Chapter Text
If you asked, most supernaturals would tell you they were thankful for magic.
It was an amazing thing, an energy like no other that manifested in a vast variety of ways, allowing a crazy amount of abilities.
Magic also brought a multitude of intentions. To heal, to help, to create…
To hurt.
People were petty. They held grudges.
But while some griped about their grievances and went on with their days, others took things to extremes.
Taehyung had been warned about malevolent magic as a child, about jinxes and hexes and curses and what they entailed. But he’d also been assured, with gentle hands brushing through his hair as he stared up at his father with concern, that most supernatural wouldn’t go through the hassle of using negative magic.
Taehyung, staring into the sink, still groggy from being woken up and his throat burning, was doubting his words now.
“Hyung!” he called, wincing at not only how hoarse his voice sounded, but how nervous he sounded.
A door creaked down the hallway, soft footsteps patting on the hardwood. “What’s wrong, Taehyungie—”
Yoongi, already naturally pale, seemed to go a shade whiter in the face when he stepped into the bathroom doorway. “Oh shit.”
“Seokjin!”
✶
Taehyung had been forced to sit down on the couch as soon as Yoongi noticed how unsteady he was on his feet, and now Seokjin stood before the two of them, holding the cause of their concern in a little plastic baggie.
“These petals came out of your mouth?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a hundred percent sure?”
“Uh, based on the fact that I felt it and saw it with my own eyes? Yeah, Hyung.”
“Sass is not necessary,” Seokjin sniffed, but Taehyung could tell he wasn’t as annoyed as he made himself out to be. He would have gotten a swift flick to the forehead if he was. “Does your chest feel tight?”
He nodded.
“Do you feel shaky? Maybe nauseas?”
Again, he nodded.
“Do you know what it is, Hyung?” Yoongi asked quietly, his thumb rubbing circles into Taehyung’s shoulder. “The only think I could think of was—”
“Hanahaki,” The elder witch finished the sentence with a sigh. “What else could it be?”
Taehyung looked between them in confusion. “Hanahaki? Like Hanahaki Disease? I thought that was just a silly book trope.”
“Well, the trope was based on a folk tale, and lots of folk tales are based on real life, in some shape or form,” Seokjin reasoned. “Real Hanahaki Disease is the result of a curse, not something that starts on its own.”
Taehyung furrowed his brows. “But why would anyone curse me? I haven’t made anyone— Oh.”
Yoongi’s ministrations paused. “‘Oh’? ‘Oh,’ what, Taehyungie?”
“Oh, I may have confronted a girl at Jungkookie’s school because he told me she wouldn’t leave him alone,” he admitted meekly. He drew his shoulders up at the groan his cousin made. “She wants to take him on a date and won’t take no for an answer! He’s told her multiple times he’s not interested.”
“You two should have taken it to the school,” Seokjin chastised him.
Taehyung held his hands in front of him, palms out. “Hey, Kookie doesn’t even know I did it. I didn’t even know I was going to do it until I saw her! And it’s not like I can go in and speak for him. I’m not his guardian, and Jungkook refuses to tell his brother.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a petty teenager who thinks you’re jealous… or who read you like a book,” Yoongi teased.
Taehyung’s faced flamed as he whipped his head to look at him. “What do you mean by that? I don’t have a crush on Jungkook,” he hissed, ignoring how it sent an ache down his throat.
He didn’t. Sure, Jungkook had the cutest smile and laugh, and was one of the only people who didn’t bombard Taehyung with questions about what he planned to do in the future, and would rather play games with him or talk about the random topics that popped into his head, like which characters they thought would win in a fight or what fruit had the worst name (it was kumquat, they’d agreed). But so what? He could be disrespectful and unbelievably oblivious. And annoying, too, with that stupidly arrogant grin on his face that made Taehyung want to squish his cheeks even while he scolded him.
He didn’t have a crush. Not at all.
Yoongi didn’t look convinced by any means, a smirk firmly set on his lips. “The Hanahaki wouldn’t have taken hold if you didn’t, Tae-yah.”
“That’s got to be a lie—”
“Leave him alone, Yoongi-yah. That’s his business,” Seokjin snorted, waving a hand between their faces. He dropped the purple-filled baggie on the coffee table and smiled reassuringly at Taehyung. “Don’t worry, okay? Working recipes for cures to Hanahaki have been around for the last two decades, so we won’t need to shove you two in a room together against your will. I’ll call a few friends and see if anyone happens to already have an antidote made.”
Taehyung sent Yoongi one last pouty glare before he smiled at the older witch gratefully. “Thanks, Hyung.”
“Of course,” he cooed. He stepped towards the hallway, gesturing them to follow his a nod of his head. “C’mon, let’s fix up your bed.”
