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Now

San gently runs his fingers over the punctured skin as he inspects the tattoo he had just completed. The black tattoo spread completely across his customer’s back from the top of their spine to the bottom. His own back aches from the hour he spent bent over to carefully draw the tattoo unto the other’s body. 

His mind is numb from pouring his magic unto the tattoo. But luckily the tattoo was simple enough that it didn’t require too much energy from him, and he finds himself relishing in the fact that unlike other nights he could go to sleep without a buzz in his head or losing feeling in one of his limbs (large transfer of magic has that effect). 

He runs his eyes across the tattoo again, making sure that every single detail is perfect. Even the slightest mistake could make an enchantment such as this one into one that could harm the wearer. 

“Stop staring at it,” his customer mumbles, “I’m sure it’s perfect, it always is.” 

San puts away his needle, “It’s always perfect because I stare at it a million times so there are no mistakes, but you can get up now,” he reaches over to grab his customer’s shirt and cloak.  

A black cloak. 

An indication of a Black Mage. 

The customer gets up and slips into his clothes, wearing the black cloak on his shoulders proudly, “Thanks for the tattoo, San. Head Mage has got me going on a dangerous mission in a couple of days. Can’t be too careful, and your protection tattoos are the best in the town. Hell, probably this whole country.” 

San’s smile tightens, he could never get used to people complimenting his tattoos. For him, the tattoos he draws and the magic he pours into them are like second nature. So to hear others raving about them is particularly strange to the tattooist. Especially when they compared his skill to others of similar abilities. There were barely any Green Mages around, he really has no competition.

He has to be the best around because there is simply no one else around with his skill, not anymore. 

This particular tattoo was simple enough that 4 years ago, the 18 years old San would have been able to enchant it. It made sure to weaken any small to a medium-sized demon that attacked the bearer of the tattoo. He made sure to give the tattoo the ability to detect and weaken demons from at least 500 meters in distance and the ability for it to change its strength depending on how far or close the demon was and the type of the demon. 

After all, Black Mages would never allow for an enchantment to do the work for them, their pride simply would not allow it. The most they allow him to do with his tattoos is to allow it to slightly weaken their opponent. 

Works well for San because that just means he would need to put less of his own magic unto the enchantment. 

The Black Mage shuffles through his pocket for some gold coins for payment, “Well if I’m lucky I’ll see you around town in a couple of weeks. Well with your tattoo, there would be a higher chance to get lucky.” 

The customer drops a couple of coins onto the counter and grabs his hat from the coat rack. San looks out the window and sees the rain pouring harshly to the ground. He frowns. Strange weather for the middle of August. 

“By the way,” the Black Mage says as he takes his leave, “Didn’t know if I should bring this up or not but rumour has it that you were really close to a Black Mage that went on a mission a year ago. I can keep an eye out for him. What’s his name?” 

San tenses. The last thing he needs right now is to have a conversation with an absolute stranger about him. Just the mention of his name causes San to feel like somebody ripped his heart in half. If there was an illness that has to do with missing someone so strongly that one is barely able to function with just the thought of them, San would have been stuffed with healing remedies a long time. 

Alas, a longing heart cannot be fixed with a couple of herbs. 

He offers a forced smile to his customer, “You must be mistaken,” he retorts tensely, “the only Black Mages that I know are ones that are my customers.” 

The Black Mage smiles back at him politely but San could tell from his eyes that he doesn’t quite believe him. 

“Well, my apologies,” he says as he tips his hat, “I thank you for your service.” 

When the Black Mage leaves San relaxes his tense pose. He leans against the counter and rubs his face tiredly. Usually, Black Mages are… difficult to deal with. 

As the Mages who practise offensive magic, they are regarded as heroes. It is a given that most of them would be snobbish and bigoted since they were ingrained with a hero complex since childhood. Though irritating, Black Mages are the ones that need his tattoos the most and with the popularity of his skill San deals with a handful of Black Mages a day. Which is more than enough for anyone. 

With the increase of demon attacks and the surplus of missions given to the Black Mages by the Head Mage, San finds himself serving more Black Mages than anyone for the past couple of months. 

Really, he only knows a couple of Black Mages that he could actually tolerate, but thinking about them right now would call on a headache and a heartache. 

Calling it a day he walks over to the door to turn his open sign to closed. He stretches his arms as he walks to the waiting area and plops himself onto the couch. He really should go upstairs to wash up and rest in his actual bed but with the long day he had, he really couldn’t bother. 

Just as he feels his eyes droop to a shut he hears pounding from his door. 

“Studio is closed!” San exclaims in irritation, his sleep disturbed. 

The pounding continues. 

Groaning San gets up again, deciding that he is going to give whoever that is on the other side of the door a piece of his mind. 

As he approaches the door and sees who's on the other side of the glass, he freezes. A familiar figure stares back at him, drenched completely by the rain. 

San’s feet remain firmly planted to the ground as his mind tries to catch up to the fact that this is actually happening, that he is actually here. 

For a few seconds, he stares in disbelief at the figure in front of him, the noise of rain pelting against the windows loud in his ears. 

It’s only when he sees the figure visibly shiver from the cold outside that something inside him snaps to move. 

He reaches over and pulls the door open and tugs the person on the other side towards him, away from the freezing rain and inside the warmth of his studio. 

The man tumbles inside and offers him a sad grimace, “It’s been a while San.” 

San flinches at the sound of his name coming from the other’s mouth, “What are you doing here Wooyoung?” 

Though it intends to be questioning it comes out harsh. San winces at the fact that his tone makes it sound like he didn’t want Wooyoung to be there, which is the complete opposite of the truth. 

He had dreamed of seeing the other again, dreamed about it so often that when he faces the reality of waking up to Wooyoung not there everything hurts. 

With his dream standing right before his eyes San had a creeping feeling that he might not be awake anymore. 

Jung Wooyoung, drenched by the rain and looking drained of energy, slowly tugs off the black cloak he’s wearing and lets it fall to the floor. 

“I missed you,” he says and San’s breath catches in his throat. 

This is real. This has to be real. 

Unable to resist it he reaches forward and pulls Wooyoung into a hug. It’s then that San feels how cold Wooyoung is, and he wraps his arms around the other tightly. 

Wooyoung sighs in relief and rests his head on the other’s shoulder. 

The harsh rain ceases until it is just a gentle patter against the glass. 

4 years ago

The first time San meets Wooyoung he is running an errand for his mentor. 

San’s mentor is one of the very few Green Mages left in the country who hasn’t been arrested or beheaded by the Head Mage. Having the ability to strengthen the powers of other Mages using tattoos is an amazing ability until you use that same technique to weaken and even kill other Mages. 

For this reason, the Green Mages that are allowed to roam freely and practice their magic are few. Even the ones who are supposedly free are constantly checked upon by the ones who directly serve the Head Mage. 

The moment San’s magic had revealed itself at age 16 his parents had shoved him towards the only well respected Green Mage that they know, Lee Gon. His mentor had simply thrown a green cloak at him and shoved him into a room to start learning the intricacies of different tattoo enchantments. 

Though his teaching methods were harsh and San wasn’t allowed to leave the studio for two years, San had grown to respect his mentor. Grown to love him even, like a father. 

A week after his 18th birthday Lee Gon approaches him while he is copying the drawing of a new tattoo for the hundredth time and hands him a couple of coins. 

San looks up at his mentor in confusion to which the other just smiles softly at, “I need you to go get me some ink, I have run out.” 

San practically runs outside in excitement, though he understands the reason why his mentor had practically confined him within four walls, he misses being outside. 

As he walks through the busy market he notices many of the other Mages eye his cloak in suspicion, some even going as far as dodging contact as he walks past. Which is ridiculous because no Green Mage practises enhancement or weakening of powers through physical contact since it was outlawed a century ago.  

The more suspicious glances he gets the quicker his excitement withers away.

Finally, he finds the store that he is looking for and he rushes inside. Lee Gon only gets his ink from one supplier, The Simbler. 

Ink is very important for tattoo enchantments, if the ink is tampered with the spell could go incredibly wrong so Lee Gon only buys from one of the few people he trusts, his brother Lee Yoon. 

As San walks inside, Yoon offers him a pleasant smile, “Gon let me know you were coming. Finally, he’s letting you out. I was afraid that you would be cooped up in there for too long.” 

San offers the other a polite smile as he sets the coins on the counter, “The usual,” he says confidently. 

Yoon laughs and as he turns around to fetch the ink his brown cloak swishes against the counter. San eyes the cloak with envy, the symbol of a Brown Mage, the deep dark brown the same shade of dirt to represent the control they have over Earth, of plants, minerals and rocks. Once upon a time, San had wished to be a Brown Mage. 

As Lee Yoon collects the materials, San sees a pair of eyes peeking through the door of the backroom of the store. 

San waves. 

“Hongjoong,” Lee Yoon says not even turning towards that direction, “don’t be rude, come say hi.” 

The door creaks open and a boy about his age, but definitely older, steps out hesitatingly. His mouth holds a shy smile but he looks at San with his head held high, “Hello,” the other boy says running his fingers through his short hair, revealing the many rings that he wore on his fingers and the dark blue polish on his nails. His gesture also gives notice to his silver earring that dangles on his right ear, and other piercings spread among both ears that are filled with similar gems of various colours. 

The other boy’s fashion is bright, the colours of his jewelry further emphasized by the bright blue jumpsuit he’s wearing, making the brown cloak on his shoulders stand out even more. 

Lee Yoon turns back towards the counter and places the boxes of ink on top of it, not even looking up from the material he states, “That’s my new assistant Kim Hongjoong. Remember each other, you will be working together closely in the future. Once San inherits the business of course.” 

San winces and Lee Yoon eyes that response in interest, “That’s what you are hoping for, is it not?” the man asks in confusion, “That is what my brother is planning on doing anyway. Why else would he spend time training you?” 

San clears his throat, “I know,” he retorts, “it’s just hard to imagine a day when people would trust me enough to let me tattoo their body.” 

He can’t imagine the same people who had stared at him in suspicion as he walked down the market coming to him and trusting their lives in his hands. 

Lee Yoon hums in agreement, “It’s hard for Green Mages to do business. But my brother has gained the trust of the public, it wouldn’t be far fetched to assume that you, as his discipline, would do the same.” 

“Umm,” Hongjoong interrupts, “if it is any consolation, I would trust you.” 

San blinks at the other in surprise, “But you don’t even know me.” 

Hongjoong smiles back sheepishly, “Yeah but there is something about your eyes. It’s just kind.” 

San flushes at the unexpected compliment and Yoon laughs at the interaction. He places a basket, now filled with the ink boxes towards San, “There you go San, go home safely. These boxes are fragile.” 

San nods in affirmation and shyly waves goodbye to Hongjoong as he walks out of the store. 

His eyes are stuck on the basket in front of him as he weaves his way through the market. The last thing he needs to do is drop the basket and mess up the first errand that his master had given him. 

His eyes are so focused on the box in front of him that he doesn’t notice what’s right in front of him. He feels someone side check his shoulder and he tumbles down, the boxes falling with him. 

He watches the boxes crash unto the pavement in slow motion, helpless, after all his powers have no control over time or the earth elements. 

San kneels down in front of the broken glass and spilled ink, his eyes wide in horror. 

It’s the first errand my master has given me, how can I have screwed up this bad? What can I do? What can I do? 

“Dude oh fuck I’m so sorry!” 

San looks up from the broken glass and sees a boy peer down at him apologetically. Against the sunlight pouring directly into San’s eyes, a shroud akin to a halo engulfs the boy. That just irritates San further. 

He stands up straight and points a figure at the other, “You just knocked into me!” 

The boy raises his arms in surrender, an apologetic smile gracing his features, “Dude I’m sorry but to be fair you weren’t looking up.” 

“Well, you should have-” 

Then he stops because as he wags his fingers at the boy and glares at him, his brain finally catches up to his eyes and his mind finally takes in how the other boy looks. 

Brown eyes stare back at him brightly, and a nose that seems to have been sculpted by God himself is scrunched up prettily in embarrassment. The boy bashfully runs his fingers through his short black hair with a slight tilt of his head, and San has a full view of the boy’s sharp jawline and the mole placed attractively underneath one of his eyes. A similar mole is placed unto the edge of the other’s full lips, the lips that were formed into a sorry smile that causes San’s heart to flutter. 

A pretty boy. San has managed to get himself into a collision with a pretty boy. 

Oh my god oh my god. 

He’s pretty like really pretty, what do I do? 

What do you mean ‘what do you do’ San? That guy just knocked into you and caused some very expensive ink that your master needs to be wasted on the floor and you’re thinking about how good looking he is? You have officially lost it. 

Ugh, I have been cooped up in that studio for far too long. 

San rubs his face tiredly, “Those ink were expensive, what the fuck am I going to do? I don’t even have more coins,” he says more to himself than the boy in front him. 

The boy though takes it as if it is directed to himself, “Um I can pay for the replacement. I mean I did body check you.” 

San looks at the other all confused, “You’ll do that?” 

The boy smiles back at him brightly, “Yeah of course!” he extends his hand and introduces himself, “I’m Wooyoung by the way.” 

San's lips lift into a grin, he extends his hand to reach the other’s but pauses when he sees Wooyoung’s eyes widen. The other boy’s eyes on San’s shoulder. 

His green cloak. 

Immediately Wooyoung flinches away and takes his hand back. San stares at the place Wooyoung’s hand was a minute ago in shock. 

Oh… right. 

San clears his throat, his eyes glued to the floor, “Right, so I’ll be off.” 

He picks up the basket that’s on the pavement and turns away, his heart loud in his chest and eyes burning. 

Maybe master was right to keep me in the studio. Fuck, if everyone is going to treat me like a monster when I go outside I don’t even want to- 

“Wait,” a voice calls out to him as a hand grabs his wrist. San turns around and stares at the other in surprise, once again Wooyoung looks at him with an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, I was just shocked that’s all. You don’t really see a Green Mage walk across the market every day,” he shrugs sheepishly and lets go of the San’s wrist. 

“Let’s do this again,” Wooyoung continues, sticking his hand out again for a handshake, “I’m Wooyoung. Jung Wooyoung.” 

San looks at the other hesitatingly, while the other smiles back brightly. 

Shyly he shakes Wooyoung’s hand, “I’m Choi San.” 

Wooyoung tilts his head in thought, “San. That’s a pretty name.” 

San flushes red and let’s go of the other’s hand quickly and to his embarrassment, Wooyoung notices and laughs. 

“You’re cute.” 

Then his heart betrays him and flutters at the statement. 

“So San,” Wooyoung continues as if he didn’t just cause San’s heart to do gymnastics, “How much were these ink boxes? I’m hoping that a silver coin would suffice.” 

San grimaces, “They were about 8 gold coins.” 

Wooyoung raises his eyebrows, “Ink for 8 gold coins! Dude I’m sorry to tell you this but I think you just got ripped off.” 

San shakes his head, a soft smile resting on his lips, “I work for Lee Gon. The tattooist.” 

“Ah makes sense, can’t exactly use cheap ink for that type of stuff. Should have figured that out with you being a Green Mage and everything.” 

San shrugs, “Don't worry about this whole thing. I’ll just explain everything to my master and get it all sorted out.”

