Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Jimin’s mother told him she’d be taking him to a Seer to have his star stone read, his gut reaction was to roll his eyes. Because Seers, although quite wise and powerful in some cases, were notoriously unreliable. Many of the most chaotic times in magical history could be attributed to incorrect prophecies made by Seers, and Jimin himself had concocted too many potions for Ancient Others affected by Seer Tellings.

But Jimin’s mother was beyond convincing.

“I have let this go too long, Jimin,” she’d told him when he protested. “You’re not getting any younger. I want to know if I’ve got any sons-in-law to look forward to or if I’ll be stuck listening to Ji-hyun’s fiance complain about her awful sister-in-law all my life.”

And even Jimin couldn’t argue that that would indeed be a miserable fate. So, he gave in.

But sitting before the Seer now, in all her bug-eyed glory, pupils slitted like those of a snake, he was beginning to regret not putting up more of a fight. He and his mother were cross-legged on the hard floor of the crowded shop, surrounded by all manner of creepy bits and bobs. On a shelf to Jimin’s immediate right was a collection of jars filled with pickled fish and eyeballs floating in goopy, greenish liquid. To the left, stuffed black ravens took up an entire wall, glaring down at Jimin like death incarnate. Jimin squirmed beneath their lifeless, beady eyes. But the worst part of all was the rotten egg smell that hung in the air around them, infiltrating Jimin’s nostrils and making his stomach turn.

The Seer, sensing his discomfort, peered at him over her thick eyeglasses and smirked. She sat on the other side of a makeshift table that was really just an old traveling trunk, deep blue and gold robes hanging slightly too big on her narrow frame.

“Well, aren’t you just darling?” she said in her nasally, grating voice that caused goosebumps to rise on Jimin’s arms.

He shifted away a bit from where he sat in front of her. As the owner of a magical remedies shop, he’d seen many strange things in his life, but nothing had creeped him out so much as this woman creeped him out right now. As if she could read his mind, his mother threw out a hand and clamped it over his knee to keep him still. Her fingers dug into his jeans in a clear warning.

Jimin pouted, sending her a sidelong glance that she blatantly ignored.

“Madam Seer,” she began, “I’m here today because I’m worried about my son.”

The Seer’s gaze flickered away from Jimin and landed on his mother. She dropped her chin into her hand, showing off green-nailed talons, as she raised one thick, bored eyebrow.

“Do tell, my dear,” she said. “What troubles you?”

Jimin’s mother leaned forward, eyes wide and wild, as though about to reveal a big secret. “My son is 24 years old and he’s never even taken a lover. I’m afraid he’ll end up alone. I want to know if my worries are unfounded, Madam Seer.”

Jimin balked, letting out a squawk of protest. Never taken a lover? He opened his mouth to argue, but the Seer spoke before he had a chance.

“I see. Well, have you brought the boy’s star stone?” she asked.

Jimin’s mother nodded. She released her hold on Jimin’s leg and reached into her bag to pull out a leather sachet. Loosening its ties, she dropped a gemstone the size of a walnut into her palm and offered it to the Seer. It was a pink tourmaline stone, sparkling and pretty, with a tiny marigold suspended inside of it. Jimin huffed—his mother had never even allowed him to hold his own star stone, yet here she was, handing it over to a stranger. She shushed him as the Seer grasped the stone between her palms and closed her eyes.

For a moment, nothing happened. Jimin rolled his eyes, fully ready to pack it in and make his escape. Then, a pinkish glow began to grow between the Seer’s hands and her whole body vibrated from the force of the magic flowing through her. She thrashed around, rocking back and forth as the light flooded from her palms.

“Eomma—” Jimin gasped, eyes blowing wide when the Seer started chanting under her breath. Jimin knew magic—he was a witch, after all—but he’d never seen anyone affected by it like this before.

Just as Jimin was beginning to wonder if he should do something, the Seer suddenly stilled and grew quiet. The glowing light between her hands vanished, and she opened her eyes.

“Oh, my dear,” she said to Jimin’s mother, smiling bright and showing off two rows of uneven, yellowed teeth. She handed Jimin’s star stone back over. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Jimin’s mother gasped, delighted, and clapped her hands together like someone had just told her she’d won the lottery. Jimin resisted an overwhelming urge to groan, knowing it would just result in a scolding.

“Truly, Madam Seer?” his mother asked.

The Seer nodded. “I see nothing but good fortune in this boy’s romantic future—not a dark cloud in his sky. In fact, I sense that there might be a suitor on the horizon.”

Jimin’s mother let out a squeal and wrapped an excited arm around Jimin’s shoulder. She shook him back and forth like a rag doll, laughing almost maniacally and nearly drowning out the Seer’s next words.

“However.” The Seer cleared her throat and pinned Jimin with a narrow-eyed glare. “However, you must not let him slip through your grasp. If he does, you’ll never find a better match so long as you live.”

Jimin scoffed.

His mother pulled away, smile slipping from her lips to make way for a frown instead. “But how will he know a person is the right one?”

The Seer clucked her tongue and began to rummage through a drawer in the enormous chest behind her. After a moment she grinned. “Aha!”

In one knobby-knuckled hand she held a silver, burnished, intricately embossed coin about the size of a bottle cap. It was smooth around the edges with a design on its face that Jimin couldn’t quite make out from this angle. It looked like some kind of a cat, but he couldn’t be sure.

The Seer held the coin out to Jimin’s mother. “This talisman will alert him when the other half of his soul comes into contact with it,” she explained. Turning to Jimin, she continued, “Once it does, it will offer you a spell. If you or your mate so choose, you may form an Unbreakable Bond by Casting the spell given to you by the talisman. The Bond creates a lifelong partnership.”

Jimin rolled his eyes but nodded reluctantly when his mother cuffed him on the back of the head and muttered, “Don’t be rude.”

The Seer settled back down, rearranging her robes as she waited for more questions.

“So, if he finds his match, he’ll be happy for life?” Jimin’s mother clarified.

“There’s no better man for him,” the Seer said, nodding. “He’ll never want for anything if he finds his true mate.”

Jimin didn’t really buy into all this hokey Seer stuff. He’d already made up his mind to chuck the silver coin as soon as he had the opportunity to do so.

If only.

☆

As he and his mother walked out of the Seer’s shop, his mother rambling about her prospective son-in-law, Jimin’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Eomma,” Jimin said, hesitant, as he pulled open the door of the barbecue restaurant they’d chosen (owned by a lovely little ahjumma witch he’d known for ages).

His mother—feathers ruffled from being cut off in the midst of her daydreaming—glanced back at him with a frown. She must have caught the note of discontentment in his voice.

“What is it?” she asked.

Before Jimin could answer her, they were stopped in the entryway by the restaurant’s owner.

“Councilwoman, welcome!”

The witch bowed deeply at them and Jimin and his mother reciprocated in kind. She was a slight woman, at least seven decades old, who always wore her silvery hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her wide smile made the wrinkles around her mouth scrunch up. Jimin particularly liked her because she always gave him and Taehyung extra helpings of meat every time they came in.

“Thank you, Choi sajang—”

Jimin tuned out as the women struck up a conversation, thoughts drifting back to Taehyung’s text message. The unrelenting audacity the Council had to shut down The Min-Night over and over again—Jimin was exhausted just thinking of how he’d deal with it this time. They never tried to be reasonable or to listen to anything Taehyung and Jimin had to say. It was endlessly frustrating and Jimin always felt outmatched and outpaced by them. They were the government, after all, and The Min-Night would meet a much worse fate if Jimin and Taehyung refused to comply with their orders. Even so, it was becoming more and more difficult to meet their demands.

And, as if things weren’t stressful enough, now there was the matter of the Seer and what she’d told Jimin’s mother. The whole idea of “fated love” kind of rubbed him the wrong way. What did the universe know about who would be a good match for him, anyhow? He was perfectly capable of finding a partner to make him happy, no magic coins necessary.

Jimin’s eyes wandered around the small, somewhat dim restaurant which was mostly empty aside from a couple of wait staff and a lone figure seated at a corner table. At first, Jimin’s gaze nearly traveled right over them as the person was kind of nondescript, shrouded in black from head to toe and hunched over with their face completely hidden from view. It wasn’t uncommon to run into such shady figures around town. Many of the Night City’s residents preferred to keep to themselves.

“Jimin?”

Jimin’s attention snapped back to his mother and the ahjumma who were both staring at him expectantly.

“Sorry, what was the question?”

Jimin’s mother’s mouth dropped into its characteristic frown, her eyebrows knitting together severely.

“Choi sajangnim asked you how business is going,” she said. “You shouldn’t ignore your elders, my dear.”

Jimin’s attention fell to the woman standing before them and he bowed his head, a little cowed at his mother’s scolding.

“I apologize, Choi sajangnim,” he said. Raising his head and meeting the short woman’s warm gaze, he added, “Business is going well, but the Council seems to think we shouldn’t be open at all, so it’s been a challenge trying to convince them otherwise.”

At this, he felt his mother stiffen beside him. It was too late now to take his words back, but Jimin wished he hadn’t said them. As much as he hated the Council at large and he was angry about the letter that awaited him at the cafe, he did respect his parents and his words clearly undermined that respect. He cringed.

“Ahh, no disrespect to the Councilwoman, but the Council is always trying to meddle in things it has no business meddling in,” the little witch said. Jimin could hear an undercurrent of dismissive resentment in her voice that mirrored his own feelings about the Council. “I wouldn’t let it get you down, dear. They’ll give up eventually, once they realize what a great service you and the Kim boy provide to our community.”

Jimin’s mother’s posture was still rigid so, in an effort to make sure he didn’t step on her toes again, Jimin simply bowed at the ahjumma and muttered a noncommittal “thank you.” She winked at him, raising a fisting and mouthing “fighting!” as Jimin sent her a faint smile.

