Chapter Text
~*~
In one of the busiest commercial districts, tucked just off the main road, there was a storefront painted with green vines and curving, gold lettering. It was currently dark and empty in the pinkish hues of dawn, but, given the time, this would normally not be such an oddity, however Willow had never been a 'normal' shop.
The owners were two particularly handsome men, both in their 20s, with a pleasantness about them that drew even the most skeptical customers back for more of their green remedies and homemade products. If it wasn't for the owners, then the other staff members, also handsome men in their 20's, would surely draw one in.
And though the shop, while keeping what might be considered 'normal' business hours, would lock its doors after night had fallen, the lights of Willow would continue to remain lit long after as employees and owners came and went during odd hours of the evening. Regulars, however, would argue that this was simply 'normal' as the men lived in the apartment above the shop.
But on this night, something abnormal had befallen the employees of Willow and though the shop was plunged into darkness, if one were to peer through its windows, they might notice the dim, flickering light cast just behind the counter.
For though Willow was dark, it was far from empty...
~*~
The flames of four white candles danced in the waning hours of what constitutes as neither night nor day, wax trailing in lazy ribbons to the floor in swirling puddles growing ever wilder with every drop.
Arranged in the shape of a diamond, the candles stood as guard beside the untouched shots of soju. A fifth glass sounded smartly from where its owner haphazardly placed it, hands reaching for the nearly empty bottle sitting beside a still unlit candle, the dark indigo nearly invisible in the shadows. It was the only sound in an otherwise lively shop, a grim reminder of what once was familiar.
Taehyung had never enjoyed drinking - had never had the tolerance and had never enjoyed the way his stomach would churn from just a glass or two - but tonight, tonight Taehyung swallowed his sorrow as though it had been poured into his glass instead.
He raised his shot to the candles, tapping the bottom of the glass to the floor before taking it in one practiced gulp. As he hissed from the burn, he had to fight the overwhelming urge to observe the way the names carved into the sides were half burned through, barely visible now with the dripping wax:
Park Seojoon. Park Hyungsik. Choi Wooshik. Kwon Seonghwan.
In the same cabinet where he'd unwillingly collected these, there was a matching white candle with his name on it, now lonely where it remained untouched as its brothers departed. The reminder of what it meant made it feel like his throat was constricting, as though the guilt and grief that swirled alongside the liquor in his stomach now grew clawed hands that climbed ever higher and threatened to suffocate him under their weight.
Taehyung took a deep breath, allowed himself to feel the way that the air filled his lungs, stretching the muscles of his ribcage, counted every second of it along with the way his cells hummed with the feeling of being alive. Exhale. The lump in his throat remained.
He’d have to decide whether he was going to open the shop or not today, if he was going to be sober enough, if he was going to be able to pretend that the weight of the magic he’d help to cast throughout his territory within the city wasn’t suddenly twice as heavy as it had been the day before.
The ache in Taehyung’s heart grew heavier, drowning out even the lingering burn from the final shot.
“Tae,” A soft voice called out from the darkness, so soft that Taehyung almost thought he’d imagined it. Had summoned a visitor simply from the loneliness in his heart. A hand rested on his shoulder and he opened his eyes to stare blearily at the face of his best friend.
“It’s time.” Jimin’s smile was sad, so sad that it made Taehyung’s heart hurt even more. Jimin should never be sad.
He looked down at the object pressed to his hand and felt a burning sensation return to his eyes, head now aching even as he held the match box delicately as though it would shatter within his grasp.
Jimin stood solemnly beside him but upon Taehyung’s reluctance to move, he urged him on more strongly. “Quickly, before the light goes out.”
And so Taehyung - filled with guilt and sorrow - did as he was told and struck the match and lit the wick of his untouched candle. A hush fell over the shop, the kind of hush that only comes from magic.
The white candles began to burn with an unnatural heat, wax pooling in swift rivers, Taehyung’s own candle seemingly unaffected by the heat of the fire. In fact, Taehyung knew if he were to touch the wick now, it would be as cold as ice. He’d been a curious child - nosy about all things magical – and, according to his parents, stuck his hands wherever he could reach just because he wanted to know. He didn’t want to know, now.
As the shop remained cloaked in an unnatural silence, a choked sob escaping Taehyung’s throat when it became clear that what was supposed to happen, what should have happened with this kind of ritual, was not going to. The souls of his friends, the last remnants of themselves and their time in this world, should have appeared to say their final farewells.
As the rivers of wax slowed, the flames dying in sync with the blue candle, the window of communication was snuffed out and there was no chance of ascension for the dearly departed.
Their souls, as he had known from the moment he felt Seojoon’s wards shatter, were somewhere he could not reach.
“The hunt has ended.” Jimin’s voice, as empty as Taehyung’s heart, broke through the moment. “A new hunt begins. May the winds be favorable.”
“May the winds be favorable.” Taehyung echoed hollowly.
The magic of the shop shivered, dispersed, and the sounds of the city awakening filled its walls once again.
~*~
If ever asked, Jeongguk might say his favorite time of day was this:
The thin sliver of time just before dawn when the sky illuminates with shades of purple and the city is caught in a certain stillness between night and day. A brief window where most remain fast asleep in their beds and a select chosen few were bearing witness to the birth of a new dawn. A time where it feels like anything might happen.
Jeongguk might also say his favorite time of day was any time he wasn't working. Who knows, no one's asked him.
The intersection where he waited was nearly abandoned, a lone taxi passing by with the driver staring questioningly at where he stood by the light. Once the driver realized he wasn't a potential customer, the rev of his engine grew louder and he peeled down the main street that would take him towards the pricier districts where the rich might need to hail a last minute cab to the airport.
