Archive of Our Own ^beta

The familiar jingle of bells jolted Kyungsoo out of his focus, and he let out a small curse as he fumbled to catch the ceramic teacup, heavy with wet tea leaves, that he was trying to read. A quick glance around showed that Old Man Kibum wasn't out in the front with him -- probably tinkering with some spelling in the back of their small shop, and he breathed a sigh of relief that no one was around to witness his clumsiness.

Outside the shop windows, the sun was setting now; a starburst of oranges and golds washing over the sky like messy paint strokes. And like clockwork, the owners of Viva Fuoco -- the ones with the glass bells hanging over their entrance door -- stepped out for a quick prayer for the setting sun. He watched, faintly fascinated, as they offered incense to the golden altar decorated opulently in large rays extending outwards towards the sky. It was situated at the corner of their building, almost directly across from their shop's doors. The restaurant owners, a husband-wife duo, bowed once and then twice before escaping back through the sliding glass door to their restaurant with another jingle of the bells.

Countless others in the city were performing the same ritual now, Kyungsoo knew. Most pyrowitches, like the family-owned restaurant across from Comme par Magie, were seen as distant descendants from the Sun God and were thought to have been blessed by the deities for their witchcraft. Each day, as the sun sets, they prayed their respects to honour their divine ancestry. The bells themselves were glass-blown, created through traditional pyrowitch art using their own fiery magic.

Business had been slow that day, just like it always was, with a rare customer that had come in the late afternoon just shortly after Kyungsoo had rushed to the shop straight from school. The elderly lady had wanted a protective amulet for her son who was studying overseas. It was one of the charms that Kyungsoo felt more comfortable with, and he gladly took on the task.

People rarely came into their small shop. Usually, Kyungsoo didn't mind. He enjoyed the solitude, the feeling of moonlight streaming in through the large windows like it was now, the warm finish and soft colours that lit up the shop intimately. The last few hours of his shift dithered away as the October night settled in with a crisp breeze, the sky darkening to an inky black. The yellowed moon was bright and visible through the large shop windows, and he paused as he swept the wooden floors to admire it.

He was careful as he restocked the jars of traditional herbs for charms and spells, tucking the glass containers neatly back into place on the walls that spread across the back. Next, he checked on the dark and lush ferns dangling from the ceiling in traditional greenwitch earthenware. Rolling back the long sleeves of his cloak, Kyungsoo watered around the heavy fan of fonds as carefully as possible. They were a more recent addition to the cozy shop, gifted to them by one of the greenwitches working in a cafe next door who had sought their help. Joohyun was one of the few in their neighbourhood that didn't seem disturbed by the presence of their shop, and Kyungsoo always felt slightly indebted to her for that.

Even for a larger town, witches with ancestral bloodlines were rare -- and with it, there was more prejudice against their small community. Aside from his own family, Kibum was the only other person he knew with an ancestral witchline.

It was a surprise, to Kyungsoo, that Kibum’s little shop even existed. Comme par Magie was nestled in between Joohyun’s green cafe and a convenience store; a squat brick building with large windows located in the corner of a quiet back-alley street. But it was a nice neighbourhood with decent foot traffic that meant leasing was expensive enough -- even before factoring in the difficulties of renting buildings as an ancestral witch.

Setting aside the watering jug back on the shelf behind the counter, Kyungsoo stretched his arms above his head and let out a loud groan. He adjusted his hat, which had tilted back on his head, and headed towards the back.

The old man's nose was buried in thick, heavy tomes on ancestral witchcraft theories, as Kyungsoo had expected. Taeminnie, his familiar, was resting in the elderly man’s lap. If either of them had noticed Kyungsoo standing there, they didn't show it. The younger witch coughed politely, drawing his mentor's attention.

“Oh, Kyungsoo! All done for today?” said Kibum, smiling brightly. The cat in his lap licked his paws languidly. The laugh lines on Kibum’s wrinkled face seemed permanently etched into him, and it was one of Kyungsoo's favourite things about him -- casting a sort of warmth to the elderly man that seemed to infuse the shop itself.

Kyungsoo nodded in response. “All cleaned up.”

“Any luck today with the readings?” Kibum asked. It was him who had taught Kyungsoo how to prepare the ritual for a tea leaves reading, but unfortunately, most of the magic itself couldn't be taught. Like much of the witchcraft wielded by ancestral witches, they drew on rituals and feelings -- warmth for protection charms, wonder for seering. Much of the work was abstract, and learning how to siphon your own energy to create magic was never something that could be taught beyond intuition.

For Kyungsoo, some charms came easier to him than others. Protection charms had been his forté so far as the apprentice at Kibum's small shop, particularly when he was working with wood. There was potion-making as well, but Kibum had banned Kyungsoo from infusing potions until he had graduated high school. Something about the volatility of the ingredients often didn’t mesh well with an inexperienced witch, Kibum had claimed.

In contrast, the elder man excelled in knowledge-crafting in particular, such seeing into the future. That's what Kyungsoo was trying to learn now, albeit with stunted success.

“Not at all.” Kyungsoo sighed, slumping a little. It was hard not to feel dejected with his lack of progress.

His mentor smiled fondly, and shook his head. “Don't worry, Kyungsoo. Just keep trying, that's all you can do.” The words weren't necessarily encouraging, but Kyungsoo knew they were true. It wasn't guaranteed that he would ever learn or excel at the art of knowledge-crafting. Still, it was a challenge that the young witch was ready to meet head-on.

Kyungsoo thanked his mentor once more before waving goodbye. He returned to the front to take one last look at the storefront in case he had missed anything as he closed the store.

It was cosy, albeit not entirely spacious, lit by the warm, golden glow of fairylights strung across the ceiling and along the ferns and by some of the glowing crystalline moss above the front counter. Tall shelves lined the walls with an extensive herb collection; mugwort, ginseng; gojiberries, valerian root, string of hearts -- all neatly encased in clear glass jars and pushed against the walls. No thanks to Kibum, really. The older man was messy and disorganized, and it had taken a massive overhauling when Kyungsoo had first started apprenticing at the shop to create a better work space.

Closer to the front, where large windows let the sunlight in during the day and the golden glow during the sunset, were a few pre-charmed items such as necklaces and brooches. Ones that were less strong, the energy siphoned from their feelings not as effective as when they are directed with purpose, but sometimes clients didn't care to spend too much for the giftbearer.

Or, they had been juvenilely dared to enter the ”scary, evil ancestral witch shop on the corner of the block” and purchased something for a show of their bravery. Kyungsoo had dealt with a lot of customers such as those, and they were always the most annoying, making a mockery of ancestral magic.

A rickety old ladder was placed against one shelf, and Kyungsoo carefully stowed it away into the closet near the back entrance. He retrieved his broom at the same time, and brushed away some of the dust that had accumulated over the course of his shift.

There was only one last task left to close up the shop before he could fly home -- and he cracked open the large, glass door to retrieve the sign advertising their shop from where it sat just outside. Just as he had heaved the large sign up in his arms, he heard a voice call out from across the street.

“H-Hey! Wait, wait, are you -- are you closed now?” A boy burst out from the sliding glass doors of the restaurant, dashing the few metres of distance between them until he stood in front of a startled Kyungsoo, bent at his knees and panting.

Kyungsoo blinked at the man uncomprehendingly, his thoughts skidding to a stop in surprise. When the other boy caught his breath, he drew himself to his full height – and to Kyungsoo's mild irritation, he was at least a head taller than Kyungsoo. The irritation was quickly replaced with shock, however, as soon as he got a better glance at the taller boy's face. He recognized him.

Standing in front of him was Park Chanyeol, his classmate at Sungmo, Institute of Magics. Kyungsoo had known him -- as much as you could know someone whom you've never had a proper conversation -- for three years now. His fiery red hair was fluffy and unstyled against his forehead, unlike how he normally wore it styled upwards during school. There was an apron wrapped around his waist. He clearly worked in the restaurant owned by the pyrowitches across from his shop.

Distantly, Kyungsoo wondered why he had never seen the other boy before in the six months he had been apprenticing under Kibum. Maybe he was a new employee? But it didn't matter. Either way, Kyungsoo was hard pressed to care.

When he re-focused on the taller boy, somehow, Chanyeol was still talking.

“--and I just, just. Wanted to say hi. You know?”

Kyungsoo stared at the taller boy. He didn't know, not really. Maybe he had missed some contextual clues in the earlier parts of Chanyeol's rambling, but he really didn't see why Chanyeol would want to say hi. The silence must have unnerved the pyrowitch though because Chanyeol laughed awkwardly, and a little too loudly. The loud noise scared away some of the crows that had been sitting on the awning of his shop, and Chanyeol flinched at the sudden cawing. The shorter boy rolled his eyes, unimpressed.

His flat stare seemed to have defeated the taller boy for a second, before Chanyeol's face brightened up again, his whole body perking back up. “Oh! I want to -- purchase a charm from you?” His voice lilted upwards into a question at the end, like he wasn't sure if he really wanted to or not.

Kyungsoo sighed, before finally moving the sign back into the store before closing it and locking it behind him -- Kibum lived just upstairs and wouldn't be going out through the front again until he opened up shop the next day. Gripping his broom, Kyungsoo moved toward the middle of the otherwise empty street. The taller boy followed him like he was a lost puppy.

There was no doubt in his mind that Chanyeol was probably another one of those dumb kids who needed to prove he went to see an ancestral witch and lived to tell the stories. While he was never one of the schoolmates that made it their mission to make Kyungsoo's life a living hell -- and in fact, they had never interacted before -- but the smaller witch had no reason to believe he wasn't above that.

Really, he was too old to play their games.

“Shop's closed,” Kyungsoo said, tilting his head towards the dark storefront.

Chanyeol looked from the shop and back toward Kyungsoo. “Oh,” he said. “Right. Um. Right! Tomorrow then?” he said hopefully. The pyrowitch smiled, baring all his teeth at Kyungsoo.

What a weirdo, thought Kyungsoo. Definitely not worth his time. He didn't bother deigning the taller boy with a response as he climbed on top of his broom. The heavy and fine-grained wood of sandalwood humming to life in his hold, its familiar warm, aromatic scent greeting Kyungsoo. With one hand clutching the handle, and the other hand holding onto the wide brim of his hat to prevent it from flying off, he muttered a quick spell and kicked into the air. The old broom stuttered for a second or two, before finally taking off.

He spared one last glance at Chanyeol, the pyrowitch now gazing at him with wide eyes as he watched Kyungsoo fly off. If he didn't know any better, he would have said amazement lit up the taller boy's eyes. But he did know better, and there wasn't a chance in hell.

“What a weirdo,” thought Kyungsoo again, this time muttering it out loud to himself. It was chilly out, and the shorts he wore wasn’t helping, the crisp autumn air brisk against his bare legs. Without another glance backwards, he hurriedly sped home, eager to make it back early enough for dinner with his family. Maybe he'd tell Baekhyun about this. His best friend would probably find it hilarious.

The next day, it was the soft meowing of Taeminnie that shook Kyungsoo from his focus and alerted him to a visitor to the shop. He quickly stood up, brushing off the imaginary wrinkles from his cloak, and adjusted his hat so the wide brim was no longer flopping over his forehead and obscuring his eyes.

There was someone moving through the shop, slowly and curiously as they surveyed each shelf carefully. Something about their attention to their work sparked a sense of hope in Kyungsoo's chest -- that maybe they would get a good client to work with, one that genuinely trusted the work from witches of ancestral bloodlines.

They were tall, and with the thick fronds from the ferns hanging overhead, their face was obscured. Kyungsoo watched as they paused in front of a glass display of love amulets, a finger carefully tracing along the neat rows of beaded bracelets of varying lengths, and the beautiful charmwork that hung off each necklace. These were protective amulets made specifically for lovers, and one of Kyungsoo's favourite to work with. Unlike the common misconception -- much like all the other misconceptions of ancestral magic -- the amulets were not made to make people fall in love, but were given from lovers to one another to promise fortitude, kindness, and warmth. It protected their hearts, and their love.

Kyungsoo's own parents had their own unique pair, crafted by Kyungsoo's aunt, and it symbolized their choice to love and be with each other.

Ancestral bloodlines tended to work with several mediums to channel their witchcraft through: potions using magical herbs, ritual casting through divination circles, or through layering magic into a physical charm such as a necklace or bracelet. Kyungsoo, who preferred working with his hands, enjoyed the beadwork the most.

A few weeks ago, a skywitch who had wandered into their shop with a nasty snarl on his face, looking for all the world as if someone had stolen his cloudstaff and made kindling of it. Kyungsoo had known immediately that he had stepped into Comme par Magie with crueler intentions, and even Kibum had stepped to the front, perhaps summoned by Taeminnie in a way that only witch and familiar could communicate with one another.

The skywitch had gallivanted around the small shop with heavy, purposeful steps, dragging his eyes from shelf to shelf with not even one glance at Kibum nor Kyungsoo. It wasn't until he saw the glass case of love amulets that he had reeled back in disgust, and with one finger jabbing toward the case, he had accused them of creating “the devil's beaded work” to lure unsuspecting victims into falling in love with those who bought the charms. He spat in their face, swearing at them for coercing innocent people into unwilling unions. He was promptly thrown out by Kibum, the old man's face set in stony rage and quiet even as Taeminnie snapped at the ankles of the skywitch. Kyungsoo was shaken, and Kibum had given him the week off, worried for the small witch.

Although it wasn't the first time they've encountered aggressive visitors at the shop, nor was it the first time Kyungsoo had witches of divine blessing harass him for his own magic – usually they held snide looks on their faces, rather than become nearly violent. Nevertheless, it never got any easier to deal with. Not at school, not here.

The visitor at their store didn't do any of that to Kyungsoo's immense relief. But the relief quickly dissipated as the other person drew closer to the front of the store and Kyungsoo could see his face clearly.

It was Park Chanyeol. Again. He had been sure that the pyrowitch had gotten his fill after their conversation last night, whether it was to prove to his group of divine blessing witches that he was brave enough to approach the ancestral witch, or-- or what-have-you. Clearly not.

Kyungsoo watched glumly as the taller boy looked around the store with wide, wandering eyes. He had to duck slightly under the shroud of lush greenery, his height proving a little too tall for the hanging pots. It wasn't until he was only a few steps away from the counter where Taeminnie was napping and where Kyungsoo had been working that he noticed the short witch watching him.

He could tell the moment Chanyeol noticed him. The pyrowitch's eyes widened even further in surprise, his mouth falling open just slightly before a slightly too-wide smile stretched the corner of his lips into a grin. He made his way toward the counter with large steps.

“Hey, Kyungso--ow!” Chanyeol cried, bumping his head against a smaller, fist-sized pot of crystalline moss that emanated a subtle glow. It was taller than most people, but Chanyeol clearly wasn't most people.

The pyrowitch was still in their school uniform, the white button-up hanging off Chanyeol's broad shoulders loosely. The blazer was tucked over the crook of one arm, the fabric bunched together rather than neatly folded. He could just barely make out the pyrowitch emblem pinned onto the breast of the blazer. Kyungsoo had noticed, though not on purpose, that Chanyeol tended to wear the uniform unbuttoned and with a graphic tee underneath. The ancestral witch wrinkled in his nose in disapproval -- he disliked the blasé air to the pyrowitch, and the way Chanyeol was regarding him now put him on edge.

Chanyeol came to a stop right in front of the counter, curiously eyeing the unfinished beaded bracelet and the neat tray of beads resting next to Taeminnie, before flitting back up to meet Kyungsoo's gaze. There was something akin to interest or perhaps excitement reflected in Chanyeol's eyes, and Kyungsoo felt the urge to shy away from his gaze.

“Hey, Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol greeted him again, voice cheery even as he rubbed his forehead where he had bumped it. Kyungsoo hadn't even been aware that the pyrowitch even knew his name.

“Can I help you?” Kyungsoo asked stiffly. He clenched his hands in the thick fabric of his cloak.

Chanyeol laughed again, his face flushing a light pink this time. “Um,” he stuttered. “I wanted to apologize first -- for bombarding you last night when you had been closing up the shop. That wasn't cool of me.”

Kyungsoo only nodded, unsure of why the pyrowitch was still there in his shop. He couldn't read Chanyeol's intentions, and it bothered him.

“I, uh, I'm the son of Park Yoojin and Park Chanwook,” he said. When Kyungsoo only offered him a blank look in return, he hastily continued. “The owners of Viva Fuoco!” he clarified, jabbing a finger back in the direction of the restaurant. Kyungsoo stifled his surprise. He had guessed that Chanyeol worked there, what with the apron and all, but he hadn’t realized he would be the son of the two pyrowitches. It was his first time seeing Chanyeol outside of class though, let alone at the shop, and he wondered whether Chanyeol normally helped out at the restaurant.

The taller boy seemed to read the question running through his mind. “I don't help out often, just a few times the past week,” he explained, running a hand through his hair sheepishly. It was styled again today, Kyungsoo noted. “I saw that you were working here, and I -- I wanted to -- um.” Chanyeol floundered for a few moments and then paused. “I mean, it's a nice shop? Have you -- have you been working here long?” It sounded almost as if he had meant to say something different, but Kyungsoo wasn't interested in prying.

“Six months,” Kyungsoo responded tersely. He wished the pyrowitch would stop beating around the bush and get to the point of why he was there.

“Wow! That's so -- that's really cool!” Chanyeol exclaimed. “How are you liking it? Are you working here alone? Is this your familiar?” He pointed at Taeminnie, who lazily opened one eye and glared disinterestedly at the pyrowitch, before resuming his nap.

The rapid-fire manner with which Chanyeol seemed to speak was giving Kyungsoo a headache, and he sighed. “Can I help you?” he said again instead, ignoring the questions.

The taller witch faltered slightly before visibly steeling himself. “Right, um, so! I was wondering if you would be able to spell a good luck charm for me?” Chanyeol asked.

For a moment, Kyungsoo only stared at the other boy. He had been certain last night that Chanyeol was trying to pull a prank or something on him, but now he wasn't so sure. There was a sense of hesitancy in Chanyeol's voice, but it didn't seem disingenuous either.

With another sigh, Kyungsoo pulled out his notebook from one of the drawers tucked hidden behind the counter, flattening out its slightly frayed edges before opening it up to a blank page. He grabbed his pen, plucking away one of the stray feathers that had come loose from the end. It was just a normal pen with an ink cartridge, but Baekhyun had sent him this from Seoul as a joke that all ancestral witches needed a quill to complete the “look.”

“Who is it for, and for what?” Kyungsoo said at last.

Chanyeol perked up at Kyungsoo's response. It eerily reminded Kyungsoo of how Huchu reacts when Kyungsoo takes out a treat for her after dinner. “My sister!” Chanyeol said. “She's older than me -- her name is Yoora -- and she has her pyromagic invigilation exam next week! I was hoping maybe I could gift her a charm for luck?”

Kyungsoo nodded as he jotted down some notes. He asked Chanyeol a few more questions, trying to get a better sense of both Yoora, and of Chanyeol as well, in order to solidify the feelings of wishfulness, optimism, and hope that he should pour into the magic when crafting the charm. It wasn't an exact science -- no witchcraft was -- but it helped when it came to more powerful charm work.

To his surprise, Chanyeol was easy to work with and forthcoming with information, and he managed to hammer down all the necessary details quickly. When Kyungsoo was finally finished with his questions, his hand was cramping terribly and little indented crescents were left in his palm from his grip on the pen.

He quickly read over his notes again, nodding in satisfaction when he reached the end. “That's good. Thank you.”

The pyrowitch looked almost disappointed for a second, before his expression smoothed out again. “Do you -- do you need anything else from me?” he asked.

Kyungsoo considered his question, and then nodded his head. One hand reached up to adjust his hat again, pushing the brim back where it had fallen over his eyes again. Chanyeol tracked the movement with his eyes, his face flushed slightly pink, and it made Kyungsoo feel self-conscious. He coughed awkwardly, shaking off the strange feeling. “Please leave your contact information with us. We will contact you once the charm is complete, and you can pay then as well,” he said instead. Chanyeol nodded eagerly before rattling off his phone number.

“Thank you,” Kyungsoo said again once Chanyeol was finished. “We will call you early next week to pick up the bracelet.” The other boy looked like he was about to say something, but Kyungsoo cut him off. “Bye.”

Chanyeol looked a little taken aback at Kyungsoo’s terse dismissal. For his part, Kyungsoo felt a twinge of embarrassment or remorse -- maybe he was being a bit mean, maybe Chanyeol was genuine about his interest in Kyungsoo’s spellwork -- but the feeling was mixed with uncertainty.

“Um. Bye, Kyungsoo! Thanks again!” Chanyeol’s tone was still cheerful, but Kyungsoo had stopped paying attention, too busy considering the strange behaviour from his classmate. When he had looked up again, the shop was empty once more. No tall boy with cherry-red hair in sight. Beside him, Taeminnie let out another lazy meow, blinking one eye open to gaze pointedly at Kyungsoo, before breaking out into a yawn. Smugly, Taeminnie jumped off the counter, presumably to bother Kibum instead.

“Strange,” Kyungsoo muttered to himself, before returning his attention to the notebook. The once empty page was now filled with his neat, block-y writing on Park Yoora and her upcoming exam. Despite himself, he felt excited at the challenge of beading a charm for Yoora.

Whether or not Chanyeol was pulling a prank on him -- although by now, he was no longer sure how it could be -- at least Kyungsoo would be putting his ancestral magic to use.

Albeit arguably a social construction in itself, there were two delineations of witches in society: Witches of Divine Blessing and Witches of Ancestral Bloodline.

Divine witches, as they were colloquially referred to, were believed to receive their magic as a blessing from the deities. Depending on the deity, your magic manifested differently -- pyrowitches were seen to be blessed by the Sun God and wielded fire-related magic; green witches like Baekhyun were thought to be blessed by Hwanung, a deity who was believed to have arrived on Earth under the holy tree of sandalwood, and those who had been blessed could flourish with all life that grew in soil.

On the other hand, the source of magic for ancestral witches were largely mysterious. Despite their unknown origins, their existence could be traced all throughout history, and arguably even more predominantly than divine witches, having appeared even in the origin tales of Norse mythology. Though their magic seemed to be inherited from one generation to the next much like divine witches, their witchcraft looked different -- working with herbs, charmwork, seering, and potions rather than elemental control. Their long-lasting traditions stemmed from a period of mass persecution towards witches when they were thought to draw their powers from demonic energy.

It was an unfounded theory, but one that continued to haunt them even until this day.

Sungmo, Institute of Magics was the only high school in Danyang County. Essentially a microcosm of their small town, the ratio of witches of divine blessing to witches of ancestral bloodline reflected the general populace -- or, in other words, meant that Kyungsoo was the only ancestral witch in the entire school.

He had known that -- he had always known that. Baekhyun had pleaded with him to apply for a scholarship to join him at the Seoul National Academy of Witchcraft in the city, where there was at least a more discernible and vocal community that supported ancestral witches. But Kyungsoo’s family was here, his dogs were here, and he didn’t feel ready to leave.

That didn’t mean he didn’t regret his choices at least 90% of the time. Like now.

Kyungsoo sighed as he wrapped his thick cloak tighter around himself, ignoring the sneers and looks of disdain from the other students, as he hustled down the hallway. He was going to be late again, and all because fucking Jimin had stolen his textbooks and refused to give them back as if they were in grade school rather than high school.

He burst through the doorway to his classroom right as the school fountain lit up, crafted by one of the founding headmasters who was a seawitch, and a spurt of pearl aqua water shot up towards the sky signalling the start of class.