‘Fixing up his bed’ apparently meant stacking a whole bunch of pillows at the head of it and Seokjin giving him strict instructions to only lay on his side. Taehyung followed the advice with a small pout, squirming to find the most comfortable position with his shoulders lifted so high.
Seokjin made a sympathetic noise as he pulled the nightstand closer, Yoongi hovering to make sure the lamp cord didn’t get caught. “Yeah, I know. But it’s better than sitting up, right? Maybe this way, you can still get a nap in.”
“Better than having to stay awake while you cough up a lung,” Yoongi scoffed.
Taehyung’s lips twisted at his careless words, but he mumbled a reluctant agreement. He had a feeling he was going to be exhausted by the end of the day.
Seokjin ruffled his hair and ushered Yoongi out of the room. “We’ll be back later, okay? If you can’t breathe, knock over the lamp.”
What kind of signal is that?, he thought wryly, watching them scuttle out, leaving the door cracked. They could at least give me something glass.
He just barley caught Yoongi complaining in a hush down the hall. “He’s my cousin, I’m allowed to tease him.”
Seokjin sounded amused. “I know, but I don’t think he enjoys you teasing when Hanahaki is kinda putting his business out there for everyone to see. I’m sure you wouldn’t enjoy him being nosy about that human you’re seeing, right?”
Something clattered, and Seokjin laughed.
“That’s what I thought. Be nice and make your cousin some tea for his poor throat.”
Taehyung blinked at the wall. Slowly, he reached for his phone, then shot for Instagram, determined to hunt through his cousin’s following list.
✶
“No dice,” Seokjin groaned as he came back in the room, dropping his phone to the counter. “No one has one.”
Yoongi frowned, sticking a bowl of ramen into the microwave. It was the only thing they had on hand that he could think of that would maybe not agitate Taehyung’s throat while still filling his growling stomach. “Not one? Don’t a few of them own shops?”
“Yeah, but apparently the antidote falls under the category of things that have to be commissioned. Hanahaki isn’t common enough of a curse for them to keep it on hand,” Seokjin grumbled. He scratched the last name listed in his notebook off and turned the page, starting to scribble again.
Yoongi tapped his nails nervously on the counter. He was in no way as well versed in negative magic, but even with what little knowledge he did have, he knew Hanahaki was dangerous if left untreated for too long. Those petals were coming from genuine flowers growing in and around his little cousin’s lungs, and their roots were going to eventually start constricting, all while they created flower after flower. People were on the record having died by internal bleeding, or asphyxiating on whole flower heads. He wasn’t exactly keen on either of those ends for Taehyung.
“And I’m guessing we can’t commission it, or else you would’ve already done so,” he guessed, sardonic.
“The two that do emergency commission already have assignment they’re working on, and the only other one who could do it on short notice is — just our luck — away from her workshop.” He shook his head. “I’ll have to make it myself.”
“Make what?”
They both jumped, turning to face the kitchen doorway. Jungkook stood there, staring at them with big, curious eyes.
“How did you get in?” Seokjin blurted dumbly, his voice pitched higher with nerves.
Jungkook blinked. “I know the code?”
Seokjin cleared his throat. “Right.”
The youngest strolled further in, sniffing a little. He glanced hopefully at the microwave. “Ramen?”
“It’s for Taehyung,” Yoongi said, words blunt while his brain ran a mile a minute. He liked teasing Taehyung, but that didn’t meant he wanted to throw his cousin to the wolves. His affairs were allowed to stay private. But it was hard to hide certain affairs when the evidence spilled out of your mouth, literally, and the person Taehyung probably didn’t want to know most had just let himself in. Wonderful.
Jungkook pouted at him, but it slipped into an easy smile. “He’ll share with me,” he stated confidently.
Because you’re his favorite, Yoongi wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut.
No longer distracted, Jungkook turned back to Seokjin. “So what are you making?” he asked again.
“A potion for Taehyung,” the witched answered vaguely.
“Couldn’t hyung make it himself?” Jungkook asked, confused.
“It’s probably a little above Taehyung’s current skill level. And he’s not feeling too well at the moment.”
“What?” That really got Jungkook’s attention. He glanced out of the kitchen towards the hallway before turning back to them. “What’s wrong?”
Yoongi shifted uncomfortably when his eyes settled on him. Curse the kid for having puppy eyes. How was he supposed to ignore that? “…Taehyungie’s got his first curse, unfortunately,” he admitted.
The way Jungkook’s face immediately fell pulled at his heartstrings. “A curse? Is he okay?” he whispered, genuine fear in his tone. He looked ready to bolt for Taehyung’s room.
“He’s going to be fine,” Seokjin hurried to reassure him. “The antidote will take some hours, but it’ll fix it him up, right as rain. Actually, you could help us out.”