The morning air was unexpectedly cold, Jeongguk shivering as a chill traced its way down his spine and he uncrossed his arms to zip up his off brand athletics jacket. Dressed in a simple pair of gray sweats and only a tshirt under the thin layer, he was poorly prepared for the sudden reminder that though autumn had only just begun, soon winter would be here and he'd need to find himself a winter jacket. He'd also need to find the money to afford that jacket.
The messenger bag over his shoulder felt twice as heavy, strap rubbing uncomfortably against his neck as the weight of the flyers inside grew almost as heavy as the weight of upcoming bills were on his mind.
The intersection remained empty, the traffic far and few between even on a road that would normally be a cacophony of horns and chatter as one of the cities busiest streets. Despite the stillness, an eeriness of a place usually full of life now quiet, Jeongguk made no move to cross the street, the red hand glaring at him from forty feet away. It was a glaring reminder to remain still regardless of the way his instincts cried out to move.
He'd been impatient once, years before when he'd first dropped out of university and had started any and every odd end job he could to get by. The scent of burning rubber, the screech of tires, and the unforgiving bite of metal still haunted him. He'd learned his lesson that sometimes it was just better to wait. The scars on his body were a visual reminder of that when his brain grew determined to forget.
When the hand disappeared and a walking man in green displayed in animated form, Jeongguk moved as though he'd never stopped walking in the first place, speeding up as he made it through the intersection, handful of flyers that he reorganized with deft, practiced hands. This week it was for a new beauty shop, expensive facemasks on discounted prices when bundled with their latest collection, an actress Jeongguk faintly recognized holding one of the toners. The products were always overpriced, most facial products were, but he still had already pocketed a flyer to give to his sister the next time he saw her.
There was only one shop that requested runners to distribute this week - it meant less many but it also meant he could get through his runs much quicker and nap before his next shift. It was Tuesday and while he normally only worked at the PC Café by his apartment at night, he'd promised a coworker he'd take on a double shift so they could take their kid to the doctor. Of course, immediately afterwards Yugyeom had asked to grab drinks after his usual shift was up, so Jeongguk was desperate to take any opportunity to sleep that he could. The faster that he moved now and the more mailboxes he filled with flyers, the more he would get paid in cash when he turned over to the next distributer.
It wasn't ever a competition, honestly the ones who took on jobs like this were all in need of the extra money, and though it wasn't anything personal, Jeongguk still broke out into a light jog as he reached the other side of the cross walk. Rent was due soon and he was short. Again.
"You can always reach out if you need help." His mother had whispered to him the last time he'd visited home, just low enough that his father wouldn't hear. "Please?"
"I'm fine." He'd told her stubbornly, eyes nervously flickering over to where his father had narrowed his eyes at where they were huddled. "Honestly, I'm doing great."
"Well then you won't need any help now, will you?" His father's deep voice had interrupted them. Remembering the smugness on the man's face, the condescending way he saw Jeongguk out the door as his mother could only watch, the way he hadn't even had the chance to wish his sister a happy birthday in the end after all, just made Jeongguk move even faster.
He'd been lying, of course, they all knew that, but in the wake of his father's brand clothing and drowning under the sound of his designer shoes clicking against the spotless floors, he'd felt that same combination of pride and stubbornness that he'd inherited from the one person he'd always wished wasn't a part of his makeup well up. Jeongguk wasn't thought of as a son, anymore, but he would always be his father's child. He hated it.
The next day, he’d woken up to a small transfer to his bank account with a brief note that it was for a new winter jacket. He sent his mother a text thanking her, promising her that he would, and then used the money to pay off his electric bill for the month.
Now, even as his began to sweat as he turned off the main road to the back-alley side streets, the chill from the morning clung stubbornly to his skin. Maybe he’d go to a spa so fight off the coldness, his hot water had stopped working when the water heater had begun to fail. His landlord had promised to find a replacement for it but that had been months ago and Jeongguk couldn’t even count on getting a response from his landlord even if he told him the unit was on fire. At least at the spa he could use the hot showers and change out of his clothes for a bit, he’d see if he had enough to spare once he got paid.
It was as he paused to tie his shoelace, panting and swallowing around the dryness in his mouth, that he noticed a shop tucked away, blending almost seamlessly between the eclectic bookstore and boutique that it lay nestled between. Jeongguk frowned, looking at the shopfront and wondering why he'd never noticed the place before.
'Willow' the sign read, written in swirling English letters, and it was clear that it was rather trendy with the way the owners had decorated the white storefront with what looked like hand painted vines. A 'Help Wanted' sign was taped to the door and Jeongguk couldn't fight the urge to take a look.
"Shop assistant wanted. Must be 18+. Serious inquiries only."
At the bottom, there was a number and an email listed on pull away tabs, a few having already been taken from the sheet. Jeongguk bit his lip, from what he could faintly make out, he was sure the shop was expensive - it had to be to be able to afford rent in this area - but that didn't always translate to reasonable wages. He was already juggling three jobs, but a fourth, especially one with stable hours like the PC Café, could be really nice.
He reached out hesitantly but as he barely graced the paper, he saw a light turn on above the staircase at the back of the shop and his hand flinched away. Jeongguk shook his head, he really didn't have time for this - time for a fourth job or pausing in the middle of his current job. He sloppily shoved the flyer in the door handle and then took off, hoping to make up for lost ground by turning his lazy jog into a not so lazy one.
The shop quickly faded from his mind, even as its owner peered curiously out the window with sharp eyes to watch him as he left.
~*~