“Late again, Kyungsoo?” asked Professor Jang with an impatient look on his face. He frowned down at him, eyeing his hat and cloak in evident disapproval, but merely gestured for him to sit down. Kyungsoo sighed, and obliged grudgingly. He could hear the snickers from the rest of his classmates, but he held his head high.

Distantly, he knew that wearing his cloak and hat marked him to be a visible target to his peers. Although they were given the liberty to adorn cultural markers on their school uniform, divine witches tended to sew on patches or pinned an insignia onto their blazers.

(Like Park Chanyeol, his brain helpfully supplied. He squashed down the thought -- there was no reason why he should be thinking about the taller boy.)

As an ancestral witch, significant cultural markers were a privilege to which he wasn’t privy. There were no patches, no insignias he could incorporate after centuries of persecution of his kind, lost to the fires and burnings over their accused association with the devil. It wasn’t until only a couple decades ago that they began integrating with society again with the rise of ancestral witch coalitions across the globe. The reclaiming of the cloak and hat as symbolic to ancestral witches was another recent movement, one that Kyungsoo had gradually adopted as well.

Once upon a time, Kyungsoo would have just worn his school uniform with the standard polo and trousers and plain blazer, and kept his head down. But enough time spent with Baekhyun, who, despite being a greenwitch, had always been supportive and just as ready to fight for him as he would fight for Baekhyun -- and now, too, with Old Kibum -- had changed him. For the better, he thought.

The class, History of Northeast Asian Witchcraft, continued at a dreadfully slow pace. Much of the course material tended to be heavily biased towards divine witchcraft, and he listened with only half an ear as Professor Jang rambled on about the Korean Peninsula Sea-to-Skywitch Divide of 1893.

As soon as the school fountain signalled the end of class, Kyungsoo promptly gathered his textbooks and hurried out of class to fetch his broom from his locker, clutching onto the floppy brim of his hat in case it slipped off his head. He was thankful this was the last class of the day, and that he could head to Comme par Magie immediately to resume his work on Park Yoora’s charm.

He hated to admit it, given his uncertainty towards the pyrowitch, but it was one of the most fun projects he has worked on in awhile. Especially after his duds with knowledge-crafting magic.

Navigating the wide hallways of the school was always a nightmare and a half, and Kyungsoo always held tightly onto the hope that he wouldn’t run into Jimin or some of the more vocally anti-ancestral classmates on the way. Luckily, the other witch was nowhere in sight, and Kyungsoo breathed a sigh of relief as he pushed open the large oak door of the main exit.

He was nearly out the door when he heard a now dreadfully familiar voice call out his name, nearly hesitant in its tone. Kyungsoo paused, his arm still pushing the door open, before curiosity got the better of him. He turned around.

Behind him, standing right by a row of lockers at the end of the hall, stood Chanyeol. The tall pyrowitch had his cherry-red hair styled up again, his blazer worn over his broad shoulders instead of draped over his arm this time. He was looking at Kyungsoo, a strange expression on his face -- soft, uncertain, with one arm raised in half-attempt of waving hello. Standing next to him were two other boys, both of similar height to Chanyeol. They had twin looks of confusion on their face, and the one with sharp eyebrows and a pursed mouth glanced between Chanyeol and Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo recognized them too -- though it was hard not to, as beloved as they were by the general population of their school -- Oh Sehun and Kim Jongin, a skywitch and mediwitch respectively.

He recognized that glance. It was the familiar look of trepidation and caution that most people tended to carry around Kyungsoo. Neither Sehun or Jongin had ever purposefully antagonized him like some of the others in the school, but like everyone else, they had kept their distance from the ancestral witch.

Kyungsoo’s eyes flitted back towards Chanyeol. The other boy still had that -- weird -- look on his face. There was a moment of hesitation, the pyrowitch faltering before he started to open his mouth again, just barely forming the initial syllables to Kyungsoo’s name. Next to him, Sehun’s expression changed to one of alarm, and he yanked on Chanyeol’s arm, interrupting him.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Kyungsoo could hear him hiss to the pyrowitch. Whatever Chanyeol had to say in response, Kyungsoo didn’t want to know. Without another look back, he pushed through the door and let it shut with a clamour behind him.

For a moment, he wondered why Chanyeol had called out to him. They had never interacted in school before -- he never interacted with anyone, if he could help it.

Kyungsoo sighed. He had no time for stupid divine witches and their prejudices against ancestral bloodlines. It was with a sense of bitterness that he flew to work.

It took a full week of work before Kyungsoo finished the charmed bracelet for Chanyeol’s sister. He rubbed his thumb over the grain of the wooden beads, smiling as he felt the warm hum of the black laurel, bloodwood, and hickory thrumming with life underneath the pad of his finger. Kyungsoo had carefully woven each wooden bead onto a thread of sunflower, backed with a supple, but hardy, leather cord to be worn around his sister’s wrist. With each bead, Kyungsoo had spelled the charms into the wood, breathing life and energy into the magic of the wood and fortifying their properties.

Feeling pleased with himself, Kyungsoo reached for his cellphone to call Chanyeol to notify him that it was ready..

He felt his stomach churn a little at the prospect of talking to the pyrowitch, but he shook the feeling off. Chanyeol’s unpredictable behaviour had him feeling a little flustered, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that he could probably take Chanyeol on in a fight if the pyrowitch really was just playing a long, extended -- admittedly fruitless -- prank on him. Nevermind their height difference, Taeminnie would help him out. Probably.

With a long-suffering sigh, Kyungsoo tapped in the phone number that was given to him and pressed his phone to his ear. The dial tone rang a couple of times, long enough that Kyungsoo was sure the other boy wasn’t going to pick up. Right when he was about to hang up, chest feeling tight with both a glimmer of anxiety and with the pending relief that maybe he wouldn’t have to talk to him after all, he heard a click on the other end.

“Hello?” A deep voice said, tinny through the phone.

Kyungsoo sucked in a deep breath, calming his nerves. “Hi,” he said into the phone receiver. His voice was as calm and collected as ever, a fact that he was grateful for. No weakness shown. “This is Do Kyungsoo calling from Comme par Magie--”

“Oh! Hi Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol interrupted brightly. He sounded suddenly excited, and Kyungsoo couldn’t fathom why.

“Um,” said Kyungsoo, startled by the interruption. He cleared his throat. “Hello. Yes. I am calling to inform you that your order is ready for pick up.”

There was an indiscernible shuffling noise heard over the line, like Chanyeol was shifting or moving rapidly or something. It was noisy enough that Kyungsoo grimaced and pulled the phone away from his ear until he heard the pyrowitch’s voice filtering through again. “Wow! Already? You’re so quick, Kyungsoo! When can I come pick it up?”

Kyungsoo quickly glanced at the calendar sitting on the edge of the counter, close to edge where Taeminnie usually napped. It was hand-drawn by Kibum himself, and the cover was a rough illustration of what looked to be a man mid-scream. It was one of his mentor’s proudest work. He flipped through the week, a little unnecessarily since they rarely got customers, and was greeted with rows of blank pages. No appointments.

“We’re open until six today,” Kyungsoo said into the phone. “Or, um. Everyday, really.”

“Cool!” said Chanyeol. There was a sudden pause before he rambled on, rapidly as if trying to finish five different thoughts all in one breath. “Oh wait. When are you--I mean. Will you be there? Not because I’m stalking you! Just--you know, you’re the one who made the bracelet, right? It seems fitting that I should pick it up from you. I think. Maybe! Up to you!”

This time, it was Kyungsoo’s turn to pause. Slowly parsing through Chanyeol’s jumbled ramble, he felt another pinprick of confusion at the pyrowitch’s responses to him. It was annoying that he couldn’t figure out Chanyeol’s intentions, whether he was making fun of him or what.

“I’ll be here on the weekdays until closing. I don’t work on weekends, but Kibum -- the owner of the shop -- does and he can explain the charm to you just as well, maybe even better,” he explained curtly.

Chanyeol laughed a little awkwardly, the sound muffled a bit by the phone quality. “Right! Of course! Um. I’m actually working at my parents’ restaurant right now, I can come by later? If that’s alright?”

Kyungsoo closed his eyes. Opened them. “Yes,” he said. “I will be here. Until six.”

“Great! I’ll see you later, Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol responded with great enthusiasm. When they hung up, Kyungsoo felt winded of breath and he wasn’t even sure why.

True to Chanyeol’s words, the tall witch did swing by the shop just a couple hours later, apron balled in one hand and quickly combing through his red hair with the other. Instead of his school uniform, he was wearing a thin t-shirt that accentuated his strong shoulders and surprisingly toned biceps. There was a customary pyrowitch brooch pinned to the sleeve of his shirt, similar to the one Kyungsoo had noticed on Chanyeol’s school uniform. Distantly, Kyungsoo traced his eyes over the exposed skin and wondered whether the pyrowitch was cold or if he ran warmer than the average person as a pyrowitch.

He shook himself out of his thoughts as he watched Chanyeol head immediately toward the front counter, where Kyungsoo stood.

“Hi Kyungso--ow, not again!” the pyrowitch said, pouting to rub at his forehead from where he bumped it against the same tiny pot of glowing, crystalline moss that hung above the counter.

Unimpressed, Kyungsoo looked up at Chanyeol silently, cursing at the fact that he had to crane his neck just to do so, before sliding over the small, velvet pouch that held the charm.

The taller boy immediately dropped his hands to the counter, fluttering over the pouch as if it were fragile. His eyes widened, and he smiled brightly and with far too many teeth. “Wow!” he exclaimed, his dimples deepening in his cheeks. “Is this it? Can I open it?”

Kyungsoo shifted on his feet, his stomach churning uncomfortably again, before nodding. He gestured at the counter, giving silent permission for Chanyeol to pick it up. The pyrowitch dimpled at him again before doing so. Chanyeol slung his apron over his shoulder before cradling the pouch gingerly in the wide palm of his hands, delicately pulling the bag open. He carefully slid the beaded bracelet out onto his open palms.

He felt nervous watching Chanyeol’s reaction, taking in the way his mouth fell open in awe as Chanyeol brushed his thumb slowly over the ridges of one of the beads.

“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol said slowly, his voice hushed. “This is amazing. This is -- this is incredibly beautiful.” The pyrowitch smoothed his hands over each bead with almost a reverent touch.

The effusiveness of his voice, despite being said quietly, made the churning in Kyungsoo’s stomach even worse. He picked awkwardly at the collar of his robe, and pulled at the brim of his hat down until it was covering his eyes. Suddenly, the room felt like it had risen several degrees in temperature and he felt an abrupt urge to just run to the back where he could faintly hear the raised voice of Kibum arguing with Taeminnie, and just hide.

He had half a mind to stutter out a feeble excuse to Chanyeol, but before he could, the pyrowitch spoke up again. “Can you tell me about how you made this? Each...each bead contains spellwork, right?”

To his surprise, Chanyeol sounded -- earnest. Genuine. More genuine than anyone else who has ever visited his shop, even other clientele that had requested charms with intent like Chanyeol did.

Kyungsoo hesitated. It still felt like he was waiting for Chanyeol to pull the rug under him, to tell him that he was a nasty ancestral witch and that he was just tricking him into talking more about his magic. But Chanyeol looked as earnest as he sounded, his eyes wide and bright and his hands still oh so delicately holding onto the bracelet, as if it were precious and valuable.

Haltingly, Kyungsoo began to speak. “This one is black laurel. It’s a powerful wood known for its absorption of negative energy, drawing its magical properties from the element of fire and Saturn’s energy,” said Kyungsoo, pointing at a dark brown bead with darker, nearly black streaks across the grain. “I’m using it as the primary material in the bracelet because of its complementary nature to your pyro blessing.”

He shifted his finger along to another bead, this one a vivid, red colour. “This is bloodwood. The secondary material. It’s prized for its ability to harness and nurture elemental energy, and is made of strength. This will aid your sister in her pyrowitch exams.”

The last type of bead used was a pale brown with yellow hues. “Hickory. It creates balance and nourishment. It ties together your primary and secondary materials and keeps them from overpowering one another, or the wearer.”

Kyungsoo paused, wetting his lips nervously, and snuck a glance at Chanyeol. The taller witch had been listening attentively, and was still studying the bracelet closely. As if feeling his gaze, he lifted his head and met Kyungsoo’s eyes. The look on his face stunned Kyungsoo. Chanyeol looked floored, his eyes twinkling and his mouth stretched into a wide, toothy grin. “Kyungsoo, this is incredible. There’s so much detail, and so much knowledge embedded in each bead. And it’s so beautifully made. I can’t believe you created this.”

“It’s...whatever,” Kyungsoo replied awkwardly. He wiped his hands, which were suddenly sweaty, on his shorts. “I just harness and activate the magic that’s inherent in them. It’s my job. And my bloodline.”

It was an oversimplification -- witchcraft was always more complicated than that. He didn’t spend months training under Kibum for nothing, and it required hours of honing into his own energy and intuition to determine which type of ancestral magic felt right to him. And that was on top of studying the magical properties of aboriculture and horticulture before he could even get to this point. He still had so much more to go before he was anywhere near Kibum’s level.

But the pyrowitch’s attention on him made him feel uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to anyone, especially not popular divine witches like Chanyeol, to be interested in ancestral witchcraft. It was as if he was being examined and picked apart. Quickly, he turned his attention back to the bracelet as well and gently tugged two beads apart until the cord was visible. “This is leather threaded with sunflower,” he continued in the most impassive voice he could muster. “Sunflower -- because they turn their heads towards the Sun. In ancestral magic, they are believed to be tied to the Sun God.”

Chanyeol snapped his head up at that. “Really?” he asked. “The Sun God? Can ancestral bloodlines use divine magic then?”

Kyungsoo huffed. Just as quickly, the discomfort he felt just seconds ago dispersed into annoyance. It was just another reminder of how divine witches were completely ignorant to the ancestral culture. “No,” he said impatiently. “Our witchcraft -- it isn’t like yours. We don’t -- call upon it from the Gods. It’s not an elemental invocation that’s been given to us.” Kyungsoo pressed a hand against his chest, felt the way his heart beat underneath his small palm. “We feel it thrumming in our blood, through our veins, it’s like this -- this feeling imprinted on our heart. And we nurture that feeling, whatever it is, and we harness it and channel that feeling into a physical property.” He held up the bracelet. “We’re like conduits. This has layers of protective energy working in harmony with fire elements, yes, but it’s not divine witchcraft.”

The irritation must have bled into his voice, because Chanyeol looked chastised. The taller witch ducked his head, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “Sorry,” he said. “You’re right, I don’t know much about ancestral witchcraft.” His one hand dropped to the side, before picking up the velvet pouch and fiddled with it. “I really appreciate you telling me more about your witchcraft, Kyungsoo. I know...I know it asks an unfair amount of work from you, when I should have done the research myself. Thank you.”

There was a kicked puppy look on his face again, and Kyungsoo sighed. “Whatever. At least you didn’t ask if I could cast curses and hexes or something. Or love spells.” He punctuated the last part with an eye part. Another common misconception of ancestral witchcraft.

Chanyeol laughed feebly. “But really, this is all so incredible. I really admire you, Kyungsoo. I think you’re amazing and you-- I mean-- your work is beautiful.” A subtle flush heated up the pyrowitch’s face as he gestured pointedly at the bracelet. “Your witchcraft is inspiring, and so is your hard work.”

Not for the first time, Kyungsoo felt himself reel back in surprise. Each time he thought he had a bearing on what kind of person Chanyeol was, each time he expected him to be like every other divine witch he’s had the misfortune of talking to -- he disrupted his expectations, dislocated them and left Kyungsoo feeling discombobulated.

At a loss for words, the smaller witch only shrugged and shifted his weight to the other foot. He didn’t know what to say in return. “Okay. Um. That’s everything. You can pay with cash or card,” said Kyungsoo, apropos of nothing. He bent down to take out the calculator that was usually hidden in one of the drawers.

“Wait!” Chanyeol shouted. Startled, Kyungsoo looked up, nearly banging his head on the counter. His hands came up to clutch at his hat, which threatened to slide off his head from the sudden movement. He patted down his bangs, which were annoyingly wavy and made him look younger, scowling when he realized they were mussed from the brim of his hat. “Sorry,” Chanyeol said sheepishly, though he had a strange look on his face. Kyungsoo almost thought he looked besotted, but quickly dismissed the thought as nonsensical. “I just -- um -- my mom would love a charm, too, for our restaurant. Would I be able to order another one? Just for her?”

The next few seconds passed in silence. Faintly, he could hear the wind outside the large glass door, but inside the cozy little shop, it was quiet. Even Kibum had quietened down in the backroom. The pyrowitch was still staring at him, now with a hopeful expression on his face. And while Kyungsoo couldn’t help the innate sense of suspicion that arose inside of him that Chanyeol was trying to pull something, there was that look again -- the earnest one that had him sighing in resignation.

He straightened up, placing the calculator down on the counter before pulling his notebook and pen toward himself. Flipping to a blank page, the one right after his notes for Chanyeol’s sister’s charm, he carefully inked out Chanyeol’s name again. “Okay,” he said seriously. “What kind of charm are you looking for?”

Chanyeol returned his serious look with a bright, blooming smile that lit up his features. It wasn’t until Chanyeol had finally left with the bracelet tucked neatly into his pocket that Kyungsoo felt himself breathing easier again. And if Kyungsoo spent the rest of his shift already sketching out the new charm for Park Yoojin, it wasn’t because of anything but his own dedication to his work.

“Business has been going well lately, hasn’t it?” Kibum said the next day. The old man was crushing a bouquet garni of dandelion and ground ivy in his mortar and pestle for a divination spell. Taeminnie was sitting unhelpfully on the table, occasionally batting at the end of the pestle. The older man had sworn to Kyungsoo that Taemin was doing it on purpose to annoy him -- what with Taeminnie being a familiar, not a cat.

Kyungsoo felt himself go warm, the tops of his ears turning pink. The uncomfortable churning in his stomach returned at the thought of who that business was from, and he swallowed heavily, still unsure why it was affecting him like this. “I guess,” he mumbled, and continued sweeping the back room’s dusty floors in silence.

“Who’s that tall boy who keeps coming in?” Kibum continued to ask casually. He made a brisk noise as Taeminnie tried to eat a stray dandelion head. “Stop that, you menace.” Taeminnie meowed pitifully.

“A pyrowitch that goes to my school,” replied Kyungsoo, patting Taeminnie on the head as he walked by to dust off the shelves next. The familiar playfully swiped at his hand with his paw. “His family owns the restaurant across the street.”

His mentor made a soft noise of understanding. “Ah, the Parks. Seems like a nice boy.”

Kyungsoo’s stomach flipped again at the comment. Was he just being nice? Baekhyun seemed to think so when they chatted over the phone the night before, but Baekhyun was always the more optimistic one between the two of them. For Kyungsoo, he still had a hard time believing that Chanyeol didn’t have an ulterior motive. What else could explain his sudden proximity to himself?

He let the comment fade into silence and focused on cleaning the back room. His mentor wasn’t the greatest with keeping their work station clean, and he found himself sneezing from the dust as he folded away the washcloths. “Done,” he announced after he washed his hands clean.

The older man looked up and shot a smile at Kyungsoo. “Thanks, Kyungsoo. You’re a lifesaver. It doesn’t help that Taeminnie here sheds all this fur.” The familiar yowled and clamped his teeth over Kibum’s hand in response. The old witch barely reacted, only reaching over with his free hand to boop Taeminnie on the nose. “Ready to learn more about divination spells?” he asked.

Kyungsoo nodded. He still wasn’t making much progress with divination, but he was eager to soak in the knowledge nonetheless.

Kibum beckoned the small witch over, pulling out a wooden stool next to him. Just as he was about to walk over, the cat familiar stood up and stretched. Something that must have been on the table next to Taeminnie fell on the floor, resulting in a clattering noise that drew their attention.

His mentor peered down on the floor, squinting at what looked to be a small, metal object. Kibum leaned forward to pick it up. “Looks like a pyrowitch brooch.”

Kyungsoo hurried over. True to his words, it was a pyrowitch brooch. There was only reason why there would be a pyrowitch symbol left in their shop. Once again, he felt his stomach flip uncomfortably.

Taeminnie made a small mrrrrp noise, laying back down on the table, purring contentedly. He must have said something to Kibum that only he could understand, because the old man sighed and handed the brooch to Kyungsoo, who accepted it warily. “Taeminnie said your friend dropped this yesterday and it was fun to bat around and play with. Taeminnie-- you shouldn’t take people’s things for your own amusement.” The cat didn’t respond.

“Not a friend,” mumbled Kyungsoo. He studied the brooch in his hand, the metal cold and unfamiliar to him. It had the symbol of the Sun God painted delicately into its metallic finish. Distantly, he wondered if he could simply wait until it was time for Chanyeol to pick up his mother’s charm to give it back. The thought of visiting the restaurant -- or worse, approaching Chanyeol in school -- was horrifying.

It was a problem for future Kyungsoo to deal with though, thought the small witch as he shoved it into the pocket of his shorts. For now, he had a divination lesson to learn.

Future Kyungsoo arrived a lot quicker than he had expected, because it was only a few hours later when he had returned to the front counter once more and was completing the final touches on his sketches for the new charmed bracelet that the door opened again. A cherry-red mop of hair came through the door.

The familiar gut-churning sensation returned again, much to Kyungsoo’s horror, and he combed a hand through his bangs as if it would settle his nerves as the tall witch approached.

“Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol greeted him brightly. “I’m sorry to bother you but--ow, what the f-- does this get lower each time?” he pointed at the same crystalline moss that he hit his head on again.

Even in spite of the twist in his stomach and the strange warmth that he could feel creeping up again, Kyungsoo had to bite down on his bottom lip to suppress a smile. How ridiculous it was that the pyrowitch kept forgetting about the glowing moss that hang over the counter. Nonetheless, Kyungsoo stayed silent, waiting for Chanyeol to finish his thoughts.

Chanyeol pouted, but seemed otherwise undeterred by Kyungsoo’s silence. He was wearing the restaurant apron this time over the simple white-collar shirt and black slacks of their school uniform. No pyrowitch brooch in sight. “Anyway-- um, I’m sorry to bother you! But I think I dropped my brooch here yesterday? Have you seen it by any chance? It’s about this big.” The tall watch demonstrated the approximate size with his fingers, gesturing to about a two-inch space with his thumb and forefinger.

“Is it the same one you wear on your uniform?” Kyungsoo clarified.

A look of surprise appeared on Chanyeol’s face before it gave away to a slow, small smile. “You know what I wear on my school uniform?” he asked. He seemed inordinately pleased.

Kyungsoo spluttered. Embarrassment sunk in and he scowled, hoping to mask how suddenly flustered he felt around Chanyeol. “No. Yes. I don’t know. We’ve been going to the same school for three years now.”

“I didn’t think you noticed me in school,” said Chanyeol wondrously, still sounding pleased, as if he wasn’t one of the most popular boys in school for his good looks and having some of the best control over his witchcraft. Not that Kyungsoo ever noticed how he looked or anything. The small witch scowled harder, regretting saying anything at all. “But yes! It’s the same one I have on my uniform.” Chanyeol shrugged, scratching at his chin. He looked off to the side. “My mom gave it to me, you see.”

The it’s important to me went unsaid, but Kyungsoo heard it all the same. He softened, sighing again, as he dug through the pockets of his shorts. The fabric of his thick robes shifted to make way for his arm. Chanyeol’s eyes drifted down, and a weird look appeared on his face as he took in Kyungsoo’s now revealed bare legs. The small witch frowned, realizing the pyrowitch was probably judging how he wore such blatant ancestral witch clothing.