After this, the conversation fizzled into nothingness and the witch finally led Jimin and his mother over to a table.

As soon as she’d disappeared into the kitchen, Jimin turned to his mother. “Eomma—”

His mother held up a hand to stop him. “Save it, Jimin. I don’t wish to have this conversation with you in public.”

“That’s not—” Jimin shook his head. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the shadow in the back stand up and make their way from the restaurant. The air, which Jimin hadn’t realized had had a stifling quality to it, cleared suddenly, making it easier to breathe. “We got another letter from the Council—Taehyung texted about it and I let my frustration get the best of me. I shouldn’t have said anything to her, I’m sorry.”

Jimin’s mother’s frown only deepened at this, though she seemed less concerned with Jimin’s apology than she was about the first thing he’d said. “You received another letter?”

Jimin stopped fiddling with the napkin-wrapped silverware on the table and nodded. It wasn’t too surprising that his mother didn’t know about the Council’s correspondence with The Min-Night. They weren’t stupid enough to put her and Jimin’s father in the middle of the conflict.

“It’s the second one this month,” he explained. “I haven’t read it, but I imagine it probably asks for us to close again for a little while. Is there nothing you can do, eomma?”

His mother tapped her pink nails against the dark wood grain of the table between them, expression scrunched in contemplation. She and Jimin’s father were senior members of the United Council of Ancient Others, the city’s governing body for the magical community. But when it came to matters involving The Min-Night, it seemed their seniority meant nothing to their colleagues, who circumvented their authority at every turn.

“Send me a copy of the letter when you get back,” Jimin’s mother told him as she pulled her cell phone from her handbag. “I’ll have Heeyeon do some digging.”

Jimin’s shoulders slumped. The Min-Night did very well when the shop was allowed to do business, but with the number of closures the Council had been imposing on them lately, they were closed more often than they were open. It was getting to be financially unsustainable.

His mother must have noticed the grim expression on his face because in the next moment, she was reaching out to place a comforting hand over his.

“Don’t worry, we’ll sort it out,” she assured him. “And if you have to schedule a hearing to appeal it, we’ll make sure you win.”

☆

By the time Jimin got back after lunch, the afternoon lull had just set in at Tae & Cakes. Only a few customers occupied the tables around the cafe, mostly students from the nearby university whose heads were bent over messy spreads of textbooks and laptops. It made for a calm atmosphere, a silence that was filled in only by the low sounds of lofi music, the tapping of keyboard keys, and the flipping of pages.

With his heart still twisted up in a knot from earlier, Jimin made his way behind the counter where Kim Taehyung, his best friend and business partner, was chatting up a tall, narrow-waisted, colorfully-dressed young man. The unmistakably gentle voice of Jung Hoseok reached Jimin’s ears as he circled around the glass dessert case and grabbed his apron off the hooks nearby.

“You have such pretty hands.”

Jimin bit his lip to fight off a grin.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, I wish my hands were half as pretty.”

They spoke in low tones but not low enough to escape Jimin’s spectacular hearing. He gave them a moment to flirt a little more before moving closer and clearing his throat.

Taehyung, who’d been leaning over the counter with his hand clasped in Hoseok’s, startled at the sudden noise and pulled away from Hoseok like he’d been electrocuted. His gaze flew around wildly, trying to determine the cause of the interruption before landing on Jimin a few feet away.

“Jimin-ah!”

Jimin giggled. “Hi, guys.”

Hoseok straightened up as well, running a sheepish hand through his dark hair as he offered Jimin a wave. “Hey, Jimin.”

Jimin swung his apron over his head and then drew the ties around to the front to loop them into a proper bow.

“How are you, hyung? Haven’t seen you in a couple of days,” he said to Hoseok as a red-cheeked Taehyung busied himself cleaning the milk steamer on the espresso machine.

Hoseok was a staple at the cafe and came by on almost a daily basis when he was in town. Whether this was because he just really liked the tea and cakes or because a certain broad-shouldered, handsome witch with a square-shaped smile had caught his eye, he’d never revealed. But as time wore on and Taehyung’s smiles grew brighter and cheeks bloomed more and more pink around him, Jimin knew the truth of the matter.

“Ah, yeah, I went to visit my parents in Gwangju over the weekend,” Hoseok explained. His lips turned up into a heart-shaped smile as he glanced at Taehyung. “I just came by to ask Tae to help me with my vlogs for the week, but all my bribing failed miserably.”

Jimin turned to Taehyung with a raised brow, knowing full well that his friend would love nothing more than to spend hours filming and editing videos with Hoseok. Taehyung staunchly refused to meet his eye, so Jimin heaved a sigh and asked Hoseok, “Have you tried offering cake? Maybe some wine? You have to cater to his desires, hyung. TaeTae isn’t one to be wooed so easily, you know.”

Taehyung squawked out a protest. “Jimin!”

Hoseok laughed. He leaned back over the counter, far enough that he could catch Taehyung by his pinky finger and tugged him a little closer. “Cake and wine, huh? I can do that.”

If it was possible, Taehyung’s cheeks reddened further and he used his free hand to cover his face. “Hyung!”

“How’s Wednesday at six o’clock sound?”

Taehyung’s shoulders sagged in resignation. With a pout, he nodded. “Six’s fine.”

Hoseok tweaked him under the chin and leaned across the counter to peck him on the cheek. “Don’t look so glum, sugarplum. It’ll be fun!” He looked between the witches and the grin he sent their way was radiant. “Anyway, I have to go pick up Mickey from the doggy hotel. I’ll see you Wednesday evening, Tae!”

When he was gone, a still-pouting Taehyung turned to Jimin. “I had very good, very specific reasons for turning him down, you know?” His voice was low, tone bogged down by a petulant sort of despair.

Jimin folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the glass dessert case, eyeing his best friend with both brows lifted. “Oh yeah? Playing hard to get isn’t a good reason, TaeTae. Hoseok hyung’s already smitten, you don’t have to talk him into dating you.”

Taehyung waved him off, expression pinched. “That’s not—I’m not playing hard to get, Jimin. He’s filming in the Moroi Sector, near Alderwoman Lee’s house. I thought it might be best if I stayed away from there for now.”

Oh. Jimin’s brows fell out of their expectant arch. Well, that was a very good, very specific reason, then, wasn’t it?

He bit his lip as his cheeks warmed with his own shame and guilt. He reached out to catch Taehyung’s sleeve and swung it back and forth.

“Ahh. That’s—yeah, that’s probably a good idea. I’m sorry, bub. I shouldn’t have meddled,” he said through a pout of his own.

Hoseok, a Youtuber by profession, had a significant online following from his weekly Hope in Seoul vlogs and dance videos under the hashtag of HopeontheStreet. But Hoseok was also human, and he knew nothing about the magical community that most importantly included Jimin and Taehyung. Therefore, he was unaware of even the existence of the Moroi Sector and its resident vampires, let alone the Council of Ancient Others, of which Alderwoman Lee was one of the most senior members.

Taehyung sighed and reached down with his free hand to place it over Jimin’s.

“It’s fine,” he said. When Jimin still looked unconvinced, he offered a small smile. “Really, I promise. I’ll call Hobi hyung and try to reschedule. It’s not like I wouldn’t want to hang out with him under normal circumstances… this is just a little bit complicated.”

“Complicated,” was putting it lightly but Jimin nodded and Taehyung gently pulled away from him.

“Now, tell me about the Seer,” he said.

☆

By the end of the day, Jimin had managed to put the whole ordeal—both ordeals—in the back of his mind. It wasn’t until he and Taehyung were finished closing up the cafe and hanging out in their office that Jimin stumbled across the Council’s letter.

He fidgeted with the ornate seal on the backside of the parchment, getting waxy residue on his fingers as he did.

“Do you think we should?” he asked Taehyung, looking up from the parchment in his hands. Taehyung’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “Appeal it, I mean.”

“Oh,” Taehyung said. He bit down on his bottom lip, thinking. “It’s two more weeks, Jimin-ah. I—I know we do well when we’re open, but we’re closed so much lately that—”

Jimin nodded. “Yeah, I was thinking the same.”

Taehyung pouted, dropping a hand on Jimin’s shoulder and squeezing gently. They were in it together, Jimin knew, but sometimes he felt like he’d dragged Taehyung into something that was over both of their heads. Of course, Taehyung would kick his ass if he ever caught Jimin thinking that way. The shop was theirs, together. It had been a joint endeavor, even if Jimin was the one who’d come up with the idea of a magical remedies shop in the first place.

His best friend offered a small smile, his wavy black hair falling over pretty brown eyes that were warm and soft and everything Jimin associated with comfort and home. Jimin reached up to rest his own hand atop Taehyung’s.

“We’ll be okay,” Taehyung said. He sounded so sure. “We always are.”

Jimin hummed in agreement, studying the green script on the Council’s letter as his stomach turned over. They really couldn’t afford another two-week closure, and the last thing he wanted was to have to take money earned from Tae & Cakes and put it into The Min-Night.

But they had a little time to figure out their next course of action. And besides, his mother had promised she would look into it for them. As Taehyung watched on, Jimin snapped a quick photo of the letter to send over like he’d told her he would.

“Here’s to hoping my eomma can find us a way out of this,” he mumbled.

Taehyung hummed in agreement.

“What are you doing for dinner tonight?” he asked Jimin eventually.

He moved away to take a seat behind their desk as Jimin flopped down on the raggedy sofa situated against the wall opposite.

“Yoongi hyung has a deadline tomorrow, so I thought I'd go over and drop off some food for him and Jungkook... maybe try to get him to eat while I’m there,” he said, sighing.

