have to stay home while all the witches celebrate?"
"Of course not," Jungkook answers a little drowsily, the smells of herbs and the warmth from the fire enveloping him in a tight hug, as though it's the house itself trying to protect him from the big evil Sadness.
He falls asleep right there on the carpet, still in his wet and dirty clothes and not really sulky, but that's just because he has a plan. Yoongi doesn’t have to know.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Jungkook wakes up at 11pm sharp, and it's not a pleasant waking in the least.
He's put a spell on his broom to work as an alarm the night before considering that he absolutely could not sleep through this night or all the plans would be thrown out the window. And the idea seemed pretty good at the time, clever even, the spell not a difficult one. What he hasn't considered, however, is the way the old broom would decide to deal with the task – to be more precise, that instead of making some kind of noise or tickling him with its brush or doing anything that didn't involve physical violence, the broom would just–
Smack him right in the head.
"Ow," he whispers, rubbing his head, scarily close to cursing his broom, but that would be pretty stupid considering the broom is mostly an extension of his own magic, which means he will be cursing himself.
But, well, he is awake now, so technically the spell wasn't a complete flop. Even if the pain reminds him of that time Yoongi got stuck on a tree and Jungkook was in the process of climbing up the trunk to rescue him when the tree decided that it's had enough and proceeded to unceremoniously dump them both on the ground. Jungkook hasn't trusted a single pear tree since.
After allowing himself a few more moments of self-pity, he finally sits up, only now noticing the pillow he was sleeping on that surely wasn't there before he fell asleep and a thick blanket covering him. Yoongi has his silent ways of showing that he really does care, those tiny unobtrusive acts of kindness and consideration that do not require discussion or verbal expression of gratitude. They are just there if you want them and okay to dismiss if you don't. Jungkook appreciates them so much.
At this point the fire has died down, leaving their tiny house in complete darkness save for some light the moon generously shares with them.
Groggily navigating in their cluttered space, he grabs the broom and makes it for the door with minimal noise possible. Thankfully, Yoongi is a heavy sleeper, so Jungkook isn't too worried.
He carefully closes the door behind him and promptly exhales. Even here, far from the celebration, the ground underneath his feet is vibrating with excitement, the air so thick with pure magic that Jungkook can feel his head spinning a little. (Although that could also be from being hit).
He gets hold of his own magic, feels this great need to be closer to the source of this wonderful energy. Of course, magic can be found anywhere, on an iceberg in the middle of the ocean, on the highest floor of a building in some massive city, in places so devoid of hope it's all black and quiet. As long as there is life, there is magic. And, vice versa, as long as there is magic, there is life.
But this is different. This magic is big and raw, so concentrated that if the lightning were to strike right this minute, Jungkook would not be surprised. The forest is never quiet, always all buzzing and chirping and rustling, but right now the noise is a palpable thing. Jungkook feels it on the tips of his fingers.
And he knows, he knows he can't be there, not according to the stupid rules written hundreds of years ago.
Only witches skilled enough allowed, he remembers the book's annoying squicky voice.
And well, the book doesn't give any criteria as to what 'skilled enough' actually implies but apparently Jungkook's not, considering he's never got the invitation.
But still, he might not be the best but surely he's okay enough to celebrate with the other witches. So what if he's still very much financially dependent on his aunt. He's lived in this forest since being little, the animals and plants adore him (well, most of them anyway) and Yoongi says he's really good at spoken spells (although, come to think of, the familiar might have been sarcastic).
Jungkook sulkily chews on a few celery seeds just in case and gets on the broom, even though he's still mad at it.
"Let's go have a good time," he says.
The broom recoils under him, but the takeoff is smooth.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
The hill where the celebration takes place isn't that far away by broom but the weather has taken a toll for the worse some time after Jungkook took off, the violent wind very keen on trying to make the witch collapse into a tree or two.
Jungkook can take a challenge, though. Flying is one of the first things he's learned after getting his magic, his aunt screaming from behind to just hold your damn balance, it's not that difficult, and he's pretty good at it now, even if his other skills are… in moderation.
So he grits his teeth and flies a little higher, ignoring the dampness and harshness of the air, pouring all the strength and magic into holding on.
By the time Jungkook lands in some bushes close to the hill, he's panting and has sweat in places he didn't know could sweat, clothes sticking to his skin uncomfortably. But he's not tired, the condensed magic of the night replenishing what's used right away, something warm and tingly in his veins, that same feeling he gets after he works too hard and Yoongi forces him to drink a restorative potion, and this time there's no horrible aftertaste. Jungook wishes this feeling could last forever.
