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It’s cold outside and, as usual, Semi is not dressed for the weather. Goosebumps prickle at his skin through the tears in his jeans and his denim vest does little to protect him against the chill in the air. He mentally pats himself on the back for at least wearing long sleeves today, flimsy as they are. He can’t believe Tendou hasn’t reamed him out for not even bothering with a coat before leaving his apartment, but he supposes his friend has bigger things on his mind. Or maybe he figures that it’s not like Semi’s in any condition to perform right now anyway, so even if he catches a cold it won’t make much of a difference. Or, maybe Satori has finally accepted that Semi will consistently choose form over function when it comes to his wardrobe so it’s not worth the fight.
Or, maybe he’s just waiting for a particularly brutal gust of wind, one that has Semi clenching his teeth and flipping up the collar of his vest in a sad attempt to guard against the cold, before commenting.
“You should’ve worn a coat,” Tendou hums, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his own jacket. He looks warm, and Semi wants to punch him. “A scarf, at the very least. You’ve got about a million of them.”
It’s times like this that the predicament Semi’s gotten himself into pisses him off the most. He wants to talk to his sister on the phone again, he wants to order his own coffee from the shop down the street from the studio, he really wants to sing--on stage, in the studio, in the shower, anywhere. But right now, more than anything, he really, really, just wants to cuss Tendou out. Flipping him off isn’t nearly as gratifying and is so much easier for the redhead to ignore. He does it anyway.
Tendou dismisses his scathing look to take him by the arm and steer him around the corner, pointing to a simple little single-story house across the street. Semi thinks if Tendou hadn’t pointed it out to him, his gaze would have slid right over it, despite it being so obviously out of place amongst the row of brownstones that lines the rest of the street. He wonders if that’s part of the magic, some sort of protection that hides it from view unless you know what you’re looking for.
“C’mon, SemiSemi, we’ve got an appointment to keep.” Tendou tugs him briskly across the street and through the neatly manicured yard. Flowers line the walk, brighter and livelier than they should be at this time of year. Baskets spilling over with flowers and greenery, birdfeeders, and windchimes hang from the front porch and there’s an oversized rocking chair near the door and a small table next to it piled up with books. Semi glances down at the well-worn welcome mat, decorated with what looks like hand-stenciled cherry blossoms, and has to readjust his expectations as to who they’re meeting with today.
The place looks soft and warm and domestic, it doesn’t align at all with what Semi had pictured. Hand painted welcome mats and the tinkling of delicate wind chimes don’t match up at all with experienced curse-breaker and one of the most powerful witches in Japan. He glances at Tendou, hoping the barrage of questions--is this the right place, is this the right person, are you sure they can help me, are you out of your fucking mind--comes through in his expression.
Tendou only laughs heartily and slaps a hand on his back, forcing the air from his lungs. “Don’t look at me like that! When have I ever steered you wrong?”
Semi glares, and Tendou has the decency to shrug sheepishly, though the expression never quite reaches his eyes. “Okay, point, but trust me on this one. If anyone--literally anyone--can help with whatever this is,” he gestures vaguely towards Semi’s face and Semi swats at his hand, “it’s Sugawara-san.”
Semi blows out a long-suffering breath. Tendou’s been his friend long enough to see the give in his expression, trapped somewhere behind his pursed lips and narrowed eyes, because he shoots Semi a crooked grin and rings the doorbell without another word. And Semi waits because, despite all signs pointing to the contrary, he does trust Tendou. Especially with this magic stuff, he’s always had a nose for it, living with one foot grounded in their reality and the other in another world or on another plane or wherever it is that things like magic and curses and witches come from. Semi thinks there’s probably magic somewhere in his bloodline, though he’s never had the occasion to ask and Tendou’s never volunteered the information.
The fact still stands, though, that if Satori had been there when Semi opened his mail that day, things would be very different. He would have sensed something wrong with the padded envelope and Semi never would have put on the necklace that made him sick and stole his voice in a disturbing mimicry of the fairy tales he used to read his sister when they were growing up.
But he wasn’t there, and Semi put on the necklace without a second thought, so now he has to trust that this Sugawara-san is everything that Tendou says he is.
He opens the door and Semi isn't sure what he'd expected but it certainly wasn't this. Ordinary isn't exactly the right word, but the man standing in the doorway doesn't necessarily conjure up images of magic and power, either. He looks like a schoolteacher, all pressed pants and soft blue cardigan and crisp button-down shirt, white and decorated in tiny yellow flowers. He smiles then, a perfect crescent moon that shines like the sun and oh, there's the magic. The sun peeks out from the clouds, as though conjured by that smile, and filters through the wind chimes tinkling behind them. They streak Sugawara's face in blue and purple and for a moment Semi would believe he's part fae, delicate and sharp and magic. His hair, fine and silvery and just brushing his shoulders, is pushed back from his face with a few haphazardly placed pins. Semi's hands twitch at his sides with the urge to adjust the pins, tuck the wayward strands back in place. He shoves his hands in his back pockets and does his best to look sullen instead.