Taehyung’s lips turned downward into a knowing frown before his expression brightened. “Why don’t you come with me out to the Market and get something there?”

The Night Market, home to many of the magical shops in the city, came to life in the heart of Seoul after the sun dipped beneath the horizon every evening. It was hidden from view of the city’s mortals, but a few of the human restaurants in the area were particular favorites of Yoongi’s.

Before Jimin could answer Taehyung that that was a good idea, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

He told Taehyung what his mother had said and Taehyung nodded again as a thoughtful expression took over his face.

“You know, it’s pretty shitty that they leave your parents out of the discussions about sanctioning us,” he said. “Biased or not, your parents are still senior members.”

Jimin agreed. “Yeah, but it makes sense. Lee Joohyun and my parents disagree on just about everything when it comes to policy-making. She knows she would never have the support she needs from the other council members if she included my eomma and appa in the talks regarding The Min-Night.”

He looked down at his hands in his lap, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“What?” Taehyung asked.

Jimin peered up at him through his lashes with a frown. “I just hate that you keep getting dragged into my parents’ political drama with me.”

Taehyung heaved a sigh, standing up from his place at the desk and circling around to kneel down in front of Jimin. He placed his hands on Jimin’s knees to steady himself. As he looked up at him from his place on the floor, his handsome face bore a somewhat exasperated expression, as though he couldn’t believe they were having this conversation again.

“We’ve been lucky, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung said, sincerity laced through his words. “People trust us, even if the Council doesn’t, business is great when we’re open, and I’m glad to be part of that experience with you. You’re not dragging me into anything that I don’t want to be dragged into, okay?”

The knot in Jimin’s heart that had plagued him all day seemed to come undone as Taehyung’s lips parted into a gentle smile, warmth and affection pouring from it in a distinctly Taehyung way. It felt to Jimin like he was being embraced by the sun.

He sniffled, pouting, so Taehyung leaned up to gather him into a hug.

As he carded gentle fingers through Jimin’s hair, he murmured, “Now, what did I say before?”

Jimin pushed his face into his best friend’s shoulder. “That we’ll be fine.”

“That’s right,” Taehyung told him. “We always are.”

☆

When Jimin arrived at Yoongi and Jungkook’s apartment, using his spare key to get in, it felt like he’d stumbled upon a nuclear explosion made of blueprints and drafting sheets. Some were crumpled up and tossed on the floor, the rest laid strategically over every flat surface in the room, and it wasn’t a large space to begin with, so the mess made it feel even smaller.

In the center of it all sat Jeon Jungkook with his headset pulled up over his ears as he tapped frantically at a video game controller. His laptop—opened up to someone’s livestream—was balanced precariously on top of a stack of file folders on the coffee table. Jimin watched him for a moment, amused at the way he mimicked the movements of his on-screen character, thrashing this way and that.

Jungkook was what Jimin considered the epitome of a professional video gamer—he was dressed in a black cutoff shirt and dark sweats, his full sleeve of inky blooms on display, with a collection of empty energy drink cans and snack wrappers arranged into a neat crater around him. Here, surrounded by all the things that made him happy, he seemed to be right in his element.

As he continued to look around the mess, Jimin’s attention quickly flitted away from Jungkook to zero in on the other human occupying the space.

At the far end of the room near the balcony, Yoongi stood bent over his drafting table, clutching at the edges of a half-finished blueprint marked up by a spiderweb of pencil edits. Jimin felt fondness tug at his heart at the sight of his rolled-up sleeves that showed off pretty pink elbows and pale arms, the pencil perched behind his ear, at his dark, wine-colored hair that stuck up all over like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times. Something about the way he held himself, with tension apparent in his broad shoulders, made Jimin think he was probably sporting a cute little pout and a furrowed brow as he examined his design plans.

This wasn’t an unusual scene for the roommates, surrounded by the chaos of drafting projects and all-night gaming sessions, but it was one that always made Jimin’s heart clench a little in anxiety. Jungkook and Yoongi operated at a different rhythm than he did—albeit one that worked very well for them—and Jimin had long ago stopped trying to make sense of it.

He sighed, tip-toeing around the strewn drafting sheets to avoid stepping on them and nearly tripped over his own feet as he did so. The squeak he let out was enough to catch Jungkook’s attention.

When the gamer looked over, Jimin lifted a finger to his own lips to shush him before he could speak. He carefully placed his bags of takeout food on the dining table, trying to make as little noise as possible. Jungkook glanced back at Yoongi and then nodded to Jimin with a thumbs up.

Yoongi, as expected, was too absorbed in his work to notice the exchange or the fact that Jungkook had suddenly stopped yelling at the TV.

Jimin took the chance to sneak up to him.

He grunted under his weight as Jimin wrapped him up in a hug from behind, pressing close enough to hook his chin over Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi craned his neck around, scoffing when he realized it was Jimin, not Jungkook, hanging off his back.

“Hi,” Jimin said sweetly, lifting one hand in a wave. “What’s up?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, but his fondness shone through the action when his eyes crinkled around the corners and his lips quirked up in a soft smile. Not quite the smile Jimin was hoping for—the kind that showed off his cute teeth and pink gums—but it was the kind of tired, endeared smile that caused a special bloom of tenderness to curl around Jimin’s heart.

“Hi. Can I help you?”

Jimin put a finger to his chin as though in thought. “I was looking for my friend. He’s small and cute, kinda looks like a cat, about yea high,” he said, lifting the same hand up to his ear.

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed playfully.

“Can’t be me you’re describing because I’m definitely taller than you,” he said and reached around to pinch Jimin’s cheek.

Jimin pulled back with a whine and let go as Yoongi turned around to lean against his drafting table. He looked a little worse for wear with faint circles under his eyes and a chin full of stubble that made Jimin frown.

“You look exhausted, hyung,” he said, running his fingers over the short, prickly hairs at Yoongi’s jaw.

Yoongi caught his wrist with a sigh. “I have a deadline tomorrow, Min.”

Jimin blinked, suddenly remembering the reason why he’d come over in the first place. “Oh! That’s right. That’s why I’m here,” he said. “I brought you guys dinner.”

“Food?” Jungkook piped up.

Jimin spun around to look at him and nodded, pointing at the bags on the dining table. “Jajangmyun!”

Jungkook leaped up, nearly bowling over his laptop in the process as Jimin cringed, and started digging through the takeout containers.

Jimin turned back to Yoongi just in time to catch a flash of resignation cross his expression. Knowing he’d won before the argument had even started, he reached down to wrap his hand around Yoongi’s wrist. “Come on, hyung. Time to eat!”

“But I have—”

“No buts. You have to eat or you’ll get sick.”

Yoongi sighed, allowing himself to be dragged over to their small dining table where Jungkook had already opened up all the banchan and jajangmyun containers. Jimin guided him through the mess on the floor and offered him a pair of chopsticks that Yoongi reluctantly accepted. He slunk down into his seat like a reprimanded toddler, pouting even as Jimin slid over a serving of pickled yellow daikon. Jimin knew it was mostly a facade, that Yoongi would never admit it, but he appreciated Jimin’s interventions when he got too busy with work, which happened more often than Jimin liked. He was naturally an intense person, the kind who lost himself in his projects and needed someone to reach into the depths and pull him out. Jimin always tried to be that person for him.

“You brought too much food,” Yoongi grumbled, reaching for the pickled daikon with his chopsticks.

Jimin reached over to pat him on the head as Yoongi scrunched up his nose in distaste. “Good hyungie. I’m so proud of you.”

Jungkook made a gagging gesture from across the table. “You guys are so gross,” he complained. “You’re even worse than Namjoon hyung and Seokjin hyung.”

Jimin stuck his tongue out at him, swiping at his head only for Jungkook—the muscle bunny—to duck out of his reach.

“Eat your noodles,” Yoongi warned him flatly.

Jimin hid his grin behind a mouthful of jajangmyun when he noticed the tips of Yoongi’s ears grow a little pink.

“Alright, alright, old man,” Jungkook conceded, splitting his chopsticks and sticking them directly into the middle of his noodles to incorporate the black bean sauce. “Don’t have a conniption.”

“How was work?” Yoongi asked Jimin after a moment.

Jimin, mouthful of jajangmyun, nearly choked at the question. His mind, of course, flew straight to his weird trip to the Seer earlier that day and then screeched to a halt as he remembered the letter from the Council. But he couldn’t tell Yoongi about any of that, not even when Yoongi’s gaze grew a little dark with worry, and certainly not when Yoongi asked, “Min? Did something happen?”

Jimin reached for a bottle of water and gulped down half of it in one go before answering. “No, sorry, hyung. Everything’s fine. Work was fine, too. Just… busy.”

Yoongi looked at him a little strangely for a moment and Jimin thought he’d ask more questions. Fortunately, he didn’t push.

“Kook can always come around to help out if you guys need it,” Yoongi offered, even as Jungkook squawked out a protest.

Ignoring him, Jimin nodded. “I know, but we’re okay for now. Thanks, hyung.”

They ate in silence for a while after this, before a sudden, slow grin spread across Yoongi’s lips. Facetiousness was written all over his expression and alarm bells started to go off in Jimin’s head.

“What?” he asked, immediately suspicious.

“Your mom texted me earlier,” Yoongi told him.

Jimin groaned.

“She wanted to wish me luck on my pitch tomorrow,” Yoongi continued. “She even sent me thumbs up and heart emojis. Wanna see?”

He started to reach for his phone and Jimin threw a firm hand against his wrist to stop him. “No, thanks.”

Yoongi relented but the grin stayed on his face. A subtle, teasing sharpness leaked into his expression under the veil of smugness. Jimin rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a shithead sometimes,” he said.