He stepped around the youngest to the microwave, stopping the obnoxious beeping just as it started, then turned back to him. “Me and Yoongi need to go run and buy some ingredients for the antidote. You can keep an eye of Taehyung for us.”
Jungkook perked up. “What do I look out for?”
“It’s, uh… hard to explain specifics. But he’ll let you know if you need to call us. And you could smudge the apartment? Taehyung can walk you through that.”
Jungkook nodded along, giving one final one. “Okay, I can do that. I think. Let me go use the bathroom, and then you can go!” He darted off, nearly running into the doorframe on his way out.
Yoongi watched him go. He took a slow breath before turning to Seokjin. “Neither of us can stay?”
“It’s a whole laundry list of ingredients and other shit I’ll need,” the elder sighed, rubbing his temples. He already looked tired. Yoongi couldn’t blame him. “Splitting up will make it faster. I’ll give you the easy stuff, don’t worry.” He threw his head towards the microwave. “Take that to Tae. I have a cauldron to prep.”
✶
Taehyung didn’t expect to have to deal with Jungkook today.
Well, he really didn’t expect to be dealing with Hanahaki Disease, either, but here he was.
He watched Jungkook happily chew his own share of the noodles out of the corner of his eye. It was uncomfortable, knowing the tickling in his throat was related to this poor kid who had no clue he was even involved. Not that he was. Taehyung didn’t have a crush, not at all. But still.
If Jungkook suspected anything about the situation, he wasn’t letting on, and somehow that made Taehyung’s unease worse.
He held in yet another cough like he had been ever since he realized Jungkook was in the apartment, face twisting at the lick of pain that flared. It was getting worse, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the discomfort building the more irritated his esophagus became, or if his condition was worsening. Regardless of which it was, it was already running his patience thin.
Jungkook looked away from the video playing on his phone that he’d propped up, tilting his head. “You can cough if you need to, Taehyungie,” he told him innocently. He was trying to be encouraging, but it made Taehyung wish he could hide under the blankets and not come out. Or just, you know. Not be cursed.
“I’d rather not have petals in my ramen,” he scoffed mindlessly.
He tensed up, realizing what he’d babbled like an idiot, when Jungkook mumbled under his breath, “Petals?”
Good job, Taehyung.
His eyes started flying around, searching for something else to turn their conversation to before Jungkook started asking questions. His gaze landed on the noodles, and it was lame, but it was something.
“You prefer spicy ramen, right?” Smooth.
Jungkook slurped the noodle that was half hanging out of his mouth, and it should have been disgusting, but it was cute, the way the end of it flicked up and almost tapped him on the nose like something out of a cartoon. “I do! My dad used to share spicy seafood ramen with me when I was a kid, so I think that influenced my tastebuds a little. But the plain is good, too,” he added with a brief look down to his bowl.
Taehyung hummed. “I could never do the spicy ones,” he sighed woefully. It was a struggle when it was planned for everyone to share, only for everyone else to choose the spicy variety. “Is seafood your favorite flavor, then?”
The younger shook his head with a cheeky smile. He raised the bowl. “No, it’s beef. We match!”
He chuckled softly at his enthusiasm. “You only like that so you can mooch off my ramen,” he teased.
Jungkook didn’t even deny it, his grin growing wider even as he said solemnly, “Elders should feed their dongsaengs.”
Taehyung laughed at the blatant arrogance. “And dongsaengs should clean up after their elders when asked,” he sweetly replied with a smug smirk, setting his empty ramen cup on the nightstand, letting his chopsticks clack for dramatic affect.
Jungkook blinked, surprised, then broke into giggles. “Okay,” he conceded, jumping up and stacking his own bowl on top. His eyes flickered over to Taehyung’s empty glass. “Do you want more hot tea?”
He melted at the offer. “Please.”
The younger adjusted to hold the chopsticks with the same hand that held the bowls and picked up the glass, trotting out with a chirp of ‘Be right back!’
Taehyung stared at the empty doorway, dragging in inhale after inhale. But not a single one felt like it was filling his lungs.
It wasn’t a crush. He loved Jungkook, but not like that. That would be ridiculous.
Right?
✶
Jungkook was suddenly very aware that he was out of his element.
“Huh?”
“The juniper stick,” Taehyung repeated.
“What the heck does juniper look like?” The bundles all looked the exact same. Well, not exact. But they were all just leaves and sticks. How was he supposed to know the difference just by a name? Sniff them?
Taehyung snorted. “Bring them here.”
Jungkook wilted a little. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, holding out the case. “I’m clueless.”
The witch didn’t have any trouble picking out which one Seokjin had left the note for him to use, picking up the bundle from the far left of the case. The leaves — needles — kind of looked like weird worms. “It’s fine, Kookie.”
His voice was starting to sound hoarse, and it was worrying Jungkook. The hyungs had warned him that he’d be coughing a lot, but he sounded like he’d been hacking for a day, not a few hours.