The thought that Chanyeol might really be just another divine witch who felt uncomfortable around ancestral witches made his chest twinge, a feeling that frustrated him. But then the look on Chanyeol’s face disappeared as soon as Kyungsoo took his hand out of his pocket, revealing the small brooch.

“You’re a life-saver!” Chanyeol said happily, plucking the brooch off of Kyungsoo’s outstretched palm. His long fingers grazed against his skin, the warmth of it leaving a weird tingling sensation that had Kyungsoo itching to rub off. “Seriously, you’re the best!”

And there it was again -- the unpredictability of Park Chanyeol that left Kyungsoo unbalanced each time. There was a note of appreciation in the set of Chanyeol’s face, his -- stupid, Kyungsoo thought -- dimples on full display as he beamed at the smaller witch. Chanyeol looked genuinely relieved, as if Kyungsoo pulled off a particularly impressive magic trick instead of picking up the brooch that Taeminnie had found on the ground. And technically speaking, it was Kibum who had picked it up.

“It’s nothing,” Kyungsoo mumbled, feeling his cheeks grow warm. He fought the urge to slap his palms to his cheeks, wanting to hide how flushed he was feeling. Instead, he shuffled around the papers he had on the desk, just to fidget and busy himself from looking at the sunshine-bright look on Chanyeol’s face.

The movement must have caught Chanyeol’s attention though because the pyrowitch made a small noise before bending forward slightly to get a closer look at Kyungsoo’s open notebook.

“Is that--?” Chanyeol said, pointing at a messy sketch of the bracelet that Kyungsoo was working on.

“Oh.” Kyungsoo tamped down on the urge to cover the notebook with his hand. “It’s not done yet,” he explained and internally applauded himself for keeping his voice steady.

The curiosity on Chanyeol’s face didn’t abate. “Can I see?”

“Um,” Kyungsoo hesitated, somehow thrown by the question. “Sure, I guess.” A second later, he mentally kicked himself. He should have just said no, and then firmly kicked the pyrowitch out of the shop for making him feel dumb and nervous and distracted.

Kyungsoo didn’t know why he didn’t.

He forced himself not to watch the taller witch as he studied Kyungsoo’s notebook closely, tracing over the messy lines of his pencil with his finger in the air, lips moving silently as he deciphered Kyungsoo’s sprawling notes. Chanyeol looked enraptured.

Desperate for something else to focus on, Kyungsoo busied himself with taking out a sizable acrylic box, partitioned neatly into small sections, and filled with a large range of wooden beads that him and Kibum had pruned, drilled, and sealed together.

“Can I ask you a few questions?” Chanyeol said. He gently pushed the notebook back toward Kyungsoo, patting the edge of it gently as if it was a small, soft animal instead of a ratty pile of papers. “No pressure, of course! I know you’re busy!” said Chanyeol hurriedly.

“What is it?” Kyungsoo replied hesitantly. A distant voice in the back of his head, sounding suspiciously like Baekhyun when he was being a little shit and knew something Kyungsoo didn’t, whispered that Kyungsoo normally would have said no. No questions asked, no explanations given. Yet again, he finds himself unmoored in front of Chanyeol, and he didn’t understand why.

Chanyeol’s face lit up, and he visibly perked up, nearly hitting his head on the pot of moss again. The trepidation he felt with himself, at his own uncharacteristic behaviour, only grew stronger when the big smile on Chanyeol’s face made his stomach churn yet again.

“I guess I’m just curious about how you work. These sketches -- Kyungsoo, they’re so cool! You’re so cool!” Chanyeol grinned at him. “I guess what I’m trying to say is...would you be able to talk me through them?” There was a sheepish look on Chanyeol’s face as he toyed with the straps of his apron. “I know that’s a lot but. But I would love to learn more about your magic. I would love to learn more about how you bring all these memories and thoughts I have with my mom to life with your charmwork.”

Whatever it was that Kyungsoo was preparing for Chanyeol to say, it wasn’t another statement of interest in his work. He didn’t understand how a divine witch could sound so passionate, so enthusiastic about his magic. While Kyungsoo knew that he was a potent witch in his own right, he was self-aware to know that most people hated him. Hated ancestral bloodlines.

Even the rare customers often rushed in and out of the shop like paparazzi were rounding the corner and they would die before they let someone catch them visiting an ancestral witch’s store.

Briefly, Kyungsoo wondered if he’d ever stop being surprised by Chanyeol. The antsy feeling was back. Once again, he fought the urge to hide his cheeks in his hands, sure that he was glowing rosy and red. He was sure he hated it. Hated the pyrowitch. Hated Chanyeol for making him feel so shy, so awkward.

And yet...

Kyungsoo found himself thinking through his own work process, in how he extracted the energy and the feelings he needed for the charmwork to work properly. In spite of the hurried way that Chanyeol often spoke, as if he couldn’t get the words spilling out of his words fast enough, he was patient as the smaller witch took the time to think.

“Yesterday, you were telling me your intentions behind this charm. You want to gift it to your mother, and for the restaurant that she inherited from your late grandfather.” Kyungsoo paused. He plucked up a black laurel bead and rolled it between his fingers. The wooden bead hummed to life underneath his fingers, and he could feel the magic pulsing through the grain. “There was this look in your eye, this sense of nostalgia and this feeling of pride. Like there’s so much history that’s in the restaurant, so many stories both you and your mom could tell. And with it -- it felt like you wanted to protect her too. To protect that space that means so much to you both.”

Chanyeol nodded, listening attentively.

Lifting his hand, he showed the bead to Chanyeol. “So it made me think of black laurel once again. For its affinity to fire, and its propensity to dispel negative energy. The same bead in your sister’s bracelet.”

Kyungsoo passed it to Chanyeol, who held it between his fingers too. It looked comically small in his hands. Even though Kyungsoo knew that Chanyeol wouldn’t feel its magic the same way Kyungsoo could, the entranced expression on his face was almost enough for him to second guess himself.

“Redwood,” said Kyungsoo after he plucked out a second bead, this one a deep reddish-brown. “It works well with fire as well. Redwood is one of the largest trees in the world, connecting the Heavens, where the Sun God resides, and the Earth.” He passed the bead over to Chanyeol too. “It’s a symbol of endurance and strength.”

The third bead was sycamore, a white sapwood with speckled flecks across the wooden surface. “Sycamore grows slow, but is one of the hardiest of trees. It’s capable of thriving in harsh climates. With my witchcraft, this bead evokes patience and the ability to overcome adversity.”

Finally, Kyungsoo held up the last bead. “This is one of my favourite trees,” he told Chanyeol. “It’s considered the strongest wood by ancestral witches. It builds energy from fire and lightning. We use it for protection, prosperity, and defense.” He passed this one over to Chanyeol as well, who accepted the fourth bead with care. “Oak,” he said, nodding toward it. “The cord will again be sunflower woven with leather, but I’m thinking of adding snapdragon too for its grace and strength.”

He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. Reaching out with one hand, he fiddled with his box of beads. “When we cultivate these wooden beads for intentional charmwork, like I did for your sister and like I will do for your mother, we concentrate the elements and properties to work in collaboration with the wearer’s own energy. Our witchcraft draws them out, emboldens them, activates them in a sense.”

They both lapsed into silence for a moment. All of a sudden, Kyungsoo felt all too aware of how long he rambled on for. “Sorry,” he said abruptly. “I said so much -- that must have been so boring --”

“No!” Chanyeol responded. Kyungsoo jumped. “Sorry,” Chanyeol apologized, this time in a quieter voice. “Sorry, no, I mean, that wasn’t boring at all. I -- really, thank you again for teaching me all of this.” And there it was again: the weird look Chanyeol kept giving him. The one where his face softened as he turned toward the small witch, but his eyes were focused intensely on his. Like he was seeing right through Kyungsoo somehow. “I think you might be the most incredible witch I know.”

It was a hyperbole. It had to be. There was no way Chanyeol was being serious when he said that. But still, Kyungsoo felt a rush of happiness, even through the filter of embarrassment, at Chanyeol’s unfettered praises. He ducked his head and bit down on his bottom lip, shaking his head slightly.

Kyungsoo was still rucking through his brain for a response -- his thoughts stuttering in its track in his flustered state -- when the piercing sound of a phone ringing disrupted the peace of the shop. Chanyeol cursed, fumbling through his pants pocket, until he pulled out his cellphone and nearly dropping it in the process.

“Hi mom!” Chanyeol answered, sounding mildly panicked. He quickly straightened up from where he was leaning on the counter. Kyungsoo hadn’t even noticed, the ways their heads were bent close together, until now. “I know, I know. Sorry. I’m coming back now! Don’t get mad!”

The pyrowitch hung up his phone and stuffed it back in his pocket. “I’m sorry, Kyungsoo. I forgot -- my work break was over fifteen minutes ago. Mom’s pissed,” he said ruefully.

Not knowing what else to say, Kyungsoo only nodded. He should feel glad that Chanyeol was leaving him alone so he could focus on his work properly.

He should.

Yet -- he found that he wasn’t. And he didn’t understand why. What made Chanyeol so different?

“Sorry for taking up all your time too. I just...I love hearing you talk about your magic. I wish I could see you work on the bracelet, but I know I can be a bit -- much.” Chanyeol laughed, shoving his hand into his pockets. The movement made his biceps look even bigger than normal. “So I’m really, really thankful. Thank you again.” He smiled warmly at Kyungsoo.

Before he realized he was going to do it, Kyungsoo opened his mouth to respond. “You can, you know.” Immediately, he wanted to claw those words back and then dig himself a hole to bury himself in. Maybe Taeminnie would cover him up with dirt if he asked kindly enough.

At his words, Chanyeol pushed himself closer to the counter. It made their height difference more pronounced, and Kyungsoo had to crane his neck back just to meet his eyes. There was a pink hue spreading on the pyrowitch’s face. “You really mean that?” he asked.

Kyungsoo opened his mouth to deny it, to change his mind. And then he closed it again. Admittedly, he had enjoyed describing ancestral witch magic to Chanyeol, who he was starting to truly believe just enjoyed learning more about his witchcraft. Besides Baekhyun, who never asked too many questions about his bloodline just by virtue of knowing him so well and for so long, he had never tried to verbalize how his magic worked.

Kyungsoo blinked. For a moment, he could only stare at Chanyeol for a few seconds longer than perhaps he should have, taking in his sparkling eyes and deep dimples, before he dragged his gaze back towards his hands. “As long as you don’t bother me when I work,” he found himself saying. “As long as you don’t bother me, then you can come visit. In an observational capacity only.” He tried to sound strict, but truth be told, he was unsure if he succeeded.

Judging from the giddy look on Chanyeol’s face, he didn’t. Or the pyrowitch had selective hearing, which was just as possible. But Kyungsoo didn’t take back his words, and when Chanyeol left just a few moments later, his long legs easily taking him back over to the restaurant in mere seconds, Kyungsoo finally buried his face in his hands.

“What the Hells,” Kyungsoo whispered to himself. His cheeks felt warm to the touch, and he was horrified that he might have been talking to Chanyeol with a visibly flushed face. He had no idea what was going on with himself.

Two weeks ago, Kyungsoo would have rejected Chanyeol’s request without a thought. Might have even shooed him out with his broom if he was in a particularly grumpy mood. A day ago, he would have ignored him. Hells, even earlier in the day today, he probably wouldn’t have opened up an ongoing invitation for Chanyeol to visit him in the shop.

The thought of talking to Park Chanyeol wouldn’t have even been an option not too long ago. It was no secret that he carried a lot of pain with him from how his classmates treated him. It wasn’t a wound he saw worth re-opening, unsure of which divine witches he could trust now beyond the kind greenwitch at the cafe next door and Baekhyun. If he was still being honest, he still wouldn’t talk to any of the other divine witches at his school even if he was paid for it.

But somehow, somewhere ever since the first night when Chanyeol had stopped him as he was closing down the store, the thought of having the pyrowitch around suddenly felt a little less unbearable to Kyungsoo.

The rest of the week, and the following week after that, settled into a predictable routine. Or at least it was as predictable as it could be when Kyungsoo still found himself confused over Park Chanyeol’s sudden appearance in his life.

True to his words, Chanyeol showed up each day with a bright smile and dimpled cheeks after school had ended, oftentimes with his blazer discarded and the restaurant apron donned and sleeves rolled up to show off his annoyingly toned arms. Despite having invited him to visit him, Kyungsoo still found himself surprised the first few times it happened. The pyrowitch spoke with a little hesitation at first, watching Kyungsoo silently as he spelled each bead and wove them carefully onto the cord. The smaller witch was content enough with the quiet. But then he started to ask questions, on what would happen in Kyungsoo were to add other magical properties than fire, on the different charmworks, on divination and potion-making. Chanyeol acted like it was his never-ending quest to find out more -- and to his surprise, Kyungsoo found that he didn’t mind that either, not any more than the solitude of his work.

Unexpectedly, Chanyeol was pleasant to be around. For all his boundless energy and long limbs and biceps and smiles careening from ear to ear, he knew how to respect Kyungsoo’s space. He had a seemingly insatiable curiosity, but he was never demanding about it, never acted as if he was entitled to Kyungsoo’s knowledge. He never even tried petting Taeminnie -- the cat would have bit his hand off for that, not liking strangers’ touches -- despite cooing over how cute and fluffy the familiar looked.

Even if Baekhyun hadn’t pointed it out to him, Kyungsoo knew himself. At best, he was prickly around those he didn’t know well and wary of others’ intentions. If it weren’t for him and Baekhyun growing up together from when they were snot-nosed diapered babies accidentally banging their heads together on the playground, who knew if he would have ever let the greenwitch in.

But beyond that? Kyungsoo was well aware that he didn’t have many other friends, if at all. His mentor came the closest, but that hardly counted given Kibum had to be at least 70 years old -- though surprisingly spry for a geriatric. Taeminnie counted even less as another witch’s familiar. If pressed, he would maybe name Joohyun, the kind greenwitch next door, but they never had much conversation beyond small talk.

So he was puzzled over Chanyeol and his -- his ventures of friendship, maybe, if Kyungsoo had to label their interactions somehow.

Here was what he knew about Park Chanyeol from before: he was tall and handsome, he was loud, and he was the famed pyrowitch at their school for being the only one who could conjure controlled pyromagic. Kyungsoo never tried hard to pay much attention at school, neither to the classwork nor to his classmates, but even he knew that Chanyeol was well-liked by everyone. Vaguely, Kyungsoo thought that he seldom saw Chanyeol alone, his arms always slung around his little group of friends. Above all, he had known that Chanyeol had never spoken to him before and Kyungsoo had never even considered speaking to Chanyeol in the first place.

And here was what he knew about Chanyeol now: his mother inherited her restaurant from her father, and Chanyeol knew that one day he either wanted to take over the business or become a musician. He enjoyed playing guitar, and was enthusiastic about finding a way to fit his pyrowitch magic into a performance somehow, although Kyungsoo could only imagine him setting the guitar on fire and that didn’t seem practical. Chanyeol was enthusiastic about animals, and was disappointed that he hadn’t found a spiritual connection with a familiar yet. He liked talking, could tell stories endlessly if prompted, but was just as eager to listen, to draw responses from Kyungsoo like water from a well. His laugh was loud and boisterous, and his face would crumple up in mirth, grin all toothy and wide. Sometimes he would collapse onto the counter and clutch at the edge if Kyungsoo said something particularly dry that sparked laughter from the pyrowitch. It wasn’t something he understood -- Kyungsoo knew he wasn’t funny -- but somehow Chanyeol seemed to enjoy their conversations anyway.

And that was what he didn’t understand. Why Chanyeol had begun to talk to him now, when they had never interacted before. Why he had found him at the shop in the first place, or why he would commission a charm from an ancestral witch for his divine witch family. Why he visited day after day, content to just observe and listen if Kyungsoo wasn’t in the mood to talk -- and he wasn’t always -- or to tell him about the shitty customer they just had at the apron, or to ask Kyungsoo about how his day went and if Kibum had taught him anything knew or if Taeminnie was up to no good once again.

It made no sense to Kyungsoo. Not when it felt like Chanyeol appeared out of nowhere, barging into his life with his stupid face and sweet smile. He had never even seen Chanyeol at the restaurant before that day, and he knew their restaurant stood across from their building long before Kibum had even opened up his shop.

“Why haven’t I seen you at the restaurant before?” Kyungsoo asked Chanyeol one day, just as he was finishing the last spell on the bracelet, his fingers twisting the end of the cord to knot neatly together to signify unity. The taller witch was sitting on the edge of the counter, peering over at Kyungsoo’s hands in interest.

The question seemed to take Chanyeol by surprise. “The restaurant?” Chanyeol echoed. “You visited?”

Kyungsoo shook his head. He had never gone in before, just observed from afar as the owners -- Chanyeol’s parents, his mind supplied -- paid their respects to the Sun God in the evening. “No, I’ve never been inside before. Just,” he hesitated for a moment. “I’ve never seen you around before, or doing the rituals. Not before the day you stopped me as I was leaving, I mean.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol said. His eyes had widened, and for a moment, he looked thrown off by Kyungsoo’s question. Then, he averted his eyes back towards Kyungsoo’s hands, a faint flush rising on his cheeks. “Um. Usually I don’t help out at my parents’, but they needed an extra helping hand so they had asked me after school one day.”

“That was the day you spoke to me?” Kyungsoo asked curiously.

“Um,” Chanyeol said again, visibly hesitating. “Uh, no. It was just once, maybe a month or two before then? I don’t normally work at the restaurant.”

That explained why Kyungsoo had never seen him before. But in the past month, it felt like Chanyeol was everywhere.

“You’ve been working there almost everyday for the past few weeks,” Kyungsoo mused out loud, then returned to weaving the bracelet together. It was nearly finished. “Has the restaurant been getting busier?”

There was a sudden bout of silence, long enough that it caught Kyungsoo’s attention once more, and he looked up to find Chanyeol’s flustered expression. A second later, Chanyeol broke into a grin, one that seemed unnatural. It wasn’t the same smile that Kyungsoo had gotten used to seeing over the days. “Yeah,” Chanyeol replied at last, his hands coming up to drum on the counter. “They’ve been needing my help more.”

His smile remained in place. It made him uneasy, for some reason, to think that Chanyeol was giving him a fake smile. It was the first time he had ever seen Chanyeol seem not entirely genuine about something. The thought that the pyrowitch could be hiding something from him made his chest feel a little tight, and Kyungsoo blew out a sigh in frustration.

Chanyeol didn’t owe him to tell him everything about his life. He knew that. But then a little insidious voice at the back of head said maybe Chanyeol actually didn’t like being around him, that there was something else going on that Kyungsoo didn’t understand, but would explain why the taller witch was hanging around him lately.

He tried to tell himself that it wouldn’t matter if Chanyeol really was just playing some long game of trick the weird ancestral witch into being his friend before humiliating him in front of the whole school. This wasn’t some silly Hollywood teen drama, and even if it were to happen, Kyungsoo could always pretend to cast a few hexes and curses on them and terrify them all to death. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t even like Chanyeol all that much either, and that he barely knew the other boy.

Despite his self-reassurances, the pressure in his chest grew heavier. He felt an ache where his heart was, and he took one hand off the bracelet to rub at his chest.

“You okay, ‘Soo?” Chanyeol’s voice startled him out of his thoughts, and he jolted, nearly dropping the bracelet as his head whipped up to meet Chanyeol’s concerned gaze. A second later, Chanyeol’s words registered in his mind. Soo.

He must’ve muttered the dimunative out loud, because Chanyeol looked embarrassed just a second later. The pyrowitch swept a hand through his hair, and bit down on his bottom lip for a second before releasing it. “Sorry,” he apologized quietly. “Is that okay? It just slipped out -- but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Strangely, Kyungsoo could feel his heart rate increasing. He absently rubbed at his chest again. The achiness was gone, but was now replaced with a fluttering, tickling feeling. “It’s fine,” he said a little stiffly. Chanyeol didn’t look like he believed him. “Just. Never been called that before. ‘Soo’,” he explained, and immediately felt like an idiot -- why would Chanyeol even care?

But the hesitant look melted off Chanyeol’s face and his smile returned again -- his real one, the one that made his face look gentle and his dimples in clear display. His smile was soft this time, and a little fond, like he was endeared by Kyungsoo’s stilted attempt of acting like a normal human being. Chanyeol’s eyes crinkled in amusement.

Kyungsoo’s heart flipped.

“Okay,” Chanyeol murmured. He was still looking at Kyungsoo with that soft look on his face. The smaller witch bit down on his lip, dropping his eyes back down to his hands, as he willed a blush not to form on his face. He could feel the tell-tale pinprick of heat at the tip of his ears.

Kyungsoo shook his head, hoping to dispel the strange fluttering feeling in his chest again. More and more, he found himself unable to stop his body from reacting whenever he was around Chanyeol. He didn’t want to admit it, but he felt uncomfortably warm around the taller boy, and his smile did unpleasant things to his heart. Kyungsoo didn’t know why.

He fiddled with the bracelet for a moment longer, rubbing the beads between his fingers. Like usual, the wood hummed with energy under the pad of his fingers, a familiar thrum of magic that felt as intimate to him as his own limbs.

The bracelet was finished, but for a moment, Kyungsoo hesitated before slowly sliding it across the counter toward where Chanyeol was perched. “It’s done,” he announced quietly, and watched as Chanyeol’s face lit up excitedly as he delicately picked up his mom’s bracelet. He wondered what would happen next, now that he had handed the bracelet over to Chanyeol. The next step was payment, of course, and he could imagine that Chanyeol would smile, maybe a little awkwardly, before leaving the shop to return to his own restaurant.

And with that, there would be no reason to hang around Kyungsoo anymore.

There was a sinking feeling in his chest, like a heavy stone that nestled somewhere in the pit of his stomach and refused to leave, which persisted as he discussed the payment terms with Chanyeol. The pyrowitch was just as effusive with his compliments as he was every time he asked Kyungsoo about his witchcraft, but still, Kyungsoo felt a sense of dread with every second that ticked past dragging them closer and closer to when Chanyeol would walk out the door.

“Here you go,” Kyungsoo said, his voice muted, as he tucked the bracelet into a velvet pouch, tugging the strings until the pouch closed, before handing it over to Chanyeol.

“Thanks, ‘Soo.” Chanyeol beamed at him, his hands closing around the pouch before sliding it into his pocket. “My mom is going to love it.”

Kyungsoo wasn’t sure if he could believe him -- divine witches rarely liked anything ancestral witches did -- but Chanyeol had to get his attitude somewhere. Maybe his family were more progressive than most in Danyang County. Still, he couldn’t help the smile that quirked up the corner of his lips. It was nice, hearing Chanyeol’s confidence in Kyungsoo’s skills.

“It was my pleasure,” said Kyungsoo, and he was surprised to find himself meaning it.

For a moment, Chanyeol only looked at Kyungsoo. There was a look of warmth in his eyes, but then it sharpened into something else -- nearly intense, as if he was considering something. But just as quickly, fast enough that Kyungsoo was almost sure he had imagined it, the look disappeared. “I have to go back to work,” Chanyeol said regretfully. Kyungsoo only nodded, ignoring the pang in his chest.

A beat passed. And then another one. Finally, Chanyeol picked up his discarded apron and threw it back over his head, before stepping toward the door, ducking his head under the swaying earthenware pots. Once there, he turned the handle and opened the door, the crisp air filtering into the shop immediately. “Bye, ‘Soo!” he called out cheerfully, waving goodbye, before walking out.

Kyungsoo watched for a few seconds through the large glass windows as Chanyeol made his way across the street, before he forced himself to start tidying the counter. His heart was still fluttering in his chest, and his cheeks felt rosy again. Pressing a hand to his racing heart, Kyungsoo sighed.