Wooyoung huffs, “I feel bad though,” the other whines slightly, “I’ll come and explain everything.” 

“You really don’t have to-” 

“Yeah, but I want to.” 

San’s eyebrows scrunch up, “I really don’t want to trouble you-” 

“You’re not,” Wooyoung says firmly, he points at his cloak and San just notices that it’s black, “as a Black Mage just take it as me upholding the honour of our kind.” 

San snorts. Honor of our kind? 

Wooyoung giggles at his own statement, “Yeah that was kind of snobbish, wasn't it?” 

San smirks and starts to lead Wooyoung to the studio, “Yeah kind of,” he responds playfully, “but everyone knows Black Mages are born snobbish anyway.” 

Wooyoung fakes hurt, clutching his chest in pretend pain as he follows San, “Ouch. For your information, Black Mages are born snobbish and egoistic. Don’t forget that. We are more than just snobs.” 

San laughs and it’s the first time he has thrown his head back in such loud laughter in a long time. Not that he was miserable in the studio, but it’s not like he can joke around like that with his master. 

“Well,” San says after his laughter dies down while looking cheerfully at Wooyoung, “you guys are kind of the heroes of the Mages. So at least there’s that.” 

Wooyoung shrugs as he stares at the sun dipping slowly down the sky, “Yeah but there’s a lot of us. Hard for all of us to be legends you know?” 

“Why? Being a hero is not enough?” San jokingly asks back. 

Wooyoung looks back at him, the amusement gone from his eyes and replaced by something more wistful, “Rather be special you know? Kind of like you.” 

Special. 

San has never considered himself to be special. 

An anomaly maybe. Strange even. But not special . The word seems too bright for a person like him. But coming out of Wooyoung’s mouth, San almost believes it. That he’s special.

Now

Wooyoung is slowly creating a puddle on his slightly expensive carpet and in any other circumstance San would have thrown a bit of a fit but his mind is too caught up with the fact that Wooyoung is standing in front of him looking like a drowned cat. 

He tosses a towel that he fetched from the back and Wooyoung catches it easily, “Thanks.” 

San purses his lips, a million questions threatening to escape his mouth but he resists the urge to bombard Wooyoung with questions while he looks like he might faint any second. 

He slowly takes in the appearance of the other, fatigue aside, his eyes searching for any obvious physical difference, and there is a strange comfort that passes over him when he realizes that despite being away there aren't any obvious changes to how Wooyoung looks. 

His body is still lean with no obvious sign of drastic weight loss and his face and other visible skin are left untouched, no obvious scar whatsoever. He feels relief fall over him, Black Mages have come back home looking far worse, some even missing limbs, and to have Wooyoung back in one piece he’s grateful. 

Wooyoung’s black hair is a bit too long now though. The water sticking it sleekly down his head making the drowned cat comparison incredibly accurate.

“You look like you need to sit down,” San says. 

“I don’t want to ruin your couch.” 

“Well, you already ruined my carpet anyway.” 

"Fair point.” 

As Wooyoung sits down San says, “I’m going upstairs to get you some clothes, stay here.” 

He dashes upstairs and then back down in record speed as if taking too long is going to make Wooyoung disappear somehow. Like letting the other out of his sight would cause him to vanish. 

Thankfully when San comes back downstairs Wooyoung is still there leaning back on his couch with his eyes closed in tiredness. San lets out a breath that he didn’t even realize he’s holding. 

He’s here. He’s here. He’s here. 

“Wooyoung,” San says softly and the other opens his eyes at the sound. 

San throws the clothes directly at the other’s face. 

Wooyoung freezes and takes the hit, “Ouch,” he says after a few seconds. 

San grins, “Oops.” 

Wooyoung rolls his eyes but a ghost of a smile appears on his lips, “If I wasn’t feeling so wet and icky right now I would have thrown something back.” 

“Yeah, yeah just put on some dry clothes before you get hyperthermia.” 

Wooyoung pauses and stares down at the clothes, “Um..,” he starts hesitantly, “Do you mind… um.. leaving while I’m changing?” 

San snorts, surely Wooyoung is joking, “Quit acting up, it's not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before.” 

Wooyoung clears his throat, “I’m serious San.” 

San’s heart drops at the serious look on the other’s face. Suddenly he feels lost, the seriousness looks foreign on Wooyoung. For a few seconds it seems like he’s staring back at a stranger.  

“Yeah of course,” San responds quietly. 

As San leaves to go upstairs he realizes that it’s been a year since he has seen Wooyoung. A year is an awfully long time. 

A year is enough time for things to change. 

Wooyoung may not look that different but he feels different. 

San gives Wooyoung what he thinks to be enough time to change before he steps back downstairs slowly. He sees Wooyoung in dry clothes, the wet ones put on a basket to the side, lying down on the sofa with his eyes closed. 

San opens his mouth but before he could make any sound Wooyoung interrupts, “Tomorrow San. I’m tired right now. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.” 

San wordlessly nods and walks back upstairs, a feeling of dread pooling in his stomach as he switches off the lamps downstairs. 

San plops on his bed tiredly and wraps his arms around his pillow. With a sigh he lets sleep consume him. 

He wishes for the morning to come quickly and bring back the Wooyoung that’s familiar. 

4 years ago

To no one’s surprise, San’s master is not too happy with the fact that his supplies were currently painted onto the pavement of the marketplace. 

As Wooyoung takes the blame for the incident, Lee Gon’s eyes glare so intensely at the younger that Wooyoung starts trembling. 

“To be honest,” San chips in as he sees his master’s intense stare, “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going so it is my fault as much of it is his.” 

His master sighs and rubs his face tiredly, “Those ink weren’t cheap, how do you suppose to pay me back?” 

San opens his mouth to respond, but Lee Gon holds up his finger, “I was talking to the Black Mage.” 

“Anything sir,” Wooyoung responds quickly. 

“Very well, I suppose you can do chores around the place until you pay it back. Come back here every day after your classes end at the Black Mage Academy and we’ll figure out what we can do here.” 

Wooyoung nods enthusiastically and Lee Gon turns around and shuffles to the back of the studio mumbling something about having to go get the ink himself now. 

San winces, “You don’t need to do all of that. I’ll try talking to him later about this.” 

Wooyoung grins cheekily, “Nah it’s fine. Besides I wouldn’t mind seeing you every day.” 

San blushes, is Wooyoung flirting with him?  

“Um okay,” San responds because suddenly he has the vocabulary of a five-year-old. 

Wooyoung laughs at the response and San’s heart skips a beat because who knew that even someone’s laugh could be pretty. 

Wooyoung runs his fingers through his hair and looks out the window, “It’s getting dark. I have to go back to the academy now if I don’t want the Headmaster to penalize me for staying past curfew,” he looks back at San with one of his brilliant smiles again, “I’ll see you tomorrow San.” 

“Yeah,” San agrees softly, “See you tomorrow.” 

As Wooyoung leaves the studio, San realizes that for the first time in a long time, he can’t wait for tomorrow. 

Now

Sunlight barely peaks through San’s curtains when he practically jumps out of bed to get ready for the day. His usual morning routine put on twice the speed as he itches to go back downstairs, to see Wooyoung. Last night is stuck in his brain in the form of a hazy dream. 

As he runs downstairs he sees Wooyoung, awake and sitting upright on the couch staring blankly at the wall across from him. Dread pools at the bottom of San’s stomach as he takes in the scene in front of him. 

Strange. Strange. Everything is strange. 

“Wooyoung ah,” San starts in the most normal tone that he can manage, “Surprised you’re up.” 

Wooyoung turns blankly towards San, his mind obviously elsewhere, “Guess being on the mission turned me into an early riser,” he responds, his voice void from any emotion. 

San eyes the new clothes that Wooyoung is wearing, “Took a shower?” 

“Yeah, I took some of your clothes. Hope you don’t mind.” 

And it’s so strange because of course San doesn’t mind but the last statement hits San like a truck. It implies that Wooyoung thought San would and their friendship never worked like that. They never had something like boundaries .  Wooyoung used to go through his closet for fun mocking his apparent zero fashion sense because “black jeans and a black t-shirt is not a style”, and now he’s offering pleasantries like they were strangers. 

San gulps, his heart in his throat as Wooyoung looks away and stares down at the floor instead. 

This is not his Wooyoung. This cannot be his Wooyoung. 

He has heard of Black Mages returning from missions as a different person, as a shell of their old self. He has even seen those Mages visit his shop with the same blank stare that Wooyoung is wearing. But despite the fact that he has seen it before, that he knows what these missions that Black Mages go through could do to someone, a foolish part of him thought that Wooyoung would be an exception. 

How could a smile so bright ever dim? How could a man that San compares to the sun ever lose his colour? 

But here Wooyoung is, looking like a ghost of his previous self. 

He steps towards Wooyoung carefully and sits on the couch across from the other. He wants to offer some words of comfort, maybe even throw around some jokes to retain back some of the normality in an attempt to bring back the colour on Wooyoung’s face. 

But San is scared . 

The person in front of him who is his friend, best friend, perhaps even something more , seems like a stranger and he didn’t even have time to prepare for all of this. One day he’s dreaming of Wooyoung coming back and the next day his dream becomes distorted in reality. 

So he gulps down the words of shallow comfort and instead whispers, “Wooyoung ah, you’re scaring me.”

Wooyoung’s eyes snap back to San and his blank expression morphs into a grimace, “San ah,” he chokes out, “I-I… I fucked up.” 

San’s eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean?” 

Wooyoung clenches his eyes shut and balls his hands into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms, “I ran away. I ran away from the mission.” 

San’s heart stops for a second, his mind processing the statement slowly, not quite believing the words coming out of Wooyoung’s mouth. Instead of responding he stands up quickly and runs to his windows to close in all the curtains and makes sure that his door is locked. Darkness surrounds them and San turns back to see Wooyoung with his head in his hands. 

“I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up,” he hears Wooyoung murmur, like a broken record. 

San knows exactly what they would do to Wooyoung if they found him, and as the grim possibilities enter his mind he shakes his head. The hair on his arms stands up in fear but he forces his fear to take a back seat, one person freaking out is more than enough. 

He refuses to let Wooyoung be found. 

He takes Wooyoung in his arms and whispers, “It’s okay. I’m not going to let them get to you.” 

Wooyoung wraps his arms back around San tightly as if the other’s presence is the only thing anchoring him, with his voice filled with tears he whispers, “San stay with me.” Let’s stay like this.

San nuzzles Wooyoung’s shoulder, “Always,” he whispers back as he feels tears on his shoulder. 

San knows that Wooyoung is hiding something more, that there is more to the abandoned mission. There is no way Wooyoung would run away because of fear. 

But San is patient. With the darkness surrounding him, he simply holds Wooyoung and lets the other cry out on his shoulder. 

His heart is with Wooyoung but his ears are concentrated on listening to any possible sounds of doors being opened or windows being smashed. 

3 years ago

San waits by the studio’s window peering out in expectation. He taps against the window nervously as he surveys the streets outside. 

“San ah,” Lee Gon calls from behind him, “have you memorized the tattoos I have given you today?” 

“Uh huh,” San replies, not paying much heed to the other. 

His master sighs, walks up to the other and pulls San by the cloak away from the window. San tumbles back in surprise and barely stops himself from crashing unto the floor. 

“He will come,” his master simply says at the look of surprise and betrayal on San’s face due to the harsh tug away from the window. 

Rubbing his neck in embarrassment San pouts, “He’s usually here by now. He’s never been late the whole year he’s been coming here.” 

Lee Gon raises his eyebrow as he goes back to his desk to look through his papers of tattoo drawings, “Maybe he’s finally figured out that he had paid his dues a long time ago and at this point it’s just free labour.”

San bites his lips, “You think so?” 

His master rolls his eyes, his mouth lifted into an affectionate smile, “I think he has made it really clear that he’s your friend and that he comes here because he wants to and not because he owes me for the ink that he spilled a year ago.” 

Well technically San does know, but he can’t help the insecurity that crawls into him at random moments. The past year Wooyoung and he had fostered this friendship, a companionship that San had never thought he would have with another person much less with a Black Mage. 

An encounter that started with an accident had blossomed into an affectionate friendship and there is still that problem with his heart beating way too fast when Wooyoung smiles (but he tries his absolute hardest to ignore that and with a year in practice though his heart gymnastics didn’t cease he has grown accustomed to it). 

“He enjoys your company San as much as you do his,” his master presses when he sees San’s hesitance, “I could tell he did the moment he stepped into this studio.” 

San smiles softly at that memory, it is hard to believe how fast time has gone, “Is that why you forced him to spend time with me in the name of paying you back?” 

The other man snorts, “Even if I had not he would have still come over every day. I just gave him an excuse.” 

San feels heat crawling up his face at the statement but before he could respond he hears the door of the studio open and he flips his attention to the door. 

He sees Wooyoung come in, head down and with a tired shuffle to his feet. 

“Wooyoung,” San says softly when he sees the other’s exhausted demeanour, “Is everything alright?” 

Wooyoung looks up at San and San is taken aback to see that the usual brightness in Wooyoung’s eyes has dimmed. His eyes are glazed over with very apparent black under bags, and his hair is ruffled over like he was running his fingers through it way too many times. His top teeth chew on his bottom lips as they both stare silently at each other. 

Wooyoung seems to have trouble finding the words and San’s mind is reeling with what could possibly be wrong. It’s not like it’s the first time he has seen Wooyoung distressed. He remembers when Wooyoung would come from the academy after an evaluation with marks that he considers less than stellar, San would have to pull out all the stops to get even a glimpse of a smile from the other. But by the end of the day Wooyoung would be laughing along with him, everything perfectly all right. 

But this time something is different. San could tell, could feel, that whatever that this is it is deeper than some grades. 

“I can’t stay for long,” Wooyoung manages to say, his voice raspy and low. 

San walks closer, “Why not?” 

Wooyoung closes his eyes in pain, “Do you remember my mentor Joon?” 

San tilts his head, it would be hard for San to not remember Joon with how often Wooyoung gushes about his mentor. 

Every Black Mage in the academy has their own mentor that’s typically a few years older, and Wooyoung’s mentor is one of the best Black Mages at the academy. It’s one of Wooyoung’s greatest pride to have been matched with Joon, and San knows that their relationship runs deeper than a typical one of a mentor and a mentee. 

Just like how San’s master is more of a father to him, Wooyoung’s mentor is more like a brother to Wooyoung. 

San remembers Wooyoung bragging to him how Joon was selected for a very special mission by the Head Mage (which Wooyoung couldn’t disclose the information of most likely because he himself did not know what the mission was for or about), and the pieces fall together. 

Joon did not return. 

San gasps silently and reaches forward towards Wooyoung to hug him but Wooyoung flinches away and squeezes his eyes together tighter, “It’s not what you think. He returned.” 

San bites his lips in confusion, not quite following, wouldn’t Wooyoung have wanted the other to return? Maybe Joon wasn’t successful? Sure that may have been a blow to Joon’s pride, and by extension Wooyoung’s, but there are plenty of Black Mages who had returned from their missions unsuccessful. 

“Wooyoung I don’t-” 

Wooyoung’s eyes snap open revealing it to be brimmed with tears, stopping San mid-sentence. 

“He abandoned his mission,” Wooyoung forces out, “He ran away from his team. He’s a deserter .” 