He’d have to add honey to his next cup of tea. Maybe that’d help.
Jungkook set down the case and picked up the lighter he’d hunted for. “So I just… burn it? And carry it around the apartment?”
“Not quite,” Taehyung huffed, amused. He mimed lighting the stick with his hands. “You set it on fire and let it burn for a few seconds, but then you blow it out. You don’t need the fire to smudge, just the smoke.”
He nodded slowly. He didn’t get why they didn’t just burn the whole thing, but sure. “Okay.” He flicked the lighter, prepared to start, but startled at the hand that closed around his wrist.
“The smoke detector, Jungkook,” Taehyung said, raising a brow.
Jungkook flushed under his stare. Taehyung’s gaze could be intense, even if he didn’t mean for it to be, and it made him want to squirm. He liked it better when he was smiling at him. It softened his eyes more. “Sorry,” he mumbled, slinking away to open the window. “I forgot.”
With the window cracked open, letting the sound of the city creep in, he turned back and looked at him, inquiring. “…Now?”
“Now,” Taehyung agreed, sinking back into the pillows.
Jungkook flicked the lighter until it created a flame, and tentatively touched it to the juniper bundle. It slowly caught, creeping down along the needles. He let the lighter’s trigger go and stared at the juniper, counting seconds until it felt like it’d been long enough (seven was enough, right?) and gently blew it out.
Smoke immediately started to waft off it, rising in long strands. He watched his curiously for a heartbeat before looking back at Taehyung, who was starting to look sleepy, eyelids droopy. His chest jumped with a stifled cough.
Jungkook kind of wanted to go over and tuck him in, but he didn’t think the witch would appreciate a face full of smoke.
“Do I need to be saying something?” he asked as he wandering aimlessly around the room.
“Hm? No, not really,” Taehyung mumbled.
Jungkook’s lip twitched upward. He quietly stepped out the room, leaving Taehyung to hopefully get at least a small nap. He didn’t have much of a clue on how to smudge properly, or if there even was a right way, so he just walked up and down the hallway and circles around the living area and kitchen, over and over until he was questioning how long he was supposed to be doing this.
He probably should have asked.
He crept back into the bedroom, stealing his phone off the desk and hurrying back into the living area. Still holding the smoking smudge stick, he awkwardly opened and scrolled through his phone to Seokjin’s contact.
He picked up after only two rings. “What’s wrong?”
“How do I know when to stop smudging?”
“Huh?
“The smudging. I’ve been around the whole apartment. When do I stop?”
“Oh. You can probably stop now, then.”
Jungkook nodded. Stared at the floor. “Uh. How do I stop?”
Seokjin laughed. “Sorry. There’s a container of sand in the case, extinguish it in that.”
“Right,” he mumbled. He’d been wondering what that was for.
“How’s Taehyung?”
“He’s fine. He’s—” A series of loud, painful sounding hacks made him stop short. “Awake, I guess. Bye, Hyung.”
“Jeon Jungk—”
“Are you okay?” Jungkook called, pushing his phone into his pocket. He peered into the doorway to find Taehyung sitting up in his bed, shoulders shaking with every heaving cough and his face contorted with discomfort.
Jungkook trotted to the case, hastily throwing open the container of sand and dropping the stick into it. He picked up the glass of tea. It’d gone lukewarm, but it’d have to do for the moment. “Tae?”
Taehyung let out a few weaker coughs before he gasped for breath, whatever attack that had hit him subsiding. Jungkook reached out to lay a comforting hand on his knee, but he froze, staring at the hand Taehyung had pulled away from his mouth.
Blood. And red smeared petals. Blood blood blood—
Taehyung blinked the mess hazily. “Well, that’s new,” he croaked.
✶
“Congrats, you’ve graduated to blood.”
“Hooray,” Taehyung drawled, unimpressed. He couldn’t tell if Seokjin as genuinely bored of the situation, or if he was masking his concern with bland humor.
“We’ll be back soon, Taehyung.” Yoongi, at least, sounded more worried. “You can take a painkiller if you want one, okay?”
“Absolutely not,” Seokjin immediately protested. “You want to give him an antidote on top of pain medicine? Who knows what that could do.”
“Do you want him to sit around in pain, then?” Yoongi argued.
“It’s what he’s been doing all day, hasn’t it?”
“I’m going to go now,” Taehyung rose his voice, but he didn’t know if they even heard him. He hung up anyways, sagging back against the wall with a groan.
He was aching. His esophagus was pissed about all the coughing, to the point that even just swallowing was starting to make him wince. His lungs were still refusing to expand any further. And considering the blood… well. It was safe to say the flowers were probably starting to constrict.
How fun.
The door creaked. “Hyung?”