“Get a grip, Kyungsoo,” he muttered to himself.

The next day, Kyungsoo found himself dozing off as he combed through an ancient tome on the use of herbology in potions that Kibum had handed to him when he clocked in for work that afternoon. After the fifth time he found his eyes closing on their own accord and his chin slipping off its perch on his palm, nearly slamming his head down onto the desk, he sighed and closed the book.

Kyungsoo stretched his arms over the counter, flopping listlessly over his spread of books and notes. He ignored Taeminnie’s annoyed meow when he accidentally jostled the cat.

It had only been less than one day, and already he felt restless being alone -- technically speaking, since Taeminnie was napping at the front with him while Kibum had ran out to do some errands. Somehow he had gotten used to the tall pyrowitch’s presence in the shop. In moments like these, he wished Baekhyun had never moved away and left him alone in this cramped town.

He dug through his pocket for his phone, drawing up his messages with the green witch. Bored, he typed out before pressing send. Not even half a minute later, his phone buzzed. On the screen, the caller ID declared that it was Baekhyun calling him.

Kyungsoo couldn’t suppress his smile even if he tried. Fumbling with his phone, he clumsily swiped to answer the call, pressing the device against his ear. “Hello?” he said.

“Kyungja!” came Baekhyun’s voice through the receiver. “You need saving?” In the faint distance, Kyungsoo could just barely make out the noise of what sounded unmistakably like The Sims’ background music. Kyungsoo’s smile turned fond at the sound. They used to play the game together often when they were still kids.

Rubbing a hand against the grain of the counter, Kyungsoo rested his cheek in the crook of his outstretched arm. “I’m bored,” he complained. “Danyang sucks.”

His best friend made a humming noise, crackly through the phone. “This is why you should move here with me. I think you’d like it! The school has an entire club just for ancestral witches. Plus--” His voice took on a wicked tone. “The club leader is exactly your type. Tall, handsome, a little goofy--”

“Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo said, embarrassed, interrupting the other witch. Sometimes he forgot the extent to which Baekhyun knew him, including his ill-fated crushes and favourite movie actors. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if Baekhyun’s description didn’t draw up an image of a certain pyrowitch in his mind. But to his horror, it did.

Park Chanyeol was tall, handsome, and a little goofy, and a whole lot more. But Kyungsoo did not have a crush on him. He just. He just thought he was fascinating. That was all.

Over the phone, Baekhyun cackled. “So touchy. Why are you so bored? I thought you’ve been hanging around Chanyeol? Feeling ‘fluttery’?”

Kyungsoo couldn’t stop the burn of embarrassment from rushing to his face, and he hid his face in his arm even though there was no one else but Taeminnie in the shop. “We aren’t hanging out, Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo explained, his voice slightly muffled from the way he was laying down. “He was just...a customer who took his lunch breaks here.”

He could hear Baekhyun making another noise of understanding. “Is that so?” he said, like he didn’t believe Kyungsoo’s words. Kyungsoo jutted out his bottom lip. “Well! Want me to tell you about my day?”

Kyungsoo grabbed the offering like a lifeline. “Yeah,” he said, secretly relieved that Baekhyun wasn’t going to pry more about Chanyeol. The other boy launched into a tirade about some of his annoying classmates, and then about two of his friends -- Minseok and Jongdae -- that he met at his new school who had just started dating. Kyungsoo responded and commented in the appropriate places, happy to listen to Baekhyun’s stories. They talked everyday, and tried to call each other as often as possible too, since texting wasn’t the same. But still, even as Kyungsoo felt a nearly overwhelming sense of joy at how his best friend was clearly thriving over in the city, he couldn’t help the pang of loneliness too.

Nonetheless, talking to Baekhyun was nearly always enough to cheer him up. A fond smile appeared on his face as Baekhyun continued to tell the story of how Jongdae confessed to Minseok, and a particularly vivid imitation -- one that Kyungsoo instantly knew had to be a good one despite never having met them before -- had him giggling helplessly.

It was right after another bad joke when Kyungsoo heard the sound of the door opening, followed immediately by a familiar, deep voice saying: “Kyungsoo?”

For a second, Kyungsoo froze. It was unmistakable at this point. Tuning out Baekhyun’s voice, he turned around. Surely enough, the tall pyrowitch had just ducked through the door, clumsily bundled up in a large knit scarf and his school uniform, no apron in sight. For the first time, Kyungsoo noticed how easily Chanyeol now navigated through the store, automatically ducking underneath the hanging ferns and the crystalline moss to avoid getting hit. His heart leapt into his throat at the realization, and he swallowed noisily to try and dispel it.

“Hi! I was--” Chanyeol began, before realizing that Kyungsoo was on the phone. He paused and gestured toward the door; a silent question on whether he should return. Quickly composing himself, Kyungsoo shook his head and held up a finger to indicate that Chanyeol should wait.

Kyungsoo patiently waited for Baekhyun to finish his story, dissolving into laughter -- albeit quieter, more self-conscious with the awareness of Chanyeol being in the room -- at the particularly funny parts.

“I think you would like them too, Kyungsoo. Minseok, Jongdae, Junmyeon -- they’re all good people. I wish they could meet you. I talk about you too much, apparently,” Baekhyun said at the end of his story. He sounded wistful, a contrast from his joking tone from earlier.

Kyungsoo couldn’t stop the corner of his lips from quirking up. “Yeah?” he said, softly. “I wish I could meet them too. You sound good, Baekhyunnie. You really do.”

“Aww, do you miss me, Kyungja?” Baekhyun teased.

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he said. It went unspoken that he did. Baekhyun had to know how much he missed him, or else he wouldn’t have called. “Anyway, I have to go now.”

“Call me later? I want to hear how you’re doing too.”

“Okay. Bye, Baekhyunnie,” said Kyungsoo, and laughed again when Baekhyun made obnoxious kissing noises over the phone. He hung up with a smile, sliding the phone back into his pocket.

When he turned back to look at Chanyeol, the taller boy had unravelled the scarf so it hung loosely around his neck instead. His cheeks were still ruddy from the brisk outside air, and Kyungsoo wondered once again if his skin would be as cold to the touch as it looked, or if Chanyeol ran warmer as a pyrowitch.

There was an expression on Chanyeol’s face that he had never seen on him before -- eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. He looked upset somehow, bruised. Worry spiked in Kyungsoo.

“Chanyeol?” he asked, taking another step closer to the counter. He craned his neck back to get a better look at the pyrowitch. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong! But, uh, who were you talking to?” Chanyeol responded. The bruised look didn’t disappear.

“Me?” Kyungsoo asked, a little nonsensically. Chanyeol nodded tightly. “Baekhyunnie. He’s a friend of mine.”

“Does he go to our school?”

Kyungsoo couldn’t see why Chanyeol would want to know in the first place, but he answered nonetheless. “No, he transferred to a school in Seoul right before we started high school. We’ve known each other for ages. Since we were kids.” he explained, smiling fondly at the memory of how small and whiny Baekhyun was as a little boy. He was still relatively small and whiny, but he had admittedly grown taller than Kyungsoo and was much broader.

“Oh,” Chanyeol replied. A pause. “Are you--” Chanyeol cut himself off. He looked uncertain, and gesticulated vaguely with his hands. Squinting, Kyungsoo tried to understand what the taller boy was getting at. Was Baekhyun...?

An epiphany dawned on him. Chanyeol must had been wondering whether Baekhyun was a close friend and was trying to ask in a tactful way. He probably was curious about it since Kyungsoo was evidently a loner in other aspects. Deciding to save Chanyeol the trouble, Kyungsoo nodded in affirmation. For a moment, Chanyeol’s frown deepened, looking almost hurt until Kyungsoo followed up immediately and said, “He’s my best friend.”

At first, the hurt look lingered on Chanyeol’s face until it transitioned into confusion. “Best friend?” he asked. “Just a friend?” Kyungsoo nodded again, hiding his own confusion as Chanyeol suddenly looked relieved. “Right! Cool! I think? You dont -- you don’t have any feeli-- actually, you know what, nevermind! Let’s restart! Hi Kyungsoo!” The taller witch said in one hurried breath, smiling a little too wide by the end of it.

Confused, Kyungsoo tilted his head to the side, his eyes wide and inquisitive. One hand had to come up to grab onto his hat to prevent it from sliding off his head. Chanyeol made a small noise in response, his face flushing, before covering his face with one hand. For a moment, Kyungsoo felt distracted by how much bigger Chanyeol’s hand looked in comparison to his, but then he heard Chanyeol mutter something under his breath. It sounded like “you’re going to be the death of me,” but it was too muffled to be certain.

A pause. Seconds passed, until -- “hi?” Kyungsoo said eventually. “Are you okay, Chanyeol?”

At the sound of his name, the taller witch’s flush turned red. “Yes,” he said, and then cleared his throat. And then he lapsed into silence again, staring at Kyungsoo.

The steadiness of his stare made him feel suddenly self-conscious, and as his heart rate picked up in response, he averted his eyes to the side. “Can I...Can I help you?” he asked. He wasn’t expecting to see Chanyeol so soon, not when he had no reason to visit Kyungsoo in the shop now.

This got Chanyeol’s attention, and the other boy shifted his weight to the other leg. His hand slid back down, stopping at the ends of his scarf to instead play with the frayed wool. “Um,” Chanyeol said. The bridge of his nose was dusted with the embarrassed rosy flush now. Cute, Kyungsoo thought, before tamping down on the unwanted thought. “Um, I wanted to say this to you yesterday, b-but it didn’t feel like the right timing? Um. Anyway, I regretted not saying it, so I thought I’d come by today -- I’m not working though, I hope that’s okay? -- Anyway, I just wanted to ask i-if you...if...” he trailed off.

For some reason, Kyungsoo could feel his heart doing flips in his chest, beating a butterfly-fast rhythm against his ribs like it wanted to escape. Subconsciously, he found himself leaning forward, curiosity taking over him at what Chanyeol wanted to say.

“I...I wanted to ask--” Chanyeol gulped noisily, raking a hand through his tousled cherry-red locks. “--if maybe...if maybe you would...” Kyungsoo held his breath as Chanyeol took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It looked as if he was steeling himself to say something important, and he wondered what it could be. The air around them felt intense, nearly electric.

Just when Chanyeol let out a long, unsteady exhale and had opened his mouth to let out the words on the tip of his tongue, the door slammed open again and old Kibum hobbled in carrying a large stack of tomes. At the sight of the elderly man struggling under the weight of the books, both Kyungsoo and Chanyeol hurried over to assist him.

“Thank you,” chirped the old man after they had set the books on the counter. Awoken from his nap, Taeminnie hopped off the counter and meowed at his witch, before stretching out his claws in front of him. “Oh,” Kibum said, looking at the cat. “My bad,” he said, shooting a lucrative glance at Kyungsoo and Chanyeol. “Taeminnie told me I just interrupted something. Silly old me! Don’t mind me, I’ll just be at the back with this brat.” Kibum laughed, stooping low to pick up Taeminnie, cradling the Himalayan cat to his chest. “Those books are for you, Kyungsoo!” he called out, before disappearing through the door.

The door closed behind him noisily, loud in the stillness of the otherwise quiet room. Suddenly, it felt entirely too quiet, and Kyungsoo was abruptly aware of the sound of Chanyeol’s own breathing. When he chanced a glance at the taller boy again, the pyrowitch looked -- disappointed, somehow.

“What were you going to say?” Kyungsoo prompted hesitantly, his fingers playing absentmindedly with the folded corner of his notebook.

For a moment, Chanyeol didn’t respond. Then, he huffed. The air around them felt different now, no longer charged with the tense energy Kyungsoo could feel earlier. “Uh--” Chanyeol stuttered. “I was going to say...Um.” He took another deep breath, but this time, when he exhaled, Chanyeol let out a sigh. It sounded strangely resigned. “Yixing’s birthday is coming up. I was wondering if I could commission a bracelet for him too?”

A beat of silence passed as Kyungsoo waited for Chanyeol to continue, certain that that wasn’t what the pyrowitch had meant to say -- or at least not entirely. But when Chanyeol didn’t add anything else, Kyungsoo felt a wave of disappointment pass over him even as another part of him perked up in excitement at the thought of Chanyeol still wanting to commission charmwork from him.

“Sure,” Kyungsoo said at last. Surprisingly, Chanyeol didn’t look any more excited. “When’s his birthday?” He pulled his notebook open, fumbling for his quill pen.

Chanyeol pushed the pen closer to him. Kyungsoo grabbed it with a quiet thanks, his cheeks turning pink. Finally, the taller boy’s face softened again, and a smile played at his mouth as he gazed down at Kyungsoo. “October 7,” he admitted sheepishly.

“October 7?” Kyungsoo echoed incredulously. It was already the last week of October.

Chanyeol’s expression shifted a little. He looked embarrassed. “It’s a late birthday present?”

Kyungsoo nodded, jotting it down in his notebook. “Tell me about Yixing? He’s the cosmicwitch, right?” Distantly, he remembered that they were both in the same physical education class back in tenth grade. He doesn’t recall much more beyond that, except that he had wished broom riding -- an ancestral tradition -- was part of the curriculum because it was the only somewhat athletic thing he enjoyed doing.

“Yeah!” Chanyeol said, perking up a bit. “We’re family friends, so I’ve known him since we were in diapers.” His grin widened. “My mom had sought his parents for an Elder Futhark runes reading when they were pregnant with Yoora.”

Kyungsoo snorted at that. There were different practices of divination across the diverse belief systems of witches, but he knew Kibum never enjoyed runic divination. Still, he found Chanyeol’s story sweet -- he was clearly fond of the cosmicwitch, and nostalgia looked good on the pyrowitch.

Embarrassingly enough, Chanyeol’s next sentence was interrupted by a loud grumbling noise from his stomach. Mortified, Kyungsoo patted his tummy. He could feel heat creeping across his cheeks. “Sorry,” he muttered, waving his quill in the air. “Go on.”

“Are you hungry?” Chanyeol asked. He looked elated, for some reason. It only made Kyungsoo flush harder.

He shook his head. “Usually I just eat once I’m done work.”

At his words, Chanyeol frowned, his lips turning downward almost comically. “Does your mentor not give you breaks?”

“He does,” Kyungsoo clarified. “But I’m bad at taking them when I’m focused on work. He doesn’t really mind if I take off -- honestly, at this point, it’s more like I could just drop-in and ask for lessons if I wanted to and leave afterwards.” And it’s true, Kibum had told him over and over again that Kyungsoo should spend more time outside, and act more like a carefree high school student. That he would still pay him the full day’s wages regardless. But Kyungsoo didn’t have much else to go to, and the shop kept him productive. It was another kind of home to him. “I like it here,” he concluded, lamely.

“I like you here too,” Chanyeol said. It was a simple statement, spoken like fact, but it made Kyungsoo blush all the same.

Chanyeol continued. “But you should eat! Come to think of it, I never see you eating whenever I come to visit, right?” Kyungsoo shrugged. Chanyeol didn’t look satisfied with his response, waving a fist in the air a little wildly. “Okay!” he exclaimed. “Let’s go. You’re coming to the restaurant with me.”

Kyungsoo’s heart leapt into his throat. “Right now?”

Chanyeol nodded decisively. “Now. Let’s go, Kyungsoo. You should take your breaks.”

“But the bracelet,” he protested weakly.

But Chanyeol was already straightening up, pulling his blazer tighter around his body to brace for the cold. “I can tell you more about Yixing over food if you want me to, but we’re getting food in you first.”

Kyungsoo watched, stunned, as Chanyeol beckoned toward the door, taking a step toward it before pausing to wait for him.

He hesitated. A stubborn part of him wanted to say no. To resist the temptation of giving way to Park Chanyeol, like he had continuously done throughout the past few weeks. To root out the frustrating fluttery feelings he felt around the taller witch, and to sequester himself in the safety and warmth of his shop. It felt like the moment he stepped outside, he would be admitting something to himself that he had been stubbornly resisting this whole time. And being in Chanyeol’s domain instead of the familiarity of the shop worsened that feeling.

But then he met Chanyeol’s stare. The taller boy’s warm brown eyes were sparkling with softness in the way that jolted Kyungsoo’s heart each time. There was something in the way he treated Kyungsoo that felt careful and delicate, like he was afraid of tugging too hard at his seams and unravelling him forever.

Maybe -- just maybe -- Kyungsoo wanted to let himself unravel. Wanted to give into the warmth that the pyrowitch emanated.

He stood them for a few more seconds, torn within himself. And then Chanyeol smiled, his face open and patient as he waited for Kyungsoo. Before he knew it, Kyungsoo had already made up his mind, grabbing his ragged notebook and pen off the desk and clutching it tightly to his chest like a lifeline.

“Let me just tell Kibum first,” he told Chanyeol.

The answering smile that bloomed on Chanyeol’s face was nearly blinding in how bright it was. “Okay,” Chanyeol said simply. Kyungsoo’s breath caught in his throat, and he exhaled deeply to try and calm himself down.

Unsurprisingly, Kibum was more than happy to let Kyungsoo take a break from the store, going as far as to tell him that the elder man would close up shop with Taeminnie that night, and that Kyungsoo could just go home afterwards. The next few moments passed by in a blur, and the next thing he knew, they were walking through the sliding glass door of the restaurant, a familiar glass bell ringing up above to signal their entrance.

Viva Fuoco was just as cozy as he had expected it to be. Large windows let in a flood of bright light, complemented by the warm glow cast by the golden lightbulbs that hung from the ceiling. The walls were a painted white brick and lined with portraits. Although the restaurant itself was quite small, the interior lended itself to feel quite homely. Already, a sizable crowd had gathered in the restaurant despite still being too early for dinner time. There was only a couple tables left unoccupied, and Chanyeol didn’t wait before leading Kyungsoo toward one.

As they neared the table, Kyungsoo abruptly realized what all the portraits hung on the walls were: family photos. He paused at one particular photo in a thick red frame of a chubby boy with large ears, wearing a massive golden crown decorated with the rays of the sun. The crown had the words “birthday boy!” printed on it. His chubby face was lit up with a familiar wide smile. Next to him was a slim young girl with similar features. She looked to be only a few years older. It was clearly Chanyeol, which meant the girl must have been Yoora. In the bottom left corner was a red timestamp -- November 27, 2007. That must be Chanyeol’s birthday, he noted. It was an adorable touch, and Kyungsoo found himself studying the photos a little closer than he’d like to admit.

“I told mom to take some of those down,” Chanyeol said, glancing at towards the photo that caught Kyungsoo’s attention with an embarrassed smile. “I was a bit of an ugly duckling.”

Personally, he thought baby Chanyeol was kinda adorable, but it was an embarrassing thought that didn’t need to be voiced out loud. Instead, he followed Chanyeol’s lead and sat at the table. It was made of a dark, brown-ish red wood with interlocking grain. Kyungsoo reached out one hand and ran a finger along the wood, feeling the magic fizzle underneath his touch. “Vermelho?” he mumbled, mostly to himself.

“That’s right,” said a cheery voice. “Draws from fire and earth, creating energy and balance. Ancestral witchcraft.” Kyungsoo jumped. Turning to look at the source of the voice, his hands fell immediately to his side as if he was caught doing something wrong. A petite older woman, with dark hair and the same tall nose as Chanyeol, stood next to their table. Her hair was bundled neatly under a navy bandana, and she was wearing a matching apron. On her wrist was a familiar beaded bracelet.

“Hi Mom!” Chanyeol said, jumping up to give his mother a hug. Kyungsoo hurriedly followed to stand. The tall boy had to stoop down to press a kiss to his mother’s cheek. Standing next to each other like this, Kyungsoo could see that Chanyeol inherited his mother’s eyes and her nose.

Quickly, Kyungsoo bowed deeply. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of trepidation. A part of him wanted to make sure he made a good impression on Chanyeol’s mom. “Hello,” said Kyungsoo politely. “I am Do Kyungsoo. I work across the street at Comme par Magie.” As soon as the words left his mouth, his nervousness grew; suddenly, Kyungsoo worried that maybe this divine witch wouldn’t want an ancestral witch in their space, and especially not hanging around their son.

But his fears were clearly unfounded. As soon as Chanyeol’s mother heard his name, her face broke out into the exact same smile that Chanyeol had. “Kyungsoo!” she exclaimed. “I’ve heard a lot about you!”

Immediately, in the distance, he thought he heard Chanyeol groan. But Kyungsoo was too distracted to notice. “You have?” he asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

Park Yoojin laughed, not unkindly. “Chanyeol told us lots about the incredible ancestral witch that works at Comme par Magie.” She patted Kyungsoo on the arm in an inherently mother-like gesture, warm and comforting. It was nice, and Kyungsoo felt a little glow of happiness at her friendliness. “And here we were wondering why he had suddenly taken to helping us out at the restaurant!” She let out another hearty laugh, drowning out Chanyeol’s whiny ”mom!”.

“We’ll order in a few minutes,” Chanyeol cut in hastily, sitting back down. The taller boy slid one of the menus over to Kyungsoo’s side of the table with enough force that it almost slipped off if it weren’t for Kyungsoo’s hands coming up to catch it.

Chanyeol’s mom only laughed, pausing to ruffle Chanyeol’s hair. She ignored the pout on her son’s face as he fixed his cherry-red hair again. “Okay, I’ll talk to you boys in a bit. It was really nice meeting you, Kyungsoo. I hope we can see you more around here!” she said, patting Kyungsoo on the hand. “You’re welcome here any time.” And just like her son, her words were genuine and earnest.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly, his face breaking open into a smile. She patted him once more before turning to the table behind them, who had rung the bell to signal for assistance.

“Sorry about that,” Chanyeol grumbled. The pyrowitch had his menu open. It partially covered his face and Kyungsoo found himself wishing he could see the other boy’s expression.

Kyungsoo shook his head. “She’s sweet,” he said. He rubbed a finger over the grain of the wood, pondering over the magic he felt simmering within the wood. From her words, Chanyeol’s mother clearly had connections to an ancestral witch, or was at least familiar enough with them to so boldly display their magic in her own restaurant. He wondered who it was, and if they still live in this town.

Nonetheless, Kyungsoo could see from where Chanyeol had inherited his own inherent warmth and kindness towards others. His lips quirked up as he studied the partially hidden face of the pyrowitch sitting across from him, still with the menu propped on the table.

Turning his attention to his own menu, he carefully scanned over the dishes. It looked like Chanyeol’s family specialized in Italian food, and he lingered over the Spaghetti alle Vongole. There was a little fire symbol next to the item, and the words “family favourite!” scrawled in smaller print over top.

“I think I’ll get the spaghetti alle vongole,” mumbed Kyungsoo as he flipped through the rest of the menu.

At last, Chanyeol dropped his menu back on the table. There was a subtle pink glow dusting the tops of his cheeks. It was charming, thought Kyungsoo, who then had to fight his own blush. “That’s my favourite!” Chanyeol enthused. “I always ask my mom to make it for me back home too.”

He looked genuinely excited that Kyungsoo would choose his favourite dish. Endearingly so. Kyungsoo cleared his throat and looked around the restaurant, taking in all the different customers. From what he could tell from their wardrobe, there was a diverse amount of witches feasting in the restaurant with the different insignias emblazoned on their clothing. Although there were no other ancestral witches, he didn’t feel too out of place there.

They decided to order soon after. Chanyeol had waffled between the kimchi arrabiata pasta and the carbonara, eventually settling on the former. Another employee, a young girl named Yerim, had come by to take their order. It was clear she was close to the family, teasing Chanyeol about spending more time at the restaurant than he normally would, even coming in on a day where he wasn’t working.