Broom in hand, he slowly makes his way up, careful not to draw attention to himself. Jungkook is not that known in the community, except for his aunt and a couple of her friends there shouldn't be anyone to recognise him, and she is his aunt, after all, maybe she'll understand his decision. Granted, the woman is not the type you'd call understanding, but she's been young once, surely she is not cruel enough to rat him out.
He should be okay.
The hill is absolutely packed. All kinds of witches wearing clothing representative of the type of magic they practise. Here are elemental witches in fiery red, dancing in a circle, their brooms with them, tiny bursts of lightning flying everywhere; and in black are hedge witches discussing something passionately under a tree; green witches, cosmic witches, kitchen witches, a lonely eclectic witch… Even sea witches came even though there are no seas close to the forest. Everything and everyone is loud and bright and smells of saffron (which explains the wind) and tastes of joy and is just a lot, and Jungkook is overwhelmed with the intensity.
But, above it all, he feels a part of this. Even if he wasn't invited, he finally feels like a proper witch among other proper witches. Not quite accepted, but here anyway.
This is it, he thinks, this is what I've dreamed of.
He talks to the green witches about his stubborn pansies and they are sympathetic, give him all kinds of advice, share their own experience with shrewd chrysanthemums and picky roses and fragile violets. It's nice.
Dances with elemental witches around the fire, moves improvised and a little awkward but they don't seem to mind, too lost in the night. It's nice.
Joins the hedge witches for a bit and listens to a story about a ghost who didn't want to leave so much it acquired a physical form. The story is sad but when everyone gasps at unexpected parts or makes sympathetic noises at the end, he does it with them and that is nice.
It's nice it's nice it's nice.
Until Jungkook makes a move to go talk to the sea witches, so many questions on his tongue, and spots his aunt already talking to one of them, hand gestures reduced to a minimum, face neutrally bored. The same way it was when Jungkook fell off his broom for the first time. The same way it was when he finally got a complicated spell right after weeks of trying. He's pretty sure he's never seen any other emotions on her face.
And Jungkook just—
Panics.
Starts moving his feet in the opposite direction but forgets to actually turn around. Which results in him collapsing into a very lovely green witch he's talked to some moments ago, the witch falling onto her broom which, thankfully, doesn't let the fall happen fully.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry—"
He turns to the victim of his clumsiness, tries to apologize, making sure the witch is okay. And at the same time:
"Jeon Jungkook!" comes a stern voice from behind his back.
He is screwed.
"Oh. Auntie, hi!" he says, going for nonchalant and reserving remorse for later.
"Jungkook, what are you doing here?"
The incident and his aunt's screams seem to have attracted the attention of all the witches nearby, everyone and everything that was so loud just a moment before going deadly silent. They are all looking at him with various expressions of curiosity and amusement. Waiting for his response, Jungkook realizes.
"Celebrating," he tries weakly, ducking his head, the attention feeling too much and showing on his now probably bright red cheeks.
"Celebrating?"
His aunt is keeping her distance from him but the disapproval in her tone is so strong he feels it anyway, sharp bitterness on his tongue.
"What's going on here?" comes another voice, authority spilling all over the place. The head witch, Jungkook's memory supplies.
The head witch is tall and beautiful despite being hundreds of years old – age is a relative thing after all – always polite and always, always smiling. The earth vibrates just a little under her feet, plants bowing and insects making way for their queen.
He's seen her before, of course. At year-end rituals and when she was visiting all the houses in the forest for a reason Jungkook doesn't remember. Yoongi and he poured her tea, held some over-polite version of a normal conversation, Jungkook feeling weird and shaky the whole time, and then she was on her way. Later that day Yoongi muttered something about how sirens should not be allowed near positions of power.
"A witch without an invitation," his aunt announces, loud and clear, like a final verdict.
"What's your name, boy?" the head witch asks, coming closer. He looks and looks and cannot take his eyes away, legs weak from such a concentrated power not only near him but under his skin as well. Power that's telling him to bow, submit, don't talk back, surrender, witch and something about it feels so absolutely wrong.
All witches, all beings are equal, Jungkook-ah. That tiny daisy in our garden deserves as much kindness as you do, his mother told him once when Jungkook, age 6, proclaimed his desire to be the most powerful witch in the world, You will be so powerful one day, I don't doubt it, but never ever let magic manipulate you or others.
Back then he could only nod.
Right now he bows.
"Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook," the introduction comes out of him, fear louder than morals.
"Well, Jungkook-ssi. Were you or were you not invited?"