Yoongi nodded in agreement. “And you’re jealous. But that’s okay, I still love you.”

Jungkook faked gagging again, but Jimin ignored him. “I’m not jealous.”

“Uh huh, sure thing.”

“I’m not!”

“Whatever you say, Jimin-ah.”

☆

“I’m going to talk to Namjoon hyung tonight about moving out,” Jimin said as he picked at a rip in the leg of his jeans. They were done eating and Jungkook had disappeared into his bedroom long ago to do a livestream. Now, it was just Jimin and Yoongi sitting side by side on the couch as the muted television played a rerun of some variety show. He looked up at Yoongi, explaining, “Seokjin hyung’s lease only has three more weeks on it and I want Namjoon hyung to have a chance to speak with him before that.”

Jimin could tell from Yoongi’s pouty frown that he disagreed with Jimin about this.

“What?” he asked.

Yoongi shrugged. “No, I just… you know you should have talked to him earlier, Jimin. How do you suppose you’ll find a new place to live in just three weeks?”

Yoongi had offered the same argument the last time they’d had this discussion. Jimin knew that his current roommate, an older witch named Kim Namjoon, was at a point where he wanted to ask the man he was courting, Kim Seokjin, to move in with him. Jimin had no desire to get between them as they took this next big step in their relationship. Neither did he want Namjoon to feel obligated to stay with Jimin just because they were friends.

As such, Jimin sidled up to Yoongi with a grin. “If I don’t, I can just stay with you for a few days, can’t I?”

Before Yoongi had a chance to answer him, Jungkook piped up from his bedroom. “No! You can’t!”

“No one asked you, brat!” Jimin yelled back. He scooted even closer to Yoongi, clutching at his arm and batting his eyelashes. “How about it, hyung?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and extracted his arm from Jimin’s clutches.

“The cafe has a pretty nice office, doesn’t it?” he said. “Taehyung’s couch is really comfortable, too.”

Jimin huffed out a whine and leaned away from Yoongi, settling back into the couch with a pout of his own. “Hyung, I know you like having me around. Wouldn’t it be fun to be roommates for a little while?”

Yoongi shook his head adamantly. “Nope.”

“Hyung-ah.”

Yoongi’s stoic expression was unmoved by Jimin’s aegyo, so Jimin pulled out his secret weapon—the puppy dog eyes.

“Hyung,” he said, fluttering his lashes. Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Hyung, I love you.”

Yoongi heaved a sigh, reaching out to ruffle Jimin’s hair. “Yeah, yeah. I love you, too.” His answer was automatic, like a gut reaction that Yoongi couldn’t stifle. The fact that it spilled so easily from his lips made Jimin smile.

He leaned closer. “So?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Yoongi nodded. “Fine, you can stay here if you don’t find a place by the time hyung’s lease is up.”

“Whipped!” Jungkook yelled from his room.

☆

Jimin startled as he opened the door to his apartment to the sight of Namjoon and Seokjin wrapped around each other in the entryway.

They jumped apart at the sound of the door, flushing from the highs of their cheeks and up to the tips of their ears.

“Hi, hyungs,” Jimin giggled, slipping out of his shoes and into his house slippers.

“Hi, Jimin-ah,” the hyungs answered in tandem and scooted further back from one another as Jimin moved past them.

“Are you heading out, Seokjin hyung?” he asked.

Seokjin set about putting on his shoes, replying, “Yeah, I’m up against a deadline for the magazine, so I have to get some work done on that tonight.”

“Namjoon hyung is too distracting to get work done here, huh?” Jimin asked lightly.

Seokjin’s rosy flush darkened, trickling down across his throat and beneath the collar of his shirt. “Uh—”

“It’s okay, you can admit it. We’re all friends here,” Jimin teased.

Namjoon cut in warningly before Seokjin had the chance to formulate an answer. “Jimin-ah.”

Jimin’s giggles doubled as Namjoon frowned at him.

“Have you had any luck with your apartment search, hyung?” Jimin asked once he’d been able to stifle his laughter. He didn’t want to have a whole conversation with Namjoon about moving if Seokjin had already found somewhere new to live.

Seokjin’s pretty lips scrunched up into a pout as he shook his head. “Not yet, but I have some showings lined up next week. It’s just a bit stressful because I’m running out of time.”

Jimin nodded along in sympathy. The Seoul housing market wasn’t the friendliest, and as a human, Seokjin was limited in his choices. Too many buildings with openings in them were secretly only rented out to Underground citizens.

“You could always move in here,” Jimin offered with a grin. “It’d be nice to have you around, and I know Namjoon hyung wouldn’t mind in the least. He’d finally be able to get rid of the body pillow he hides in his closet when you come over.”

Seokjin’s ears flared up into a bright red once more as Namjoon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Jimin-ah, please.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” he said. He took a couple steps further into the apartment, unable to help himself from adding, “You may now resume your smooching. Goodnight, Seokjin hyung!”

“Aish, Jimin-ah—!”

“Yah, Park Jimin!”

But Jimin retreated to the kitchen before Namjoon could properly scold him, chuckling as he heard Seokjin let out an indignant squawk.

Namjoon found him as he was making tea a few minutes later. He settled down at their small dining table where a pile of ungraded essays and his open laptop awaited him.

“Hyung left pretty quickly,” Jimin noted. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, taking a small sip of his chamomile lemon tea to decide if it needed more honey.

“Well, someone did run him out of here,” Namjoon replied with a pointed look in Jimin’s direction.

Jimin turned away to avoid answering as a smirk grew over his lips and squeezed a bit more honey into his mug. He heard Namjoon let out a resigned, but not altogether unaffectionate, sigh.

“He’s working on a new story about corruption in the Council,” he explained to Jimin. “Says they might be covering up something big that’s going on in the city. There have been more frequent reports of humans being Turned, but the circumstances surrounding their Turnings are throwing up some red flags, so he’s looking into it.”

Jimin nodded with an “ahh” of understanding. Seokjin worked as a reporter for the city’s only joint human-Others publication, a magazine called The Underground. The magazine specifically catered to those who were aware of the existence of the magical community. As the son of a Turned vampire, Seokjin was uniquely positioned to report on the goings on in both the human world and the Underground. He occasionally wrote articles as a freelance journalist for a human newspaper to maintain his cover, but his real reporting work was done for the magazine.

“Tell hyung that I have a bone or two to pick with the Council, too, if he wants to get a quote from me,” Jimin said, turning back around to face Namjoon.

His expression must have been telling because Namjoon quirked an interested brow at him from behind his horn-rimmed glasses. Jimin explained about the Council’s newest shutdown order, which elicited an exasperated tut from his hyung.

“They’ll never get sick of bullying you guys, will they?” he said, shaking his head again. He raked a frustrated hand through his dark hair and leaned his forearms on the table as an angry shadow swept over his countenance.

Namjoon was the type of person who took the burdens of others upon himself and Jimin knew it vexed him that he couldn’t help The Min-Night win against the Council. He was always searching for legal loopholes to get them out of the government-imposed closures but had yet to find a permanent solution.

“My eomma said she’s going to look into it, but I think we’ll probably have to file an appeal,” Jimin explained.

Namjoon let out another sigh, this one colored in the deep blues of helplessness, and peered over at Jimin with a thoughtful expression. “Your parents still have the voting majority, right?”

Jimin nodded, replying, “Yeah, they do. As far as I know, their connections on the Council are holding firm. The only problem is that Alderwoman Lee has the ears of some of the Elders. My parents are worried their influence could cause a shift in the voting numbers if the Elders start talking to Council officials.”

Namjoon’s expression darkened further at this. Jimin knew what his political leanings were and knew that they skewed in a direction that most of the Council disagreed with. He also knew Namjoon thought of the Council themselves as too backwards and felt that the institution as a whole was outdated. His next words proved this to be true.

“There’s so much bias running rampant throughout the Council but the Night City’s too busy trying to hold on to their old traditions to see any of it,” Namjoon sighed. “Without people like your parents to stand in the way, the Council would be stuck entirely in the past. It’s a shame because there’s so much progress to be made if they could just listen to viewpoints that are different from theirs. But of course they won’t. They’re too scared of becoming obsolete. So, like the cowards they are, they’ll just keep bullying people like you and Taehyung who want to create good change in the community.”

Jimin was warmed by the thought that Namjoon believed what he and Taehyung were doing for the Underground was good, because it was too often he second-guessed their decision to go against the Council. To know that an intelligent, sensible person like Namjoon supported them made it feel like they were on the right track.

He set his mug down on the counter and shuffled forward to give Namjoon a hug.

“Thank you for believing in us, hyung. It means the world,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around Namjoon’s broad shoulders.

Namjoon cleared his throat and awkwardly pat Jimin on the back. “I-It’s the principle of the matter, Jimin-ah. That’s all.”

Jimin huffed out a laugh as he pulled away.

“Sure,” he said, “but I still appreciate the support.”

Namjoon offered Jimin an amiable smile that caused his dimples to peek out on either side of his handsome face.

Jimin retreated to the counter to retrieve his tea. Looking over the rim of his mug, he caught Namjoon’s gaze as he asked, “Are you busy right now, hyung? I wanted to talk to you about something else that’s also kind of important.”

Namjoon’s expression dimmed again but he shook his head.

“No, never too busy for you, Jimin-ah,” he said. Gesturing to the empty seat across the table and tracking Jimin as he moved forward to sit down, he added, “What’s up?”

Jimin settled at the table, hands cupped around his warm mug of tea, and offered Namjoon a small smile. They’d been friends a long time, having met in college when Namjoon was a TA for one of Jimin’s classes. They’d stayed friends after the semester ended and when Taehyung told Jimin he’d be moving into the studio apartment above the cafe, Jimin asked Namjoon to be his roommate. Now, Namjoon was a professor of astronomy at the local university during the daylight hours and when he wasn’t teaching, he was usually at The Min-Night to help out Jimin and Taehyung. It made Jimin’s heart ache a little to know that their paths would be somewhat diverging after all these years.