Even as Chanyeol steadfastly avoided his eyes for a minute or two after that, Kyungsoo’s heart somersaulted in his chest. It almost sounded like Chanyeol wanted to be around Kyungsoo. He talked himself out of that idea immediately -- it would be conceited for him to think so.

When the food arrived, Kyungsoo’s mouth immediately started salivating. The rich aroma from the broth-like sauce and the sea-side taste of the clams had him eating by the forkful. Across from him, Chanyeol observed him with a small smile on his face.

“You like it?” he asked, before finally digging into his own food as well. Kyungsoo nodded, perhaps a little more eagerly than he normally would, but the food was that good. Chanyeol only laughed, airy and soft. He shifted closer to the table, stabbing at a piece of bacon with his fork. “So tell me more about how you met Kibum? I’ve been wondering,” Chanyeol said with a note of curiosity in his voice.

Kyungsoo swallowed around the mouthful before obliging, pausing every so often to take another bite as Chanyeol followed up with more questions. Before he knew it, he had shifted from his story on how he started working at the shop to the time Taeminnie had chased out a particularly irate icewitch from their store who had come in only to harass him. Chanyeol responded with raucous laughter, nearly choking on the water he had been drinking, leading to Kyungsoo’s own fitful giggles over the other boy’s clumsiness.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had this much fun just talking to someone, with the exception of Baekhyun, just swapping stories back and forth. Ever since he was young, Kyungsoo had been a taciturn child. Always more content to listen quietly to others than to offer his own contributions to conversation, Kyungsoo knew he was hardly the most fun person to be around.

But seeing Chanyeol laugh so loud that his head was thrown back, the other patrons of the restaurant glaring at how disruptive they were being, Kyungsoo couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe of how smoothly they seemed to play off one another now. In the midst of seeing Chanyeol’s eyes sparkle with mirth, lips cracked in a wide grin, food forgotten in their plates as he cracked a joke about a terrible customer they dealt with at the restaurant a few months back -- Kyungsoo couldn’t find himself to slam those walls back into place, to crowd Chanyeol out again. For once, he didn’t want to hide himself away.

Eventually, the topic of conversation fell back to Kyungsoo again. “Do you enjoy learning under Kibum?” Chanyeol asked, scraping absentmindedly at his plate.

Kyungsoo nodded. “I do,” he said, before leaning his cheek on his hand and surveying Chanyeol through his fringe. “It looks like he’s absent from the store a lot of times, but that’s really just because I learn better when I’m by myself,” he explained. “I get nervous when someone’s watching over my shoulder, so he tends to just make himself available for me whenever I have questions.”

Chanyeol nodded thoughtfully. “But I watch over your shoulders, don’t I? Does that bother you?”

The question took him for surprise. In truth, he hadn’t considered that. In the first place, Chanyeol’s presence had never made him feel he was bumbling and incompetent like he usually did when people were watching. Nervous in a sense, yes -- flustered, even more so. But it was an entirely different brand of nervousness that spiked from how stripped bare Chanyeol sometimes made him feel. It was a feeling Kyungsoo didn’t like lingering on; the whys and hows of how affected he was from Chanyeol for simply being Chanyeol.

Embarrassment prickled at the back of his neck, and he hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “No,” he confessed haltingly, afraid to expose too much of himself. “I don’t mind you being there.”

Chanyeol looked quietly pleased at his answer, a small smile curling up the corner of his lips. “I like being there,” he said. He said it simply, plainly, but it was enough to have Kyungsoo’s heart racing again.

Abruptly, the restaurant felt all too hot for Kyungsoo. “Is it--is it warm in here?” Kyungsoo said, as a means of distraction, and then began unbuttoning his thick robe. His palms felt clammy, and he surreptitiously wiped them on his shorts before taking off his robe and draping it over the back of his chair.

“Is it?” Chanyeol said. “I heard that pyrowitches tend to prefer warmer environments.” He sounded distracted, and when Kyungsoo turned back to look at him, the other boy had his eyes trained on Kyungsoo’s now exposed arms. In comparison to Chanyeol, his arms looked like soft dough, he was sure. He was just wearing the standard white button-up that was part of their uniform, but he supposed it was rare to see him without his ancestral robe. The focus of Chanyeol’s stare made him blush, and he hid his face by taking a long pull of iced water.

“Nevermind then,” Kyungsoo said hastily. “What about you? Tell me about how guitar is going?”

Chanyeol’s face lit up. “Good! I think? I’m learning by myself, and it hasn’t been too hard so far. I think I can pick up songs by ear pretty okay!” He excitedly launched into a tirade about his guitar-learning ventures. Apparently, his friend, Yixing, had also been learning with him. Their goal was to perform by the end of the semester during the year-end festival.

Usually, it was a chance for each witch to show off their individual and unique skills. Kyungsoo knew that Chanyeol showed off his own skills controlling fire energy in ways that were rare for witches their age the year before, but he hadn’t seen it himself. There was seldom reason for Kyungsoo to stick around school for any longer than he needed to.

But this year felt different. “I would like to see you perform,” said Kyungsoo quietly. “You’re working hard, Chanyeol-ah.”

Sitting across from him, Chanyeol looked up from where he was picking off another piece of kimchi in surprise, his red hair bouncing slightly from the quick movement. His brown eyes were dancing with happiness. “I would love that, ‘Soo,” replied Chanyeol with a smile that caused Kyungsoo’s insides to flutter.

Kyungsoo couldn’t help the giddy warmth growing in his stomach. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek to try and quell it, to focus on Chanyeol’s words as the pyrowitch continued to ramble about his plans for the performance. It didn’t work.

It was only later -- much, much later -- long after they had finished their dinner, and Kyungsoo had waved goodbye to Chanyeol’s mother. Long after Chanyeol had waited for Kyungsoo to retrieve his broom from the storage closet from the shop. Long after Chanyeol had hesitated after Kyungsoo had said he was heading home, the taller boy’s eyes drifting down to his lips, before he took a step back from where he was pressed just slightly against Kyungsoo, to say goodbye. Long after Chanyeol had murmured, “I had a lot of fun tonight,” voice soft and tender. Long after Kyungsoo nodded, gaze averted, and said, “me too.”

It was only later, after Kyungsoo had arrived back home to the happy woofs from Huchu and his parents kindly informing him that they prepared a bath for him after his long day, that he finally let himself admit it.

The fluttering feelings, the warmth he couldn’t suppress around Chanyeol. The way he felt nervous around the other boy, almost fragile, but also like he was important and valued and respected. The way the taller witch had wormed his way under his skin, tugged on his heartstrings, until Kyungsoo was helpless to Chanyeol’s charms.

The way his dimples made him look cute, the way his smile made Kyungsoo melt.

The way that he was in love with Park Chanyeol.

Kyungsoo had thought that, inevitably, things would change after that. To his surprise, they didn’t. Not really.

Their routine continued. Chanyeol visited him after school, during his own work breaks from the restaurant, and continued to watch as Kyungsoo worked on Yixing’s bracelet. As usual, Kyungsoo let him, occasionally indulging him in chats about their classes, or listening to his stories about Oh Sehun or Kim Jongin or Yixing.

Unlike before, however, Kyungsoo now understood what the butterflies in his stomach meant. Why he felt funny whenever Chanyeol aimed his smile at him, or why at times he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger on Chanyeol’s exposed arms or his tousled hair or deep dimples. And with that epiphany, he couldn’t help but draw closer like a moth to the flame. He told his own stories, about Baekhyun sometimes, or Taeminnie, or even Kibum. Once, he even ranted about the divine-centric curriculum at their school, and was grateful that Chanyeol had similar criticisms about the system too.

Park Chanyeol had an attractive warmth to him. Kyungsoo only hoped that he wouldn’t get burned.

They ate together a few more times at Chanyeol’s restaurant, and each time, Kyungsoo found himself wondering whether it would be the day when Chanyeol would lean down and meet the distance between their lips. His cheeks heated at the thought, and he clapped his hands to his cheeks in embarrassment even though he was alone in the shop today.

“What’s going on with you?” said a voice behind him, and Kyungsoo jumped, startled. Kibum was peeking his head out from the back door, cradling Taeminnie so that the cat was draped over his shoulder.

“Nothing,” Kyungsoo replied, although he could feel the tips of his ears burning. He dropped his hands back down to the counter.

Kibum made a humming noise, which somehow sounded so sarcastic that Kyungsoo winced. The elder man was perceptive, even if he often kept his thoughts to himself. Moving toward Kyungsoo in the familiar slow gait of his, Kibum peeked at the design that Kyungsoo had been working on. Kyungsoo fought the urge to slam the book shut, self-conscious of what his mentor was seeing.

“Oh?” Kibum said, raising an ashen-grey eyebrow. “This isn’t what you’re working on for the Yixing kid.”

Kyungsoo winced. “No,” he confirmed.

He looked away as Kibum leaned forward for a closer look. Kyungsoo was sure his face was bright red now.

“Interesting...” Kibum mumbled. He squinted at Kyungsoo’s neat lines scrawled across the page. “Sundial?”

“Yes,” Kyungsoo replied, voice quiet. It felt a little bit as if he had gotten caught with his hand stuck in the cookie jar, and he fought the urge to hide his face in his hands again.

Kibum hummed, nodding sagely as he did so. “Interesting,” he echoed. There was a hint of amusement in his voice. “This is for your little pyrowitch, isn’t it?”

“He’s not little,” Kyungsoo protested on instinct, an image of the way Chanyeol towered over him flashed into his mind, as if that was really the crux of the issue in Kibum’s statement. He flushed. “Anyway,” he said hastily, “his birthday is coming up.”

Chanyeol had never told him explicitly, but the photograph of adorable tiny Chanyeol had stuck in his mind. November 27, he remembered. It was November 7th now, and he only had 20 more days if he wanted to finish it.

Thankfully, he only had another week’s work left for Yixing’s bracelet and then he could focus his attention on Chanyeol’s present.

“So you’re crafting him a sundial for his birthday?” Kibum asked.

There was no judgment in his tone, but Kyungsoo couldn’t help but cringe anyway. “A sundial bracelet,” he elaborated. “I’m hoping to get an amulet crafted by pyrowitches somehow, and then weave in some of my protective charms into it.”

Suddenly, Kibum’s wrinkled face cracked into a fox-like smile. “I think your boyfriend love that, Kyungsoo. You two are so cute together,” he commented with a wink, clapping Kyungsoo on the shoulder before hobbling to the backroom again, still clutching Taeminnie in his arms and oblivious to Kyungsoo’s stuttering protests. The back door closed with a dull thud, his protests falling on deaf ears, leaving Kyungsoo alone in the front again.

The door slammed open with a loud bang, the shelves rattling precariously from the force of impact. Frightened from the abrupt disruption to his work, Kyungsoo let out a yelp and jumped in his seat, to Taeminnie’s great displeasure. The familiar was curled up neatly in his lap, but now hissed, digging his nails into the meat of Kyungsoo’s thighs before scrabbling off and disappearing into the backroom.

Rather than an angry witch ready to blaze down the shop -- which, admittedly, had been Kyungsoo’s first thought -- Chanyeol was standing in the shop. “Oops,” Chanyeol said, his eyes wide, hand still on the knob.

“Gods, could you have been any louder,” Kyungsoo replied, but there was no real heat behind his words. He rolled his eyes for good measure, even as a corner of his lips quirked up at the sight of the pyrowitch.

“Sorry, ‘Soo,” said Chanyeol sheepishly. The other boy ducked underneath the ferns -- still growing, now a little unwieldy -- until he was crowding the front counter.

It had been two days since Kyungsoo had last seen him, except for quick passing-bys in the school hallway where Chanyeol always smiled and seemed to want to approach him, but Kyungsoo always scurried off before he could do so. He didn’t want any more attention at school than he already had, nor did he want to bring that attention to Chanyeol either.

But it wasn’t like Kyungsoo had been counting.

“Nevermind that, ‘Soo,” Chanyeol said. He bounced up on his toes, a wide smile stretched across his face. Kyungsoo smiled at the pyrowitch’s excitement, resting his chin on his hand. “I have something I want to show you!”

Kyungsoo’s eyes widened. “Me? What is it?”

“Do you have a minute? To come outside?”

Kyungsoo glanced at the time. He was spelling the last couple of beads for Yixing’s bracelet, and had wanted to finish by the end of the day. It was nearly time for him to go home, and if he took the short break, he probably would need an extra day to finally complete the charmwork. But then another look at Chanyeol’s apparent happiness had him making up his mind before he knew it.

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo said. “I have time.”

Chanyeol’s face brightened up, bounding towards the door like an excitable puppy. “C’mon then! It’ll only be a minute, I promise.”

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes, but followed him out without protest after letting Kibum know that he was stepping away for a moment. As soon as they left the cozy warmth of the shop, a brisk chill swept through the streets, leaving Kyungsoo shivering and wrapping his cloak tighter around his body. He should probably switch to his winter uniform soon -- it was getting much too cold to continue wearing shorts.

“Cold?” Chanyeol asked. The wind ruffled through his hair. It was a charming sight.

Kyungsoo nodded, shoving his hands deep into his pockets in a poor attempt to conserve some of his body heat. He could feel his teeth start to chatter.

Chanyeol was silent. There was a thoughtful look on Chanyeol's face, his nose scrunching up endearingly, before relaxing again. Then, he slowly stretched out an open hand so that his palm was facing upwards. "I," he began, with some hesitation. "I can warm you up, if you'd like. Perks of being a pyrowitch. I can heat my hands up at will," he said abashedly. He scratched at the bridge of his nose, and chuckled.

Kyungsoo could feel his cheeks heat at the suggestion. He only hesitated for a moment before he tucked his hand into Chanyeol’s open palm before his nerves could get the better of him. Then, Chanyeol fully wrapped his fingers around Kyungsoo’s, the span of his fingers nearly encompassing the entirely of Kyungsoo’s hand, and adjusted until he was able to thread his fingers through Kyungsoo’s own. The smaller witch stifled a noise at the touch, his heart flipping in his chest. It felt like his heart was going to explode.

True to his words, Chanyeol let out a flare of heat as soon as Kyungsoo touched him. Kyungsoo let out a delighted gasp of surprise. It didn't burn him, but instead felt like a coaxing sort of warmth that reminded him of freshly baked bread, of all things.

"Better?" Chanyeol asked, voice full of concern. It took all of Kyungsoo's willpower to muster a nod. His face felt like it was on fire now, and the chill of the late autumn air was quickly forgotten. Clasped together like this, he could feel the stark difference in the size of their hands. Chanyeol's much larger palm dwarfed his more slender fingers. And if Chanyeol kept their hands together for the rest of the way, then Kyungsoo couldn’t be blamed for not having the guts to let go even long after he had warmed up.

They had a few blocks past the shop, weaving through the small alley in a zig-zagging route. Finally they reached a small park that was sequestered, and nearly hidden, between a couple of mid-rise apartment buildings. It was only then that Chanyeol finally let go of Kyungsoo’s hand. Immediately, Kyungsoo missed the warmth of his touch.

Chanyeol shoved his hands in his pocket, exhaling loudly. “So...” he drew out the vowels. “The past month and a half, I’ve been feeling really inspired watching your magic.” Chanyeol looked shy. “And it made me want to work on my own magic as well.” He glanced at Kyungsoo, smiling softly.

Kyungsoo’s insides melted at his words. He was sure the flush on his face had deepened from pink to red by now. “But you’re one of the greatest witches in our school, Yeol.”

Chanyeol laughed silently at that. “Maybe,” he conceded. “But I’ve never approached pyromagic with the tenacity and love that you do for your own witchcraft.”

Kyungsoo only shook his head, hiding a smile behind his hand. “So what is it that you want to show me?”

The other boy took Kyungsoo’s hand again, guiding him gently towards the closest park bench. Chanyeol let go, shifting until his hands cupped around his shoulders instead. The clasp of palms felt like it spanned the entire length of his shoulder, a thought that made Kyungsoo blush furiously. His heart was pounding against his chest. “Sit,” said Chanyeol softly, pushing down just slightly to emphasize his words. Obediently, Kyungsoo sat down.

“You probably shouldn’t get too close,” Chanyeol said, then took a few steps back.

“You’re not going to kill me, are you?” said Kyungsoo, his voice dry to hide how flustered he felt.

Chanyeol laughed, shaking his head fondly. “Don’t distract me, ‘Soo! I need to concentrate.” He shot Kyungsoo a quick smile, before closing his eyes. Kyungsoo watched as the taller boy lifted his hands until they were stretched outward in front of him around his chest, both palms facing up toward the sky.

Nothing happened at first. Chanyeol’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and the pyrowitch bit down on his bottom lip as he steadied his hands. Then, all of a sudden, Kyungsoo could hear a faint crackling sound -- similar to the noise of a campfire -- before a loud, nearly blinding spark exploded into the air.

The abrupt noise scared Kyungsoo, who yelped and instinctively leaned backwards. But Chanyeol didn’t move, didn’t break his concentration. It was then that Kyungsoo noticed the spark fading into falling embers with a loud hiss, as smoke floated from Chanyeol’s outstretched palms. The smoke drifted upwards in wisps. And then to Kyungsoo’s surprise, he watched as the wisps of smoke curled together, furling tightly into a ball, before it unfolded into a flush of big, velvety, bell-shaped flowers with a ring of white around the edge of the petals. Gloxinia, Kyungsoo realized with amazement. They were rarely used in potions, but he knew Kibum had ordered a pot of them once for divination.

His mouth dropped when Chanyeol opened his eyes again, narrowed in deep concentration, before he swiped his hand through the air. Instead of dissipating the smoke like he had expected, Chanyeol wrapped his hand around the gloxinia. As though he was clutching a physical object rather than smoke, he slowly stepped toward Kyungsoo, his hand still closed around the flower. He was nearly toe-to-toe with the smaller witch before he stopped. Kyungsoo’s heart leapt in his chest as he watched Chanyeol bend closer, tightening his hands where they had been clutching onto his robes in awe. Slowly, ever so delicately, Chanyeol tucked the gloxinia behind Kyungsoo’s ear, before taking a step back. There was a look of pure, untarnished joy on Chanyeol’s face.

Kyungsoo’s breath hitched. With trembling fingers, Kyungsoo lifted a hand up to feel the flower, but his hand passed only through air. Yet, at the same time, the scent of campfire filled the air. It wasn’t suffocating, not in the way real smoke would be, but instead felt almost nostalgic somehow.

“Is it --?” Kyungsoo asked, gesturing awkwardly to his ear. He had stiffened up in his seat, afraid that if he moved, he would break the spell.

Chanyeol slowly nodded. Without breaking eye contact with Kyungsoo, he took out his phone, swiping through it hastily, before bringing it up in front of him. Kyungsoo heard the tell-tale snap of the camera.

Turning the camera around so that Kyungsoo could see, Chanyeol brandished his phone in front of the ancestral witch. “Look!” he said.

On the screen was a picture of Kyungsoo. He flushed. It was strange seeing himself captured in a photograph. It was taken from a much higher angle, given not only Chanyeol’s height, but also because he was standing while Kyungsoo was seated. Still, Kyungsoo had been gazing upwards, his eyes wide in the way that Baekhyun had once teased him for being owl-like. To his horror, his hat was slightly askew, his wavy bangs were mussed, and he could see how red the tips of his ears were. Before he could linger on his own mortification, however, his eyes caught onto the wispy, smoky flower. There it was, tucked neatly behind his ear.

“Wow,” Kyungsoo gasped. His hand fluttered into the air, drifting toward his ear, before falling back down to his lap. He was scared to dispel Chanyeol’s magic. “How did you...?”

Chanyeol beamed. Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he bounced up on the tip of his toes before settling back down. “I can’t believe it worked!” he said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I’ve been practicing for weeks and I only got it to work yesterday!” He looked overjoyed, his eyes crinkling into crescents.

Kyungsoo’s breath caught in his throat. In that moment, he could only think about how beautiful Chanyeol looked, and how good happiness looked on him. “You’re incredible,” he said honestly. “Does it just..stay?”

Chanyeol shook his head. “It just dissipates after awhile. I’m going to work on extending its duration somehow, I think. I want better control over it.”

“Can you make any shape with it?”

“I can try to mould it through my pyro energy, but it’s been a bit...touch and go,” he explained, shaking his head. “I had to really try to get the shape of the flower right.”

Kyungsoo nodded, mulling through the way Chanyeol’s witchcraft worked in his mind. “So you purposefully chose gloxinia to practice with? Is there a reason why?” he asked, curious.

Chanyeol froze. “Um. Just uh -- thought they were pretty,” he said.

Kyungsoo hummed. “That’s so cool,” he said, immediately feeling a bit lame for saying so. Cool was probably the understatement of the year. Certain art forms were tied to certain modes of witchcraft -- glassblowing was traditionally a pyrowitch art, earthenware for greenwitches, beadwork for ancestral witches -- but he had never seen anyone do what Chanyeol had just done. Chanyeol hadn’t been working with a medium that he could mould using his elemental affinity, he had created it from his own energy alone.

“This is amazing,” Kyungsoo repeated. He couldn’t suppress the smile that was bubbling underneath the edge, his eyes crinkling into crescents as he beamed up at Chanyeol. “You’re amazing.” The words came out surprisingly easy, and almost embarrassingly earnest.

He heard Chanyeol inhale sharply. “Kyungsoo.” He breathed his name out in a shudder that made Kyungsoo’s stomach lurch. His heart raced as Chanyeol took a step closer to him, his dark brown eyes gazing into his own with an intensity that nearly made his heart stop. Kyungsoo licked his bottom lip nervously, felt the way his heart jumped again when Chanyeol traced the motion with his eyes. His heart was pounding so loud he was certain Chanyeol could hear him.

Their height difference was absolutely ridiculous like this, and Chanyeol seemed to notice it too if the way he leaned down was of any indication, one hand braced against the back of the park bench. Kyungsoo fought the shiver that went down his spine as he struggled to meet Chanyeol’s stare, his own eyes flitting down to Chanyeol’s enticing mouth.

“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol whispered again. He was close enough now that he could feel the warmth emanating from Chanyeol’s body. It felt as if time had been suspended, like the park had disappeared, like there was no one else in the world but him and Park Chanyeol. The pyrowitch’s breath was unsteady, his eyes shining with something undecipherable as he moved closer, and closer, and--

“I have to get back to work,” Kyungsoo blurted. Clumsily, nearly tripping over his robes in the process, he shuffled sideways on the bench before leaping off. Chanyeol reared back immediately, a look of surprise quickly melting into hurt on his face. “I told Kibum I wouldn’t be gone for long. I have to go.” He pulled his hat down as if it would hide his blush, or the rapid beat of his heart.

“Wait--”

“I have to -- I’m sorry --” stammered Kyungsoo, and without a single look back, too afraid of the expression he would find on Chanyeol’s face, he hurried back to Comme par Magie.

There wasn’t an ounce of relief that he felt once he finally returned to the safety of the shop. It felt like his heart would never be the same, still pounding as hard as it did back in the park. The front of the store was still empty. Of course it was. It almost always was.

With heavy legs, Kyungsoo dragged himself back to his customary spot behind the counter. He could hear Kibum chatting with Taeminnie in the back, but he didn’t feel like letting them know he had returned. He sat down.

He had panicked. Something in the way Chanyeol had looked at him, or maybe it was the way his body seemed to react around the other boy, had suddenly felt too much. Too overwhelming. A part of him wished he swallowed down the panic, that he had been brave enough to wrap his arms around Chanyeol’s arms, his broad shoulders, and met him in the middle.