Judging by the way Sugawara's eyes dance as he regards him, the witch doesn't buy his act.
“Semi Eita,” he says, and Semi likes the way Sugawara says his name. He says it comfortably, like they’re old friends reunited, none of the usual forced friendliness that comes from meeting fans on the street while just trying to buy his groceries in his limited free time, nor the stiff formality Semi has come to associate with business meetings. Because that’s what this is, he reminds himself as he nods dumbly and shakes the witch’s outstretched hand. He’s a client, paying Sugawara for a service, he reminds himself as the warmth of Sugawara's skin seems to sap the cold from his own nearly-numb fingers.
Sugawara smiles at him like he's genuinely glad Semi is there and for the first time Semi is glad for the curse that's stolen his voice because he's sure he'd be a babbling mess if he had the ability to speak. At least in silence he can maintain some semblance of coolness.
“You’re staring,” Tendou murmurs in his ear as he pushes past him to enter Sugawara’s house. Semi glares, wondering for what feels like the billionth time what could have possibly possessed him to befriend Tendou Satori in the first place.
Tendou chatters at Sugawara as the witch leads them towards the kitchen and Semi takes the opportunity to tune his friend out and take in their surroundings. Once again, he’s not sure what he expected the inside of a witch’s home to look like--it’s not like he actually thought there’d be a cauldron hanging over a fire or a broomstick propped up in the corner, after all. But the rooms that they pass through on their way to the kitchen are tidy, and warm, and shockingly average, with books lined neatly on the shelves and soft throw pillows on the couch. There’s an electric tea kettle on his stove, the same make that Semi’s mom uses, and small jars overflowing with greenery and more flowers and herbs line every windowsill.
There is a black cat sprawled out in the middle of the kitchen floor, basking in a square of sunlight that streams through the window, but his loud snoring and poochy belly make him seem a little less mystical than Semi would have thought.
“Have a seat,” Sugawara says, gesturing toward a small table and two chairs on one side of the kitchen. “Sorry, I’ll go grab another chair. Would you like some tea?” he asks, and it all sounds so perfectly average and domestic, like they’re just friends getting together for tea, not a cursed musician and his best friend meeting the witch they hope will have the ability and knowledge to lift said curse. It’s strange. And comforting. It’s strange how comforting it is.
“Oh, no need,” Tendou responds as Semi perches on the edge of the closest chair. He glances at his friend sharply--is he really going to leave him now?--but Tendou, once again, ignores him, shit-eating grin on full display. He produces a slim wooden box from inside his jacket and places it carefully on the table. Semi’s hands curl into fists on his knees to keep from shoving his chair back away from the table as far as it will go.
“Unless you need anything else from me, I’ve got a few things to take care of. Kozume-san called this morning, he thinks he might have tracked down where the necklace came from so I’m going to…” he makes a vague hand gesture, but Sugawara seems to get the gist because he nods gravely.
“Be safe,” he says, putting voice to the nervous prickle of Semi’s scalp and the tightness in his chest. “And, take this,” he says quickly, eyes flicking between Semi and Tendou. With deft fingers, he carefully snips sprigs from several jars on the windowsill. He binds them quickly with a ribbon produced from the pocket of his sweater and passes it to Tendou. “Just as an added precaution,” he murmurs with a soft glance in Semi’s direction.
He hopes Sugawara can read the thanks in his expression. He’s not sure what a bundle of herbs can do in the way of protection, but he feels a little better allowing Tendou to leave knowing some of Sugawara’s handiwork is in his pocket--enough that his annoyance spikes only slightly when Tendou shoots them finger guns and says something about leaving Semi in Sugawara’s capable hands.
Semi’s cheeks warm and he buries his face in his hands as Sugawara’s delighted laughter rings out, bright and sparkling and musical, like the wind chimes outside.
“Tea?” Sugawara asks again and, less than an hour ago, Semi would have declined, anxious to get on with their appointment and whatever the results of it might be. But he’s comfortable here, in this small, bright kitchen, so he nods an assent and when Sugawara smiles wide, like Semi’s given him a gift, he’s glad he did.