“Seokjin hyung’s lease ends soon,” Jimin said. Surprise flickered across Namjoon’s handsome face, as though this was the furthest thing from what he’d expected Jimin to say. “So, I’m thinking of moving out.”

“Oh. Why?” Namjoon asked, not picking up on the connection between the two statements. “Is it because of something I did? We can talk through it, whatever it is.”

Jimin shook his head.

“No, no. Nothing like that. I just—don’t you want Seokjin hyung to move in? I was kind of half-joking about it earlier, but I really don’t want you to pass up the chance for that to happen just because of me, hyung,” he said, picking at a crack in his ceramic tea mug to avoid looking at Namjoon again. “I know you’ve been considering talking to him about it, so I figured it’s the best time for me to get out of your hair and let you guys sort things out.”

A slow, rose-colored blush unfurled over Namjoon’s cheeks as his eyes widened. “Jimin-ah—”

“It’s okay, hyung,” Jimin cut in quickly. “All I want is for you and Seokjin hyung to be happy.”

“I’d feel terrible asking you to find a new apartment in so little time, though,” Namjoon protested.

“You’re not asking me, hyung,” Jimin replied, tone gentle. He reached forward to squeeze Namjoon’s hand where it lay on the table between them. “I’m doing it because I want to. And besides, I got Yoon hyung to agree to let me stay with him if I can’t find a new place right away.”

“You can stay here, too,” Namjoon reasoned.

Jimin nodded. “Yeah, that too.”

But Namjoon still looked doubtful, so Jimin grinned at him. “Be honest, hyung. How many times have I cockblocked you guys without meaning to? Aren’t you sick of me ruining the mood?”

Namjoon shook his head again, replying, “Of course we’re not sick of—”

“Hyung,” Jimin whined, stomping his feet a little. “Please let me do this for you. I know you’re ready, I know you both want it even if you haven’t had the conversation yet. You’ve been courting for ages, don’t you think it’s time you settled down?”

“I mean, I have been considering it,” Namjoon admitted as his gaze burned into the dining table. He glanced up after a moment, eyes finding Jimin’s, and there were drops of bittersweet regret swimming around in the pools of brown. Namjoon was considerate to a fault, never willing to tread over those he cared about on the way to personal gain, which made Jimin that much more desperate to give him and Seokjin the happiness they deserved.

“Don’t get in the way of your own happiness for once, hyung,” Jimin told him gently. “Seokjin hyung is a good man and a good match for you. He’d wait forever for you if you asked him to, but don’t make him do that. And don’t worry about me, either. I’ll find my way, you know that. Plus, I’m a decent guy but not so decent that I’d give up my apartment if I didn’t think I could find somewhere else to stay.”

Namjoon ducked his head again and finally gave Jimin a brief nod.

“You’re more than decent, Jimin,” he said. “But… okay. I’ll talk to hyung.”

Jimin released his hold on Namjoon’s hand and patted him on the back of it. “Great! I’ll start apartment hunting this week, then.” He looked down at his half-full, lukewarm tea and sighed. “With that being said, I’m gonna get some more tea and leave you to your grading.”

Namjoon reached out and grabbed Jimin’s wrist before he could leave the table.

“Jimin-ah… thanks,” he said, tone heavy. “And don’t worry about the Council, I’ll find you guys a way out of this.”

And Jimin truly believed he would. Because if anyone could, it was Namjoon.

☆

Jimin started searching for a new place to live the very next day. Now that he’d cleared things up with Namjoon and he knew what his plans were going to be, it was easier to work towards that goal. The Seoul housing market wasn’t the simplest in the world to navigate, but Jimin’s Underground connections were numerous, so he’d already accumulated a handful of leads by the end of the first day.

On the other hand, dealing with the Council wasn’t quite as easy.

“Heeyeon tells me they’re unwilling to back down this time because they’re getting anxious about the level of support you’ve gained over the last few months. I don’t think you have any choice but to file an appeal,” Jimin’s mother told him over the phone. “But publicizing the issue will work in your favor, so I suggest you submit the paperwork as soon as possible. I wish there was more I could do for you. Lee Joohyun is being incredibly obstinate and keeping everything very close to the chest. Heeyeon will continue gauging the members’ reactions so that you don’t go into the appeal blind. The one silver lining is that our majority still appears to be strong. The Elders haven’t spoken to any of the voting members as of now.”

As concerning as it was that they’d have to go through the appeals process again, Jimin felt better knowing they would probably still win. The Council could come up with any number of excuses to make The Min-Night shut down, but if they could retain the support of enough of the voting members, it didn’t matter what lengths they went to.

“Thanks, eomma,” he said. “I’ll get started on the paperwork with Taehyung later today.”

After hanging up with his mother, Jimin made a split second decision and texted Seokjin. If his mother believed public awareness would work in their favor, there was no one better to get the word out than the best journalist he knew.

It was left unspoken that Seokjin probably knew one of Jimin’s parents had given Jimin the news, but Seokjin was a good man. Jimin had faith he wouldn’t give up his source. And he would also know how to get the news circulating. The idea was that if public opinion staunchly favored The Min-Night, then the Council would likely be forced to back down regardless of where the voting members’ true motivations lay. It wasn’t fool-proof, but it was worth a shot.

Jimin’s bargain bore fruit almost immediately thereafter. By the time he filed the appeals paperwork with the Council, The Min-Night had already received a letter telling them they’d won.

“So, no closing?”

Taehyung stood behind him, reading over Jimin’s shoulder at the succinct notice printed in bold type.

“Guess not,” Jimin replied, relief flooding through him as the words left his mouth.

☆

It seemed the universe wanted to maintain some level of balance in Jimin’s life, however, because, as the situation with Council resolved itself, Jimin’s apartment search came to a grinding halt. The first few leads he’d been given fell through almost immediately when Jimin realized they were Underground Onlys.

The Onlys were whole swaths of their society that stayed completely isolated from the human world. They were usually composed of old, wealthy pureblood families, whose connections to the mortals were few and far between. But for someone like Jimin who, on a daily basis, toed the line between the Ancient Underground and human Seoul, such places were of no use. To start with, Yoongi would never be able to come over, and that was a dealbreaker on its own.

So, as he always did when he was in a jam, he turned to social media for help.

Within hours of posting, The Min-Night’s official account received an influx of messages about places that were looking for Ancient Underground tenants.

Jimin contacted the most promising leads and set up showings throughout the following week.

And naturally, it wasn’t until the very last appointment, only a couple of days before Seokjin’s lease was up, and only after he had checked out every single place on his list, that Jimin finally found an apartment he liked.

“A loft, huh?”

Jimin held his phone out in front of him to show Yoongi the place over a FaceTime call before he made his final decision.

The apartment had an industrial aesthetic to it, but felt cozy and well-constructed despite, with nice wooden floors and a remodeled interior. The main space was open and bright and floor-to-ceiling windows spanned the entire wall looking out onto the street below. Off the kitchen, a metal, winding staircase led up to an open, hanging loft area. From the foot of where Jimin imagined his bed would be, he could lean over a railing that looked down into the living room on one side and part of the kitchen on the other.

“Do you like it?”

Jimin turned his phone’s camera back onto himself and Yoongi grinned at him. “It’s nice.”

“Hyung, you’re an architect and all you have to offer is ‘it’s nice’?” Jimin pouted.

Yoongi’s resulting laughter was bright and cute and made Jimin’s pout curve up into a reluctant smile. “It’s very industrial. Are you sure you don’t want a place that has a softer, homier feel?”

Jimin glanced around at the apartment—at the brick walls and the high ceilings, at the far wall of the living room made wholly of inlaid bookcases, at the light streaming in through the windows and the staircase that led up to the loft. Even though Yoongi’s question was a valid one, he knew his heart had already decided this was the place for him.

He nodded at the property manager, a werewolf, who was watching him with an expectant expression.

“I want this one,” he told Yoongi, softening his voice.

His best friend’s eyes crinkled at the corners as a more tender smile settled over his lips. “Then, I think it’s perfect, Jimin-ah.”

He signed the paperwork on the spot.

☆

Jimin talked Yoongi into helping him move over the weekend after he got the keys to his new apartment. They spent the morning shuttling furniture and boxes from Namjoon and Seokjin’s place over to the loft and then another couple of hours unloading everything and lugging it up three flights of stairs.

“It’s 2020, why do walk-ups still exist?” Yoongi groaned, dropping a box of pots onto the kitchen counter. He swiped at his sweaty forehead and peered around the rapidly-filling space.

They’d brought up the furniture first, since the boxes could wait until the next day if need be, so he dragged himself over to the couch and flopped down.

“I didn’t think three stories up would be too bad,” Jimin replied. He adjusted the position of the coffee table a little before taking a seat beside Yoongi.

“It’s not, until you’re making your fiftieth trip with a 10 kilogram box in your arms,” Yoongi huffed.

“Want to stop for lunch now?” Jimin asked. He glanced at the time on his watch. “I told Tae I’d head to the cafe in the afternoon.”

On cue, Yoongi’s stomach let out a mighty rumble and Jimin burst out laughing. He pulled his wallet from his pocket and handed it to Yoongi.

“I’m going to take a quick shower, if you want to order delivery, hyung,” he said. “My treat for helping out.”

Yoongi opened his mouth to argue, but Jimin jumped to his feet and scurried upstairs to his bedroom before he could get a word out.