The other part of him couldn’t help but wonder -- and then what? Would they just start to date, just like that? Would Chanyeol be okay dating him, an ancestral witch? Kyungsoo knew he had been the one to maintain the distance between them, but he couldn’t help but fear that maybe Chanyeol would want to hide their relationship anyway. It wasn’t fair to trap himself in these thoughts, Kyungsoo knew that. Not without giving Chanyeol a chance to explain his own feelings. But yet, he wasn’t sure if he could handle knowing the truth if Chanyeol had, all along, only been willing to be close to him when no one else was around.

A horrible distant voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he didn’t even have any proof that Chanyeol actually returned his feelings. Maybe he had read too deeply into his body language and overreacted, and now ruined a perfectly fine friendship. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the truth to that either.

Kyungsoo stared down at his notebook, still flipped open to where he had left it, his notes on the sundial scrawled across the page. He stared at the nearly finished bracelet for Yixing. The pounding of his heart had not yet abated, and he sighed, folding his arms on the desk and slumping over. He rested his cheek on his arms, and then froze when he caught sight of his reflection in the small, scrying mirror that was propped up against the wall.

The gloxinia was still tucked behind his ear, resting neatly against the small tuft of hair that peeked out from his witch’s hat. He stared at it for a moment, before shutting his eyes when he felt them sting a little.

He was an idiot.

It wasn’t until the end of the week, when he had completed Yixing’s bracelet and had texted Chanyeol to let him know to come pick it up, that he had a chance to speak to the pyrowitch next.

Chanyeol had walked in with a hesitation that hadn’t appeared since the first few times he had come to visit Kyungsoo at Comme par Magie. It hurt his heart to see it reappear now. It was his fault.

He pictured himself apologizing to Chanyeol. Saying he was sorry, that he had panicked, but that he wanted nothing more in the world than for Chanyeol to kiss him. To ask if Chanyeol liked him, like how Kyungsoo was in love with him. He pictured it all, and more.

“Chanyeol,” he began as he pushed the small, velvet pouch over to the other side of the counter. This time, he didn’t bother explaining the process of creating the bracelet. Chanyeol had been there the whole time, and knew almost as well as Kyungsoo the magic that was steeped into it.

At the sound of his name, Chanyeol perked up. He hadn’t said a word beyond a quiet, downtrodden “hey, ‘Soo” when he had walked in. A faint look of hope shone in his eyes.

But just like before, Kyungsoo found himself hesitating. The same vicious thoughts -- what if Chanyeol didn’t like him? What if he did? How would they work together? What if they dont? -- percolated in his mind, spiralling in a horrible gyre that he couldn’t seem to escape from. Seconds ticked by in silence. Abruptly, Kyungsoo’s tongue felt like it had swelled up, like it was too heavy and too clumsy to form the syllables he needed to make his feelings known to Chanyeol. And as time passed, second by second, he watched as the hope dimmed in the pyrowitch’s eyes.

Chanyeol exhaled noisily. “I should go,” he said.

No, Kyungsoo thought. Not yet, there’s still something I need to tell you. But he stayed silent, frozen with his own internal doubts and fear.

This time, it was him who watched as Chanyeol walked away, with a heart that was heavy and aching.

“Kyungsoo,” sighed Baekhyun over the phone. It wasn’t a sigh of exasperation, for which Kyungsoo was thankful -- he wasn’t sure if he could handle Baekhyun being disappointed in him too -- but it didn’t make Kyungsoo feel better either. “You need to talk to him. You know that right? You should let him know how you feel.”

Kyungsoo tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. “But,” he protested weakly. “Maybe it’s just better to leave it like this.”

“Really?” Baekhyun sounded doubtful. “In what way?”

This time it was his turn to sigh. He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling, at the shroud of moss and ferns that blanketed the ceiling of the shop. “I’m an ancestral witch. He’s, like, the divine witch at school. I’m not going to say he’s in a different league than me, because I have more faith in my own abilities than that, but. But we’re -- we are different.” He swallowed again. “People will judge him,” he admitted. “What if him being associated with me hurts him somehow? What if he decides he can’t take it?”

The truth is that Kyungsoo genuinely didn’t know how Chanyeol would feel about him in public. Being tentatively friends in the safety of the shop, or even in Viva Fuoco, was different than dating each other. He tried to imagine them holding hands while walking down the hallways of their school, but he could only focus on the judging stares and resentment from his classmates. It wasn’t so much that he cared about what they thought about him, it was what they would think about Chanyeol.

And by extension, how it would then affect how Chanyeol really felt about him.

There was a pause, as Baekhyun tried to comprehend all of it. “I won’t lie to you, Kyungja.” The affectionate nickname slipped out easily from his best friend’s mouth. “There will always be cultural differences between you and Chanyeol. That won’t change, not as long as ancestral witches continue to face systematic prejudices.” It hurt a little, in a faint way like pressing on an old bruise, to hear those words iterated but Kyungsoo also knew they were the truth. “But in the end, it’s about the two of you, more than anything else. How much Chanyeol works to be mindful of his privilege as a divine witch, and how much you can accept that he holds that privilege. That he will never experience the hate that you receive for simply existing, and whether he will actively work to put himself on the frontlines of fighting against that hate.”

Kyungsoo takes a steadying breath. “I don’t know, Baekhyun,” he whispered. “He has been so mindful, and his mom too, she treats me so well. They both treat me so well. But is that enough to go on? Is that enough for a leap of faith?”

There was another small pause. “You know I can’t answer that for you, Kyungja. And if those are answers that you need to make your decision, then I don’t think I need to tell you that you need to discuss this with Chanyeol.” His voice was sympathetic, despite his frank words.

“Ugh,” Kyungsoo said.

It made his best friend laugh, the sound of it breaking up slightly over the phone connection. “But you know, for what it’s worth, I think Chanyeol has been good for you. I’ve never met him, and that’s a crime as your best friend, but you’ve sounded so happy each time we talked after you spent the day with him. And the way you talk about him...I can’t describe it, but it sounds light, but warm. Like when the wisteria blooms.”

“You know that analogy literally makes no sense to me, Baekhyun.”

“Well, deal with it, you have a greenwitch for a best friend,” Baekhyun retorted, but there was no heat behind his words. “Anyway, I think you should have more faith in yourself. You wouldn’t have let someone who wasn’t good for you just stick around like that. The fact that he’s stayed, and that you let him stay, speaks volumes.”

“Ugh,” Kyungsoo said again, with great feeling.

“I know,” Baekhyun said. His voice took on a wry tone. “And I don’t mean to be dismissive of your feelings, and I don’t want to invalidate how scary this must be for you -- but Kyungja, we’re also only 18. We’re seniors in high school. This is not Romeo and Juliet. And it has only been one week since your ‘fight’.” He could hear his best friend’s smile through the phone. “You and Chanyeol are not star-crossed lovers. I promise.”

Surprisingly, it helped bring a little levity into the situation. Though he couldn’t help but feel a little pathetic by how sharply he missed Chanyeol’s presence from just one week without seeing the pyrowitch. “I know,” Kyungsoo said. “I know, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun sighed. “Oh, my little Kyungsoo. You hold yourself with such pride and resilience. I know school hasn’t been easy for you. Staying in that town hasn’t been easy, has it?” There was warmth in his words, so strong and so familiar that Kyungsoo felt how sharply he missed his best friend like a punch in the gut.

“No,” he admitted, with some difficulty. “Ever since you left, it feels like Chanyeol has been the only good thing in this town. And now I’m --” scared. That the town would feel too small and suffocating once more if Chanyeol wasn’t with him. He bit his tongue, swallowed down his words.

But Baekhyun knew him well enough, knew that Kyungsoo often left things unsaid, to understand the gist of what he wanted to say and couldn’t. “That’s not true. You have Kibum, the shop, Huchu and Meokmul. Your family. You love them so much. And a part of you loves the magic in that town, too, right? You would have left already if you didn’t have so much you wanted to stay for.” There was another pause, and for a moment, Kyungsoo grounded himself with the sound of Baekhyun’s breathing over the static connection.

When Kyungsoo didn’t respond, Baekhyun continued, his voice soft. “And no matter what, you have me too. I’m sorry I left you there alone, Kyungsoo -- but you have to know I’m always here. And if you ever need to escape the town, I always have more than enough room for you with me,” he said. “I love you, and I always have space for you. Always.”

Words had never came easily for Kyungsoo, and in that moment, he wished so dearly he could reach his hand over and intertwine his fingers with Baekhyun. He wished he could hold onto him, tuck his head between the crook of his neck, breathe in the uniquely earthy scent that stuck to greenwitches but smelled just a little bit sweeter when it was on his best friend.

“Thanks, Baekhyunnie,” he said instead. Kyungsoo closed his eyes, throwing an elbow over his face.

“I love you too, silly,” replied Baekhyun, as easy as nothing. “Now tell me if you still want me to order you that sundial made of molten sunrays or something that for some reason only allows you to pick up in Seoul. Because it’s a little out of budget and I’m going to need you to e-transfer me first.”

Kyungsoo couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, feeling a little bit lighter and a lot more determined. Baekhyun had always had that effect on him, even when they were kids. The greenwitch had always praised Kyungsoo for his strength, but it was Baekhyun who often made him feel strong enough.

And he was. He was strong enough.

“Yes,” said Kyungsoo. “I’ll send you the money right away.” He had a birthday gift to complete.

“Poculi?” Kibum asked a couple of days later, peering over Kyungsoo’s shoulder as the smaller witch laid out the wooden beads he needed to complete Chanyeol’s gift. “That’s an interesting choice,” commented his mentor.

Kyungsoo fought off the urge to cover his workspace from Kibum’s curious eyes with his hands. Biting down on his bottom lip, Kyungsoo shrugged before continuing to organize the counter so he could begin his charmwork. The sundial was kept safely on the counter near Kyungsoo’s notebook, its golden hue glistening with an unknown kind of magic that felt foreign, yet incredibly powerful, to the ancestral witch.

He counted out the beads he needed. Redwood. Sycamore. Oak. All wood that held strong affinity for the element of fire, and bonded well with pyrowitch when charmed with the spells of strength and protection. Poculi was the odd one out -- not associated with any one element.

Kibum made a curious noise. “Sunflower, wisteria, leather, for the cord,” he observed, leaning closer to the counter. As an ancestral witch himself, he knew better than to touch Kyungsoo’s beads. It would be no good for them to mix energies together -- it could dilute the witchcraft. “Good materials to tie in unity and complete the spell.” He paused. “But wisteria’s a new one too, hm?”

Kyungsoo exhaled, his stomach churning. Heat creeped on to his cheeks. It felt like he was shouting his feelings from the rooftops, something that went against the grain of everything Kyungsoo stood for, but he convinced himself that it would only be this clear to another ancestral witch. Let alone one as knowledgeable and experienced as Kibum.

Part of the design for the sundial had been inspired by his conversation with Baekhyun earlier in the week. Poculi and wisteria were known for their strength in providing protection to those that the witch loved. And it wasn’t just any kind of love -- it was a romantic love. The stronger a witch’s feeling, the more effective the magic would be.

Even now, Kyungsoo could feel the strength of the magic humming beneath the two materials, waiting for him to draw out. He ached to get his hands on them, to feel them with his own energy.

“You’ve learned a lot,” Kibum said, at last. “I hope you know how proud I am of you, Kyungsoo. You’ve made your magic your own. Your protection charms are filled with care and love -- I can feel it in every single one you do -- but this one feels different, in a good way. The recipient of this is lucky.” Each syllable was enunciated carefully. It felt like Kibum was trying to tell him something, and when Kyungsoo finally gathered the courage to make eye contact with his mentor despite the burning rush of embarrassment churning inside him, he knew the old witch understood what Kyungsoo was hoping to convey to Chanyeol.

It felt like encouragement, and hope, packaged neatly in a gift that was the elder man’s words.

Kibum smiled, the wrinkles on his face giving way for a fox-like smile that always made the older man look just a little bit mischievous. “You’re the best student I’ve ever had,” he said.

Kyungsoo stifled a smile. He straightened out the poculi beads. “I’m the only student you’ve ever had,” he pointed out.

His mentor patted him on the shoulder once, and then twice, in two decisive movements. He was stronger than he looked, and Kyungsoo winced -- it felt almost like slaps. “I’ll be in the back if you need me,” Kibum said, winking, before shooing Taeminnie from where he had been sitting on his shoes and leaving Kyungsoo alone in the front once more.

The familiar noise of the school’s water fountain signalling the end of class was a welcomed disruption to Kyungsoo’s thoughts. At the front of the room, his World Literature teacher was writing down the pages they would need to read before next class, and he copied it down absentmindedly so he could remember to read the SparkNotes version instead.

He exhaled shakily. The sundial nestled deep inside the pocket of his robes. It felt heavy, despite being quite lightweight. Kyungsoo thumbed the edges and ridges of the sundial, following the lines of it to the wooden beads of the bracelet, before gathering the courage to finally stand up.

One of his classmates bumped into him, nearly toppling him, and he forced himself not to react. Instead, he gathered up his worn brown backpack and headed out the door.

The hallway was filled to the brim with the other students, all rushing to their next class clad in their school uniform with small, decorative touches in the form of brooches and pins to display their witch bloodlines. It was always in these stark, brightly lit hallways that Kyungsoo knew he stood out most -- the flowing dark lines of his robes and hat contrasting with the rest of his students. And as always, as soon as he entered into the hallway, he could feel the stares and whispers of those who walked past.

He was used to it. It once made his nose burn red and cheeks flare up with embarrassment, and he would duck his head down and scurry through the hall. Now, he held his head up high as he trotted down the halls. His next class was located on the third floor of the east wing, which was on the opposite side of the building from his World Literature class, but the school was relatively small and he knew that once he reached the main entrance, he could escape through one of the stairwells that would take him closer to his next class. It wasn’t much of a shortcut, but was a route less travelled, and Kyungsoo despised the congestion in the hallways.

Kyungsoo let out a sigh of relief as soon as he slipped out from the crowd and into the blessedly empty stairwell. He rubbed his fingers over the metal of the sundial, tracing the spikes that jutted out from the dial to form sunrays. It felt cool to the touch, and Kyungsoo knew that was partly because he lacked the divine blessing that would activate the magic that would warm the metal when in contact with a pyrowitch. Still, despite the anxiety that had dogged him during the two weeks it took for him to craft the bracelet, the weight of the bracelet was a comforting pressure. Like it grounded him.

It was the day before Chanyeol’s birthday. The last time they had spoken was when the taller boy had come to pick up Yixing’s gift, and left when Kyungsoo cowardly failed to say anything. It was nearly ridiculous, thought Kyungsoo. Ridiculous how much he missed the sunny presence of the pyrowitch.

He huffed as he staggered up the first two flights of stairs, pausing to catch his breath at the bottom of the third.

With the encouragement of Baekhyun, and even some non-subtle hints from Kibum to stop moping about, Kyungsoo decided that he needed to talk to Chanyeol. In just a short amount of time, the other boy had barrelled into his life and disrupted his routine with smiles that made his heart pound, stories that made him snort with laughter, and a magic so beautiful that it stole Kyungsoo’s breath away. The silence and growing distance between them now left Kyungsoo feeling unbalanced, downtrodden, like the last dregs of soggy tea leaves that had been left in a long forgotten cup.

Maybe if he was any better at tea leaves readings, or divination in general, he could have predicted this, thought Kyungsoo dryly.

So he had finished Chanyeol’s birthday gift. Today, he thought, today will be the day I apologize to him -- properly -- and hoped that it wasn’t too late yet.

A door slammed open, echoing loudly in the stairwell. It sounded like it was coming from the floor above; the abruptness of it stopping Kyungsoo short in his tracks.

“--it alone, please?” said a deep voice, seemingly in mid-conversation with another person.

Kyungsoo froze. He recognized the baritone voice immediately, every nerve in his body lighting up suddenly as he panicked. He wasn’t ready to face Chanyeol yet -- not without mentally steeling himself for it first -- and he ducked down on the stairs as if it would hide him.

He waited with bated breath for the tell-tale sound of footsteps thumping down the stairs, leading them towards him, but it never came.

“C’mon, Yeollie, you’ve been acting weird lately. You know we’re here for you, right?” came a second voice. Kim Jongin, Kyungsoo’s brain supplied.

There was a sigh, and then the sound of footsteps. Kyungsoo sucked in a deep breath, afraid that he would get caught, but it sounded like the owner of the sound had only walked a few steps further into the stairwell.

Kyungsoo wondered if it was too late for him to walk back down the stairs. He was going to be late for his next class, but it hardly felt like it mattered now. The last thing he wanted was to invade Chanyeol’s privacy by listening into his conversation with his friends. Yet it felt like his foot were rooted into the ground. His body trembled.

Someone sneezed, and he heard a third voice quietly murmur something. Then, “you’ve been disappearing after classes almost everyday for the past two months. Now it’s like we can’t get rid of you,” said another voice.

“Sehun doesn’t mean it that way!” Jongin cut in hastily. “We don’t want to get rid of you. We’re just wondering what’s going on, Yeollie.”

Another long pause. Kyungsoo held his breath, counting each second as it ticked by. He urged himself to move, to retrace his steps before he heard any more. But his body felt locked down, frozen.

“I’ve been helping out at my mom’s restaurant,” said Chanyeol at last. His voice was quiet, strangely somber in a way that made Kyungsoo flinch. “I told you guys that already.”

Someone laughed, a sharp, reedy sound. “Chanyeol, we know you love the restaurant and you love your parents more than anything. But you told us that you wanted to focus on your music until you graduated. You said your parents didn’t mind,” said Sehun.

“That’s right. You barely stepped foot in there to work in all the time we’ve been friends, except for the one time a couple months back. Wasn’t that when someone was sick and no one could cover her shift but you?” Jongin added.

There was no response, but Kyungsoo could hear the noise of someone shifting. He wondered if that was Chanyeol. He wondered what expression he was wearing on his face.

“Maybe you guys should back down,” said a new voice. It was the first time he had spoken up in the conversation. This one Kyungsoo recognized too -- it was Zhang Yixing, the cosmicwitch. “Chanyeol, we’re not trying to accuse you of anything. We’re just worried. Is everything okay?”

Someone let out a loud, bristling sigh. “I’ll be fine,” said Chanyeol eventually. There was a forced levity in his tone, so obviously fake that it made Kyungsoo’s heart twinge. “Thanks for your concern, guys.”

“This has to do with that little ancestral witch, right?” said Sehun suddenly. Alarm sounded in Kyungsoo’s head, and he startled, his heart suddenly beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.

“Sehun!” someone hissed -- either Jongin or Yixing, he couldn’t tell.

“What?” replied Sehun, and Kyungsoo had to reel back from the rancid tone in the skywitch’s voice. “You think we wouldn’t notice anything, especially after you showed up giving that to Yixing?”

“Sehun,” murmured Yixing. “It’s a beautiful gift. Stop.”

There was a shuffling noise, a soft whump of fabric. Kyungsoo could picture it in his head -- Yixing grabbing onto Sehun’s arm, holding him back, the skywitch flinging his arm away in exasperation. “It doesn’t matter. It was made by the ancestral witch, wasn’t it? Chanyeol, we’re not idiots. We know there’s an ancestral witchcraft store across from your mom’s restaurant. Have you forgotten how many times you’ve taken us to eat there?”

“Sehun,” repeated Yixing, a warning clear in his voice.

But Sehun barreled onwards. “You’ve been acting like a lovesick fool ever since you started spending more time ‘helping out at the restaurant’.” Despite not being able to see them, Kyungsoo could hear the mocking air quotes in the sentence. “There’s a common denominator here, isn’t there? It’s that ancestral witch.”

“C’mon, Sehun, what are you even trying to say?” Jongin interjected, laughing awkwardly.

“I’m saying Chanyeol has been acting weird ever since he laid eyes on that witch. I’m saying maybe we should be concerned about him. Haven’t we heard all about what ancestral witches can do?”

“Sehun, you’re not seriously referring to the whole carousing with demons thing are you?” said Yixing, bewildered. “We know that’s not true.”

“Do we, though?” insisted Sehun. “We’ve heard all about the horrors of ancestral witches who bewitch men into falling in love with them with their love potions and weird-ass spells. Like fucking predators. How do we know this hasn’t happened to Chanyeol?”

Kyungsoo bristled from his words, anger flaring up at the evident disgust embedded behind the syllables. It was always the same old bullshit with divine witches. They understood nothing about ancestral witches, their bloodlines, their culture, their history. It took a long time for Kyungsoo to stop rejecting his own identity, until his parents stopped looking upset that they couldn’t protect him in a world that was so angry, so hateful toward them. Divine witches like Sehun had caused years of pain, years of misconceptions and stereotyping that ignored and erased the richness of ancestral magic.

Chanyeol knew better, at least. Chanyeol had never treated him like lesser, had always seemed mindful of never overstepping Kyungsoo’s boundaries. Had always been eager to learn more, to hear more from Kyungsoo without casting judgment on his witchline.

There was a resounding silence after Sehun’s last statement. He waited for Chanyeol to do something -- to say something. His own heartbeat felt like it was thumping at his ribcage, hard enough that Kyungsoo thought it would bruise him inside-out.

The seconds passed. Tick. Tick. Tick.

In the din of the quiet, Kyungsoo could hear a roaring noise in his ears. His stomach churned, flipping uncomfortably as he waited, and waited, and waited.

“Sehun...” Chanyeol said at last, at long last after what felt like minutes, hours. He trailed off. Still, Kyungsoo waited, certain that he would defend him. That he would speak up for him.

Tick. Tick. Tick..

Silence. It was quiet in the stairwell. The distant echoes from the crowded hallways faded to nothing as the corridors cleared for the start of the last block of the day. It was so quiet that Kyungsoo could have heard the sound of a pin dropping. It was so quiet that Kyungsoo could hear his own heart breaking.

Suddenly, he couldn’t take it anymore. He leapt off the step he was sitting on, where he had hunched over unconsciously as if to protect his own self from their words, and pounded down the stairs. He could feel his heart in his throat -- or in the pit of the stomach -- he couldn’t tell. He didn’t want to be able to tell.

Distantly, he heard one of them gasp and say “did you hear that?” but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter.

He ran down, and down, until he reached the first floor again. He jerked the door open, barely even looking at where he was going, and burst through to the other side. The halls were empty now. Good, he thought, his eyes stinging. A rush of anger welled up in him, so rapidly and burning hot enough that he dug his nails into the meat of his palms to suppress it.

Heading toward his locker, Kyungsoo grabbed his broom before heading immediately out the door. His class had already started, and he knew he would get in trouble for leaving before school was officially dismissed for the day, but it was the least of his worries. He climbed onto his broom, the magic activating immediately from his touch, and flew into the air. The cold air felt brisk against his face, stinging his skin, as he rushed home, feeling for all the world like someone had gouged into his chest but left the job undone, heart spilling out.

All divine witches were the same: prejudiced, cowardly fools. He should have never trusted Chanyeol. He was an idiot for doing so.

Back at school, at the top of a nearly empty stairwell, where four boys stood -- one clasping a hand against his bruised face -- Park Chanyeol bent to study the fallen object that had been left behind on the stair steps. It was a wooden beaded bracelet, carefully woven onto a sturdy flecked cord with alternating wooden beads. In the center lay an ornament, a dial mimicking the rays of a sun that shone golden despite the windowless interiors, glowing with a warmth and magic that could only be triggered by a witchcraft blessed by the Sun God. The unmistakable artistry of ancestral witchcraft.

Chanyeol curled his fingers around the bracelet.

It’s felt as if he was the punchline to a joke he had been expecting, but had set himself up for anyway.

Kyungsoo scrubbed at his eyes, movements hard enough that he could see white sparks dance behind his lids as he pressed down, as if applying enough pressure would be enough to erase the remnants of his anger.