The last word rings loudly across the studio, and even his master who was shuffling with papers behind them stills in shock. 

Mages are not kind to deserters, especially Black Mages. 

San reaches forward the second time and this time Wooyoung does not move away. He easily wraps his arms around the other in a warm embrace. 

As if it’s in his second nature Wooyoung’s head falls easily to San’s shoulder and San could feel him trembling in their embrace. 

“I don’t know why,” Wooyoung shakily says through his tears, “I don’t know why he ran away. They didn’t even let me see him when they found and captured him.” 

San gently nuzzles Wooyoung’s neck in comfort as Wooyoung rambles on, “They’re having a public execution in less than an hour and I have to go watch. I have to go.” 

All Black Mages are required to watch. So they can see what would happen to them if they ever got the same idea. 

San gently moves back so that he could face Wooyoung. He tenderly wipes a few stray tears away from the other’s cheeks, “I’ll come. I’ll be there,” San replies simply, knowing what Wooyoung wants without the other uttering a single word about it. 

A year in their friendship and they could already read each other like a book. 

Wooyoung steps back from their hug and clears his throat, “I’m-I’m going to go to the washroom. Wash my face.” 

San purses his lips, knowing that Wooyoung is probably going to step away to shed a few tears on his own but he can’t stop Wooyoung from wanting some time alone so he just nods. 

Heart heavy he walks to the closest to grab his coat. As he refastens his green cloak on top of his coat, Lee Gon walks up to him with a grim frown. 

“San you have never been to an execution,” his master states. 

Without looking up from fastening his cloak, San nods, “Yes, I haven’t.” 

“San, executions are not a pretty sight.” 

"I know.” 

“There is a reason why even at a public execution only Black Mages attend, and they only go because they have to. Black Mages are not kind killers when they want to make an example.” 

San looks up at his master’s concerned glance and shrugs, “I’ll be fine.” 

His master purses his lips, “I do not think this is a good idea.” 

San glares at his master and for the first time, Lee Gon sees defiance in San’s eyes. He had never even thought the boy could be capable of such a thing. 

“Are you going to stop me?” San asks daringly. 

“No,” his master admits, “but I just want you to be aware of what you are walking into.” 

“I am aware,” San asserts, “but Wooyoung needs me there.” 

“Well, you cannot blame me for trying. You used to faint at the sight of blood.” 

“I was young!” 

“It was two years ago.” 

San pouts and at that expression Lee Gon laughs, causing San’s lips to spread into a smile. The tension around them falls away easily as it always had when they get into slight disagreements. 

‘San,” Lee Gon says seriously as his laughter dies away, “be honest with me. Do you love Wooyoung?” 

San freezes. The question is not out of nowhere, he is sure his master has tried to ask this question through some form multiple times within the past year but San has always avoided answering it. But this time Lee Gon asks him straightforwardly with no way to turn away or run around the question. 

San gulps, “I definitely like him,” he answers honestly. 

Lee Gon chuckles, “Of course, I suppose love is too strong of a word, for now.” 

San blushes and his master smiles cheekily at the reaction, "I’m glad San. I wouldn’t want you to end up alone, well...like me.” 

San shrugs, “You still have time old man,” he retorts teasingly.  

Lee Gon flicks his forehead, “Speak like that and I will have you redrawing the enchantment I gave you a hundred more times.” 

Before San could whine in protest, Wooyoung steps back into the room, his eyes red and his face wet as if he didn’t bother to wipe it properly. 

“Let’s go?” 

San smiles at him reassuringly, “Let’s go.” 

San never realized how many Black Mages lived around the area until he arrived at the place where the execution was taking place. The stage in the middle of the market, which is usually used for small concerts held by young children, held a large guillotine at the center. A tall broad Black Mage stood by the guillotine with his face covered by a mask. 

Surrounding the stage is a sea of black cloaks, all of them shuffling around and chattering hushedly to each other, a nervous tremor radiating from all their conversations. 

Just the atmosphere is causing San to break into sweats

"Wooyoung,” a voice around them calls and they both turn to find a tall boy with bright red hair walking towards them with pursed lips. His long limbs give him a bigger stride as he pushes to get out of the crowd, his broad shoulders even nudging a few away harshly. 

“Mingi,” Wooyoung breathes out in surprise, as the other boy, Mingi, reaches them. 

“I was afraid that you ditched, do you know how bad that would have looked if you did? The headmaster would have thrown a fit and put you in the cellar for weeks.” 

Celler? 

Wooyoung huffs, “Well I’m here now and don’t be rude. Say hi to San.” 

Mingi’s eyes finally notice San and he looks San up and down in curiosity, “Oh so are the famous San,” he extends his hand, “Wished I met you at a better time dude, Wooyoung talks about all you the time.” 

San shakes the other’s hand with his eyebrows up in question, “He does?” 

He turns around to Wooyoung to see the other's face slowly turning red as he glares at Mingi threateningly. 

“Mingi,” Wooyoung says gruffly, “shut up.” 

Mingi’s mouth lifts slightly, ignoring Wooyoung, “Yeah man. He wouldn't shut up about you but he wouldn’t even let us meet you when you guys have known each other for a year. Man Jongho is going to be so pissed that I was the first one to meet Wooyoung’s cr-”

Before Mingi could finish his sentence Wooyoung leans over and steps hard on Mingi’s foot. As Mingi yelps and lifts his foot in pain Wooyoung menacingly says, “This is exactly why I didn’t want him to meet you, you hooligan.”

Despite how mean the interaction seems to be, San could see the amusement of it dancing in both Wooyoung and Mingi’s eyes. His brain locks away the last part of Mingi’s statement to throw around in his head for later before he sleeps. 

Suddenly there is a loud sound of a whistle and the hushes around them ceases as the crowd stills, all of them staring forward at the stage. 

“Shit,” Mingi whispers, “It’s going to start soon. Wooyoung you need to go to the front.” 

“What?” Wooyoung responds, his eyes filled with panic as he looks at Mingi, “I-I can’t.” 

Mingi regards him sadly, “I know, but you have to. He was your mentor. You were close to him, and as per the rules you have to be at the front at the execution. They’re going to check if everyone he was close to is there in the front row, they even dragged his girlfriend up there. Wooyoung if they find that you are not there you might as well not have been here at all.” 

Mingi glances at San again, “And since you are going to be at the front, San has to stay back. Only Black Mages are allowed that close unless they were close to the one being executed.” 

San could feel Wooyoung start to tremble next to him. 

San stares at Mingi in stubbornness, “No. I have to be there.” 

I have to be there for Wooyoung. 

Mingi nods as if he understands the words that were not said. He looks around to make sure that no one is looking at them and unclasps his black cloak and hands it to San, “Let’s switch cloaks. Just keep your head down and stay behind Wooyoung and no one would notice that you’re not a Black Mage. 

Wooyoung takes in a sharp breath, “Mingi if you get caught they will punish you.” 

“Besides, people will notice you more with the green cloak,” San adds remembering how people glanced at him in curiosity when he entered the market, like they always did, despite that an execution is going to happen that didn’t change, “soon some will realize that you don’t belong in that green cloak.” 

“Meh, it’s not like I haven’t been punished before. This wouldn’t even be the worst thing I have done,” Mingi replies to Wooyoung before he turns to San, “Also I am not going to wear your cloak, I'll just hide it in my jacket. I can just pretend that I left my cloak at home. Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” he retorts smirking, the amusement on his lips not quite reaching his eyes. 

San quickly takes off his cloak and grabs Mingi’s while thanking the other softly. 

“You’re an idiot,” Wooyoung mumbles, his tone implying essentially the opposite to what is leaving his mouth. 

“Yeah, you’re a pain in the ass too now go before they notice that you are not there,” Mingi waves them off as he stuffs the green cloak into his jacket. 

With a black clock hanging on his shoulders San follows Wooyoung with his head down into the crowd. 

As they reach the front an older Black Mage near the stage regards Wooyoung carefully, she looks down at the clipboard she’s holding and checks off something on it.

“Headmistress Nam, that meticulous old woman,” Wooyoung grumbles under his breath. 

“She knows you by face,” San mumbles into his back, his head bent down to make sure that no one near the stage can see him and his hand clutching unto Wooyoung’s cloak so he remains near him. 

“She knows everyone by face,” Wooyoung mumbles back, “all the headmasters and headmistresses at the academy have the memory of an elephant. I could have left the country for years and they could still pick my face out from a crowd.” 

San’s got to admit, that’s kind of impressive even though it’s a big hindrance to their situation. If the heads of the academy can pick out their students from a crowd, they can definitely pick out who's not their students. 

Suddenly San hears loud thudding and as he peers up from Wooyoung’s back he sees that everyone, including the older Black Mages at the front, are all facing forward. He feels that it’s safe so he straightens up and looks forward too. 

He suppresses back a gasp at the sight he sees. Two big men in black cloaks drag a significantly smaller man by the arms, the smaller man’s feet dragging as if he had lost all feeling waist down. His clothes are worn out with scattered rips and tears across his body, all the red causing a significant trail of blood in his wake as he is hauled up to the stage. 

As they drag the man up his low cries echo through the crowd as the people listen with their hearts in their throats.

Wooyoung is visibly shaking and as much as San wants to turn the other around and run away from here, he knows that they’re as chained up in this situation as the man being executed in front of them. 

So he gently covers his hand on top of the other’s shaking hand by his side. Wooyoung flips his hand over to interlace their fingers, grabbing onto San’s hand as if it’s the only thing keeping him from falling to his knees. 

Someone near them is fully sobbing as the man’s head is hoisted unto the guillotine. 

One of the older Mages by the stage is saying something but San couldn't hear any of it. His own heartbeat is loud in his ears. 

He so desperately wants to close his eyes. 

He so desperately wants to turn away. 

But Wooyoung is holding unto his hand so tightly and San can’t look away from a scene which Wooyoung himself has his eyes forced wide open to watch. 

If Wooyoung has to go through it, he will too. 

“Let this be a lesson to you Black Mages,” a Black Mage says, “a deserter only deserves death.” 

The blade of the guillotine crashes down as Wooyoung’s mentor lets out one last stuttering scream. 

Blood spatters. 

The head rolls to the floor slowly, the eyes wide open and mouth open mid-scream. 

The Black Mage in a mask takes a long stick and punctures it though the head. He holds the severed head up to the crowd. 

A woman screams and he hears a thump to the floor. 

San stares in horrified silence. The scene burns into his eyelids later when he closes his eyes to block the scene away. 

When they walk home San’s legs are shaky and he only manages to walk without falling because he’s holding Wooyoung’s hand. He supposes Wooyoung is feeling the same way. 

They haven’t let go since they left the execution. 

Wanting to break the silence San says, “Would you get in trouble? All the other Black Mages went back to the academy.” 

Mingi had even given Wooyoung a significantly worried look when San and Mingi had re-exchanged their cloaks before they left as Wooyoung said he’s going to walk San home. 

Wooyoung, whose eyes haven’t left the pavement since he dragged San away from the market and towards the direction of the studio, finally looks up and shrugs. His stare glazed over, holding no expression. 

“Technically, I am not out past my curfew,” he says quietly, sounding not quite present at the moment. 

San stops in his tracks and turns towards Wooyoung. He feels like he’s suffocating. He cannot bear to see Wooyoung like this. 

“Wooyoung,” San says carefully as the other boy looks at him in confusion when they stop, “you don’t have to pretend with me.” 

Wooyoung runs his thumb over the other’s hand, “I’m not. I’m fine. Are you?”

San tilts his head in confusion, “You’re asking me?” 

“Yeah. You have never been to an execution before.” 

San shakes his head, “I’m fine. It’s you that I am worried about. You’re-” 

“I’m just tired San,” Wooyoung interrupts softly, “I think I have cried over him enough. It’s not like I didn’t know what’s going to happen to him. I have watched this happen to other deserters. I didn’t want to see that happen to him but he chose this for himself. So I’m just tired. I’m just tired.” 

San sighs, he gently lets go of Wooyoung’s hand and reaches over to straighten the collar of Wooyoung’s coat. Small drops of blood are splattered on it so he carefully wipes it away. 

Wooyoung watches him in silence. 

“San, I…” Wooyoung says with a gulp, “I- thank you.” 

Letting go of the other’s collar San replies, “There’s nothing to thank.” 

"I shouldn’t have made you watch that, no matter how much I needed you to be…” 

No matter how much I needed you to be there. 

San puffs his chest out in a jokingly manner, “I am a big strong boy Wooyoung. Just because you’re the Black Mage doesn’t mean you’re the only strong one.” 

“Oh San,” Wooyoung says softly, his eyes shining like the stars, “you’re the strongest person I know.” 

San’s heart flutters and his mouth breaks into a nervous smile. Why Wooyoung does this to him, he had no idea. It feels like San spends way too much time resisting the urge to lean into the other and kiss him. 

You make it so easy to love you Wooyoung. 

Oh? 

Love?

San’s mind is stuck unto that word when Wooyoung clears his throat, “We should get a move on,” the other says with a hint of bashfulness in his tone, “Master Lee Gon is probably waiting for you.” 

San blinks at the other and nods, his mind hazy as the word love and Wooyoung swirls in his brain over and over again as they both walk in silence. 

“Why do you think he did it?” Wooyoung suddenly asks in the midst of their silence causing San to put those two words in a corner of his brain and into a box that he hopefully never finds the need to open again. 

“What do you mean?” 

Wooyoung stares up at the darkening sky, “I wish I had talked to him before they - before he… I thought I knew him. I would have never thought, never even imagined, that he would run away. I looked up to him, you know? I thought he was one of the bravest men I knew. So why would he run away from the mission that he was so proud to get on in the first place? How did he become such a coward?” 

San kicks a pebble by his feet, “There must be more to it then. Maybe he didn’t run away in fear.” 

Wooyoung looks at San causing the other to return the glance, Wooyoung’s eyes clear with hurt and anger, “What other reason could there be other than fear?” 

San startles at the expression on the other’s face, “I’m sure there are many other reasons Wooyoung,” he says gently. 

His heart clenches with the thought of Wooyoung feeling his mentor’s death twice, once when he found out that Joon had abandoned his mission and another time when he saw the blade slice through his mentor’s neck. 

Having someone you looked up to betray the Black Mages’ ideals of loyalty and bravery which you have been raised with is the kind of hurt that San does not know how to soothe. 

Because that hurt blossoms with anger and San can deal with a crying heart but he could only warily listen to an angry voice. 

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Wooyoung retorts bitterly, the wind carrying his voice as it harshly runs past them, “he’s gone now. The whole world will just remember him as a coward.” 

San sighs sadly. 

Now

San flinches away from Wooyoung when he hears a loud knock on the door. His heart beating fast as he stares at Wooyoung, horrified. Wooyoung stares back looking resigned. 

“It’s okay,” San says, more for his own comfort than Wooyoung’s as he squeezes the other’s arm, “It’s probably a customer.” 

San forces himself to get up and walk towards the door, his legs feeling like lead as his heart pounds wildly in his chest. With clammy hands, he opens the door a crack so that whoever is on the other end could only see his head poking out. He blinks rapidly when the brightness outside attacks his eyes. 

“Hello,” a voice says, as San’s eyes readjust from the dark, “I need to get a  tattoo.” 