He’d finished his shower and had just started getting dressed when it happened. Akin to the experience of an unfortunate person struck by a freight train, it happened so quickly Jimin had no time to prepare himself.

By the time the words had left Yoongi’s mouth, it was too late.

“The delivery guy should be here soon, so I’m going downstairs,” Yoongi called out.

“Okay!”

As Jimin slipped on a t-shirt and toweled his hair off, he heard Yoongi shuffling around in the living room.

“What’s this?” Yoongi murmured.

“What, hyung?”

There was a long pause and then—

“I bind myself to you now and forevermore. My soul, my body, my fidelity is yours ever after, ever after. Be for me as I am for you, be as one ad infinitum. I love you. Jimin, what the hell is this?”

“What?” Jimin called from his bedroom. “What are you talking about, hyung?”

No response.

“Yoongi hyung?”

Jimin felt a sudden tug in his belly, before a searing pain ripped through his chest and he cried out, gripping at his shirt as he heard a similar cry from Yoongi in the living room.

“Hyung?” Jimin scrambled to the edge of the loft, still in his boxers, and looked down to find Yoongi kneeling beside the couch, face contorted in an expression of pain. “Hyung, are you okay?”

He ambled down the winding staircase, nearly tripping more than once on his way. As Jimin grew physically closer, the pain in his chest began to ebb, but it wasn’t until his palm landed flat against Yoongi’s shoulder that it dissipated fully. A dull ache filled him up in its place, like a vice that had been loosened just enough for him to take a few ragged breaths of air.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi breathed, glancing from Jimin’s grip on him down to the silver coin in his palm—oh fuck. Jimin’s sudden, sharp intake of breath had Yoongi’s eyes snapping back up to his face.

“Hyung, what did you do?” Jimin couldn’t keep the heavy notes of panic out of his voice as he ripped the Seer’s enchanted coin from Yoongi’s hands. “What did you do?”

Yoongi’s eyes reflected confusion and fear as he replied, “I—I just—Jimin, what the fuck is that thing? It started glowing when I touched it and all these words appeared.”

“Words?” Jimin looked back up at Yoongi and urgency bled into his next questions. “What words? What did it say? Did you—Did you read them out loud?”

Yoongi visibly swallowed and nodded. “It said something about ‘I’m yours forever’ and loyalty and love. I don’t know, it surprised me.”

“You—You read them out loud?” Jimin asked again faintly. At Yoongi’s second nod, he dropped back on his ass to sit down on the hardwood floor of his living room. “Shit.”

“Min, what the hell is going on? My chest felt like it was gonna collapse in on itself a minute ago,” Yoongi asked, rubbing the spot over his t-shirt.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Jimin mumbled, ignoring him. He turned the coin over and over between his fingers but the incantation and its embossed design had been wiped from the surface of it, leaving the metal smooth, if not a bit duller-looking than before. “I-I need to… damn it. Hyung, can you try to remember exactly what was written—what you read out?”

He knew he held too much hope in his eyes, but if Yoongi had really set the Bond—

Yoongi hesitated a second and then shook his head. “No, not exactly. It sounded like an Edgar Allen Poe poem, and it was kind of long.”

The hope rushed out of Jimin like air out of a deflating balloon. “Okay… that’s okay. Let’s just—let’s try to write down whatever you do remember,” he said. Scrambling to his feet, he rushed up to his room to find some paper and a pen.

Yoongi spent the next few minutes trying to recall, word for word, the incantation he’d read from the coin. He ended up with a couple of lines of text that sounded similar to what Jimin remembered overhearing while he’d been changing.

“Okay, let’s try it,” Jimin said. Looking over Yoongi’s shoulder at the incantation, he explained, “You have to read it backwards in order to reverse it.”

Yoongi glanced back at him with uncertainty written all over his face, so Jimin gave him a reassuring smile and gestured for him to begin.

“You love I. Infinitum ad one be, yours am I as mine be. Forevermore, forevermore yours is loyalty my, soul and body my. Forever you to myself bind I,” Yoongi read.

They waited a moment after he finished, but the vague pull in his chest where his heart was didn’t release him and Jimin knew the spell hadn’t worked.

“Sorry,” Yoongi mumbled, crumpling the paper and tossing it away from himself. “I told you, it was pretty long and I wasn’t paying very close attention when I read it.”

“I know,” Jimin said. He dropped a reassuring hand on Yoongi’s leg and gave him a pat. “It’s okay.”

Jimin bit down on his plush bottom lip, trying to think of how reversals were normally done if an incantation wasn’t easily accessible. One option, of course, was to have the witch who cast the spell reverse it themselves. But Yoongi wasn’t a witch. Neither was the Seer. He’d also heard of reversal draughts, but those were only for simple incantations, like beginner charms and children’s hexes. After a moment, Jimin groaned. Long-form spells were really more of Taehyung’s thing. He was way out of his depth here.

“Okay,” he said, sitting up a little straighter and acutely aware of Yoongi’s eyes following his every move. “Okay. I—I need to talk to Taehyung.”

“Taehyung? What’s he got to do with anything?” Yoongi asked, all the more bewildered. “Jimin-ah, I really need you to tell me what the hell is happening right now.”

But Jimin was too panicked to listen to him. He glanced around, trying to spot his familiar nearby somewhere among the mess of boxes. “Goguma? Goguma, come here!”

“Goguma? Why are you—She’s not a dog, she won’t just—” Yoongi tracked Jimin’s gaze around the room and jumped when Goguma, Jimin’s blue beauty snake familiar, slithered out from under the couch. “Oh, fuck. What the hell?”

“Baby.” Jimin reached out, petting Goguma on the head as the smallish snake wrapped her top half around his forearm. His nervous heart eased in her presence. “I need you to go to Joonie hyung’s apartment with a message for hyung and Moni. Tell them Yoongi hyung’s created an Unbreakable Bond and we may need help if Taehyung can’t reverse it. See if Moni has any ideas about what to do.”

Yoongi gaped at him, eyes impossibly wide and face even paler than its usual milky white. He sputtered out a string of incoherent words as Goguma slithered away. Jimin waved his hand distractedly, his attention focused on a slew of texts to Taehyung, and the front door opened up for the snake. It slammed shut behind her, magicking itself back into a locked position.

“Holy—”

Jimin tapped on the screen of his phone, waiting for a response from Taehyung. He was at the cafe right now, where Jimin was supposed to be, as well, if lunch hadn’t been completely fucked like it was.

“Oh, shit. The delivery guy!” Jimin exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. But as soon as he got more than a couple of steps away from Yoongi, the pulling pain in his chest had him bending forward in a gasp. Behind him, Yoongi hissed. Jimin quickly backtracked and replaced his hand on Yoongi’s shoulder causing the pain to dissipate almost instantly. “Damn it.” He bit down on his bottom lip, face scrunched into an unpleasant expression. Yoongi was staring at Jimin’s ringed hand on his shoulder with his pretty features turned a little gray from fright. “I think you’re just going to have to come with me, hyung.”

Yoongi’s eyes flickered up to Jimin. “Pants.”

Jimin’s brows scrunched up in his own confusion. Pants? Had Yoongi finally cracked?

But Yoongi continued on quickly, “You need to put on pants, Min.”

Jimin looked down at himself and only then realized he was still half-dressed from having run out of his room earlier. He ignored the heat that rose up into his cheeks and dragged Yoongi back up the stairs so that he could put on some jeans.

They were quiet on the way down to the lobby, both lost in wildly spinning thoughts of what had just happened. Jimin paid for lunch, as he’d promised to do what felt like an eon ago, and then they headed upstairs in silence, too. It wasn’t until they were back in Jimin’s apartment, side by side on the couch, each with a bowl of jajangmyeon in hand and legs pressed together that Jimin finally turned to Yoongi with a flat expression on his face.

“I’m a witch,” he said without preamble.

Yoongi choked on his mouthful of noodles. Jimin calmly handed him a glass of barley water and patted him on the back.

“You’re a what?”

Jimin sighed. “A witch—you know, brew potions, have magic running through my veins? Taehyung and Namjoon hyung are, too.”

Yoongi’s mouth dropped open, though his cat-like eyes reflected a deep confusion, almost as if his mind rejected the whole idea that Jimin could be anything but human. “W-What?”

Jimin sighed and placed his bowl of noodles on the coffee table. Rolling up the sleeves of his sweater, he held up his palm where Yoongi could see it and conjured a small, pink flame within it. It tickled his skin with its warmth where it danced over his fingers and made Jimin smile inadvertently.

“Jes—” Yoongi skittered back in shock, expression slack with surprise. “What the fuck?”

Jimin closed his palm on the flame to extinguish it before retrieving his lunch and settling back in to eat. He didn’t say anything more for a long moment, letting Yoongi process this new information.

Then, “My specialty is brews, but I’m not half-bad at Casting.”

Yoongi shuffled closer once more. “A-A witch?”

Jimin nodded.

“But you’re—”

“The term ‘witch’ is gender neutral. Anyone can be a witch,” Jimin interrupted.

“Huh.” Yoongi snapped his mouth shut. They continued eating in silence for another moment, before, “So, then, what the hell is going on?”

Jimin bit his lip as guilt bled, unbidden, into his chest. He never should have kept that stupid coin in the first place. “It’s a little complicated.”

Yoongi raised a brow at him like that wasn’t good enough. “Okay. Still want to know. Every time you move away from me I feel like my chest is being ripped apart. It’s kind of concerning.”

Anxiety bubbled up into Jimin’s stomach at these words. He rubbed at his own chest where that dull ache still resided, before mumbling, “Well, when you put it like that…”

“Jimin…”

Jimin groaned. “I think you created an Unbreakable Bond andnowoursoulsareboundtoeachother.”