"I… wasn't," he whispers, head still hanging low, broom clutched tight as though it could protect him.
"A little louder."
"No, I was not invited," Jungkook says again, just a leaf's rustle louder. Hurt slips through anyway.
He can hear a couple of sea witches gasp.
"So you broke one of the rules?"
"I did," he agrees because what other choice is there?
"Jungkook, do you know what happens to those who break rules?"
"They get punished," his aunt supplies, same damn expression on her face.
There are booos and woooos and echoes of disappointed remarks, some of the witches clearly displeased, but most of them just excited for the show.
"That's right," says the head witch slowly. Jungkook finally finds the courage to raise his gaze from the ground and sees that the head witch is looking right at him, still smiling. And if you aren't paying enough attention you might think it's genuine. The eyes give her away though – blank, cold, the whole thing an act of empty politeness.
He looks around then, noticing more sympathetic faces than he anticipated. Not one of them speaks up though, wherein the disapproving ones are loud as ever, throwing suggestions left and right.
Jungkook feels like he's naked, the worst kind of naked, exposed, like everyone can see right through him, his hurt and fear becoming visible as a sort of coping mechanism – look how scared I already am, please don't hurt me more.
But that's not how it works, is it?
"Make him drink swamp water!" a kitchen witch suggests.
"Throw him into the lake!" a sea witch suggests.
"Turn him into a mosquito!" a green witch suggests.
Punishments keep coming, some witches even getting into heated debates with each other, not over which one is more appropriate but over which is better, as they put it.
"Burn his broom," his aunt suddenly speaks up. "He lives far away from here, it'll take him half a day to get back."
"Burn his broom! Burn his broom! Burn his broom!" the witches chant as though possessed.
The broom in Jungkook's hands vibrates, his magic sensing the danger.
"It seems the decision has been made. Jungkook, give me your broom," the head witch demands, the damn smile still on her lips.
So stupid. Why hasn't he just listened to Yoongi? His familiar probably knew exactly what could happen, didn't want Jungkook to go through this. So stupid stupid stupid stu—
Submit, don't talk back, surrender, witch.
"No!" he screams when his body starts to betray him, his whole being trembling something fierce.
"I wasn't giving you an option."
No matter how hard he tries to resist, nails pushing into the wood until one of his hands bleeds, his strength is nothing in comparison with the head witch's magic, so his fingers unclench, his body gives in. The broom yanks out of his hold, flies into the sky and with the final swish falls into the fire in the middle of the hill.
There is a sound coming out of him but he can't really hear it, something inside him falling and shattering to pieces.
The witches cheer.
It wasn't alive, just an extension of my magic, he tells himself. Not a living being that has thoughts or emotions or can feel pain. It wasn't alive it wasn't alive it wasn't alive it wasn't—
"That should teach you to think before doing something forbidden by the rules. Have a good night, Jungkook," the head witch says and the next moment he is not on the hill of celebration anymore but exactly in the bush he landed in earlier tonight, crying his heart out.
He squeezes his eyes shut but can only see his mother's gentle smile. Your birthday present, honey. This isn't your usual broom, though. This one has my love inside, so that you won't fall.
Now, it's no surprise to anyone who knows him that Jungkook's a crier. He gets attached easily, living thing or not, and cares so much it sometimes hurts.
He cries at flowers when their life span inevitably comes to an end, at baby birds who fall out of their nests, at small trees scared of thunder. Cries when there is a very rare, practically distinct, butterfly on a flower and it's so beautiful Jungkook can't believe his eyes. Cries when a baby deer comes to Jungkook during his nap on the grass outside the house and nuzzles his hair gently.
It's just that he usually has a lot of feelings, all watery inside of him. And more often than not they tend to spill.
But Jungkook doesn't think it's something bad or wrong, at least not since he met Yoongi, both of them still painfully young but Yoongi a little older, both new to the forest and confused with what exactly life was, having realized the difference between the expectations and the reality way too early on. Back then Yoongi simply sat down next to him on the cold ground, his hand warm on the boy's back. Feeling is much better than not feeling, believe me, Jungkook-ah, he said.
Ever since Jungkook just thinks of crying as a reminder that he's alive and connected to his surroundings. That he cares, even if a little too much sometimes.
Now, though.
He doesn't really want to feel right now.
He could have been warm and safe and still with a broom if he just listened to his familiar.
And instead—
Instead, he is broomless. And so cold, so tired his legs refuse to cooperate. He just wants his blanket. And Yoongi. He really wants Yoongi.