He carefully stowed away his broom in the small shed in their backyard. Kyungsoo could hear the happy boofing sound from Huchu, and the faint noise of claws scrabbling on wood as she excitedly waited to greet him. Even through his tangle of emotions, he mustered a smile as he pulled the door open and was immediately met with a fluffy ball of grey fur.

Although he would have normally returned to Comme par Magie to practice his magic, in that moment it felt like Kyungsoo couldn’t bear to stand in the same space that reminded him so much of Chanyeol. He knew he was being dramatic about it, but he couldn’t care less in the moment.

“Kyungsoo! You’re home early today,” came the voice of his mom, emerging from the living room with their other puppy in her arms. She let Meokmul down, and the puppy bounded toward Kyungsoo, happily jumping around his feet. His mom took one look at his eyes, still red-rimmed and swollen, and rushed toward him. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” She fretted over him, patting him down in worry.

Guilt stabbed at him, and he gently took her hands in his. “I’m okay, mom. Just...just had a bad day,” he said. “I just want to be alone right now.”

She made a soothing noise, gently taking his hat off so that she could smooth his wavy hair away from his face. “Do you want to talk about it?” Worry swam in her eyes.

Kyungsoo shook his head, shooting her a weak smile. “Thanks, but I think I just want to lie down for a bit. It’s really nothing, I swear.” He patted her on the hand, before offering his hand out for his hat.

“Oh sweetheart.” She sighed. “Rest if you need to, Kyungsoo-yah. I’ll be here if you need me for anything, okay? If you want hot chocolate or to talk, just let mom know.”

Kyungsoo nodded. He was grateful of how understanding she was. He knew if it was his dad or Seungsoo, they would have interrogated him -- out of concern, of course, but they weren’t as great with stepping back for his boundaries. His mom, on the other hand, was much like Kyungsoo and carried herself with more reticence, needing time to process before she spoke or took action.

“Thank you, mom. Love you,” he said, hugging her. He was taller than her now, but still he couldn’t help himself from folding himself down so that he could tuck his head under her chin just like when he was a child.

“I love you too,” she said, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “Just let me know what you need, sweetheart.”

Huchu followed him up to his room, eager to spend more time with her favourite person, and when the door closed behind him, Kyungsoo quickly changed into his pajamas before bundling her up into his arms. He flopped back onto the bed. The poodle let out a soft woof when he curled up into a ball around her, pressing his face against her curly fur as if to hide from the world. Huchu licked at his face, seemingly to comfort him.

Anger spiked in his veins, a bitter taste filling his mouth as he ran through the conversation he heard in the stairwell. Sehun’s words were an insidious reminder of how most people perceived ancestral witches -- but it was Chanyeol’s silence that ate away at him. Silence was heavy, and it was purposeful. Kyungsoo knew that far too well, as someone who wielded silence like a barrier against hurt in the world.

But it wasn’t a time when Chanyeol should have stayed silent. Not if he cared about Kyungsoo. It wasn’t only until then that Kyungsoo realized how much he fully believed in Chanyeol up until that moment. How much he had placed himself and his faith in Chanyeol to be genuinely good and kind.

It hurt. It stung like betrayal.

Even worse, it felt like Kyungsoo was the one who was an idiot. He couldn’t help but blame himself for holding Chanyeol up to a standard that he shouldn’t have expected from any divine witch. It was his mistake. The knowledge didn’t make him feel any better, though, and he held Huchu closer to his chest when he felt his heart throb.

His phone vibrated from where he had tossed it onto this desk, the sudden noise loud and sharp in the otherwise quiet room. Huchu let out a startled woof, squirming in his hold, before escaping and padding around the bed to sit on the other side.

Kyungsoo frowned, even as he stood up to check his phone. He expected to see Baekhyun’s name flashing onto the screen, and wasn’t sure if he was in the mood to talk to his best friend.

Instead of Baekhyun’s name, however, it was a text notification from Chanyeol. His heart rate spiked, beating unsteadily. He hadn’t been expecting anything from Chanyeol. He frowned. Did he see him in the stairs? Would it matter if he did?

With trepidation and trembling fingers, he swiped on the notification to open up the text message.

soo...can we talk? i found this on the stairs..., the message read. Underneath the text was a photo of Chanyeol’s birthday gift lying in the centre of someone’s -- probably Chanyeol’s -- palm.

Kyungsoo panicked. The sundial! He rushed to his closet, rummaging through the pockets of his robes, and came up short. He hadn’t even noticed that he had dropped it. It must have fallen on the staircase.

That meant that Chanyeol knew Kyungsoo had been there. That he knew Kyungsoo had probably overheard.

For a moment, he hesitated. Even now Kyungsoo couldn’t help but want to talk to Chanyeol, the affection he felt for the taller boy still not quelled even in the midst of his anger and hurt. But then he remembered the way Chanyeol had said nothing and did nothing, not when his friend had attacked Kyungsoo and accused him of being a predator. His fingers twitched, outstretched toward his phone without him even consciously being aware of it, and he pulled his arm back to his side sharply.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat. His eyes felt like they were burning again, and he blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. He wasn’t going to cry over this.

Instead, Kyungsoo turned flipped his phone upside down so he couldn’t see the screen anymore, before climbing back into bed. Huchu immediately burrowed her way into his lap. He wasn’t going to spend any more energy on Chanyeol, he decided. It wasn’t worth it.

He stubbornly ignored the buzzing of his phone for the rest of the night.

“Kyungsoo!”

Kyungsoo faltered, freezing momentarily from where he was stepping out from his world history class. The last class of the day. He had been hoping he wouldn’t run into Chanyeol or any of his friends today.

His name echoed in the narrow school corridor, loud enough that it drew the other students’ attention to the source of the sound. It must have been an odd sight, thought Kyungsoo wryly, almost distantly like he was watching the scene from above. Odd to see the handsome Park Chanyeol marching down the hallway in his neatly pressed uniform, heading toward the small, scorned witch dressed in dark robes and a dark hat.

It would have been funny to Kyungsoo, maybe, if he had been the type of person to find humour in such situations.

As it was, Kyungsoo was hit with a dawning sense of horror, panic running down his spine as Chanyeol drew closer and closer. Despite the first initial attempts, Chanyeol and him never interacted in school -- and in fact, they rarely crossed paths in the halls. They had never even had a class together. There was no reason for Chanyeol to approach him, and Kyungsoo felt only too aware that that was what was running through the other students’ minds.

He fled.

“Wait! Kyungsoo!” shouted Chanyeol from behind him, but Kyungsoo didn’t listen. He could hear the other students starting to whisper and point fingers.

Quickly, he walked down the hall and rounded the corner into a different wing before pushing open the door to a stairwell. Not the same one from yesterday, but one that would take him directly out through the back door.

He could hear the thundering footsteps behind him as Chanyeol followed close behind. He was quickly gaining speed on him, his much taller height giving him an advantage. His skin prickled -- in embarrassment, horror, panic, he wasn’t sure. “Kyungsoo, please. Will you listen to me?” said Chanyeol, barely sounding winded.

Kyungsoo ignored him, throwing the double-doors open. He didn’t have all his stuff, nor his broom, but he kept walking down the gravel path anyway in the direction of the bus stop.

“Kyungsoo!” shouted Chanyeol again, and then he could hear the sound of feet running toward him before a large hand closed around his wrist and pulled him back, stopping in his tracks.

The force of the movement pulled him toward Chanyeol, stumbling into the taller boy’s chest before he was able to regain his footing. Glaring up at Chanyeol, Kyungsoo finally stopped moving.

The other boy’s hair was messy, and there were two rosy spots high on his cheek. His breath exhaled as fog into the minty air, but his hand was warm where it was wrapped around Kyungsoo’s.

As if realizing their proximity, Chanyeol immediately dropped Kyungsoo’s wrist and taking a step back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pull on you! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Kyungsoo. Without Chanyeol’s body heat, he abruptly realized just how cold it was outside, and he resisted the urge to curl his arms around himself. His heart beat apprehensively as Chanyeol studied him with a pleading look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol repeated. He reeled back, hurt and confusion apparent in his face. “I’m sorry, Kyungsoo -- I didn’t meant to corner you like that, back in the school, but I just wanted to talk. Can-- can we --?”

The pinched look on the other boy’s face only incensed his anger more. What right did Chanyeol have to feel hurt about any of this when he had hurt Kyungsoo? “I don’t want to talk to you, Park,” he said, stone cold.

At his response, Chanyeol only looked more upset. “Kyungsoo-- I don’t-- I don’t understand,” he replied helplessly. “Is this because I tried to kiss you? Back at the park?”

Kyungsoo flushed, hearing those words said so boldly, released into the air. He almost wished Chanyeol could take them back, but they were out in the open now. “No!” he refuted, before ducking his head, suddenly flustered. He hadn’t expected Chanyeol to say that. “I mean-- no, that doesn’t matter. It’s not about that.”

“Then why...?” Chanyeol asked, his eyes round with confusion. He looked away for a second, and then dug through his pockets before pulling out the sundial. It glowed with pyrowitch energy, and for a moment, Kyungsoo felt proud of himself for being able to make it work. But then the feeling disappeared, leaving behind only emptiness. “I found this yesterday, on the stairs. Is this-- was this for me?”

Kyungsoo had to swallow around the strange lump rising in his throat. “Does it matter?” he asked coldly.

“Yes,” Chanyeol said immediately. “Yes, of course! Kyungsoo, it’s beautiful. I just-- I’m so confused. I thought you didn’t want me, so I tried to keep my distance. But then I saw this, and maybe I’m reading into it more than I need to, but it’s the most beautiful, most magical piece I’ve ever seen and--”

“Don’t try and pretend that ancestral witchcraft matters even one ounce to you,” Kyungsoo interrupted. He narrowed his eyes. There was too much emotion in his voice. The pain, the hurt -- it bled through. He paused, sucking in a breath to calm himself down, before continuing. “Or that I matter to you, either.”

“What?” said Chanyeol blustered. “What do you mean? Of course you matter to me! And I love yo-- your magic. Why would you think otherwise?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Chanyeol’s eyes widened further. A look of realization dawned on him. “You overheard what Sehun said, didn’t you? Of course-- I’m an idiot, you had dropped it in the stairs, I should have known you heard.”

Kyungsoo felt his breath hitch, but then he drew himself to his full height -- which only reached Chanyeol’s shoulder, to his anger -- and steeled himself. “If you’re going to try and make excuses, then you can leave it.”

“Excuses? I would never make excuses for what Sehun said,” Chanyeol responded indignantly. “If you were there, you knew that--”

“Stop it, Chanyeol,” said Kyungsoo. Suddenly, he just felt tired. Exhausted. He didn’t understand why Chanyeol was still pretending he cared. Maybe he didn’t see his own silence as a violation of Kyungsoo’s trust, but if that was the case, then Kyungsoo felt even less inclined to reveal his heart any further to the other boy. Either he didn’t understand, or was trying to cover his own tracks by pretending he didn’t know why Kyungsoo was so upset, but both lead to the same result: that Chanyeol was complicit in the hurt and violence on witches like Kyungsoo.

And it hurt even more to think that Chanyeol was still putting on the good guy act in front of him. As if it was alright for him to throw him under the bus as long as he wasn’t around.

“Kyungsoo, I don’t understand,” pleaded Chanyeol. Confusion was etched into his handsome face.

Kyungsoo shook his head. “Leave me alone, Park. Just--” Kyungsoo sighed, slumping. “Just stop, okay?”

And for the third time, Kyungsoo turned around and walked away.

It wasn’t until Kyungsoo had marched determinedly all the way to his mentor’s shop -- a 45 minute trek -- that he finally remembered what day it was. November 27th. Park Chanyeol’s birthday. There was an antsy feeling under his skin, something akin to guilt and remorse, or mourning, but he squashed it down.

For the first time, Kyungsoo wasn’t in the mood to practice his magic. It felt nearly pointless to be there, sitting alone in an empty shop that never had any visitors. Even when Kibum had placed a hand on his shoulder and asked if he wanted to learn about the building elements of potion-making, Kyungsoo couldn’t muster the excitement for it.

“Maybe it’s best for you to go home,” Kibum had said, but not unkindly. Sympathy swam in the older man’s eyes, and even Taeminnie brushed against his leg and tangled his tail around one ankle. “Magic can be finicky and volatile, moreso when we, as ancestral witches, act as conduits for funneling emotions into our tools.”

But Kyungsoo had insisted on staying, on cleaning out some of the shelves and dusting them -- a task he had neglected with being so occupied. With the beaded bracelets. With Chanyeol.

Now, as the sun set below the horizon and he could hear the tell-tale jingle of bells coming from Viva Fuoco to signal their daily ritual, he wondered if maybe he should go home after all.

Just as he had finally made up his mind, the wooden door swung open and three figures walked in. Once the initial shock of seeing visitors to the shop died down, the instinctive wariness set in, leaving him on edge. It was never easy to tell the intentions of those who came into the shop.

His wariness was warranted. He recognized them immediately as soon as they drew closer, a look of curiosity on all their faces.

Zhang Yixing. Kim Jongin. Oh Sehun.

The latter had his eyes trained on the ground, but Kyungsoo could recognize his sharp features in spite of that. With narrowed eyes, he glared at them from the counter. He was too tired, too angry to even consider adopting any facsimile of customer service.

Jongin was the first one to notice him sitting behind the counter. The mediwitch elbowed his friends, stopping them in the track. There was a moment of awkward tension, nearly electric in the air, where they only stared at him.

Kyungsoo grew tired of them gawking at him. “I’m not a circus freak for you to stare at,” he snapped.

Jongin flinched, one hand coming up to clutch at Yixing’s arm. It was nearly amusing, if it didn’t just irk Kyungsoo more. Yixing absentmindedly patted at Jongin’s hand, but the cosmicwitch was looking at Kyungsoo with an intensity that made him feeling almost uncomfortable.

“Kyungsoo, we’re sorry to intrude on your space, but we owe you an apology. A good one,” said Yixing. It was a straightforward sentence, no frills to it, but there was a sense of earnestness underlying his words that reminded him so much of how Chanyeol communicated. It didn’t stop Kyungsoo from feeling suspicious though, and he scowled in response.

It seemed to prod Jongin into action though, and he took half a step forward before faltering. “Yixing’s right,” Jongin said. “We...we saw Chanyeol after school and he told us what happened. He said you heard our conversation in the stairwell.”

Next to him, Yixing nodded. It was no surprise that Sehun remained silent, still stubbornly staring away from Kyungsoo.

Their words, however, didn’t persuade Kyungsoo. “Chanyeol is making you all apologize, and you’re only doing it because you found out that I overheard you?” he said skeptically. “No thanks. You can keep your apology.”

“No, that’s not it,” Yixing refuted, but he seemed ashamed. “We owe you an apology either way -- but I also think there might have been a misunderstanding. We wanted to talk to you as soon as possible because we know Chanyeol won’t.”

A bitter chuckle burst out of him, sharp, almost hurtful. “I don’t think I misunderstood Oh Sehun’s words.”

Beside Jongin, Sehun flinched. He raised his head, and Kyungsoo reeled back in surprise at the dark bruise decorating his eye. It was slightly green at the edges.

At last, Sehun spoke. His voice was sombre, and quiet, not at all like it was back at the stairwell. “I’m really sorry, Kyungsoo,” he said. “You’re right. Whether or not you heard what I had said, it was wrong of me. I have no excuses. I won’t even try to make excuses. But I was wrong, and I want to own up to it because it was me -- not Yixing, not Jongin, and definitely not Chanyeol who said those things.”

“You called me a predator. You were basically accusing me of assaulting Chanyeol by bewitching him to fall in love with me. Like my magic is dirty. Like I’m dirty.” Kyungsoo said accusingly.

Sehun winced. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, bowing at the waist, deep and low.

“I get your two friends -- it’s true, they didn’t say anything about me. I know Yixing tried to stop you. But do you really think I would forgive you just because you said ‘oops, sorry I dehumanized you, I should have known better’?” It made him furious, how empty his platitudes felt. And if Chanyeol had put them to this task, then he knew how little he really meant to the pyrowitch, that he thought he could be won like a toy over meaningless apologies.

Sehun bowed his head. “Listen, I’ll admit that prejudice doesn’t die overnight. You have no reason to believe me or to forgive me. Quite frankly, I still don’t know how I feel about you either.” Kyungsoo stiffened. “But Chanyeol--” he broke off with a laugh, grimacing as he touched the edges of his bruise. “He gave me literal hell for what I said. And even if I know there’s shit I have to work through, I do know that he cares deeply for you. He really does. And as his friend, I want to support him. With that, it means unlearning a shit ton of what I think about ancestral witches, I know.”

Kyungsoo levelled them all with a flat stare. “I really don’t want anything to do with you. Any of you. And I especially don’t want anything to do with someone who claims he cares about me but couldn’t even vouch for me when it was his friends talking about me.”

A look of surprise appeared on their faces. Jongin tilted his head, pursing his lips in confusion. “But he did,” he argued.

Kyungsoo shook his head. “He didn’t say anything. He let Sehun keep talking-- he didn’t say anything,” he insisted.

This time, it was Sehun who spoke. “Kyungsoo,” he said slowly, like he was sounding out each syllable as he said them. “Chanyeol did defend you. He punched me in the face.” Sehun waved at the bruise darkening over his eye.

Disbelief. Confusion. “What?” Kyungsoo said.

“Did you-- maybe you missed it, Kyungsoo,” interrupted Yixing. His voice was gentle. “Chanyeol didn’t say anything at first because he was trying to compose himself. I’d never seen him that angry before...he punched Sehun.”

Kyungsoo frowned, disbelief etched onto his face. It didn’t sound like Chanyeol-- to resort to physical violence.

“He felt really bad about it afterwards,” Jongin added, maybe reading the look on his face. “But he told us in no uncertain terms to never speak about you like that again, and he said that you’re an amazing and kind person. Talented.” He paused. “I’m practically repeating his words verbatim. He really...he really wanted to protect you, I think.”

Sehun smiled wryly. “I think it’s a bit of an understatement how much he really cares about you. He said he wanted to reconsider our friendship if I was going to act like this.” The tall skywitch scrubbed a hand through his hair, shrugging. “I really fucked up. But if you’re worried about whether Chanyeol stuck up for you, then you should know that he didn’t hold himself back from that. At all.”

Kyungsoo looked between the three of them for a moment, still having trouble processing what they had told him. If it was true...if it was true that Chanyeol did that...

A million images flashed through his head. Chanyeol’s bright grin, his fiery mop of hair, his dimples, the way he sometimes stooped slightly because he towered over Kyungsoo. The warmth of his hand. the excitement on his face when Kyungsoo showed him his magic.

The hurt in his eyes when Kyungsoo refused to listen to him. The confusion and pain that reflected back at him that afternoon.

If it was true...

Slowly, the anger faded from Kyungsoo’s eyes. He slumped. It wasn’t like he wanted Chanyeol to be his knight in shining armour, nor would he want to demand Chanyeol to prioritise him over his friends. He just wanted to be seen.

And if it was true that Chanyeol did defend him. Didn’t just let him take the beating to save face with his own friends. Then...then maybe...

Maybe Kyungsoo had made a mistake. Maybe he should have stopped and listened. He felt a punch of guilt in his gut.

Yixing must have noticed. Cosmicwitches were always more perceptive than most witchlines. “You have a right to be angry, you know.” He smiled at Kyungsoo, and somehow, it didn’t feel condescending. “When your humanity and magic are constantly in question, you have the right to feel angry. Feeling angry helps keep you safe.”

“I...” Kyungsoo began, but then stopped, unsure of what he was trying to say. His mind felt like a jumble, a tangled mess of emotions that were collapsing in on itself. Both anger and regret, love and emptiness snarled together in a complicated vine.

“But I hope you know, too, that there is a love here that is strong enough that it won’t shatter what you and Chanyeol have,” Yixing continued as if Kyungsoo hadn’t interrupted him. “That there is capacity for something beautiful, something safe too. As beautiful as this bracelet you made for me.” Yixing held up his arm where the beaded bracelet sat on his wrist. Then he laughed. “And as beautiful as the bracelet you made for Chanyeol. That’s what I think anyway. What matters is how you really feel, Kyungsoo. Nothing else.”

How he really felt...

Love.

Even now, Kyungsoo knew that he was in love with Chanyeol. That hadn’t changed, despite everything, and it definitely wasn’t going to change now that he knew he had misunderstood the pyrowitch.

Somehow, the world suddenly felt like it was slotting back into place, piece by piece. Yixing’s words jolted something in him -- brought him closer towards a revelation that he was scared to move too close to. Something that terrified him to try and parse out, afraid of what it might mean for him if he was just to give in.

He was in love with Chanyeol, he had already known that. But even more than that, he wanted to be with him. He wanted to be able to complain about the cold and have Chanyeol tuck his hands around his and warm them up. He wanted to learn more about Chanyeol’s magic, and to show off his own to Chanyeol. He wanted to tell Chanyeol all about Baekhyun, and vice versa. He wanted Chanyeol to tell him more about his friends, even Oh Sehun. He wanted to swap recipes with his mother, meet his sister, cook with him -- everything.

He had told Baekhyun that he wasn’t sure if there was a future for them. Divine witch and ancestral witch. He wasn’t sure if Chanyeol was willing to make a future for them. Somehow, thinking about a potential future together didn’t feel impossible anymore. The thought wasn’t accompanied with fear and anxiety, not in the same way it did before. Instead, he felt a tentative hope.

Kyungsoo needed to talk to Chanyeol.

“I-- I’ve got to go,” he stuttered, suddenly gathering up his belongs. “I--” he bit his tongue. He didn’t quite forgive Sehun just yet, and he felt trepidation around both Yixing and Jongin still. But he thought they were sincere. He hoped they were. “Thanks,” he said awkwardly.

Yixing took a step back, his arm coming up to squeeze at Jongin’s. His eyes were kind and understanding. “We get it,” he said softly. “We’ll see you another time.”

The chime of the glass bells was a familiar sound to him now, as was the noisy rush of the restaurant flush with loud, overlapping conversations and the clinking of utensils. Familiar, too, was Mama Park’s warm and hearty greeting.

“Kyungsoo!” exclaimed Park Yoojin happily, bustling out from behind the till. It was far from the first time he’s had conversations with Chanyeol’s mom ever since they started eating there regularly together, but it was the first time he had entered the restaurant alone.

“Hello auntie,” he replied politely, bowing deep, even as anxiety thrummed under his veins and made his heart thump against his chest. “Is Chanyeol here?”

Chanyeol’s mom gave him a knowing look. “Not today, sweetie. He hasn’t been at the restaurant in awhile. Not since you both last came here to eat.”

The last time they ate at Viva Fuoco was two weeks ago. Kyungsoo stifled his surprise, but it must have leaked onto his face because the older woman’s eyes curved into a kind smile.

“Chanyeol doesn’t tend to be here unless for a reason,” said his mom. “Sometimes that reason is for eating and spending time with his parents. Usually, it’s something else. My husband and I decided that we would let our kids be kids a long time ago though and try not to ask them to work for us unless they want to.” There was an underlying sense of something hidden between each syllables, and the way she smiled at Kyungsoo. Like there was something she was trying to tell Kyungsoo, but couldn’t outright.

He wasn’t entirely sure what she was hinting at, but it reiterated what he overheard Chanyeol’s friends telling him too -- that it actually wasn’t standard behaviour for Chanyeol to have been spending so much time at Viva Fuoco.

She was still waiting for his response. “Oh,” he replied, a little belatedly. “Is there-- um, do you know where I could find him?”

“Hmm,” she murmured, tapping her chin with her forefinger. “He should be home by now. Do you need the address?”