Yoongi’s face scrunched up. “Come again?”

“Unbreakable Bond. I—I went to a Seer a few weeks ago—they’re like magical fortune tellers—and she gave me this coin,” Jimin explained, plucking the offending object off the coffee table. “Said it would signal me when it came into contact with the person I’m meant to be with. The words you read—they were an incantation.”

“Okay… so, what does that mean? We’re soulmates or something?” Yoongi asked, voice pitching an octave or two higher. This revelation embarrassed him, Jimin could tell by the way his ears turned pink. If they weren’t in the midst of a crisis, he might have thought it was cute.

“Or something,” Jimin agreed. He turned the coin over between his fingers. “Seer Bonds are notoriously difficult to reverse, that’s why they’re called ‘Unbreakable.’ She told me that if ever I found my person—the person I’m ‘meant to be with’—he or I could create the Bond by using the coin and it would ensure a lifelong partnership.”

“Partnership,” Yoongi echoed. He sank back against the couch cushions with a huff. “So… what? That sounds like marriage, Jimin-ah.”

“It’s—I guess it is—basically, in human terms,” Jimin mumbled. “Kind of.”

Silence. Yoongi’s Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down a few times as all the color drained from his face. Jimin braced himself for the inevitable explosion.

“What do you mean married?” Yoongi was rightfully bewildered, though his voice betrayed a sort of hesitance like he didn’t really want to know the answer to his question. “Married, Jimin? What the fuck?”

“Well,” Jimin said with a grimace. “I told you it was complicated, hyung.”

“So, what do we do? I didn’t—I didn’t know something like this would happen!” Yoongi protested.

“Don’t worry, hyung, Taehyung is coming right over. He’ll be able to help us,” Jimin assured him. “He’s a much better Caster than I am.”

Taehyung couldn’t help. He tried a half-dozen incantations taken straight from the Caster’s Codex but Jimin could still feel the Bond pulling at him beneath his skin.

“What about a potion?” Taehyung asked eventually. He eyed Yoongi, whose wine-colored hair stood on end from the last spell he had Cast, and then glanced at Jimin. “Maybe there’s something in Advanced Brews?”

Jimin frowned, going through his mental catalogue of all the recipes in the book as he patted down Yoongi’s hair, before shaking his head. “There’s nothing on Bonds in there. Least of all Seer Bonds.”

Taehyung mirrored his frown and then bent down to scoop his tiger familiar, Bom, into his arms. The feline was usually glamoured to look like a normal house cat in front of humans, but now that Yoongi knew they were witches, Taehyung had lifted the enchantment. Bom preferred to stay small, taking on the form of a tiger cub rather than a fully grown big cat because it was easier to move around that way. Even still, Yoongi had been subtly trying to keep his distance from the creature ever since.

“Bom-ah, any thoughts?” Taehyung stroked Bom behind his ears and the baby tiger purred. Silence pervaded the room as they communicated with each other, though Yoongi’s features were darkened by obvious confusion. “Hmm… that might be worth a shot.”

A moment later, Taehyung turned back to Jimin. “Bomie said to try a draught made from a mixture of vampire venom, chupacabra venom, and gryphon eggs. The recipe’s at the shop.”

At this, Yoongi raised both brows and sputtered out, “Chupacabra—gryphon eggs? Where in the hell are—”

Jimin shook his head to cut him off. “I’ll explain on the way. Let’s go.”

Jimin texted Namjoon to keep Goguma with him at Seokjin’s place for now and the three of them filed out of his apartment, Bom (glamoured once more) on their heels.

“We—that is, Tae and I—run a magical remedies shop in Jongno-gu,” Jimin explained.

Yoongi was holding his hand again, as they had decided being in constant physical contact was better than suffering separation pains. But Jimin was anxious, and every time he became anxious, his hands grew uncomfortably clammy. He pulled away briefly to wipe his palm on his jeans and then reclasped their hands.

“Like, near Tae & Cakes? When exactly do you have time for that? You’re both always at the cafe,” Yoongi asked. He sounded tired, as though he didn’t even have energy to be surprised at this new bit of information.

“Um, there’s a night market in the neighborhood. It’s—”

Taehyung’s phone chirped up ahead and Jimin glanced over at him, distracted. “Hoseok hyung, hi! Oh, you’re at the cafe? I’m so sorry, something came up and I had to close for the afternoon. Tonight? Um…” Taehyung met Jimin’s eye before his gaze dropped to his and Yoongi’s clasped hands. “I think I’ll be tied up for a while. Maybe tomorrow? Are you free for lunch?”

“Our community, the magical community, is spread all around the city,” Jimin continued. He figured it was best to start from the basics so Yoongi wouldn’t be so confused anymore. “It has a name—two names—everything magic is considered to be part of what’s known as the Ancient Underground or the Night City. The Underground has its own government, laws, traditions… it’s a wholly separate society. One of these traditions is the Underground Night Market in Jongno-gu. After the sun sets every evening, the Night Market opens up. It’s every day from midnight until about six or seven in the morning.”

Yoongi nodded. “Okay, I get all that. But again, what about Tae & Cakes?”

“Taehyung and I take turns at the Market and we’re only open four nights of the week. On Mondays and Fridays, I handle customers looking for brews. On Wednesdays and Saturdays, Tae is there for Casting appointments. Namjoon hyung helps out most nights, too, since he’s good at brewing and Casting. And um… the cafe isn’t near the shop, exactly…”

☆

They took the long way to the cafe, turning off the street a block early just in case Hoseok was still in the area. The back alley entrance of The Min-Night was glamoured to look normal during the day, but Jimin lifted the enchantment as their party neared, uncovering the shop’s true facade of purples and golds for Yoongi. His eyes widened, grip tightening around Jimin’s fingers, and Jimin peered over at him to watch his reaction.

“Here? This is—”

Jimin nodded. “The cafe.”

Yoongi blew out a breath and a disbelieving huff of laughter escaped him as he said, “Un-fucking-real.”

Taehyung unlocked the door, holding it open for them as Jimin pulled Yoongi into Tae & Cakes.

Giving him one last, reassuring squeeze, Jimin released his hold on Yoongi’s hand and turned to look around at the empty coffee shop. The curtains at the front were drawn, so darkness enveloped the usually lively space.

“D-Don’t freak out, hyung,” Jimin warned him, lifting his hands palms out.

He felt his magic begin to coalesce in his fingertips and as they stepped further into the cafe, previously invisible lanterns flickered to life on the walls, eliciting a gasp from Yoongi.

It was fascinating, the way his face opened up with surprise as the shop came into view. He looked around with a kind of childlike wonderment at everything revealed by Jimin’s magic.

The cafe’s tables and chairs disappeared to make room for aisles of potions and crystals and other items to rise up out of the floor. The empty display case that housed baked goods during the daytime filled with more mystical items, including the gryphon eggs they needed for the Bond Breaker Draught. Behind the counter, the Tae & Cakes menu melted into the wall, replaced by a sign for The Min-Night Magical Remedies Shoppe. Below it, shelves of stoppered vials full of multicolored liquids materialized at the same time that lines of dried herbs fell out of thin air from the ceiling to hang above their heads.

“This—holy shit,” Yoongi breathed, glancing at Jimin with wide eyes. “Holy fuck, Jimin.”

Jimin smiled at him, a little bashfully, before dusting his hands off to rid them of any excess magic. “Cool, huh?”

Yoongi managed a nod. “Yeah… wild. I can’t believe this is real. You’re incredible.”

Heat rose to the apples of Jimin’s cheeks and he couldn’t help the way his heart fluttered. He’d always been a little scared of how Yoongi would react if he ever got the chance to tell him he was a witch. It wasn’t that Jimin didn’t want to tell him, it was just illegal to do so since they weren’t spouses or related by blood. The Council wanted to maintain as much of the Night City’s secrecy as they could.

“C’mon, we don’t have time to dawdle,” said Taehyung, cutting in.

He beckoned them closer behind the counter as Bom jumped up to walk atop it. He made a beeline for their recipe box and nosed at it to have Taehyung open it up.

After rifling through all the cards for a moment, he pulled out the one for the Bond Breaker Draught and scanned over it with a frown on his face.

“This won’t work,” Jimin lamented, staring at the card over Taehyung’s shoulder. “Not right away, at least. It has to sit for a month before it can be taken and even then we have to wait for a full moon.”

Taehyung hummed. “That’s too long.”

A month Bonded to Yoongi? Jimin lifted his gaze and found Yoongi already looking at him, lips pulled together in a disgruntled, adorable pout. His auburn hair was still a little tousled from Taehyung’s earlier Casting attempts and a dusty rose-colored blush had sprinkled itself across his nose and cheeks. Jimin hadn’t had a moment to consider the implications of all this yet—the fact that Yoongi was indeed the one chosen as his perfect match by Fate. The thought of it caused a burst of unbidden warmth to diffuse through his chest like his heart had been embraced by a supernova. The feeling made his toes curl inside his shoes. As he’d told Namjoon, Yoongi was his best friend. And if Jimin was meant for anyone, he couldn’t say he felt disappointed that that person had turned out to be Yoongi.

“Jimin?”

Taehyung’s voice cut through the suspended moment like a pair of scissors and Jimin physically startled. As he turned to face Taehyung, he felt the light, reassuring pressure of Yoongi’s hand against the back of his neck.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Jimin asked Taehyung.

“I was just saying maybe it’s time to call your parents. We can’t wait a month for this draught to cure,” Taehyung said.

Bom climbed his way up on top of the display case and settled down on Taehyung’s shoulder. Jimin watched as the feline nuzzled against Taehyung’s neck, scenting him.

“Bomie suggests making the draught anyway, so that we have a backup plan,” Taehyung went on, reaching up to stroke Bom’s ears. “Did you talk to Namjoon hyung?”