San narrows his eyes at the man in front of him, a pale man in a black coat and cloak with a long scar running from the right temple to the right side is his lips. He stares at San in an almost bored manner, his feet tapping impatiently. 

San swallows down the irritation that threatens to bubble out of his mouth, he points to the “Closed” sign on his door, “It says closed,” he replies in the calmest manner he possibly could. 

The Black Mage blinks at him in confusion, “Oh I know. It’s that this studio has never closed for the day in the 30 years that it has been running. I thought it was a mistake.” 

San gulps as he wills himself to not seem suspicious. The man is correct, his master had never closed the store since he had opened it for the first time and neither had San until this day, it was something that both his master and himself took pride in. His mind scours through a way to get out of the situation without having a couple more Black Mages raiding down his door. 

Suddenly San coughs into his elbow, loudly and dryly. The Black Mage winces and takes a step away from San as he proceeds to cough roughly, his face scrunched up in pretend pain. 

“Sorry,” San says roughly, his voice dry though the cough is fake, “I have gotten a bad cold. I figured it wouldn’t be the best to provide tattoos in such condition.” 

The man grimaces, “You should go to a White Mage.” 

San resists the urge to roll his eyes, “Thank you, I haven’t thought of that,” he replies, trying hard not to sound sarcastic even though his words imply otherwise, “now if you wouldn’t mind, could you inform others of my condition. I would rather spend the day trying to get better than opening doors to just say that I am closed.” 

Even though there is a very obvious sign on the front door that says otherwise. 

The Black Mage sniffs, “Of course.” 

He nods and San takes that as an indication to slam the door in the other’s face. 

He turns around and sees that Wooyoung had walked up to the counter to turn on the lamp at the side. The hazy yellow glow from the lamp provides some light and warmth to the previously dark room. In the shadow of that light Wooyoung’s face looked sharp, his features all cold edges but his eyes held amusement. 

“It’s funny to see you so snarky,” Wooyoung retorts quietly.  

"Yeah well you know,” San replies, walking towards the other, “Black Mages have always driven me crazy.” 

Wooyoung tilts his head up, his lips lifted slightly into a smirk, “Do I drive you crazy?” 

It’s entirely meant to be mocking and not flirty but San feels his breath hitch regardless. He gently grazes his thumb across the other’s jaw and the sharp features seem to smooth with San’s touch, “Yeah you do actually,” San answers softly. 

Wooyoung stares at San, the amusement from his eyes gone and he looks torn, and he searches San's eyes for words that aren't said, “You feel that I have changed.?” 

San sighs and moves his finger away, “People change Wooyoung. Even I have. It’s been a year.”  

Wooyoung bites his lips, “Yes, but I have changed badly. For the worse. A year ago I wouldn’t have run awa-” 

“The worst change of yours,” San interrupts refusing to hear the end of that sentence, “is your long hair.” 

Wooyoung frowns, “I think it looks nice.” 

San shakes his head, “It would look nice if you cared to style it. Now it just looks like a black mop on top of your head.” 

Wooyoung snorts, “Okay Mr.Stylist why don’t you cut it for me then?” 

With raised eyebrows San extends his hand, “I will, actually.” 

Wooyoung grabs San’s hand gently, “Let’s see the best you could do Choi San.” 

With the scissors in his hands in San’s dimly lit bathroom and Wooyoung sitting at the edge of the bathtub peering up at San in a questioning manner, San had no idea where to start with cutting the other’s hair. 

“You have no idea what you are doing do you?” 

San looks down at the other, offended, “I’ve only cut my own hair before. Give me a second.” 

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, “Well do your worst. Not like other people are going to see me and even when they do it’s going to be at my execution so it’s not like it matters what my hair looks like.”

San presses one of his hands against the other’s shoulder, “You’re not going to get caught.” 

Wooyoung doesn’t protest and lets San silently start to trim the other’s hair. The snips of the scissors are loud in their quiet bathroom and Wooyoung finds his nose wrinkle as more hair falls to the ground. He stares down at the fallen pieces of hair in deep thought. 

As San feels like he has almost finished Wooyoung asks in the silence, “You never asked.” 

“Never asked what?” San asks back, his focus on doing the finishing touches of the haircut.  

“You never asked why I ran away?” 

San steps back to take a full look at Wooyoung's new haircut. He tilts his head and his lips lift, he did a decent job. 

“San?” Wooyoung presses.

San sighs as he turns around to put the scissors back. 

“I figured you would tell me when you were ready,” he answers, and when he turns back around he finds Wooyoung staring at him as if San is something fragile. 

But he blinks away the glance when he finds San looking at him in a confused manner. 

Wooyoung stands up and slowly shakes his head, he looks at the mirror behind San and lets out a huff of air, “You didn’t do a bad job.” 

The hair is still slightly longer at the back but the previously long strands that used to cover half his face are now cut to frame his face instead. Wooyoung takes his hand to part it like he used to do so it separates in the middle with the front fringe swooping equally at the sides of his forehead. 

San smiles as he quickly sweeps the fallen hair and throws in the trash, “See, now you don’t look like you crawled out of the dumpster.” 

Wooyoung jags his fingers at the other, “First of all, rude. Second of all, you know in any other circumstance I would have rocked long hair.” 

San rolls his eyes as he leans his back against the counter, watching Wooyoung as the other runs his fingers through his hair, “Yeah I know you're gorgeous,” he comments, trying to keep his tone light. 

Wooyoung shifts his attention from the mirror to San. He leans in so that he’s hovering just mere centimetres from San’s face, his knees knocking clumsily against the others. 

“Careful San,” he whispers as he searches San’s face, “I might think you’re flirting with me.” 

San lifts his head as if he is challenging the other, “And if I am?” 

Wooyoung raises his eyebrows, mimicking San’s confidence, but his hand shakes as he slowly lifts them and places them on San’s shoulder. His thumb running gentle circles on San’s collarbone. San gulps and leans into the touch, 

“Wooyoung,” he says softly, “I missed you.” 

Wooyoung closes his eyes and takes in a shaky breath, he gently rests his forehead on the other’s, “Me too. I missed you too.” 

Their noses touch and their lips are only a breath away from doing so as well. San closes his eyes and shivers. They’re supposed to have this conversation, a conversation about them . They’re supposed to, but he supposes they’re both men of action anyway. 

But before anything could happen San feels the comfort of Wooyoung’s hand disappear and he opens his eyes to find the other backing away looking stricken. 

“Wooyoung,” San starts, his heart in this throat. 

“San, I’m sorry,” Wooyoung interrupts, his legs giving up on him as he sits back on the edge of the tub, his hands pressing so tightly against the marble top of the tub that his knuckles turn white,  “I shouldn’t-we shouldn’t…” 

As Wooyoung trails off and looks away, San tries to pretend that Wooyoung didn’t just metaphorically slap his face. But something must have shown on his face because when Wooyoung looks back at San he looks even more sorry. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Wooyoung explains, “It’s just not fair to you, to jump into all this when I broke my promise.” 

San recalls it as if it happened yesterday, with how often he thinks about it, it might as well have. 

The last words that Wooyoung said to him before he left for his mission. Their long overdue confessions to each other at the tip of their tongues. But neither could say it and right when the air started to feel suffocating, Wooyoung had broken their silence, 

“I promise when I come back successful from the mission,” he had said confidently, a smug grin across his face, “I’ll be your man.” 

Wooyoung presses his palms harshly against his eyes, “You deserve more than me San,” he chokes out, his voice on the verge of tears, “I’m ruined .” 

San blinks back the tears that threaten to escape from Wooyoung’s words, his eyes hot and blurry nevertheless, “Wooyoung I don’t care about any of that,” San whispers, his voice strangled, “we can figure something out, we can disguise you, we ca-” 

But he stops when he sees Wooyoung shake his head, he removes his hands from his face and looks up at San with red teary eyes, and with a hollow voice he utters the words that San had never thought would leave Wooyoung’s mouth, 

 “I’m dying.” 

The room stills. 

The words hang in the air as the blood drains from San’s face, the hands on the counter barely holding him up as his legs go weak. 

He blinks in a daze, his ears heard the words that Wooyoung had just said but his mind refused to comprehend them. 

“You’re what?” he asks weakly. 

Wooyoung looks down at the floor and in one swift motion he takes off his shirt. 

Immediately San’s eyes catch something black and his gaze falls to Wooyoung’s right rib cage. 

A small tattoo rests at the top of his ribcage, a dark black tattoo of three interlocked triangles. The dark ink standing out on the otherwise unmarked body. 

San’s falls forward towards Wooyoung. He kneels down and takes a closer look at the tattoo, his heart hammering loudly in his chest. 

“No, no, no,” he whispers in panic, as recognition settles in, he presses his fingers against the tattoo as if that would take the tattoo away. His fingers burn when he touches it, his magic recognizing the marksmanship of the tattoo. A demon’s magic seeping from it. 

San looks up at Wooyoung with tears falling, “How could it-how did you-” he starts to ask through his tears as the finger pressed against the tattoo continues to burn, his magic telling him to move away. 

“I got captured by one of the demons,” Wooyoung says surprisingly steadily as if he had practised these lines. He removes San’s now red fingers from the tattoo, and continues, “I don’t remember what happened while I was captured, but Mingi and Jongho found me in a cave chained up. With this on my body.” 

A cursed tattoo. Mages call it the valknut and even ones that know nothing about tattoos can recognize the three interlocked triangles. 

It’s the worst thing that a demon can do to a Mage if the Mage had the misfortune of being trapped by one that is bored enough or hates them enough to pour its own wicked magic unto the Mage. It seals the Mage’s fate of having their magic slowly drawn from them through that tattoo until it’s completely gone, and as nature itself has intended with the loss of magic the Mage themselves would cease to exist. 

A Mage is made up of their magic after all. 

San covers his mouth as sobs escape him, his blurry eyes stuck on the tattoo, willing it to go away. 

“San ah,” Wooyoung begs, “please don’t cry please.” 

But San couldn’t because of all the possible things that could happen to Wooyoung on his mission, the nightmares that he envisioned of Wooyoung coming back torn apart or even not coming back at all, this is a fate that was so terrifying that it didn't even cross his mind. 

Wooyoung being cursed to be slowly unmade. 

As tears continue to run down his face, Wooyoung’s fingers gently reach towards him and right then San feels a sharp sense of determination rise within him. 

Why am I crying as if he is already dead? A voice inside him scolds. I can fix this. I can fix this. He is alive but with a cursed tattoo. And what am I but the best tattooist in town? I can fix this. 

San hastily wipes his tears and stands up, startling Wooyoung who was in the midst of comforting the other. 

“I’m going to fix this,” San retorts, his voice strong despite the teary eyes and his wobbling lips. 

Wooyoung stares down at the bathroom tiles, his right foot making circles on a particular tile that had cracked, “Do you want to know why I ran away?” 

San huffs in frustration, more tears slipping down his eyes despite himself, “I don’t care,” he whines, “I really don’t fucking care Wooyoung. Let’s get this tattoo off of you and then we can figure that out, okay?” 

With his eyes still on the ground Wooyoung continues, “Jongho and Mingi wanted me to come back so I can find a cure. They wanted me to go to you because they thought you could fix it. But San you know how improbable a cure for this is. You know that better than anyone. Mages have tried to find a cure to this curse for decades.” 

San opens his mouth to protest but Wooyoung cuts him off, “I didn’t come here because I wanted to find a cure. I came here because I wanted to spend time with you. I wanted to be with you.”

I wanted to spend my last moments with you. 

Wooyoung looks up with determined eyes, his jaw clenched so tight that anyone who didn’t know him would have mistaken that look for anger when it’s really just him trying his absolute best to not break down sobbing. 

“So please,” Wooyoung begs, “don’t waste your time looking for a cure when you could-when I want you to just be with me.” 

San chokes down another sob as he hears those words, and a part of him wants to comply. Finding a cure is practically impossible and Mages that were more powerful and had more resources than San have failed. He should just hold Wooyoung in his arms and spend their final moments together in peace, pretending that Wooyoung’s magic is not slowly getting sucked out of him. 

But San can’t pretend. He just can’t give up without even trying. 

If Wooyoung is stubborn, San is even more so. 

San balls his hands into fists and takes in a deep breath, “You cannot expect me to do that.” 

Wooyoung offers San a tired smile as his eyes fill with tears, “Well, I tried. I gue-” 

The sound of the front door downstairs opening interrupts Wooyoung and they both stare at each other in panic. 

San puts his finger to his lips, “Stay here.”

“If it's the Black Mages you cannot face them alone,” Wooyoung argues in a whisper. 

“You will not be doing yourself any favours if you follow me,” San glares at the other. 

Wooyoung glares back, “It doesn’t matter where I am hidden in this house if they have already entered.” 

“Wooyoung, we don't know it's them” San protests, “stay here,” and before Wooyoung can reply San leaves the room and heads downstairs, his heart in his throat. 

“Why are the fucking blinds closed? San what’s going on!?” a familiar voice calls from downstairs as San heads down. 

San’s releases a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding, as he reaches the bottom stairs he sees a familiar figure standing by the lamplight with their hands on their hips. 

“Hongjoong, I gave you the key for emergencies, not for random visits,” San chided despite the small smile growing on his lips at the sight of his friend. 

Hongjoong raises his eyebrows, he takes his hands away from his hips and crosses it instead, the gold bracelets on his hands bouncing the lamplight it’s reflecting across the room as it moves. 

“I heard that you were sick. I thought that would be considered as an emergency since you never bothered to tell me yourself.”

San shrugs sheepishly as he moves towards Hongjoong, “I don’t have a messenger falcon, how could have I told you? By leaving the house when I’m sick?” 

Hongjoong’s mouth curls into annoyance, “This is why I told you to buy a messenger falcon. Why do you insist that you don’t need one? Do you have any idea how much easier our lives would be if you just bou-” 

“Hongjoong,” San interrupts the other, placing both his hands on the other’s shoulders, “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.” 

Hongjoong’s tense shoulders relax under San’s touch, but his eyes narrow in suspicion, “Green Mages don’t get sick easily.” 

San shrugs his shoulders again, “I’m unlucky.” 

Hongjoong frowns and shrugs San’s hands off, “Why are you lying to me?” 

San flushes at how quickly he got caught, he should have thought better than to try to deceive Kim Hongjoong. Especially when he is sure he looks anything less than alright in ways that have nothing to with having a cold. But he’s too caught up in the facade to back out now so he lamely attempts to cough in what he hopes to be a believable manner into his elbow, “I’m not.” 

Hongjoong’s eyebrows furrow, but before he could say anything his eyes catch movement by the stairs behind San and it widens. 

San freezes in his spot as he notices Hongjoong’s glance move away from him, “Hongjoong before yo-” 

“What the fuck is Jung Wooyoung doing here?” Hongjoong questions, pointing a finger at Wooyoung as if he just saw a ghost. 

“Nice to see you too Hongjoong,” San hears Wooyoung reply gruffly from behind him. 

3 years ago

“What the fuck is Kim Hongjoong doing here?” Wooyoung asks as San studies the tattoo on the paper in front of him for the billionth time that day. 

Wooyoung, who was supposed to be cleaning the floor, is currently looking out the tattoo studio window. Outside, Hongjoong with his master Lee Yoon by his side is talking with San’s master happily, not noticing the evil eye that Wooyoung is sending his way. 