He glanced up at Jungkook. He had new glass in his hand to replace the one he’d dropped. He looked significantly less faint than he had before, but he didn’t look any more steady. Taehyung bleeding had sent him for more of a loop than he would have guessed.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly. It sounded slightly gruff, but at least the sentiment was still there.
Jungkook frowned. “I should be asking you that, Hyung.” He padded closer, eyeing him like he was afraid he’d suddenly collapse to the mattress. “Do you want some pain meds?”
“Seokjin-hyung said no,” he huffed.
The younger’s shoulders slumped, affronted on his behalf. “You’ve just gotta suffer through it?”
Taehyung smiled at how his concern mirrored Yoongi’s. “Mixing medicine with potions can be kind of risky. Doesn’t always go well,” he explained, flicking him under the chin. “I’ll be fine.”
Jungkook seemed disgruntled on his behalf, brows furrowed, but he didn’t say anything, offering the cup silently. Taehyung took it and sipped, relieved at the warmth soothing the worst of the irritation. It was only a momentary relief, but he’d take it.
He watched Jungkook backtrack to the case, poking the juniper bundle to make sure it wasn’t still smoldering. He hadn’t said anything about the petals yet. Taehyung knew he’d seen them. He’d wet a washcloth and wiped Taehyung’s hands with his own shaking ones, collecting the purple and white petals without a word relating to them.
He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Hanahaki wasn’t some hushed rumor only those deeply involved in the magic community knew about. It was used as a trope in romance movies and books, especially just a few years ago when there’d been a wave of them. But Jungkook wasn’t a big fan of reading or movies — at least, not the kind that followed the cliché tropes surrounding unrequited crushes. Did he recognize what was going on? Was he keeping his mouth shut to avoid upsetting Taehyung? Did he know?
He couldn’t tell.
It was driving him crazy like an itch.
Taehyung internally whined in frustration at the tickle he could feel rising. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop it, though; the force of the sudden hacking burned his throat, immediately ripping away any of the lingering relief the tea had brought.
The cup was gently pried from his fingers, and a hand smoothed over his back in an attempt to comfort him. It was difficult to focus on, but he tried, trying to set his mind of the back and forth passes, how nice it felt compared to how awful the rest him felt.
Blood unsurprisingly met him when he could finally suck in a gulp of air. It dripped from his palm down his wrist, bright red and mocking. The petals, these ones rounded and white — or pink, now — fell into his lap.
Jungkook sighed, stepping away.
Taehyung sniffled wetly. He couldn’t help it. The inevitable appearance of blood and Jungkook’s sudden disquiet weren’t doing anything to settle his anxiety. He was scared. It felt a ridiculous to be, knowing Seokjin and Yoongi would be back to make the antidote that would end the whole mess soon. But he had a curse that could literally kill him all because he’d stood up for a Jungkook like a good hyung should, and now Jungkook was being quiet and calling him ‘hyung’ even though Taehyung always told him he didn’t have to, and he couldn’t read him, couldn’t tell if he knew the truth that Taehyung had only just realized himself, or if he was judging him for it.
The gasps caused by the surge of tears was going to do nothing for his throat, but he was overwhelmed and embarrassed. Might as well just add another problem to the list.
“Hyung?” Jungkook whispered.
“Don’t call me that,” Taehyung hissed. He immediately felt bad when Jungkook jerked the hand that was reaching out to him away, shocked by his tone. Irritated with himself and the circumstances and that girl (because really, how bitter did you have to be to curse someone on a weekend?!), he wiped roughly at his eyes.
Jungkook’s fingers pulled at his wrists. “Don’t do that,” he fretted, tugging them away from his face. “It’s all over you, Hyu— Taehyungie.”
“I’m already a mess, what’s the difference,” he grumbled sourly even as he let Jungkook guide his hands away.
The younger huffed, disagreeing. He twisted, reaching for the washcloth abandoned on the nightstand, and brought it to his face. Taehyung recoiled away on reflex, the dampness having long since gone cold and feeling too extreme against his flushed skin, but he gave in, letting him wipe tenderly around his eyes and cheek. Jungkook took his hands and wiped them, too, until they were clean.
When he pulled away, he looked at Taehyung for a long moment, concern shining in his eyes. He didn’t want to meet his gaze, the shame from snapping at Jungkook only for him to still treat Taehyung so sweetly making his ears hot. But then he was abruptly being dragged into a hug, and the resulting shake of his shoulders wasn’t from coughing, not this time.
“It’s okay to be upset,” Jungkook murmured, running a hand over Taehyung’s tousled hair. “I would be, too, if someone randomly cursed me.”
Taehyung chose to not comment on the fact that it was definitely not random. He curled further into Jungkook instead, soaking up his comfort. He already felt too warm, his body probably freaking out over the flowers trying to suffocate him and starting up a fever to combat them, but his hugs were so nice.