Jimin nodded. “He’s on standby. Let me try calling my mother,” he said. Turning to Yoongi, he explained, “The Ancient Underground has a governing body called the United Council of Ancient Others. ‘Ancient Others’ is the general term for non-mortal beings like us witches. My eomma and abeoji are both on the Council.”

“Magical bigwigs, huh?” Yoongi said, blowing out a breath. “And here I thought they were just regular old bigwigs.”

Jimin offered him a faint smile and reached up to pat his cheek. He felt for Yoongi, he did. If their roles had been reversed, Jimin wasn’t sure he could maintain the level of calm that Yoongi had exhibited until now. It was impressive, all things considered.

With a sigh, Jimin dialed his mother’s number, waiting as the phone rang and basking in the feel of Yoongi’s long fingers kneading at the back of his neck. The touch of his skin against Jimin’s calmed the ache in his chest.

“Jimin?” His mother’s voice, dipped in the murky gray tinge of concern, came through the line a bit staticky.

“Hi, eomma,” Jimin said. “Do you have a minute?”

“Is everything okay, Jimin-ah?” his mother asked, still in that same perturbed tone. He didn’t usually call her unless something was amiss in his life.

“N-Not exactly,” Jimin admitted. He leaned back into Yoongi’s touch as his eyes followed Taehyung flitting about the shop collecting the ingredients for the Bond Breaker draught. “There’s been an incident. Yoongi hyung created an Unbreakable Bond between us with that enchanted coin the Seer gave me a few weeks ago.”

His words were met with a prolonged silence across the phone line. Yoongi peered at him with a raised brow, but Jimin shrugged, not quite sure how his mother would react.

“Eomma?”

“Min Yoongi?” she asked.

“Yes…”

“Min Yoongi set off the coin’s magic?” Jimin’s mother’s voice suddenly rose by a few octaves and Jimin belatedly realized the mistake he’d made. He groaned and dropped his face into his free hand at her next words. “Min Yoongi’s your person, Jimin-ah! My son-in-law! Oh, you don’t know how happy this makes me!”

“Eomma, you’re missing the point,” Jimin whined. He pulled Yoongi’s hand away from his neck—though he still held onto it within his own—and turned around. Lowering his voice, he told his mother, “Yoongi hyung and I are not involved, eomma. We’re practically stuck together against our will.”

His mother huffed. “Fate tells you you’ve found your ideal match and still you’re complaining. What would you have me do, Jimin-ah? I’m no Bond Breaker.”

Jimin’s fingers tightened around Yoongi’s where they were clasped behind his back. “Well, I was hoping you’d have some ideas about where we could go to have it reversed.”

“The Seer, of course. Only she can reverse her own Bond,” his mother said matter-of-factly. “Go back to her shop and ask her to break it.”

If he had any free hands with which to do it, Jimin would have face-palmed. Of course. Only the Seer who’d created the Bond could undo it. Seer Bonds, unlike normal ones, were brought into existence by the special kind of magic only Seers themselves possessed. That was part of the reason why none of Taehyung’s spells worked on it.

“That’s—Actually, that’s probably a good idea,” Jimin admitted. “Okay, thanks, eomma.”

He bid his mother goodbye and was just hanging up the call when Taehyung suddenly rushed over. “Wait!”

He rummaged around a stack of mail on the counter for a moment before he found what he was looking for. He handed over a slightly discolored piece of parchment that bore the Council’s seal at the top and Jimin immediately groaned.

“Again?”

Taehyung nodded. “It’s worse this time. Ask her.”

Yoongi, now peering over Jimin’s shoulder, frowned in confusion.

“What is it?” he asked.

Waving him off, Jimin said, “I’ll explain in just a second. Eomma?”

“What’s wrong?” his mother asked.

“We got another notice from the Council,” Jimin told her, skimming over the contents of the letter. “There’s a declaration of mandatory closure and… are you serious? They’re fining us? Oh, c’mon!”

“There’s a fine?” His mother sounded as surprised as Jimin felt. “How much?”

Jimin balked at the number, printed in bright red ink in the center of the page.

“10,000,000 won,” he breathed. “We—How would we ever pay that?”

His mother let out a sound of frustration. “Well, obviously they’re ensuring that you wouldn’t be able to pay,” she said. “Lee Joohyun has been holding meetings about this when she knows your father and I are unavailable. We’ve let it go because you’ve won all of your appeals so far, but this is crossing a line. Let me speak to your appa and we’ll figure something out. Don’t worry.”

The pit in Jimin’s stomach caused by the Bond grew in size as the stress of potentially losing The Min-Night bore down on him. He felt a little like crying.

“Eomma,” he said, voice quiet and bogged down by emotion. Jimin and his mother disagreed on many things, and most of the time she drove him batty, but there was no denying she always had his back when it came to the success of The Min-Night.

“Don’t worry, baby,” his mother assured. The solid, unwavering conviction in her voice instantly worked to make Jimin breathe easier. “Nothing will happen to The Min-Night. Let me talk to your father and I’ll call you when we have news.”

“Okay,” Jimin agreed. “Thanks, eomma.”

By the time he hung up, Taehyung and Yoongi were both staring at him expectantly. Taehyung’s deep brown eyes, darkened by worry and frustration, crinkled at the corners as he sighed and pulled Jimin into a hug.

“What’s going on?” Yoongi asked.

With his face buried against Taehyung’s shoulder, Jimin couldn’t see Yoongi’s expression but the pout was apparent in his voice.

“The United Council kind of hates us and has been trying to shut down The Min-Night for ages,” Taehyung explained. “This is the third notice we’ve gotten just this month.”

“They hate you? Why?”

“They say there isn’t enough regulatory oversight for the kind of business we’re running, that is, what’s basically a magical medical clinic, and that we’re not qualified to be treating patients,” Taehyung said.

There was a pause, and then—

“Don’t hate me for saying this, but that doesn’t sound unreasonable,” Yoongi said cautiously.

Jimin leaned back far enough to look at him and flashed him a glare. Yoongi winced.

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what we can do, hyung,” Taehyung told him, voice calmer than Jimin would have expected. Some might think Taehyung was being cocky—the Council certainly did—but Jimin knew firsthand that his words rang absolutely true. “Basically the entire Underground—aside from the Council—agrees that there are no other healers in the city more qualified than we are. Not to toot our own horn here, but we’re kind of famous.”

Yoongi still looked dubious, so Jimin pulled his phone out and opened up their Instagram account. Their follower count made Yoongi balk.

“There aren’t any laws governing our business and I can understand why that’s a cause for concern,” Jimin said, “but that doesn’t mean we should just be shut down. If the Council is so concerned about adverse consequences of private healers, why can’t they just sit down and create some legal guidance for us to follow?”

“Not just that, but the one magical hospital in town used to be completely overrun by people with small injuries and maladies before we opened,” Taehyung added. “We keep all those people from unnecessarily taking up hospital beds.”

Yoongi seemed to finally get the point and shrugged. “They’re not wrong,” he started, holding up a placating hand when Jimin opened his mouth to protest, “but it doesn’t sound like you are, either.”

Jimin blew out a sigh that caused his bangs to flutter. “Well, in any case, Namjoon hyung says all the stuff about oversight is baloney and that the Council is just scared of becoming irrelevant. Every time a business or group starts to get too influential, the Council wipes them out. We’re just the newest name on their shit list.”

“That sounds more like something a government would do,” Yoongi agreed.

“Whatever their motivations are, it’s making it really hard for us to stay in business when they keep shutting us down. For now, my parents have enough support on the Council to help us continue winning appeals, but the other side is headed up by this lady, Lee Joohyun,” Jimin said, pointing out Alderwoman Lee’s name on the parchment in his hand. “She has some powerful friends, the Elders, who can turn the tide against us pretty quickly if they so choose. We’ve been lucky until now, but it’s only a matter of time before she convinces them we’re a threat.”

“A threat?”

“To currently established norms,” Taehyung offered.

“You looking to stick it to the man, Jiminie?” Yoongi asked, the corner of his lips curling up into a smirk.

But Jimin’s expression, darkened by the fear of his words becoming a reality, crumpled under the weight of Yoongi’s joke.

Yoongi sobered up at the sight of him. He tilted his head and peered between the two witches with sudden, new appreciation shining in his pretty eyes.

“I don’t know whether I’m impressed or horrified at how much you two have been able to keep a secret from me,” he said after a moment. “You’ve been through some shit, haven’t you?”

Jimin huffed out a sardonic laugh. “Some shit. Yeah.”

At this, Yoongi’s eyes softened around the edges and he reached out to pull Jimin a bit closer, even as Taehyung maintained his grip on one of Jimin’s hands.

Jimin’s eyes fluttered closed when Yoongi reached up and ruffled his hair.

“You’ve worked hard, Jimin-ah,” he said. “And now that I know what’s going on, I’ll do what I can to help. Nothing will happen to The Min-Night.”

Jimin opened his eyes wide. He couldn’t help the way his breath caught at Yoongi’s calm assurance. He swallowed a lump in his throat as his vision blurred.

“Hyung,” he blubbered wetly, pushing his face into the crook of Yoongi’s neck.

He felt Taehyung reach out from behind him to place a grateful hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Thanks, hyung.”

“Now, about the Bond, though...”

☆

But when they arrived at the place where the Seer’s shop should be, deep in the heart of the Fae Sector, it became abundantly clear they were in deep shit. Because the place where the Seer was located when Jimin had visited her was entirely abandoned. The building that had housed her shop lay dark, bereft of any of the weird knick knacks that had been outside only a few weeks ago.

Jimin dropped into a squat right there on the sidewalk and groaned. “Fuck.”