The broom itself might not have been alive, but his magic in it was. The last gift from mom which for years has left him with a desperate feeling that as long as he had the broom she was still with him, her magic looking out for him.
He knows – and a part of him has probably always known – that it wasn't true. That sometimes words are just words, no matter how comforting.
But a child's logic works in its own ways. In a world full of magic fairy tales and actual magic get mixed up all the time anyway. It's not even always bad, sometimes it's just a way to cope, a way to give something horribly painful a more bearable form.
It has its drawbacks.
Jungkook can't really focus on his grief too much, though. He's been walking for a while now, the night slowly turning into early morning, the wind whispering to him sympathetically, and where there's usually a steady flow of magic in his blood now he feels absolutely nothing.
He suspects it has something to do with how much energy he took in during the Walpurgis Night. The night ended, the sun starting to wake slowly, and the energy kept seeping out for a while, this uncomfortable feeling of the inevitable, until there wasn't anything left in him. Jungkook remembers a chapter in the book on something called temporary energies. Maybe, he should have paid more attention to that one.
And the worst thing, the worst thing is that he can't even draw some energy from his broom because, well, he doesn't have a broom anymore.
He tries to talk to an owl on his way, ask it to relay a message to Yoongi that he is not dead or something. But doesn't have enough magic in him even for that. The owl looks at him funny and flies away.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
The sun is high up in the sky (or, Jungkook thinks it is, because there are stormy clouds everywhere he looks and no sun in sight) by the time he stumbles upon a small red house. The thing is, he's never seen it before. He's flown by this area plenty of times but has never seen this house. He's pretty sure.
Right now it's raining though (probably a gift from one of the elemental witches), so whoever lives in it is probably inside. And Jungkook is absolutely drenched, shivering through mutters of a warmth spell that doesn't work because he's merely an excuse for a witch. He can't even feel the droplets anymore, everything blending into a mix of cold and wet.
It's fine.
He will be fine.
He will get home, take a hot bath and sleep for a hundred years until the hurt and humiliation stop feeling like sharp glass in his body, small pieces of it scratching and scratching at his insides.
(It's fine, maybe Yoongi will make him lavender tea.)
Jungkook is about to pass by the mysterious house when he sees it – a tiny white mouse scratching at the front door, obviously trying to get in but not being very successful at it.
He doesn't think much of it, doesn't have the energy for a proper thought process, just approaches the house.
He picks the mouse up, the creature happily chirping, and knocks on the door a few times with his free hand. The careless movement brings back the ache from holding onto his broom too hard, and Jungkook winces, wobbles on his feet a little.
He doesn't have to wait long. The door opens and there is a boy with silver hair and a gentle expression on his face, features unevenly perfect, all sharp angles and soft lines. The only piece of clothing on him, though, is a very thin robe that does a very poor job of covering anything.
Jungkook doesn't feel so well.
"Hi," he says, a confused smile on his face. The boy is probably waiting for Jungkook to say something. Or maybe Jungkook just can't hear the rest of his words, all the sounds suddenly turning into white noise and wow when did it get this dark—
"Think this guy was trying to come in," he says, hands the mouse to the boy, and proceeds to pass out.
(First impressions have never been his thing.)
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
When Jungkook comes to, the first thing he realizes is that the bed he's in is way too cozy to be his own. The second thing he realizes is that the place smells strongly of sandalwood which is interesting because neither Yoongi nor he ever really use it. The third thing Jungkook realizes, slowly opening his eyes, is that yes, he is indeed not at his own place at all, and also oh, the clothes he's wearing are definitely not his own.
And then he remembers.
Memories coming to him in small uneven pieces, Jungkook traces back the entirety of a disaster that was yesterday (today? the day before? how long has he been asleep?) including getting scolded by the whole witch community of the forest, losing his dear broom and finally passing out in front of a complete stranger, a very beautiful stranger, might he add, whose bed he's presumably occupying right now.
Oh gods. Luck really isn't on his side, is it?
Jungkook groans.
To make things even better, he realizes that his emotional crisis was being watched.
"Look, Tsukiyo, our guest's finally awake," the boy says, and when Jungkook looks to his right he sees him standing in the doorway, holding the white mouse Jungkook was trying to help before. He notes that instead of a robe the boy is now dressed in a pair of simple white pants and a loose shirt – white as well.
"Hello?" Jungkook manages almost in a whisper, his voice resisting. He sits up slowly, the world taking a moment to stop moving, and finally looks around. The room is by no means fancy or big, things stacked on each other, wooden panels bending a little the way they do when not put in properly. But it is homely, lived-in, all the colours warm warm warm, dried herbs and all kinds of vessels everywhere. Messy but nice.