“Yes please,” said Kyungsoo, relieved. It was only then that he realized he had no idea which area of town Chanyeol lived in.

He remembered that Chanyeol had told him before that if he wasn’t with his friends or at the restaurant (or with him, Kyungsoo’s mind supplied), then he was usually holed up in his bedroom practicing his music. That must be what he was doing now.

Yoojin rattled off their home address while Kyungsoo hurriedly plugged it into his phone’s navigation app. “Thank you,” Kyungsoo said, clutching his phone to his chest. “I’m sorry to leave in a rush, auntie. I’ll be sure to come by next time to eat and chat with you properly.” He hoped there would be a next time -- that things wouldn’t remain irrevocably messed between him and Chanyeol.

The older woman smiled in response, eyes crinkling fondly. She squeezed Kyungsoo’s arm. “I’ll hold you to that, Kyungsoo. It’s always a joy seeing you here. You’re always welcome here without Chanyeol, you know!”

Kyungsoo blushed lightly and nodded. “Thank you, auntie. I will,” he promised.

“Go, I know you want to talk to my son,” she urged. With another polite bow and thank you, Kyungsoo left the restaurant.

According to the map, it would take about thirty minutes to walk to the address Chanyeol’s mother gave him. If he was on his broom, that would bring it down to ten. Making up his mind, he headed back toward the shop.

It was empty, although he could hear Kibum and Taeminnie chatting in the back -- or, well, Kibum talking to Taeminnie who responded nonverbally. The three boys had evidently left already. Without wasting any more time, Kyungsoo grabbed his broom and headed back out.

The first take-off never felt any less exhilarating, the sandalwood of the handle thrumming with magic underneath his fingertips. The sweep of the wind, the sharp ascent -- it was all Kyungsoo’s favourite part about flying. He clutched tightly on this hat, which threatened to fall off in the wind, as he flew over the streets of Danyang County towards the west where Chanyeol lived.

Autumn was beautiful in Korea. Crisp air, a brief reprieve from the fine dust that plagued the country during the spring and summer months that only seemed to worsen per year. Flying down the tree-lined paths, the bright reds and golds that reminded him of pyromagic were now scattered across the pavement and leaving the trees bare.

It had only been the beginning of October when he had first met -- really met, because silently passing each other in the hallways at school without thought didn’t count -- Park Chanyeol. Now, November had quickly slipped away from their grasp and December was peeking its head around the corner.

The sun set at four now, shrouding the shop in a darkness that not even the fairylights and crystalline moss that glowed could lift. Their small town, Danyang, was much more quiet now. Baekhyun had told him once that Seoul never felt quiet, even as the skies went grey and people shuffled along the streets bundled warmly in hats and scarves.

As he turned the corner away from their little alleyway and onto a bigger road, it occurred to Kyungsoo how monotone it felt without Chanyeol. Without even realizing it, Chanyeol had brought a spark to his life.

With determination, Kyungsoo made his way to Chanyeol’s house. Finally, he pulled to a stop in front of a small, squat brick home with a sloping roof and a wide metal gate that had been left open. Just like at the restaurant, there was a small altar for the Sun God sitting to the right of the door, and a familiar glass bell that hung over the door.

His heart was heavy in his chest as he propped his broom up against the side of the house. Each step he took closer to the front door felt more and more weighted, his leg lifting like lead. Kyungsoo knocked, his stomaching churning and his heart racing.

For a moment, he suddenly worried that maybe his sister, Yoora, would swing the door open and he would have to embarrassingly explain why he had showed up at their house. Or worse, Chanyeol’s dad, whom he had never met and knew little about.

Behind the door, he could hear the faint sound of footsteps growing louder in volume as it neared the entrance. In tandem, his heart rate increased, thumping so loudly that he almost thought it could even drown out the footsteps.

The sound of metal being unlatched jolted Kyungsoo out of his anxious thoughts, and he steeled himself with a deep breath. The door swung open at probably a normal speed, but to Kyungsoo, it felt torturously slow.

Chanyeol stood there, his hair matted on one side as if he had slept on it and forgot about it, and he was dressed in a comfortable pair of shorts and a large hoodie. It was the messiest Kyungsoo had ever seen him -- but he looked cozy. Soft. Warm.

His heart stuttered in his chest.

Chanyeol’s eyes widened, looking down at Kyungsoo in disbelief. A few seconds passed in gut-churning silence, as Kyungsoo’s breath hitched. He tried to speak around the lump in his throat, swallowing noisily as he worked up the courage.

“Hi,” he said at last, quiet and small.

It broke Chanyeol out of his reverie, and the taller boy startled, hands flying up to comb hastily through his hair, adjusting his hoodie around his shoulders. It was cute, and despite the fact that it felt a little like his stomach had been replaced with worms, he couldn’t help the small smile from sprouting on his face. Chanyeol seemed flustered, but not angry.

“I, um, wanted to talk to you,” explained Kyungsoo. He shuffled from one foot to the other, scratching the tip of his nose in embarrassment. A familiar heat creeped down his neck. “Your mom gave me your address, I hope that’s okay?”

Chanyeol nodded, a stuttered, jerky movement like he wasn’t fully in control of his body. “Of course, ‘Soo,” he said automatically. The natural way the nickname rolled off his tongue made Kyungsoo’s stomach lurch, not altogether unpleasantly. “But-- but why didn’t you just text me instead? I could have met you somewhere, or-- or, combed my hair or something.” His cheeks were endearingly pink.

“Oh,” Kyungsoo said, blushing hotly. “I didn’t...think about that. Sorry,” he trailed off awkwardly.

Chanyeol shook his head. “It’s okay! Just, um, do you-- do you want to go for a walk first?” He glanced behind his shoulders, at something that was inside the house, before turning back toward Kyungsoo. “Just, um, my sister is home,” he explained with a sheepish look on his face.

Kyungsoo fidgeted with the sleeves of his cloak. “Sorry to show up unannounced,” he apologized. “A walk would be nice.”

“Okay! Let me just, let me just grab my shoes,” Chanyeol said, before disappearing back into the house.

The smaller witch let out a deep breath, shoving his trembling hands into his pockets. Even after how hurt Kyungsoo had left him, he was still so accommodating, so kind and willing to listen to Kyungsoo. His stomach churned in a dizzying swirl of emotions.

Moments later, Chanyeol reappeared with a pair of sneakers in hand and a baseball cap on his head. “Ready?” he asked, voice almost painfully soft as if the moment between them was fragile -- to be handled with care.

Kyungsoo nodded, biting down on his bottom lip.

They walked in silence, side by side, for the first minute or so. The neighbourhood was lined with homes similar to Chanyeol’s, all with the same sloping roof and metal gate. He could tell some of them had different fixtures in the front that hinted at their witchline -- a greenwitch family with a blooming garden despite the rapidly descending winter, an icewitch family with icicles jutting out in sharp spikes from their roofs -- but some homes were devoid of insignias, blank like a canvas.

Even through the layers of clothing he wore, he could feel the tell-tale pyrowitch warmth emanating from Chanyeol. His eyes lingered on Chanyeol’s hand swinging by his side, thinking of the way it felt wrapped around his, before he quickly dropped his gaze to his feet. It was a lost cause to hope that his face wasn’t pink with embarrassment, but he hoped at least that Chanyeol wouldn’t notice.

Kyungsoo swallowed. “Your friends came to see me at the shop.”

He was immediately accosted by Chanyeol’s sharp stare. “What?” Chanyeol demanded. It was apparent that he had no idea.

Kicking a stray pebble, Kyungsoo nodded. He kept his eyes trained on the ground, distantly observing the difference in their foot sizes as they walked along the sidewalk. It felt too overwhelming to look at Chanyeol right now.

“Yixing, Jongin...and Sehun,” Kyungsoo listed. A troubled expression flickered on Chanyeol’s face. “They wanted to apologize to me.”

“Good,” said Chanyeol darkly. “They owe you one.” Chanyeol stopped and turned to face Kyungsoo, and like always, like magnet, Kyungsoo drew closer to him. The corner of Chanyeol’s lips were visibly downturned. “I’m sorry they said that, Kyungsoo. It’s not okay, especially what Sehun said. I talked with him, and I told him that I’m not interested in maintaining a friendship with someone who discriminates against witchlines.” Chanyeol looked upset, but determined.

Kyungsoo couldn’t help but feel his pulse speed up a little bit, his stomach churning once again. “I think I owe you an apology, Chanyeol.” He shook his head. “I definitely owe you an apology.”

Chanyeol blinked at him, as if trying to process his words.

“I’m sorry, Chanyeol,” said Kyungsoo. Toying with the sleeves of his cloak, he gathered his nerves to speak. “I’m sorry for not giving you a chance to talk when you chased after me earlier today. I’m sorry for not listening to you. That was wrong of me -- especially when you have always been so patient and open with me, and I haven’t extended the same to you.”

Chanyeol exhaled and nodded, looking conflicted. Biting down on his bottom lip, Kyungsoo continued.

“I’m sorry for shutting you down and not giving you a chance. And I’m sorry for not trusting you more, when I really had no reason to believe you would hurt me.”

Kyungsoo watched the way the street lamps cast a pale glow on Chanyeol’s face. His expression was unreadable, but Kyungsoo refused to let that deter him.

Kyungsoo sighed. “And I’m also sorry that I keep running away.” He hesitated before barrelling onwards. “I know it’s something I have to work on -- my tendency to be... avoidant. But I,” he blinked up at Chanyeol. “I want to do better. You’ve been such a good friend to me, and I want to return that to you just the same.”

As he spoke, Chanyeol’s face softened. The smaller witch felt a pang in his heart. But still, the long bottled words came spilling out. It was as if they had burst through a dam, the walls long built now crashing down.

“And I guess I just wanted to say...thank you, too. For your patience with me. For being so understanding. For literally punching Oh Sehun in the face -- although you didn’t need to go that far. Thank you, Chanyeol.”

He held his breath as he watched Chanyeol once he concluded his sentence. There was a wistful expression on the other boy’s face.

Chanyeol shifted his weight to the other foot, a hand coming up to sweep his hat off his head as he ruffled his still-messy hair. He was so handsome that it made Kyungsoo’s heart hurt.

“I was hurt,” Chanyeol said at last, smiling bittersweetly. Kyungsoo’s felt another ache in his chest, a sorrowful guilt at Chanyeol’s words. “I was hurt that you kept running away, that you wouldn’t just...talk to me.”

Kyungsoo opened his mouth to apologize, but Chanyeol continued on. “I appreciate your apology. Really. It means so much to me. But Kyungsoo, you know I don’t blame you, right? I’m not mad at you. I think it would be horrid for me to ever diminish the kind of discrimination you face. You have every right to be suspicious and distrusting, especially when there’s a reason why you feel that way.” He smiled at Kyungsoo, tenderly, softly.

His smile was so beautiful, Kyungsoo could feel himself going breathless.

“I think you tried your hardest to keep yourself safe, and being angry because of what Sehun said to you was justified. Being angry at me for being there was justified. There’s nothing that has lessened the amount of awe and respect I feel for you, Kyungsoo.” The abashed look on his face made Kyungsoo’s heart fluttered, and he fought the urge to cover his rose-tinged cheeks. “You are incredible, and I have always admired you for your resiliency. And your magic--” Chanyeol laughed brightly. “Your magic keeps me spellbound.”

Kyungsoo’s face was burning. He wished he could have blamed it on Chanyeol using pyromagic on him, but he knew it wasn’t witchcraft. The earnestness leaked through each syllable that Chanyeol spoke, leave a rush of giddiness tangled in a knot inside of Kyungsoo. The weight of Chanyeol’s compliments left Kyungsoo winded.

His words replayed in Kyungsoo’s mind.

“Wait,” Kyungsoo said. “I actually didn’t know you responded to Sehun at all until your friends told me today. I left before then and thought you had stayed silent,” he admitted.

Chanyeol’s eyes went wide. “Oh Gods, no wonder you thought I was an asshole. Kyungsoo, I would never stand by and let anyone speak about your or ancestral witchcraft like that.” Chanyeol paused. “Not even if it was my best friend,” he added dryly.

Kyungsoo hid a smile behind his hand as his heart thumped against his ribs. “Thank you, Chanyeollie.” His smile broadened, wide enough that his round cheeks hurt slightly. “Really, I...I’m so glad I met you.”

He thought back to the fateful day in the beginning of October when Chanyeol had ran out of the restaurant to catch him right before he left, and let out a small giggle at the memory. He really wasn’t that nice to him -- it was a surprise that Chanyeol had stayed. Kyungsoo voiced this out loud to him.

“I have no idea how you even knew I worked at the shop to be honest,” professed Kyungsoo. “But whatever compelled you to be there and to come find me...I’m grateful for it.”

Unexpectedly, Chanyeol blushed a deep red at that, one hand coming up to rub at the side of his face. He turned slightly away from Kyungsoo, seemingly embarrassed about something. “About that...” he began. “There’s something I want to tell you, ‘Soo.”

His words sent a flurry of anxiety seizing at his stomach. Kyungsoo scanned Chanyeol for any signs of -- something, he wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for -- but found only an expression of genuine, unfettered kindness even in spite of how shy he also looked. Kyungsoo nodded nervously, signalling for Chanyeol to go on.

Chanyeol smiled crookedly at him. “A few months ago, maybe it was August or September? Yerim had called in sick last minute, and my mom wasn’t able to find anyone to cover her shift in time so she asked me to fill in for her. Normally I don’t help out much at the restaurant because my parents wanted me to be able to enjoy high school doing whatever I wanted, which is usually music.”

Kyungsoo’s nodded. He heard this from both Chanyeol’s friends and his mother, but never from Chanyeol himself.

“I don’t mind helping out of course! But it was really the first time I had spent any significant time at the restaurant beyond just eating and hanging around for a few hours during the day.”

Chanyeol faltered, pausing to run his hand through his hair before repositioning his cap. There was a thoughtful look on his face, like he was choosing his next words carefully.

“That day, I had just happened to be taking out the garbage when I heard a noise coming from across the street. I turned around, and saw that the door was opening at the ancestral witch shop that had opened up a couple years back,” he continued.

Kyungsoo could feel his heart rate pick up.

Chanyeol laughed, a light and joyful sound. “I saw someone walk out, and it wasn’t the elderly man that my mom has mentioned chatting with a number of times over the years.”

The smile he shot Kyungsoo was warm, breathtaking. His heart beat a rapid rhythm against his ribs.

“And there was this...beautiful boy stepping out with a broom in his hand. He was wearing a hat and a cloak, and he had to take off the hat to brush his bangs out because they were getting in his eyes,” he said.

Chanyeol reached out with one hand and almost delicately, he brushed his fingers across Kyungsoo’s wavy fringe. The smaller witch could feel his breath stop, his heart rate now rapid from the soft touch. He could feel warmth rushing through him from head to toe, and he wondered if Chanyeol could tell how flustered he was.

He inhaled as Chanyeol continued talking. “I realized a second later that that was a boy I had seen in the hallways of our school here and there. It felt like time had stopped, as cliché as that sounds.”

Chanyeol laughed shyly, covering his eyes with his hands for a moment before dropping his hand back down to his side. He took a step closer toward Kyungsoo, the difference in their height becoming more pronounced as Kyungsoo had to crane his head back just to meet his eyes.

It felt like his heart was going to burst.

“For a moment, I wanted to say something. Anything, even something as inane as ‘hello,’ but then you jumped onto your broom and said bye to the cat -- Taeminnie, I realized later -- and then you...you flew into the sky.”

Kyungsoo exhaled, a sense of wonder and amazement filling him.

But Chanyeol wasn’t finished. “And you just had this look of pure joy on your face. Joy from being in touch with your witchline, from practicing witchcraft that is culturally significant to you and being damn excellent at it, if you ask me, but even then that wouldn’t matter. You just looked so...breathtaking. I couldn’t breathe. I thought you were the most beautiful boy I had ever seen...” He trailed off, as if looking for his next words. Patiently, Kyungsoo waited even as he felt like he was going to explode either from blushing too hard or from his poor heart giving up with how rapidly it was beating.

After a moment, Chanyeol laughed again. “It was such a small moment, something that you do literally everyday and probably think nothing of it. And I hope this doesn’t seem creepy of me either--but I just...I wanted to talk to you. Get to know you.”

It felt like there was a warm glow inside of him, and as Kyungsoo watched as the street lamps played off of Chanyeol’s face, he wanted nothing more than to just...to just pull Chanyeol in for a kiss. Helplessly, he took another step closer toward Chanyeol until they were toe-to-toe.

“Chanyeol...” he whispered, eyes wide with a flush on his cheeks.

Chanyeol sighed, a sweet, syrupy sound. He cupped Kyungsoo’s soft cheek with one large hand, his skin warm against his. Kyungsoo’s breath hitched. “And it took me awhile -- embarrassingly long -- until I worked up enough courage to talk to you,” Chanyeol admitted. “And you were so brilliant, and charming, and so incredible even when you had no reason to put up with a random divine witch bothering you with so many questions. But you did, and you were so patient with me.”

He swiped his thumb along Kyungsoo’s cheek, leaving a burning trail behind. Kyungsoo felt a tremor run through his body.

“That day in the park...I wanted so desperately to kiss you that day,” Chanyeol murmured. It felt like his gaze was searing into him.

Kyungsoo’s breath caught in his throat, blood rushing through his veins. Chanyeol’s hand was still cupping his face, a tender touch that left him wanting more.

Then, a look of uncertainty shifted on Chanyeol’s face. “When you ran away, and then how awkward it was when I came to pick up Yixing’s gift...I thought maybe I misread things and that you didn’t like me. But then I saw the gift you made me, the sundial, and then I felt unsure...” he said, but then hurriedly continued. “And it’s totally okay if you don’t! Your friendship is precious to me and even if you don’t return my feelings, nothing can change how much I value you and your presence.” The small smile on his face was kind and understanding, but just as beautiful all the same. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, or to feel any burden about this. And if you need space, then please just let me know.” Chanyeol took a deep breath, still wearing the small smile. “But I wanted to tell you this, Kyungsoo. I wanted you to know.”

For a moment, it felt like time had slowed to a stop. The frigidity of the late November air was unnoticed by Kyungsoo; his whole body felt warm and flushed. The thumping of his heart resounded in his ears, a steady, but rapid, pace that betrayed how affected he was by Chanyeol. There was a wistful look on Chanyeol’s face that made his chest ache, but now it was aching with a yearning.

He had known, in some part in spite of everything he had tried to deny for himself, that Chanyeol must have felt something for him. In the park, there was an unmistakable intensity to Chanyeol’s display of magic that spoke to the feelings he must have for Kyungsoo. But he was scared, and had ran away.

Now, with Chanyeol’s gentle touch searing into his skin like an imprint, and the tender way he looked at Kyungsoo, with a heartfelt earnestness that made him feel as mesmerized as he was breathless, Kyungsoo felt no fear.

Chanyeol had never hid from him. He had always laid his heart out for Kyungsoo.

And it was the first time that Kyungsoo had ever wanted to do the same. All for Chanyeol, the beautiful, kind boy who made his heart flutter.

A beat passed. Chanyeol held his gaze steadfastly.

“I’m in love with you,” Kyungsoo blurted. It felt like he couldn’t hold the words back anymore. He wanted to Chanyeol to know how deeply he cared, how strongly he felt for the other boy. “I like you so much, Chanyeollie. I love hearing your stories about your music, your family, your magic, and about your friends too. And I want to share those things about me with you too.” He sighed. “Whenever I talk to you, my heart does this weird thing like it’s going to jump out of my chest.”

He looked down at the ground, swallowing noisily, before turning back towards Chanyeol. “I spent so much thinking what if things didn’t work out, what if it was a bad idea. I didn’t let myself think about how good we already are. You push me to work harder and to be better. Not just with my witchcraft, although that too, but with -- this. Being a better friend to you, a better communicator.”

With a sigh, Kyungsoo cupped his hand over Chanyeol’s and leaned into the touch, his lashes fluttering. “I want to be with you, Chanyeol-ah. If you’ll have me too,” he said quietly.

He wasn’t sure what the taller boy saw in his eyes, but Chanyeol broke into a warm and genuine smile. Slowly, the taller boy’s smile stretched on his face like he couldn’t hold it back anymore. This whole time, Kyungsoo had been holding tension in his shoulders, but at the sight of Chanyeol’s smile, it left him all at once. Against the sensitive skin around his face, he could feel Chanyeol’s hand trembling and he tightened his own grasp around the pyrowitch’s hand.

“Of course I want you, ‘Soo,” murmured Chanyeol. He dropped his hand from Kyungsoo’s face, twisting it so that he could wrap it around Kyungsoo’s hand instead, threading their fingers together. His long fingers dwarfed his, his touch creating sparks along Kyungsoo’s skin. “There’s nothing more than I’d like than to be with you.”

His head was spinning in dizzying circles; his stomach fluttering and heart racing. He had never felt this strongly around anyone before, and Chanyeol’s proximity made his breath stutter.

Kyungsoo stared at Chanyeol, wide-eyed and breathless, as the taller boy looked at him with the same beautiful smile on his face. He licked his lips nervously, and watched as Chanyeol’s gaze noticeably darkened as he tracked the movement with his eyes. The fluttering sensation in his stomach grew stronger.

“I want to kiss you,” Chanyeol whispered. Kyungsoo felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine at his words. His breath caught in his throat as Chanyeol leaned closer, ducking his head down toward Kyungsoo.

There were scant inches left between them when Chanyeol paused, a searching look in his eyes as if to make sure Kyungsoo was okay with it.

Something in Kyungsoo snapped. His heart pounded against his ribs. Emboldened, Kyungsoo lifted himself onto his tiptoes and pressed his palms against Chanyeol’s cheeks, pulling him down to place a kiss on his lips. In his haste, however, the brim of his hat smacked Chanyeol right in the middle of his nose before they could connect.

They both reeled back in shock, the impact strong enough that Kyungsoo’s arms instinctively flew up to catch his hat before it toppled off his head. Embarrassment burned through Kyungsoo, and he fought the urge to let a whine leave his lips.

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, his cheeks a bright red. He wanted to smack himself -- he was so sure he had ruined the mood.

But Chanyeol only laughed, a gentle sound that sent tingles of delight rushing over Kyungsoo. “Gods, you are so cute,” he breathed. And then he was cupping Kyungsoo’s chin with one hand, tilting his face up. Chanyeol’s eyes sparkled, a fond smile on his face. Then, he tipped Kyungsoo’s hat back and out of the way with his other hand, before angling down for a kiss.

It was electrifying, the shape of Chanyeol’s mouth hot against his. It was heated, but with a tender sweetness that made Kyungsoo melt. Kyungsoo pushed closer to Chanyeol, twining his arms around the taller boy’s broad shoulders as he savoured the kiss. Chanyeol’s lips were sweet with the faint taste of honey. It was like all the yearning in his body was being poured into this kiss, and Chanyeol pulled Kyungsoo impossibly closer.

When they finally pulled apart, faces still close enough that he could feel Chanyeol’s breath washing over him, he couldn’t help but let out a faint sigh.

“This is the best birthday ever,” whispered Chanyeol, a playful light in his eyes. Kyungsoo rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it. Only affection.

The next time, he wasn’t sure who moved first. One moment they were staring into each other’s eyes, the next they were kissing again, their lips moving together sweetly. It wasn’t perfect by a dictionary definition -- Kyungsoo’s lips were chapped, and his neck was starting to hurt from craning upwards to meet Chanyeol’s. But it was everything Kyungsoo had dared to yearn for, and more. It was wonderful.

Kyungsoo smiled into the kiss, and he could feel the curve of Chanyeol’s lips turn upwards as well.

It felt like magic.