On one hand, it was a little mortifying for him to be here when those flowers were for him, but on the other hand, he was so, so grateful he was.
✶
Jungkook opened his eyes to the sounds of talking and rustling further in the apartment.
“They’re back,” Taehyung yawned. The hand he pet over Jungkook was so warm, even through his shirt, that he nearly purred. The witch sounded a little drowsy. He hoped that meant he’d gotten a short nap in, too.
The noise became more distant, then grew louder again, the thump of footsteps approaching.
“Hey, kid. You okay?” came Yoongi hushed voice.
“I guess so.”
Seokjin’s own voice came with a hint of confusion. “Where’s Jungkook?”
“Shirt,” Taehyung mumbled. A harsh cough rattled his chest, followed by a semi-growl as he tried to clear his thick throat. Jungkook squirmed his head out from the neckline, squeaking up at him in concern. Taehyung just stroked his tiny cheek with a finger.
“I’m gonna need you to move, Jungkook-ah.” Seokjin tapped his nose when he was within reach. “I need to check Tae’s lungs, and I can’t do that with a little ferret clinging on.”
Jungkook internally pouted, but acceded, pushing intentionally against Taehyung’s collarbones in what he hoped was a comforting brush as he climbed down to the mattress below, intent on watching.
With him out of the way, Seokjin clapped his hands. “Alright, shirt off. I don’t have a stethoscope, so we’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way.”
Getting the younger witch out of his shirt was a bit of a challenge, given that he was still sleepy and loose-limbed, but the hyungs managed. Seokjin bent down awkwardly to get his ear against Taehyung’s chest and then back, giving him counts to breathe in and out to as he listened closely.
Finally, clicking his tongue, he pulled away. “Those roots have taken a good hold, Taehyungie. You sound like you aren’t getting much air.”
The younger smiled wryly. “I feel like it, too.”
Seokjin patted his shoulder gently. “And you’ve still only coughed up petals and blood so far?”
“Nothing more,” Taehyung assured him.
Seokjin hummed. “Well, that’s better than whole flowers.” Yoongi grumbled in agreement behind him. “The blood does concern me a bit, but that’s normal for Hanahaki.”
Jungkook tilted his head. That word sounded familiar, but he couldn’t remember where from.
“I’m just happy you told us instead of trying to hide it,” Seokjin continued. “This stuff can get intense quick.”
Taehyung rolled his eyes. “I got cursed for the first time. Of course I wasn’t going to fucking hide it.”
“Language,” Yoongi and Seokjin scolded simultaneously.
Jungkook snorted. What a duo to scold on language. Yoongi cursed like a sailor on a good day, and Seokjin could curse every other word at even the smallest jumpscare.
Taehyung sent him a knowing look.
Yoongi stepped past Seokjin and pecked his cousin on the head. “We’ve got every thing on the list, so we’re going to go let the sugar gliders out and try and get this going, okay?”
“You say that like you’re going to be doing any of the work,” Seokjin commented under this breath. Yoongi shot him a glare.
Taehyung nodded shallowly and turned to Seokjin. “Can I have a sleeping potion?” he asked hopefully. “I keep waking up.”
Jungkook chirped, backing him up.
The elder witch sighed. “Only a small dose. I don’t want it to interfere with the antidote we’re making.”
✶
Small dose or not, it worked well enough to knock Taehyung out for a solid hour. He still shook with muffled coughs that had Jungkook hovering in case they escalated, but he slept through them, much to his relief.
The fortune and peace ended once the hour was up, though, Taehyung nearly choking in the middle of the fit that’d ripped him from his rest. Alongside the petals, the blood he hacked up that time came out in a clot, the sight enough to make Jungkook’s stomach roll with both disgust and sympathy. Taehyung’s stomach apparently rolled, too, landing him in the bathroom while Yoongi fussed over him.
“This is going so well,” Seokjin muttered sarcastically under his breath, slowly stirring a mixture, the color of it ironically a nasty green color. His three familiars, the sugar gliders, all sat around the rim of the cauldron like mini gargoyles, unsettlingly still.
“Would you do me a favor, Jungkook-ah?”
He jumped up from the couch, padding over to the witch. He had a book open on the table beside the cauldron, and there was that word again: ‘Hanahaki’ written across the top of the page, though the rest was too small for him to read. He tore his eyes away. “Of course, Hyung.”
Seokjin kept his eyes on the cauldron, but tipped his head to the side, gesturing to the wall. “In my hutch, on the bottom shelf, there’s a few boxes of candles. I want you to take… probably seven or eight tea lights. The black ones. And bring them to me.”
It took a little hunting to find the tea lights when Seokjin apparently kept a good five or six different styles of candles shoved into the boxes. When he brought the collected tea lights over and set them on the table, the witch stepped away from the cauldron, took him by the shoulders, and made him stand in his place.