San only looks up from the tattoo drawing because Wooyoung sounds incredibly irritated and that tone of voice only leads to a disaster, “He’s here,” San replies calmly, “because his master is getting his tattoo done by me and because he should be here to see the first tattoo I ink.” 

That did not help Wooyoung’s mood at all, and Wooyoung’s face sours as San expects it to, he clutches the broomstick in his hands so hard that his knuckles start turning white, “Why?” 

San tilts his head in confusion at the question, “Because he’s my friend and I want him to be here.” 

Right as he says it, San realizes it’s the wrong thing to say because Wooyoung looks like he’s three seconds away from flinging the broomstick away in a fit. 

Before he could do so, San quickly adds, “I mean the more the merrier.” 

Still not the right thing to say because Wooyoung just squints his eyes in irritation, “I don’t like him.” 

San rolls his eyes, well… it’s not like he doesn’t know about Wooyoung’s irrational dislike for Hongjoong. It’s the first time Wooyoung has admitted it but San has to be pretty daft to not notice it beforehand.

Despite his efforts to get all three of them to get along, when they all hang out it usually starts with Wooyoung glaring at Hongjoong the moment he sees the other and Hongjoong rolling his eyes every three seconds during their encounter. San had stopped trying after a while because it gave him a headache to hang out with both of them at the same time. 

San turns his glance back to the tattoo drawing that he will be inking unto his master’s brother in a couple of minutes, “I don’t see why you don’t like him. He's a perfectly nice person Wooyoung.” 

Though San can’t see the other he could hear the frown in Wooyoung’s voice as he replies, “He acts like he’s so close to you.” 

San flips the paper over, figuring that he has stared at it enough, “That’s because I am close to him,” San retorts as he looks back at Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung stares back at him with a glance so intense and icy that San is more confused than ever. 

Did I say something wrong? 

But before the conversation can go any further the door opens as Hongjoong and the two older Mages walk in. 

“You ready San?” Hongjoong asks with a bright smile as he walks towards the other. 

San offers him a nervous grin, “As ready as I can ever be.” 

Lee Yoon throws the younger Green Mage a comforting smile as he walks over to the reclining chair in which he will soon get his tattoo inked, “You’ll do great.” 

San had to command Lee Yoon for his bravery. Letting a young Green Mage do his first tattoo on you is not a decision that doesn't come with risks. For one, San could screw up so badly that he could end up harming Yoon’s magic permanently but the Green Mage is trying very hard to not think about that possibility. 

“San,” Lee Gon says from his brother’s side with a reassuring smile, “you ready?” 

San takes in a deep breath. He glances at Wooyoung and Hongjoong who were giving him identical wide grins and for a second he feels amused at how two people who don’t get along could be so similar. 

He takes in a deep breath and walks over to ink his first tattoo. 

Now

Hongjoong is seated on the couch, his head in his hands as Wooyoung begrudgingly finishes telling him the story of his cursed tattoo. Wooyoung had only even begun to talk about it because Hongjoong had started bombarding San with questions, and San not wanting to reveal much of anything without Wooyoung’s consent had just stared blankly at Hongjoong in response. 

Wooyoung just wanted to shut the Brown Mage up so he took off his shirt, putting the cursed tattoo on full display. It did its trick. Hongjoong did in fact shut up but he also lost all the colour in his face and the strength in his legs. 

“So,” Hongjoong says after a long beat of silence as Wooyoung finishes the retelling of his kidnapping, “you came here so San can find a cure?” 

Wooyoung opens his mouth to protest, but San beats him to it, “Doesn’t matter why he’s here. Now that he is here, I am going to find a cure.” 

San expects Hongjoong to say many things, comments ranging from “do you have any idea how impossible this is” to “the Black Mages are going to get to him before you could even start looking for a cure” , but he doesn’t say any of that. 

Instead, Hongjoong removes his hands from his head and looks up at San and Wooyoung with his lips pursed in determination, “Sounds like a plan. I think I know where to begin.” 

San blinks at the other in surprise, “You what?” 

Hongjoong nods as he stands up, dusting his hands on his pants, “A cursed tattoo, the valknut, is kind of like an infection implemented on the body. You know about tattoos but a healer, a White Mage, knows best in the matters of anatomy. We need a White Mage, we need -”

"Kang Yeosang,” San says at the same time Hongjoong does, and San feels his heart flutter with hope. A White Mage cannot heal Wooyoung, since the curse is latched unto Wooyoung's magic and not the body, and White Mages can only heal physical wounds. But Yeosang can offer knowledge that the others would have no way of knowing. 

“No. We are not calling him,” Wooyoung cuts in roughly. 

“Why not?” San questions the same time Hongjoong mumbles, “Now why do you have to be so difficult?” 

Wooyoung purses his lips, “I can not let him know that I am here.” 

“Wooyoung,” San says softly, “we can get him to come here without the Black Mages knowing. I can just say I need some healing for my cold. It works out perfectly.” 

Wooyoung shakes his head, “You don’t understand, Yeosang works for the Black Mage Academy.” 

Hongjoong wrinkles his forehead in confusion, “And? Do you think your childhood friend will betray you?” 

“Of course not,” Wooyoung replies harshly to Hongjoong, his stare burning the other with even the implication, “but,” he continues softer, his attention back to San, “he will not forgive me for running away from the mission. No matter what my reasons were.” 

San understands, he really does. But he is not going to let this opportunity slip away from him. Yeosang is one of the most talented White Mages in this generation, having him help San find a cure will increase the chances of Wooyoung becoming uncursed. 

“Wooyoung,” San presses gently, “Don’t you think he would feel angrier if he figured we kept this from him? Especially if there was a chance that he could have helped.” 

A conflicted expression falls on Wooyoung’s face. He stares off into space as what San could only assume to be an inner battle rages within him. But San waits patiently for the Black Mage’s verdict, glaring at Hongjoong quietly as the other man taps his foot impatiently. 

Finally, for what seems like decades later, Wooyoung finally says, “Call him, but prepare me some ice packs for when he punches me.” 

San claps his hands in joy and even Hongjoong laughs a bit because of the newfound hope. 

As the glee dissipates as quickly as it had come Hongjoong retorts, “I’m guessing that I have to physically go and get him myself since you refuse to invest in a messenger falcon, like master like-” 

Before Hongjoong could finish his sentence, San pushes him towards the door, “Come back quick!” he says as he practically tosses Hongjoong out the door. 

3 years ago

San opens his eyes to what he assumes to be an angel looking at him. Long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, milky white skin that’s kissed with a pink birthmark at the corner of the right eye and bright brown doe-like eyes stared down at him in curiosity.

The angel opens his mouth and says, 

“Thank god you’re awake, Wooyoung was driving me crazy.” 

It's the moment that San hears the deep calming voice of the angel does he take in the other noises around the room. 

“Wooyoung I told you, it’s normal for this to happen.” 

“How is that normal?! He passed out the moment that he finished that tattoo!” 

“He did a good job on it though. I feel a bit more powerful already.” 

“Is that really important right now master? San’s literally passed out.”

“Exactly! He’s passed out!” 

The angel leans back from San and turns around. San’s eyes catch the white cloak hanging on the other’s back and his muddled brain tries to figure out how exactly they got a White Mage here.

From his lying position, San couldn’t see much in front of him, but he recognized those voices and he could imagine them huddled around throwing these remarks at each other. 

“Hey,” the angel tries to say but his voice is drowned out by Wooyoung’s incredibly loud and deafening one. 

“I swear he wasn’t breathing there for a second!” 

“Again, that’s normal Wooyoung. You didn’t have to call a White Mage for this.” 

“Yes, he is going to wake up eventually. Gon only took three days to wake up, San’s probably going to fare better.” 

“THREE DAYS! WHAT DO YOU MEAN-” 

“Wooyoung shut up!” the angel shouts, his voice still calm despite the volume. 

There’s silence, and then in a quieter voice the angel continues, “He’s awake.” 

Immediately there's a shuffle of feet and four more faces stare down at him, this time all of them familiar. 

Wooyoung moves towards him first, resting a hand on his shoulder, “Thank god you’re okay.” 

Hongjoong moves closer next and grins at him brightly, “You did amazing San. The tattoo looks magnificent.”

The two older Mages stay back but they both smile softly at him with pride. The Brown Mage holding his wrist out, displaying the tattoo that San just inked, and San could see, he really did do an amazing job, every single stroke precise to the drawing he was studying earlier. 

San tries to sit up but finds that he doesn’t have the capability to do so anymore. 

He stares at his master in panic, “I can’t move,” he tells his master in slight fear. 

The hand on San’s shoulder tightens, “Why can’t he move?” Wooyoung asks in equal panic, looking at the angel across from him. 

Before the angel could answer, San’s master cuts in, “That’s perfectly normal. The first time is always the worst. He’s doing far better than most. After I woke up I couldn’t even move my mouth for the first few days. You did great San.” 

San relaxes at the words, but Wooyoung beside him is still tense, “You keep on saying that it's normal,” Wooyoung tells the older Green Mage icely, “but nothing about this seems normal. Mages don’t just lose the ability to move when they use their powers.” 

“Actually,” the angel responds instead, “Green Mages do. But I will let San explain that to you,” the angel smiles at San tenderly, “I didn’t even use my magic San. Your magic managed to pull itself together all by itself.” 

“Thanks,” San replies, trying to scour his memory to identify who exactly this incredibly kind person is. 

Wooyoung glares daggers at the angel, “I did not call you here for you to not use your powers White Mage.” 

The angel does not bristle at the tone even though San himself feels the urge to scold Wooyoung at the words. 

“It’s supposed to be a natural process Wooyoung, I am not supposed to do anything,” the angel replies calmly, “I only came because you were being incredibly loud and were causing my patients to wake up with your noise. Besides, you know if I needed to, I would have.” 

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, but he quickly loses the stony look and looks down at San, whose listening to the exchange with wide eyes, “Thanks Yeosang ah,” he mumbles   

Oh Kang Yeosang, San remembers, Wooyoung’s childhood best friend.  

Wooyoung talks about him often enough, like he does about his other friends, and like his other friends, San did not get the chance to meet him before. Yeosang’s profession as the only White Mage serving the Black Academy kept him busy, and it’s not like there was much mingling between the different coloured Mages if it wasn’t for business and a purpose. 

Yeosang clears his throat, “I will have to go. Let me know if his condition persists for longer than it should.” 

“Thank you for coming, you must have been so busy,” the older Green Mage with a slight bow, “I tried to explain to Wooyoung that it was nothing to worry about…” 

Yeosang grins, “Yes well Wooyoung can be incredibly stubborn and persistent. He also cannot listen to others for the life of him.” 

“Wooyoung is also standing in this room,” Wooyoung adds gruffly. 

Yeosang laughs and San is amazed at how beautiful the other’s laughter sounds, like gentle wind chimes being carried through the wind. 

He walks out the door with a wave, and everyone sends him off with goodbyes and plenty of thank yous. 

“We should be going off too,” the older Brown Mage announces, “thank you San for the tattoo, you did an amazing job.” 

“I’ll come tomorrow, feel better San,” Hongjoong says as he leaves and San responds with a bright smile and a soft thanks. 

San’s master looks at the two left, noticing that Wooyoung’s eyes haven’t left San for the past couple of minutes, “I’m going to buy some supplies for dinner,” he says, hoping to leave some time alone for the two of them. 

As the door shuts down behind them Wooyoung immediately inquires, “What did they mean when they said this is normal?” 

San takes in a deep breath, “Yeosang is really nice,” he mumbles, wanting to divert this topic, “he’s pretty angelic.” 

Wooyoung squints his eyes, “San do not change the topic.” 

San sighs, he tries to move his hand and reach over toward Wooyoung to smooth out the wrinkles forming on the other’s forehead, but they remain stubbornly by his side, immobile. 

The first thing that his master had told him, his first lesson that was said carefully through soft-spoken words was about how every time he uses his magic he loses a bit of it. 

“Unlike contrary belief, it is not the ink that is magic San,” his master had said,  “though it does have magical properties. The magic is straight from you. Every time you give someone else a tattoo you are pouring a bit of yourself, your magic, to them, to help them.” 

It’s a noble practice, his master had said to him, to give up what you are made up of to strengthen others. Which is why, though he can’t move anything under his neck, San is happy because that means he did things right. He had helped someone’s magic.

When he explained this to Wooyoung his face immediately darkened. 

“It won’t always be this bad,” San tried to reassure the other, “the more I use my powers, the less the effects of it would be. One day I would barely feel anything after inking a tattoo.”

Wooyoung did not look any better, the wrinkle on his forehead deepening, “A Mage’s magic is not infinite though? You’re giving up your magic but does it replace itself or something? I mean it has to be otherwise it’s like every time you use your magic you get closer to death.” 

San did not have the heart to tell Wooyoung that there was no such thing as self-replenishing magic. That one day he would have given up all his magic and with none left he would just die. 

But it’s not something that breaks San’s heart, everyone has to die one day. He would die earlier than a lot of those his age, but it’s a sacrifice he has always been willing to make. Him using his powers is no different than Black Mages walking into a mission knowing that death is a definite possibility. 

But he can’t make Wooyoung understand that, even though Wooyoung himself is a Black Mage who would willingly lay his life down to save others. Especially right now, he doesn’t have the energy to make the other understand even if he wanted to. 

“Yeah,” he lies with a heavy heart, “it’s something like that.” 

Wooyoung lets out a sigh of relief, and smiles at San easily, “What do you want to eat tonight? I’ll cook.”

“Don’t you have to go back soon?” 

"Meh. Someone will cover for me I’m sure.” 

They fall back into an easy conversation. But San’s heart remains unsettled for lying to the other. 

One day… one day I’ll tell him the truth. 

Now

Yeosang did in fact punch Wooyoung straight on his face the moment he saw the other. San was so surprised to see Yeosang’s delicate facial features morph into such intense fury that he didn’t even have time to stop that from happening. 

But he managed to catch the other by the waist before he could throw another punch, wrapping his arms tightly around Yeosang to stop him from moving. 

“Nice to see you too,” Wooyoung grumbles, clutching the cheek that just got hit. 

“You fucking asshole! How could you leave the mission!? How could you leave our friends!?” Yeosang screeches, struggling in San’s tight grasp. 

“Now,” Hongjoong retorts, as bewildered by the scene as San was, “if we all could just calm down Wooyoung co-” 

“Wooyoung do you have any idea how important your mission was?! How dangerous it was?! One less person and that would screw up the whole thing! Do you want Mingi and Jongho to die you fucking asshole?!”

Wooyoung flinches at the question, “They know I’m here Yeosang,” he explains helplessly. 

Yeosang stops struggling in San’s grasp, but the furious expression on his face doesn’t change, “You can let go of me now,” he coldly tells San, “I won’t hurt him.” 

San moves his hands away and recoils when he sees Yeosang throw him an intense glance full of irritation. 

“Don’t take this out on him,” Wooyoung bites out as he notices the stare, “he had nothing to do with this.” 

Yeosang crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, “Oh, so you didn’t come back for him?” 

Wooyoung deflates in defeat, he glances at Hongjoong and San warily, and says, “Would you two mind leaving us alone? I need to have a conversation with just him.” 