When Sugawara seats himself across from Semi and slides a mug over to him, he rolls his eyes at the cat who has, at some point in the process, waddled from his spot in the middle of the kitchen floor to claim Semi’s lap for his own. “Don’t feel bad about shoving him down,” he says, tapping the cat on the nose with one finger. “Mochi doesn’t always understand how heavy he is, he’ll put your legs to sleep if you’re not careful.”
Mochi gives Sugawara a baleful look before shifting in Semi’s lap so that his back is to Sugawara and his forehead is pressed against Semi’s stomach. Semi lays a hand on Mochi’s back, partially for the simple comfort of carding his fingers through soft, thick fur and partially because, if he’s honest, he’s a little afraid the huge cat is going to slide right off his lap.
“Traitor,” Sugawara mutters, his mouth twisting into something between a pout and a smile and Semi has to duck his head to take a sip of his tea before the expression on his own face gives away everything he’s unable to say.
The tea is perfect, exactly the way Semi would make it if he were at home, and he realizes that even though Sugawara never asked him his preferences for milk or sugar, it’s the exact right shade of brown and just sweet enough. He wonders if that’s part of Sugawara’s magic, too, or if their drink preferences just happen to coincide exactly. He’s not sure which option would be better.
“Interesting,” Sugawara hums, and Semi realizes that, while he’s been lost in thoughts of magic and tea and the color of Sugawara’s eyes, Sugawara has opened the small box sitting on the table. His slender hands hover over the necklace laid carefully within, almost as though he’s afraid to touch it, but his eyes are bright with excitement and interest, not a trace of fear. Semi recoils just a little, the memory of the weight of that necklace around his throat too fresh for comfort. “Don’t worry, Semi-san,” he speaks quietly, like Semi is a frightened animal he’s trying to coax into the open. “Your friends have done a good job rendering the necklace useless. There are still traces of the curse, enough for me to,” he waves a hand vaguely, “but you’re not in any danger here.”
Semi frowns at the necklace, but there’s a conviction in Sugawara’s voice and an earnestness in his face that draws a little of the tension out of his shoulders and he nods at the witch.
“May I?” Sugawara asks, closing the box with a soft click and bringing a hand towards Semi. He thinks for a moment the other man is going to cup his cheek, but he stops just short of making contact. He smells like oranges and honey and Semi’s hit with the mortifying urge to lean in and close the gap. His embarrassment must flash across his face like anger--a symptom of the resting bitch face Tendou is always telling him to work on because, “it’s not good for your image, SemiSemi, you’re so unapproachable,”--and he draws back just a little. It’s the first hint of uncertainty Semi’s seen from Sugawara. He’s sorry immediately.
“Sorry,” Sugawara laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just need to know what happened when you put the necklace on. Tendou-san sent me the written report, but it makes things easier if I can just...see for myself. If I can read you, I guess you’d say.”
Semi’s eyebrows shoot up at that, guilt melting into alarm. The idea of Sugawara dipping those clever fingers into his mind, his memories, his thoughts...it makes his stomach twist. It’s not like he’s afraid of being vulnerable, despite what his sister and his friends seem to think, but he’s not exactly an open book either, and this...this is on a whole other level. It’s a request he wouldn’t have been able to prepare himself for even if Tendou had told him to expect it.
“Don’t worry,” Sugawara says, and if Semi could, he’d bark out a laugh. “I’ve learned not to pry. I only go where I’m wanted. All you need to do is remember and I’ll take care of the rest.” He leans forward and smiles, open and honest. “I’m here to help. You can trust me.”
Semi blows out a heavy breath and shifts in his seat. Mochi makes an irritated noise at the disturbance and he and Sugawara exchange an amused glance. The tightness in his chest eases a little and he nods. Sugawara’s smile is blinding.
“I should say,” Sugawara says, stopping again just a breath away from touching Semi’s face. “Touch helps keep me focused, it makes things clearer and easier for both of us. But sometimes,” he bites his lip, considering, and watches as the crease between Semi’s eyebrows deepens.. “Sometimes I pick up on things...on thoughts, feelings, things like that...if they’re particularly strong.”
Heat floods Semi’s cheeks and, if he could, he’d either melt into the floor or get up and walk out and stay voiceless forever. But Sugawara’s eyes sparkle with magic and mirth and his quiet chuckle is amused, but not unkind, and Semi has an entirely new reason to want his voice back as he staunchly refuses to ask someone out on a date via text, so he settles for scrubbing a hand over his face in a failing attempt to wipe away the flush before making a ‘get on with it’ gesture at the witch.
“You can call me Suga, by the way,” he says with a soft smirk, and Semi’s heart thumps heavily in his chest as he presses a hand, soft and warm and crackling with magic and power, to Semi’s burning cheek.