“You watch the potion. If it bubbles, if it smokes, if it changes color, you tell me,” he ordered with a wagging finger, his strict tone leaving no room for argument. Jungkook just nodded with a quick up and down, lost.
The bathroom door opened down the hall, followed by some murmuring. He wanted to go check on them and see if Taehyung was okay, but he forced himself to keep still. He really didn’t want an earful.
Seokjin shooed him aside some long minutes later, glancing into the cauldron and nodding to himself. “Take those to Taehyung’s room and light them.”
Jungkook stood there waiting for more instructions, but nothing ever came, Seokjin already distracted with shaking… something out of a jar. Crystals? Who knew.
He collected the tea lights in his hands and carried them down the hallway. Taehyung was sat up on the bed again, looking absolutely miserable, his eyes red-rimmed and his shoulders fallen.
Yoongi stood in front of him, readjusting the pillows to keep them stacked high. He looked over his shoulder at Jungkook’s arrival. “Hey. Everything going fine?”
Jungkook shrugged. “I think? Hyung isn’t cursing, so I guess the potion is going fine.” He raised the handful of candles. “He, uh, told me to light these in here.”
He passed half of them to Yoongi when he came over, and together they scattered them around the room, Taehyung blinking lazily as he watched them. Jungkook stopped to lay one on the nightstand, smiling weakly at him. “You doing okay?”
Taehyung’s head dropped limply back against the wall. “Trying to talk myself out of digging a hole and crawling into it,” he rasped.
“You’ll be okay,” Yoongi promised him. He passed Jungkook the lighter and picked up the abandoned tea glass. “Let me get you some more.”
“It’s not doing anything,” Taehyung complained, crabby, but the elder seemed to just chalk his attitude up to the circumstances and ignored him, walking out without acknowledging him.
Trying to not smile in amusement, Jungkook flicked the lighter and held it to the tea light’s wick. Seokjin had dug a mark dug into the wax, something completely discernible to him. “Do you know what this means?” he asked curiously.
Taehyung leaned forward to eye it, then slumped back again. “No,” he mumbled. “Sigils are personal. I could guess, but I’d probably be wrong.”
“Oh.” Jungkook hadn’t known they were personal to everyone. He didn’t know much about sigils in general, but he’d always kind of assumed it was something witches all learned from a textbook or something. “So each one is unique?”
The witch made a noise similar to a sluggish ‘nuh-uh.’ “Some witches share ‘em. But I don’t know Hyung’s.”
Jungkook hummed a little. The tour of the room to light the rest was quick, and when he returned to the bed, Taehyung was staring blankly at the ceiling.
“Do you want me to ask them for another dose of the sleep potion?” he offered.
He got a shake of the head. “Yoongi-hyung thinks that’s what made me throw up,” he grumbled.
It might have. Maybe the curse could interfere with other magic? That sucked.
Jungkook played with his own fingers, thinking. He needed to keep him distracted so he wasn’t just lying there, suffering. He glanced over at Taehyung’s laptop on the desk and headed towards it. “Seokjin-hyung asked me to get black candles specifically. Is there a reason for that?” he questioned, ducking down to unplug the device.
“Black is for… protection. And banishin’ bad energy.”
“How do you know?”
Taehyung clicked his tongue. “‘Cause that’s what I was taught.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like medicine or anything that has all the chemicals and minerals in it to make it do what it does, right?” he pointed out, carrying the laptop over with the cord dragging. “So how do you know?”
Taehyung was looking at him like he’d just declared the sky was red and grass was blue. “It just does. It’s not the physical make up of it, it’s the intentions behind it. Like… Like people carrying lucky jewelry, or something.”
Jungkook nearly bumped his head against the bed from where he was knelt down, replugging the laptop in. “So a placebo?!”
“No!” Taehyung paused. “Yes? No.” He shook his head. “It’s magic, there’s rarely anything physical to magic.”
“Charms are physical,” he shot back.
“Charms are items with magic attached to them. The magic itself isn’t physical,” Taehyung denied.
“What about potions? They’re physical.”
Taehyung groaned. “You’re not getting it. Magic is about intention, purpose.” He waved his hand vaguely in the air like it’d somehow add to his point. “Stuff is like a container, or somethin’, to place that reason into. Some people think a specific pair of socks supposedly channels all their luck, just like in magic, a specific stone or candle channels a certain effect.”
Jungkook hated how much and how little sense that simultaneously made. “How does that even work?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t make the magic, I just use it.”
Shoving the plug into the outlet, Jungkook pushed himself to his feet. “How’d they even decide that? ‘Oh, yeah, black means this and yellow means that, everyone in agreement say I’ or something?”
“I don’t know,” Taehyung repeated in a whine, rubbing his face. A muffled cough shook him. “But it works, okay? Leave it at that.”