Hongjoong opens his mouth to protest, but San grabs him before he could say anything and starts dragging him upstairs, “Yeah just let us know when you're done.” 

He tosses Hongjoong in his room upstairs and shuts the door behind them, Hongjoong gives the younger a questioning look. 

“And when Yeosang kills him down there when we are not there, what are you going to do?” 

San runs his fingers through his hair tiredly, “Yeosang won't kill him.” 

“Really, cause it looked like to me that he was a few seconds away from doing just that a few minutes ago. I’m starting to think it wasn’t a good idea to call him after all.” 

San leans back against the door and drops to the floor, his shoulder sagging in tiredness. He brings his knees to his chest and rests his head on his knees, “We need him Hongjoong. My knowledge of the valknut is limited. The only thing that I know is about the various failed trials that Green Mages encountered when trying to remove that tattoo. It’s not a bad place to start but Yeosang… he works as a healer for the Black Academy he has access to knowledge that is kept from everyone else. We need to fix this and we don’t have time.” 

Hongjoong walks over to San and kneels beside him, rubbing his back in comfort he whispers, “We will. Look at the team we have. You and Yeosang the best Mages of your kind in the town, hell probably the whole country, and me who is great at moral support.” 

San looks up at Hongjoong with a slight smile on his face, “You are literally the best Brown Mage in the country Hongjoong.” 

Hongjoong gently ruffles his hair, “Well then there’s even less to worry about.” 

San gently rests his head on the older’s shoulders and after a couple of beats of silence he whispers, “I miss him... my master.” 

Hongjoong hums in agreement, “He would have been proud of you San.” 

San closes his eyes, the ache in his chest that hasn’t rested since his master died gnawing him. He still remembers the cold hand that held his hand as the last wisps of magic had disappeared from his master’s body. The older Green Mage taking his final breath as he looked at San with a fatherly smile. 

"He would have known what to do,” San breathes out. 

Hongjoong sighs, “I don’t think anyone would really know what to do in this situation San. But I get it. It would have been comforting to have him here. But don’t cut yourself short, in the barely two years that you have inherited the tattoo shop, you have continued his legacy and made a name for yourself. Did you know that my master sends me letters from the  mountain region telling me how your talents are even spoken highly there?” 

San chuckles, “Your master is in the mountain regions now? Do you think he’s ever going to come back?” 

Hongjoong shakes his head, “Probably not. I don’t think he sees the point of staying in this town without his brother here. He’s probably going to continue travelling around discovering himself or something like that.” 

“Do you miss him?” 

“Nah he sends me too many letters.” 

San lifts his head from Hongjoong’s shoulders, “I should go check up on Yeosang and Wooyoung.” 

Hongjoong nods and gets up, walking over to the bed he plops down on it with a big sigh, “Yell for me if there’s a murder.” 

San rolls his eyes at the other and opens the door. He silently walks out, his ears picking up the conversation from downstairs. 

“Yeosang you know that’s not going to work.” 

“It doesn’t hurt to try.” 

San peeks down from the staircase railings and sees the top of two heads. Wooyoung is shirtless and seated on the couch while Yeosang is kneeling in front of him, his fingers pressed on Wooyoung's ribs. His shoulders obviously tense while Wooyoung is slumped over, resigned. 

“Yeosang stop, if you press your fingers on it for too long it will burn you.” 

“Don’t tell me what will happen,” Yeosang bites out with his fingers still pressed on the tattoo, “do you think I don’t know exactly what this is?” 

“No, I know you know exactly what this is which is why I want you to stop being stubborn for a few minutes.” 

Yeosang removes his fingers with an exasperated sigh, “I’m going to fix this Wooyoung.” 

“Now you’re sounding like San.” 

Yeosang runs his fingers through his hair, the fight gone from him, in a soft voice he asks, “Do you expect me to let my best friend die?” 

“No. But unlike San you probably know who this tattoo was from. You know how much more impossible this would be to remove, if there was any possibility there in the first place.” 

San furrows his eyebrows as he leans in. Ever since Wooyoung had left for the mission he had kept the details of it under wraps, but it’s not surprising that Yeosang would know of it since he works so closely with the Black Mages. 

“You are acting as if Lucifer himself had cursed you,” Yeosang mumbles. 

“Well, Asmodeus is basically his right hand man.” 

San feels a chill run down his spine at the name. He grips the railing tightly and his heart stutters in his chest. He swallows down the cry that threatens to escape him. Wooyoung’s mission was to chase after Amosdeus, one of the most powerful demons in existence. He feels anger rise after the surprise ceases. How dare the Head Mage send Wooyoung on such a dangerous mission? But he feels foolish as soon as he thinks so, Wooyoung probably felt like he was handed a golden plate when he was given this mission. 

Wooyoung has always wanted to leave a legacy, to be a legend, and what more could do that than defeating one of the most powerful demons in existence. 

“It’s a mark of a powerful demon, but we don’t know that it was Asmodeus,” Yeosang protests. 

Wooyoung shakes his head, “We were on the tail of catching it before I was captured. If I had not decided to go off on my own then maybe we would have gotten it.” 

“And not have gotten cursed,” Yeosang firmly adds. 

Wooyoung shrugs, “Yeah and that. Can you do me a favour and tell San how impossible this is going to be? I can’t watch him run around for a cure.” 

Yeosang crosses his arms, “I can’t tell him that when I am going to do the same.” 

“Yeosang-” 

“You can’t expect him to just sit around and pretend nothing is happening. What if the roles were reversed? You would be ready to kill someone to cure him.” 

Before Wooyoung could answer, San stands up and stomps downstairs making it obvious that he’s coming down. He feels the conversation steering towards himself and he feels uncomfortable overhearing it. 

“I know I told you guys to call me when you’re done but you were taking an awfully long time,” he says as he walks towards them, keeping his voice as steady as possible. 

Yeosang stands up and faces San with a gentle smile on his face, the anger from earlier gone from his features as if it was never there,  “I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have behaved the way I did earlier.” 

“Where’s my apology? I’m the one who got punched in the face,” Wooyoung grumbles but neither Yeosang nor San paid him any attention. 

“It’s okay. It’s understandable,” San replies with a smile as equally soft. 

Yeosang nods and looks down at Wooyoung and then back at San, “Why don’t you come to the Black Academy with me? There’s a lot of research there that could help us find a cure. I can pretend that I am taking you there to treat your very bad cold.” 

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Wooyoung complains, which the other two ignore again. 

“Sounds like a plan,” San replies before turning towards Wooyoung whose glaring at the two of them, “Stay here with Hongjoong and don’t cause any troubles.” 

Wooyoung pouts, “Don’t be gone for long.” 

San leans over towards Wooyoung and tucks a stray hair behind the other’s hair, “I’ll be back soon.” 

Yeosang raises his eyebrows at the two of them as they stare at each other like they are the only two in the room, memorizing each other’s faces like they won’t see each other for years. 

It’s sweet but Yeosang doesn’t have that much time in hand for all of that.  

Yeosang clears his throat, “San, let’s go?” 

San blinks away from Wooyoung’s glance as if he’s been in a daze but Wooyoung doesn’t look away. 

San leans away from Wooyoung and smiles sadly, as if Wooyoung and he had a conversation through glances that Yeosang could not read, “Oh yeah,” San retorts in a shaky voice, “let’s go.” 

1 year ago 

“San are you ready to go?” Hongjoong’s voice interrupts San’s thoughts. 

San glances away from the book he was staring at, he wasn't exactly reading it, his mind completely elsewhere the past couple of minutes. 

Hongjoong frowns at the lost look in the other’s eyes, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

San sighs as he puts his book away, “What is there to talk about?” 

“I know it must be hard to send Wooyoung off to his mission. If you want to talk through it-” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” San persists as he stands up, “going on a mission is practically a rite of passage for Black Mages, it would be foolish of me to be upset about that.” 

Hongjoong looks at San as if he is not convinced, “That doesn’t mean you can’t be upset about it.” 

“We should get going to the Black Academy, wouldn’t want to miss the ceremony,” San says, steering the topic away from his feelings as he puts his cloak on. 

Hongjoong purses his lips but doesn’t push further. 

When they arrive at the Great Hall at the Black Mage Academy, San is surprised at how empty the room looked. In a room meant for thousands, barely a hundred people were seated, most wearing black cloaks but there is a sprinkle of varying colours here and there. 

San spots Wooyoung easily. He’s standing at the front, talking brightly to an older Black Mage, his face and hands animated as he narrates what San could assume to be a very exciting story. The older man seemed to not care about the narration but Wooyoung doesn’t notice, rambling the way he does when he is incredibly ecstatic. 

Feeling San’s glance, Wooyoung turns towards his direction and spots the other easily, his grin widening at the other’s presence. San manages to smile back weakly and nod, for what reason he has no idea but Wooyoung must have taken that for some kind of social cue because he turns back towards the older Black Mage and continues his story, more excited than before. 

The same type of excitement he had when he had first told San that he was chosen for the mission. His eyes bright and his chest puffed in pride as he said, “The Head Mage had chosen me! Me! For a very important mission.” 

San had stilled but quickly pulled himself together and beamed at the other with pride, “Wooyoung that’s amazing!” 

Wooyoung had continued to chatter, retelling every single detail of the moment he had been given the mission, carefully leaving out the actual details of the mission itself. San had only half listened, his heart heavy with sadness and his mouth burning as he tried to keep his smile plastered unto his face. 

The same smile that is plastered right now as he walks to one of the chairs by the stage and sits down. 

The ceremony itself is quite simple and meant to just officiate sending the chosen candidates to their mission a couple of days before them actually leaving. The chosen Black Mages can invite whoever they want to the ceremony and in the end, it turns into a mixture of a congratulatory and going away party once the official parts of the ceremony are over. 

The official parts of the ceremony go by in a daze and San is barely paying attention to it, but his eyes take in Wooyoung sitting on the stage, grinning from ear to ear right next to his best friends Mingi and Jongho who are going on the mission with him. There is an old man droning on and on about something, but San’s hyperfocus on Wooyoung mutes all of that until he feels a rustle of excitement come up in the air and he startles to realize that the old man has stopped talking. 

Chatter rises and Wooyoung leans in and talks to Mingi next to him, following with laughter as the rest of the room gets up to get ready for the more celebratory part of the day. 

San stays seated, staring at Wooyoung as the other is bubbling with happiness and radiating with such brightness that he puts the sun to shame. 

Wooyoung looks so happy, he looks so damn happy so why does San feel the urge to cry? 

“San,” Hongjoong whispers softly from his side, “you’re shaking.” 

San looks down and sure enough, the hand in his lap is trembling while his legs are shaking up and down. He feels the room closing in unto him and suddenly it becomes too difficult to breathe. 

He gets up abruptly startling Hongjoong, and runs out of the room ignoring the strange looks others throw at him. Thankfully, Hongjoong doesn’t follow him, the older most likely sensing that the San needs some time alone. 

San’s legs move on autopilot and he finds himself to god knows where. Somewhere that’s just an empty corridor, somewhere so far from the Great Hall that the noise of loud chatter is muffled. 

He feels his chest untighten, he leans his back against the wall as his breath comes back to him again and he doesn’t feel like the world is shattering around him. 

But there remains that pain in his chest that he couldn’t get rid of the moment that Wooyoung had told him he was chosen for a mission. 

He thumps his fist against his chest as he feels a sob build up in his throat. He refuses to cry on this day, on this special day which Wooyoung had been looking forward to for years. He has already ruined it by running out and if he comes back in with eyes that have cried out Wooyoung is going to notice and it’s going to upset him. Wooyoung is so happy right now that San refuses to be the one to bring him down. 

But a few tears escape regardless, his heart once again not listening to his head. 

But he can’t help it. 

Wooyoung is going to leave him. 

San drops to the floor and hugs his knees. He rests his head on his knees and takes in a few shaky breaths while tears run down his cheeks as he tries to pull himself together. But the attempt just unravels him further and he lets out a weak sob so the tears can fall down freely. 

He wants to scream, throw a fit and to stomp around and just refuse to let Wooyoung go. But how would that make any sense, when Wooyoung himself wants to leave? When he is even looking forward to it? 

San, even being the optimist he is, cannot find a single possible solution that would cease the pain in his chest; that could make Wooyoung want to stay. 

So he curls himself into a ball and hopes that the pain just passes, that like the tears falling down his eyes the sadness will just drip away. 

Suddenly, there are footsteps heard near San and he stills, keeping his head on his knees and hoping that the footsteps would walk past him. But to his horror, the footsteps sound closer with each second. 

“San?” A soft voice calls out to him. 

San could recognize that voice, could pick it out in a room full of thousands of people, like everything about Wooyoung it’s familiar. But a voice that usually brings him warmth sends an icy chill down his spine instead. 

The last person San wants to see right now is Wooyoung. He continues to stay frozen hoping that Wooyoung would just walk away. 

But Wooyoung doesn’t, and of course he doesn’t. 

The footsteps sound louder and San could feel the other standing in front of him. 

“San?” Wooyoung says again, confusion obvious in his tone. 

When San doesn’t respond, Wooyoung kneels down to his level and gently bumps his head against the other’s, “San, look at me.” 

San looks up and at that point, it was too late to wipe his tears. His grievance is written all over his face and Wooyoung reads it easily. The Black Mage gasps and reaches over, gently brushing away the tears. Hurt apparent on his face to see like San like this, and San hates himself a little bit for causing such an expression to fall on Wooyoung's face on such a special day. 

“You should have told me,” Wooyoung whispers carefully, as his thumb rubs circles on San’s cheek. 

San lets out a weak chuckle, “Told you what? That I wanted you to stay? Would you have listened?” 

As soon as he said it, San regrets it because Wooyoung winces at the statement and looks away, almost ashamed. 

“You know that’s not fair San,” Wooyoung mumbles, his eyes still looking away but his hand still gently on the other’s face. 

San sighs and removes Wooyoung's hand away from him, his heart heavier than before, “I know. I was just being selfish. Go back to the celebration Wooyoung, I will be there soon.” 

Wooyoung looks back at the Green Mage, his frown deeper than before, “I don’t want you to be sad about me leaving.” 

San snorts and rubs his eyes, “That’s kind of inevitable though,” he takes his hands away from his face and stares back at Wooyoung who's looking at him with an inscrutable expression on his face, “it’s fine. Wooyoung just-it’s okay. I’ll be okay. This mission is so important to you, and I am happy for you. I really am. It’s just I can’t help feeling a little sad. I want you to enjoy the party, just forgot about me for today.” 

Wooyoung takes a deep breath, his stare so intense that San resists the urge to look away, “That’s the thing isn't it? I can never forget about you easily. San, my entire life I have been looking forward to this mission. And I have been given the perfect one. A mission where I could prove my worth.” 

San takes in a shaky breath, “I know Wooyoung. I know .” 

Wooyoung shakes his head, “No, listen. All my life I have been looking for this perfect mission and I have got it, and the first thing that I thought when they told me was… was how I should finish this mission quickly so that I can come back home, to you.” 

San stares at the other, wide-eyed in shock, and the other’s lips quirk at the shocked expression on the Green Mage’s face. 

Wooyoung reaches forward again and gently runs his fingers through San’s hair, “San, I don’t want to leave you either,” he whispers softly, “But I can’t just not go. It’s been hard for me too. The mission is my dream... but you are too.” 