The boy approaches him quietly, and the next thing Jungkook knows there's a hand on his forehead. He feels something tingly.
"Well, you are not as drained anymore." The hand moves away, but the warmth of it stays. The boy sits on the carpeted floor next to Jungkook, facing him. "Hi, I'm Jimin."
"Jungkook," he says.
"I think I've seen you flying by my place a couple of times. Nice to finally meet you, Jungkook," the boy says and smiles a kind of smile that can only be attributed to witchcraft.
"Oh," Jungkook manages because apparently he doesn't know how to talk.
The witch only giggles.
"You are cute."
Jungkook is not well enough for a proper reaction to that (later, he tells himself). Something else comes to mind, though.
"How come I've never seen you though? Or your house?" he voices his thoughts. Surely, he couldn't have been that absentminded.
"Probably weren't looking hard enough."
"What—" Jungkook starts to ask because what, but there's a sound of something boiling and then sizzling combined with the evergrowing smell of sandalwood.
"Must be the potion. I'll be right back," says the boy, and then he's out of the room.
So the stranger – Jimin, his mind supplies – is not only pretty but also a witch and quite a good one, considering how Jungkook's hand doesn't hurt at all anymore and, more importantly, how his magic is back, not fully restored but slowly getting there. He can feel it, buzzing warmly inside him. Jungkook can't be entirely sure but it doesn't feel like he's been asleep for that long, definitely not enough for the magic to restore this much on its own.
"Here," Jimin says, coming back with a cup full of something dark-green and steaming, and handing it to Jungkook, their hands brushing for a split second. "Careful, it's still hot."
"What is this?" Jungkook asks because his mind is still slow and also because Jimin's hands are warm and so tiny he kind of wants to cry.
"A restorative. Obviously," Jimin replies, rolling his eyes, but then he sits back on the floor and looks down. "Sorry. I don't get a lot of visitors so I'm a bit out of practice," he says quietly, fumbling with the sleeve of his shirt.
And Jungkook swears the witch sounds almost… nervous?
Jungkook looks at the potion in his hands again. The smell of herbs (most of which he struggles to identify) is a little overwhelming, makes the room spin again, but there isn't that much steam coming from the cup anymore and Jungkook really wants his magic and strength back, wants to be able to leave, no matter how comfortable the bed is or how nice Jimin is. Because the pretty witch is still a stranger and the bed is unfamiliar and he just needs some time to be alone and process his emotions without worrying about being disrespectful or awkward. Besides, Yoongi must be worried sick. Jungkook can't even imagine what he'd feel in his position.
So Jungkook takes a careful sip of the potion, surprised at the fact that it actually tastes okay – a little bitter but it's a strong tea kind of bitterness – and gulps the rest of it in one go.
"Thank you for helping Tsukiyo, by the way. He hates rain, so you've saved me from a lot of complaining from him," says Jimin a little while later.
At the mention of his name, the mouse appears seemingly out of nowhere, scratching his tiny nails on one of the bed legs. Jimin lifts him up and wordlessly lets Tsukiyo on the bed.
"And thank you for saving me from dying, I guess."
Tsukiyo moves to sit on Jungkook's arm, squeaks something excitedly. Jimin chuckles.
"He likes you. Tsukiyo doesn't usually come near strangers," he says. "Also, I don't think you would have died. But yeah, you were in pretty bad shape, Jungkook. Like something sucked all the magic out of you."
"It wasn’t my day," admits Jungkook because he doesn't really feel like retelling the whole story or even bits of it, memories still making him a little breathless, all sticky panic and sharp hurt.
"I guess it wasn't," the witch replies, voice soft soft soft.
For a second Jungkook's sure Jimin is going to ask further questions but he just stands up, takes the empty cup from his hands.
"You can rest a bit more, if you want," he says and leaves for the kitchen, presumably. Tsukiyo, having somehow jumped off the bed on his own, goes after him.
He stays for an hour more, maybe two, just until his feet stop falling through the ground. Jimin doesn't push, says he doesn't mind the company, but nods in understanding when Jungkook tells him about his familiar, doesn't ask about his very broomless state despite how utterly weird it is for a witch to travel by foot.
Jimin is a kind soul, Jungkook decides.
He changes back to his own now dried clothes that smell nicely of carnation (protection, strength, healing, Jungkook's mind supplies), thanks the boy over and over again, pats Tsukiyo. Promises to repay the kindness somehow, someday.
Jimin just smiles, his cheeks coloured pretty pink, something unsuitably dejected glinting in his eyes.