San leans in and rests his head on the other’s shoulder so the other can’t see the expression of absolute lovestruck that falls on his face. His heart is beating fast in his chest, and his breaths become shakier by the second, “I am your dream?” San manages to choke out. 

Wooyoung laughs, and San could feel the laughter with how close he is to the other, and it calms him down, “I thought that much was obvious. San I-,” he pauses to lift the other’s head from his shoulder, and San flushes because Wooyoung now has a full view of his awestruck expression. 

Wooyoung’s eyes turn soft as he searches San’s face. They’re a mere few seconds of having their confessions spill, San could practically feel it at the tip of his tongue. 

Wooyoung breaks their silence, but not with words that San thinks he would say. 

The Black Mage’s lips lift into a smug grin, “I promise when I come back successful from the mission,” he says confidently, “I’ll be your man.” 

San’s heart soars and he can’t help but giggle at the words. The gleeful response causes Wooyoung’s smirk to grow, with more confidence he leans in and gently nudges San’s nose with his own, “Until then,” he breathes out, “I will dream of coming back to you every day.” 

San holds the hand that’s placed on his cheek and snuggles into the warmth of the other’s palm, “and every day,” San replies breathless, “I will dream of you coming back to me.” 

Wooyoung moves back and removes his hand from the other’s face to put it on top of San’s hand instead. He brings San’s wrist to his lips and gently kisses it, “Good,” he murmurs, then in a louder voice asks,  “Now will you dance with me?” 

There’s the soft gentle sound of a piano being played from a distance and San wordlessly nods. Wooyoung helps San get up and they keep their hands clasped together as they walk back to the Great Hall. 

The ache in San’s chest didn’t cease but there’s a blossom of warmth, soothing the pain. 

Now 

“Why are we in your office?” San questions in confusion as he walks into a room with a sign saying White Mages Office . 

Yeosang shuts the door behind them, “We can’t go to the library, they will notice that you don’t belong there,” the other whispers hurriedly, his eyes roaming the office as if he expects a Black Mage to just pop out and catch him in the act, “but we don’t need to. I have practically memorized all the books in the library. I know… I know what to do.” 

San feels relief flood into him, “Great,” he responds excitedly, “what is it?” 

Yeosang bites his lips, not sharing the same excitement as the other, he gestures to the chair by his desk, “San, sit down.” 

San obeys, but tilts his head in puzzlement, “Whatever it is Yeosang, I am sure we can do it.” 

“That’s the thing,” Yeosang retorts, switching to biting his thumbnail instead of his lips, “this is something that only you can do.” 

San pouts at the worrying expression on the other’s face, “What is it Yeosang?” he asks again impatiently. 

“It requires you to do,” Yeosang whispers in a hushed tone, “contact magic.” 

Unlike Yeosang’s expectation, San doesn’t seem shocked by the suggestion at all. Instead, he stares calmly at Yeosang, nodding his head to urge Yeosang to go on. 

Yeosang takes in a deep breath, “Black Mage’s magic focuses on offensive magic, and if you can enhance that power by a lot it could fight against the cursed tattoo and exterminate it. A tattoo won’t be powerful enough of an enchantment to do so, so you have to do it through physical contact. It’s a shot in the dark but-” 

“I’ll do it.” San answers simply. 

Yeosang’s mouth falls open, “Just like that? Green Mages practising magic through physical contact was outlawed a century ago.  If anybody outside our close circle finds out you will be sent to an extremely painful death.” 

San just shrugs so Yeosang continues, “And I don’t want to be the one to teach you about your own magic. But this would require you to give Wooyoung so much of your own magic that you might…” 

“Die.” San finishes, sighing he gets up and stretches his back, “look you wouldn’t have suggested this if you didn’t think I would be up for it. And you know that I would give up my life for Wooyoung, so the faster we get back and try this idea, the better.” 

Yeosang purses his lips, “I know you would. But that doesn’t mean… San, you and I may not know each other that well but it is unsettling to watch you be ready to throw your life away easily.” 

San looks intently into Yeosang’s questioning gaze with an inscrutable expression on his face, “I love him,” he says easily after a long pause, then he laughs bitterly at himself, “I believe I never actually told him that though. I told you before I told him.” 

Yeosang winces, “Well, it’s not like he doesn't know. The feelings you two have for each other… it’s so open, you can just read it in your eyes when you two look at each other.” 

San takes in a shaky breath, “I know. But I would have still liked him to hear it. Do you think-before I do the… that I could-” 

Yeosang shakes his head interrupting the other, “I told you about this here because I know if Wooyoung had heard of this plan he would refuse it. I’ll probably have to drug him or something when we get back to the tattoo shop…” 

Trailing in thought with that sentence Yeosang moves towards the cabinets by his desk and bends down to rummage through the drawers while San watches in confusion, “Why would he refuse that strongly for you to have the need to drug him? I know such magic is outlawed but it’s not like we aren’t breaking any laws already.” 

Yeosang stops rummaging through his drawers to look up at San with his eyebrows furrowed, “San,” he says slowly, “Wooyoung knows about how your magic works.” 

San’s heart stutters in his chest, “W-what. H-how?” 

After his blatant lie of how his magic works, it was never brought up again, especially since San had quickly become accustomed to the large discharge of his magic and stopped fainting every time after inking a tattoo a month into his practice. 

Yeosang closes the drawer and straightens up, his mouth curved downward but his eyebrows raised up, “I thought you told him?” 

San forehead wrinkled in confusion, “I didn’t,” he mumbles to himself, but loud enough that Yeosang could hear. 

Yeosang gives him a disappointed look, almost as if to ask ‘ why didn’t you? ’ but he must have figured that he wouldn’t get a straight answer from San or he didn’t care enough to delve into such a topic at this time because he quickly moves on, “Well he knows. Why do you think he refused to get a tattoo from you before he went on his mission?” 

San takes in a deep breath, “I thought… well… I thought... because of his pride.” 

Now Yeosang looks even more disappointed, and with each growing second San feels ashamed of thinking so lowly of someone he loves. But the Green Mage can’t be blamed for thinking that way, there’s no way he would have thought that Wooyoung knew the true nature of his magic. 

When San had brought up inking a tattoo on the other for the first and only time he had, Wooyoung had given him an angry look and stormed out of the room. San was too scared to bring it up again in the fear of upsetting the other, something he didn’t want to do when they had so little time before Wooyoung went on his mission. He figured it must have been a pride thing because neither Jongho nor Mingi had visited him for a tattoo as well. Plus it was more common for Black Mages who go on their first mission to not get a tattoo from him. Because they want to say they did it all on their own. 

But he could have tried to convince Wooyoung to get one from him, but he told himself that a Black Mage’s pride is so ingrained into them that it would be a waste for him to try. 

San balls his hands into fists. Now that he knows the true reason behind Wooyoung’s refusal he feels guilt gnawing at him. If he had pushed harder if he had refused to let Wooyoung go without getting a tattoo from him maybe this whole thing wouldn’t have - 

“Stop,” Yeosang says, drawing San away from his thoughts, “even if you had managed to convince Wooyoung to get a tattoo from you this could have still happened. No tattoo enchantment you would have done could be powerful enough to stop a demon such as the one Wooyoung was assigned. Besides, there’s no point in thinking about what could have happened. Let’s just find a way to fix what’s going on right now.” 

San loosens his fists and nods, “Yeah,” he mumbles, determination rising inside of him again, “so the enchantment that I will do to Wooyoung. Was there any specific one that was written in any research or...” 

Yeosang shakes his head, “It was just a theory that some Black Mage had. It was basically just scribbled in the margins of a journal. Nobody thought of even thinking too much into it because of how that type of magic is outlawed.”

San huffs, that makes it slightly more difficult for him, he hadn’t done this type of magic before and there is no enchantment to start with, “Do you know if there are any books that talk about Green Mages and contact magic.” 

Yeosang shakes his head again, looking defeated, “No. All those books were destroyed...I’m sorry maybe this whole thing won’t work.”

Now San shakes his head, “No… no. This plan makes sense… I just need to figure out how to do the enchantment itself,” he reaches over and grabs a stray paper on the desk near him and a quill. He hastily opens the ink bottle that was also near him and dips the quill into the ink, deep in thought. 

“Do you think that it would be effective,” San says slowly, “if I can trace a simple power enhancement enchantment unto Wooyoung’s skin but pour more magic on it than I would regularly have? The ink also acts like a subduer, so with just my fingers tracing it on his skin would make it effective, maybe?” 

Yeosang bites his lips in thought, “Would you be able to change some aspects of the power enhancement enchantment so that it would be more powerful?” 

San starts sketching the enchantment unto the paper, “Yeah I think so,” he mumbles, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

Yeosang watches him silently as San sketches the incantation, making slight changes here and there to enhance it. It must have taken longer than it had felt because when he looks up Yeosang is sitting on a chair, eyes far away as he stares ahead at San. 

San clears his throat to bring Yeosang back to Earth, “I’m done,” he says with a sense of confidence, as he stares down at the enchantment. 

The enchantment stares back at him, almost glowing, like newfound hope.  

Yeosang gets up and starts opening drawers again, “We can leave now if you’re sure you're ready.”

“I am,” San replies confidently, and then backtracks because he sounds too sure that it almost sounds fake, “I haven't done this before, I mean of course I haven’t. But the mechanics of it is similar to inking a tattoo for an enchantment and I am pretty confident with my drawing and well-” he stops himself when he feels like he is rambling too much and Yeosang really doesn’t look like he was listening to a single word he was saying.  

Yeosang grabs what San could only identify to be a syringe from one of the drawers he was rummaging through and stuffs them in a bag before slinging the bag over his shoulder. Then he pauses and frowns, his head lifted up as if he is contemplating something very thoroughly. Whatever his thoughts have led to must have not been pretty because his frown deepens, and there’s a look of hesitation in his eyes. 

“San,” he says carefully, “This whole plan… it’s… well it could go very wrong” 

San smiles weakly, “You're backing out? What, don’t you don’t believe in me?” 

Yeoseong looks down at his feet, struggling to pick his next words, “You know if Wooyoung wakes up and you're not there. I don’t know what he will do with himself.” 

San takes in a shaky breath, “I don’t know what I will do with myself if Wooyoung isn't there Yeosang.” 

Yeosang sighs, and looks up with wet eyes, “I figured. Let’s go.” 

For a man that was going to cry a couple of minutes ago, Yeosang was able to easily stride over to Wooyoung once he entered the tattoo studio and jam a needle unto the other’s neck before the Black Mage could even comprehend what was going on. Hongjoong, who was just standing a few meters away from the now passed out Wooyoung, had screamed, high-pitched and shrill, causing San to nearly jump out of his skin. 

“Hongjoong,” San hisses at the other as he locks the door behind him, “shut up!” 

Hongjoong stares at the other with wide eyes, his hands gesturing towards Yeosang who is now carrying Wooyoung over to the couch, “He just killed your boyfriend!” 

San tries very hard to ignore the word boyfriend in that sentence, “He’s just passed out.” 

Hongjoong doesn’t look any less horrified, “And why is that?” 

“Because we are going to do something that he won’t like,” Yeosang answers as he lifts Wooyoung’s shirt so that the tattoo is revealed. 

San rolls up his sleeve with a deep breath and walks over to Wooyoung. Hongjoong stares at the scene in front of him in confusion, “Someone needs to explain to me what’s going on right now.” 

San kneels in front of Wooyoung’s resting figure, “I’m going to use my magic to help enhance Wooyoung’s magic, so it can fight the curse. Through physical contact magic.” 

There’s silence and then there’s Hongjoong right next to him, his cheeks flushed with anger as he grabs San’s shoulder tightly, “Are you stupid?! What if you die?” 

Hongjoong and San have never discussed the workings of San’s magic, but San figured that with Hongjoong’s master being the brother of a Green Mage, Hongjoong would have figured out somewhere along the line. 

San purses his lips, “That’s just going to be a chance I am going to take.” 

Hongjoong searches San’s eyes, he must have found something that causes him to not push further because his shoulders sag in defeat. He leans over so he can cup San’s face with his hand, “Don’t give him everything, leave some for yourself you idiot.” 

San offers him a wry smile, “Can’t make any promises. It’s Wooyoung .” 

Hongjoong looks away, but not quick enough for San to miss the tears falling from his eyes, “I know. That’s what I’m worried about,” he mumbles trying to discreetly wipe his tears, “that’s why I am going to stay next to you, to push you away when it feels you are giving too much.” 

San knows Hongjoong wouldn’t do that because he knows how well the Brown Mage knows him. Hongjoong knows that if he were to do that, San would never forgive him. But San understands that sometimes words are said for self-comfort rather than the truth so he just nods. 

He turns back to Wooyoung and carefully brushes the other’s hair from his face. It’s strange, Wooyoung is drugged, and San is probably going to do one of the biggest incantations in his entire life and all San could think of is how cute Wooyoung looks while sleeping. Wooyoung’s lips are jutted out in a pout as he sleeps and his features that have been scrunched up in wrinkles for the past day have all smoothed out. As he stares enduringly at the other he also takes in the dark under bags of Wooyoung’s eyes and his pale complexion. The cursed tattoo must have been draining him too fast already. 

That thought snaps him back to reality and his eyes fall down to the valknut, the cursed tattoo’s ashy black ink seemingly glowing underneath San’s stare, as if it's daring him to try and take it down. 

He spreads his fingers across Wooyoung’s ribs so that his hands frame the tattoo and he takes a deep breath. It is weird to be ready to pull out his magic without the ink needle as a buffer in between his hands and the skin of somebody else. He closes his eyes and pictures the enchantment in his head, and with years in practice, though he just created the enchantment, the enchantment is clear in his head. 

Slowly, he traces the enchantment unto Wooyoung’s skin and wills the magic to pour through his fingers as he would have with a tattoo, and he is taken back with how easily the magic flows into the other. As his fingers trace over the actual tattoo he feels the burn of the curse. 

It’s only when he traces the enchantment over Wooyoung’s skin for the third time does he feel lightheaded, his energy slowly leaving him, his magic telling him to stop, to close the tap before he gives away too much. But he pushes harder even when his fingers burn and he smells burning flesh. 

He hears a rustle behind him, but thankfully no one makes movements towards him, and he concentrates harder. He can feel the curse fighting the enchantment, and that sends a thrill down his spine because it means its working. His breaths are shallow and his head feels heavy, but he pushes more of his magic out, his fingers carefully tracing out the intricate lines of the drawing unto the other’s skin. 

He pulls and pulls and he pulls from within himself. Until he reaches in and only feels a tiny ball of energy, a tiny ball of magic that is pulsing within him, and instinct tells him to leave it alone. 

But he couldn’t because the curse is still there, fighting his magic. 

So he reaches in further in and grasps that tiny ball of magic he has left, and pushes it out unto Wooyoung. 

He feels the burning cease, but before he could fully relish in the feeling of victory, he loses all feeling in his limbs and he crashes onto the floor. 

As his head hits the floor, and his breath gets knocked out of him, he blacks out. 

2 Years Ago 

There are knocks on the door as San is busy cleaning up the studio after his last appointment. He huffs in irritation as he opens the door, but the annoyance falls away when he sees Wooyoung standing there with a small smile on his face. 

“It’s late, what are you doing here?” San asks in astonishment. 

Wooyoung shrugs as he walks in, “Just wanted to see you,” he answers easily as he looks around the studio, “you were open today?” 

San closes the door behind him, “What do you mean? We never close,” and then winces when he realizes he said ‘we’. 

Wooyoung gives him an incredulous look, “I think if it was ever a time to close, it would be today.”  

San shrugs, trying to keep his face neutral, “He never closed before.” 

Wooyoung purses his lips, “Yes but today was his funeral. San, just take the rest of this week off, you seem exhausted and you look horrible.” 

San huffs stubbornly, anger rising within him easily which was unlike himself, maybe he was really exhausted but his temperament focuses that tiredness unto Wooyoung and warps into anger, “If you are going to tell me what to do,” San bites out, “then you should just leave.” 

Wooyoung didn’t react angrily to the words, instead, he grew wearier, his shoulders sagging slightly, “You are just doing all of this to keep yourself distracted.” 

“I am doing this because we have never closed before and I don’t want to close the first day he is gone.” 

“That’s bullshit because you know he would have wanted you to close up the studio San. No one is going to punish you for mourning.” 

“Stop acting like you know me,” San snaps, Wooyoung’s words too close to the truth for comfort. 

Wooyoung visibly flinches at the words, and looks away from San with hurt, “Well, stop pushing me away,” he mumbles. 

San feels his annoyance grow, “I’m not.” 

“You didn’t let me stay after the funeral-” 

“You have a curfew-” 

Wooyoung’s eyes snap back to San, “Like I have ever actually followed that. You didn’t even let Hongjoong help you clean up all the stuff afterwards. Why are you pushing people away?” 

San crosses his arms across his chest, “I told you, I’m not. I’m okay. Just go home Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung narrows his eyes at San’s defensive stance, “And that’s not pushing someone away?” 

“No that’s me wanting some peace and quiet,” San snipes back. Wooyoung just stares back at him silently for a few seconds, not moving a muscle.

“You know,” Wooyoung finally says quietly, “I always thought Black Mages were the self-sacrificing idiots of the bunch, but I guess I was wrong.” 

“What are you on about?” San asks, his face heating up. 

“You always do everything for everyone. You hype Hongjoong up every time he feels insecure about his magic. I go one minute with a frown on my face and you try to make me laugh. You witnessed an execution with me just so I don’t have to be alone. You are always there when I need you San. Everyone you met, every person you have ever been with, you have given them comfort in their times of need. I don’t understand why you can’t give yourself the same kindness that you give others.” 

San feels his eyes burn, but he doesn’t say anything, afraid that if he opens his mouth that his voice will betray the turmoil of emotions that his heart is going through as he listens to Wooyoung’s words. 

“Why do you always give everything to everyone,” Wooyoung continues as he moves closer to San so that they are a mere centimetres away, “and take nothing in return?” 

San lips tremble at the gentleness in Wooyoung’s eyes, he takes in a shaky breath in order to steady himself, his knees slightly wobbling despite the attempt. 

Wooyoung easily wraps his arms around the other’s waist to pull him close, and there San feels it, the steadiness, Wooyoung an anchor for him in more than just a physical sense. 

He lays his head on the other shoulder as his eyes get wet. 

Wooyoung tucks his head on top of the other’s head, “Let me be here for you, like you have always been there for me.” 

So San lets himself cry on Wooyoung’s shoulder, for once taking instead of giving. 

Now

San is surprised to open his eyes and find Yeosang peering down on him with concern. The scene is so similar to one that happened years ago, he almost feels nauseous, as if time was disoriented. 

San blinks up at the White Mage to focus, “I’m alive?” 

Yeosang’s mouth quirks into a tiny smile, “Yes, thankfully. Though you almost didn’t make it.” 

San gulps, he tries to wiggle his fingers and toes and is surprised that he could move them. He tries to sit up but Yesoang pushes him back down, “Just because you can move, doesn’t mean that you should,” Yeosang insists, “Lie down and let your body regain its energy.” 

San settles back in bed, he distinctly remembers giving Wooyoung every bit of the magic he had, “How am I alive?” he asks, genuinely curious. 

Yesaong snorts, “Trust me, you were really close to death, you literally stopped breathing for a couple of minutes, but then…” he pauses, contemplating, “well we’re not exactly sure what happened but Wooyoung woke up and he held you for a while and then you just started breathing again.” 

Hearing Wooyoung’s name, San’s energy spikes, “How is he?” 

Yeosang gestures to the side of the room, “He’s fine. The tattoo is gone, his magic is back to normal. He just refused to sleep for a while. Funny that he fell asleep just a couple of minutes before you woke up.” 

San stretches his neck and sees Wooyoung slumped on a chair beside his bed, deep asleep, and San can’t help but laugh a bit because of how disgruntled he looks, “Don’t wake him, he looks like he needs this.” 

“Okay but he’s going to be so pissed when he wakes up.” 

“Where’s Hongjoong?” 

“He went to go get some food. He also refused to leave your side until now.” 

San feels his heart swell with all that love, and Yeosang softly smiles at the expression on the other’s face. 

“Thank god I am alive, don’t really care how,” San retorts, “but I am assuming you have theories.” 

Yeosang’s smile quirks into a smirk, “How did you know?” 

Now it’s San’s turn to roll his eyes, “Just tell me, you genius.” 

“Well,” Yeosang starts, holding up his index finger, “I have one theory. One theory that makes sense. After your magic helped Wooyoung’s magic to push out the curse, Wooyoung gave his magic to you.” 

San’s eyebrows furrowed, “That’s impossible. Wooyoung can’t give me his magic.” 

Yeosang shrugs, “Maybe he can give you back your magic. No one has ever wanted to or tried to do it so we don’t know that it's impossible.  ” 

San shakes his head, his heart beating a mile per minute, “Why would Wooyoung even want to give me back the magic I gave him. That could have hurt his magic, could have even invited the curse back in, why would he….” 

Yeosang chuckles softly, “You two are so ridiculous. Do me favour, confess to him, this whole ‘we know we love each other but we’re not actually dating’ is giving me a headache. I’ll leave you two alone for the rest of the day, and I will keep Hongjoong from disturbing you two. It’s going to be a hassle to keep Hongjoong away from you, but once he knows the reason he would be grateful. Besides, I need his help for something.” 

Yeosang stares off in deep thought, and San is incredibly tempted to know what this “something” is. 

Yeosang must feel San’s questioning glance because his eyes snap back to his, “It has to with the mission Wooyoung had left from,” Yeosang explains, “we can’t have him hiding out forever.” 

When San opens his mouth to question further Yeosang shakes his head to stop the other, “Don’t worry about it right now. All you have to do is recover and talk to Wooyoung about feelings,” his mouth twisting in tease at the last word. 

“Okay,” San agrees hesitantly before Yeosang waves goodbye. Then he shifts his attention back to Wooyoung. Not taking his glance away from the other, his mind wanders, thoughts swirling from the possibility of Wooyoung returning his magic to him to how he is even going to start saying the words that have always been apparent to each other but never actually said. 

Despite his gaze still on the other, he doesn’t notice Wooyoung waking up till Wooyoung actually calls out to him, a soft “San,” as if the Black Mage himself was unsure if San was awake despite his eyes being open. 

San blinks rapidly to bring him back to Earth, and he smiles back at Wooyoung sweetly, “Hey Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung does not smile back, instead he scowls, his eyes still droopy from sleep, “Hey? Hey? ” 

San winces at the tone, trying to lift the mood he weakly states,  “Good news. I can move my limbs.” 

Wooyoung gives him a hard look and San tries very hard to not shrink at the glance. He wasn’t the least bit surprised that Wooyoung was mad, if their situations were switched San would have probably punched Wooyoung in the face for doing something so stupid. 

“You almost died,” Wooyoung retorts, his voice hard and speaking through his teeth, as if he was trying hard not to shout. 

“I did what I had to do,” San argues, then in a softer tone, “and you can’t be mad about that, cause you would do the same for me.” 

Because that’s what it is in the end, they’re both self-sacrificing idiots, especially when it comes to each other. 

Wooyoung takes a good glance at the pleading look on San’s face, and his anger dissipates easily. He gets up unsteadily and walks over to San’s bed, sitting on the edge of it to face San. 

San reaches over and laces their fingers together, “How are you feeling?” 

Wooyoung snorts, and he feels more animated, the drowsiness of sleep from before gone as amusement danced in his eyes, “You’re asking me ?” 

San shrugs sheepishly, “We did just get a curse off you.” 

Wooyoung’s mouth forms a small smile, “I feel fine. It’s like the curse was never there. Besides, it was you who did all the work.” 

San shakes his head, “Seems like I wouldn’t be alive without you.” 

Wooyoung stares at him in confusion for a few seconds but before San could explain, Wooyoung says, “Oh Yeosang told you about his theory.” 

San quirks his eyebrow, “Seems impossible doesn’t it?” 

Wooyoung stares upward towards the wall behind San, his eyes far away, he is silent for a while and San gently rubs his thumb over the other’s hand in worry. 

“You know,” Wooyoung finally says, his eyes still miles away, “when I woke up and found you lying there, I quickly figured out what happened. You never told me how your magic works back then, but I figured that you were hiding something after the first time you used it. So I did my research…well I figured out and I kind of understood why you didn’t tell me. I wouldn’t have taken it well, I still...I still don’t like it,” then he huffs out a short laugh without humour, “which is kind of hypocritical of me when you think about it. That’s why I never brought it up because I knew it would  be unfair of me to be upset and I was well… well I was waiting for you to tell me yourself.” 

San gulps in guilt, he opens his mouth to say something along the lines of, ‘ I was going to tell you someday’ , but he stops himself because that would just be a lie. 

“So when I found you on the floor and I didn’t feel the pain of the cursed tattoo anymore,” Wooyoung continues with a shaky breath, “I figured that you have given me more of your magic than you should have. So I just… I just took you in my arms and you weren’t breathing a-and…”

Wooyoung looks back at San with tears in his eyes, “Fuck San I have never felt such fear in my life. I felt powerful because of the magic you gave me and I hated it, and I just wanted to give it all back to you.” 

San squeezes the other’s hand, with identical pools of tears forming in his eyes, “So you gave it back to me.” 

Wooyoung smiles at San weakly, “I have no idea what I did, to be honest,” he chokes out, “I just wanted you to live.” 

San brings Wooyoung’s hand to his mouth and gently kisses it, “ I’m here Wooyoung,” he whispers unto his hand. 

Wooyoung rubs his eyes with his other hand, “I know, but you almost, and we didn’t even… I didn’t even-” 

And then there’s silence. 

San feels a bead of frustration grow within him, it really shouldn’t be so hard to say words that are so obvious. Haven’t they waited long enough? The timing was never right, and technically it still isn't. Of course, San would like to not be bed ridden when he confesses his love to the man he has been in love with for years, but he really couldn’t wait any longer.  

San takes Wooyoung's hand which he was holding and presses it on top of his chest, so Wooyoung can feel how hard and loud his heart is thumping. 

Wooyoung chuckles, “It’s good to know that you are as nervous as I am,” he mumbles shyly, his neck growing red. 

San flushes too, “Wooyoung, well this is long overdue-” 

“Wait, I want to go first,” Wooyoung suddenly interrupts.  

“Wooyoung I already-” 

“Let me say it first,” Wooyoung persists, a pout forming on his face. 

San huffs, his smile growing bigger, “Fine.” 

Wooyoung takes the hand that isn't pressed unto San’s chest to take San’s hand which isn't holding his, to press the Green Mage’s hand unto his own chest. So they both can feel each other’s heart thumping loudly and fast. 

“I love you,” Wooyoung breaths out. 

San lets the words hang in the air, relishing in its sweetness as both their hearts beat in sync underneath their fingertips. 

“I love you too,” San declares, never more sure in anything else. 

It was like the words had snapped something between them because they find themselves surging forward, their lips messily meeting in between with a clash. 

San can’t help the gasp that escapes him when he finally feels the other’s lips against his, their lips soft but insistent as they move against each other. 

Wooyoung makes an equally pleased sound as he drags his fingers through San’s hair, his other hand slowly moving down to the other’s waist before he presses his fingertips roughly against San’s hips. 

San gently bites the other’s bottom lip in retaliation and Wooyoung leans back to huff in laughter. San pouts at the sudden disappearance of lips, which amuses Wooyoung further. When Wooyoung makes no movement to lean back in again San leans forward and cheekily licks the bottom lip that he just bit. 

San feels accomplished when he hears Wooyoung whimper from the action before hungrily taking his mouth again. 

As Wooyoung slowly licks into his mouth San moves his hand upward so that they’re on Wooyoung’s shoulders, his thumb running gentle circles on the Black Mage's collarbones. 

Wooyoung shivers at the gentle warmth of San’s fingers and their kiss moves from frantic, to soft and slow till they’re just chaste presses of lips. 

"Feels like I am dreaming,” Wooyoung whispers in between kisses. 

San smiles slyly into a kiss before leaning back and giving Wooyoung a raised eyebrow, “So this is what you meant when you said I am your dream.” 

Wooyoung quickly turns red, “S-shut up, t-that wasn't it,” he stutters. 

“So you have never dreamed of making out with me before?” San teases. 

Wooyoung turns even redder which he didn’t even think was possible and San relishes in the fact that this time it’s him making Wooyoung feel flustered instead of the other way around. 

Giggling San gives Wooyoung one more chaste kiss on the lips before lying back on his pillow, his energy withering away. 

“Yeah, we shouldn’t have done this while you were in the middle of recovering,” Wooyoung grumbles, lying down beside San. His head resting on the Green Mage's shoulder and his arm lazily hung over the other man’s torso. 

San has never felt more relaxed in his entire life. He knows there is unfinished business, that Wooyoung has a mission that he has abandoned and friends that are off dealing with a powerful demon. But Wooyoung and San both narrowly had just missed death, so for now they deserve to just rest for a little while. Besides, Yeosang and Hongjoong may as well have already started handling it, so San figures they have time for some sleep. 

San snuggles up against Wooyoung, “You’re so warm Wooyoung,” he mumbles sleepily.  

Wooyoung snorts and pulls San closer. 

“I can feel it you know,” San says without thinking as his eyes droop to a shut in tiredness, “your magic.” 

“My magic?” Wooyoung questions. 

San nods with his eyes closed, not realizing how true the statement is before he actually said it out loud. Every part of him that’s touching Wooyoung can feel the thrum of the Black Mage’s magic, the warmth from it sending tingles down his spine. 

“Why is that?” Wooyoung asks while yawning, tiredness catching up to him as well. 

“I guess,” San answers drowsily, “it's because my magic was part of yours for a while.” 

Wooyoung shakes his head slightly as he gently noses San’s neck, “Nah it’s because my magic loves you as well.” 

San chuckles, sleep overcoming him slowly, “Love you,” he whispers, and he doesn’t think he could ever get tired of saying those words. 

Wooyoung grins as his eyes droop to a shut, his mouth softly returning the sentiment. Now that they have said the words it’s like they can’t seem to stop saying it. They can’t seem to stop showing it off like a new tattoo enchantment, the words themselves like magic. 

It’s like the words, their love for each other, is inked unto their skin.