Jungkook shied away at the exhaustion in his tone. “Sorry,” he apologized softly. He moved the lamp off the nightstand and replaced it with the laptop, opening it and letting it load up. “Let’s watch something, okay?”
Taehyung pouted sulkily at him, but nodded all the same. He shuffled to the side some and pat the mattress beside him. “Come on.”
Grinning, Jungkook climbed up, taking the laptop with him. It balanced on their knees, he flicked through the tabs, nipping his lip shyly in response to Taehyung cozying into his side with a soft exhale.
He took a slow breath, wondering if he knew how easily he made Jungkook’s chest tight, too.
✶
It took five episodes of Naruto and another cup of hot tea for the weariness to drag Taehyung back to sleep. Jungkook had sat still for as long as he could, watching another three episodes and trying to focus on what the characters were up to rather than how badly he needed to use the restroom, but eventually he gave in. It’d taken some measured wiggling and held breaths to slowly tip Taehyung over onto the pillows to free himself, but the moment he’d succeeded, he’d darted out of the room.
He was just happy the hyungs weren’t there to watch him struggle. Otherwise, he’d never live it down.
It was when he steps out of the bathroom that he heard it.
Seokjin’s voice, tired and a little exasperated. “I’m starting to think we should have just made them kiss.”
“Hyung, that wouldn’t cure the Hanahaki and you know it,” Yoongi berated him.
“I could dream,” the witch muttered.
Hanahaki. Why did that sound so familiar?
Jungkook slowly backed up and pulled the door closed again, sliding his phone from his pocket.
It was nothing Naver couldn’t solve.
✶
Taehyung woke to another bout of coughs wracking him. He couldn’t do much than clasp the blankets and suck in every bit of air he could get between the waves, his whole body shaking. Hecate, they were getting worse. He wasn’t puking this time, at least, but his whole throat felt like it was on fire, the soft petals that came up in no way soothing. And as hard as he tried, the gasps weren’t doing anything; nothing was getting in. He couldn’t breathe.
Oh, fuck. He couldn’t breathe.
He made a wheezing, panicked cry, scrabbling for the edge of the bed. The blankets wrapped around him and mattress rocking under his weight made it difficult to keep his balance, but he didn’t care if he fell, he just needed someone to hear him.
Nearly tipping off, he threw his arm out towards the nightstand. His hand met something hard and cold, and suddenly there was a loud cracking sound against the hardwood. It reverberated around his head, turning the tension in his temples up a notch higher, aching alongside his lungs — but he’d done it, right? Someone would come.
There was a banging noise somewhere else, and second later Jungkook was holding him by the arms, big, wide eyes glittering with both hope and fear. “You’re okay, you’re fine,” he rushed out breathlessly. “I like you, too! I like you, so you’ll be fine now!”
Later, Taehyung would think it was cute, the way Jungkook had tried to rush to his rescue by declaring his undying love.
(Well, that was an exaggeration, but still.)
At that moment, though? Taehyung kind of wanted to knock him in the side and tell him it could wait for when he could actually inhale like a normal human being.
Thankfully, the hyungs came thundering down the hall and spilling into the room. Seokjin shoved Jungkook to the side in his haste, and started smearing some kind of balm against his chest that smelt strongly of peppermint, eucalyptus and maybe… chamomile? Something like that. It felt gross, but whatever it was, it was working. His chest didn’t feel less tight, but air finally felt like it was moving into his lungs. He leaned into the pillows heavily, panting.
“Way to scare the shit out of us,” Seokjin hissed, laying a hand over his own chest.
“He’s good?” Yoongi called nervously. He had Jungkook in a death grip, the youngest held against him.
Taehyung managed a shaky smile. “Mostly,” he croaked.
Jungkook was pale in the face, close to tears as his gaze flickered between Taehyung and Seokjin. “I-I confessed. I thought that fixed Hanahaki, why didn’t it work?”
Seokjin sighed. “Because it doesn’t work like that, Jungkook.”
The younger looked stricken. “But the thing I read said—”
“Where were you looking?” the witched asked, brow raised skeptically.
Jungkook’s cheeks turned red as beets with embarrassment. “…The Fanlore Wiki,” he admitted.
Yoongi groaned. “These fucking kids—”
Seokjin waved at him to be quiet. “Jungkook, Hanahaki being cured by words only works in the movies. In reality, it takes a gesture. It’s a curse; it’s not going to go away for a confession anyone could fake.”
“But I meant it,” Jungkook argued. The flush on his cheeks wasn’t calming, and Taehyung’s were starting to pinken to match now that he could actually process what was going on.
Jungkook had confessed.
Jungkook liked him.
“But it doesn’t work like that,” Seokjin repeated, exasperated. “Hanahaki thrives on doubts, and it’s easy to doubt a confession. But it’s harder to doubt a thoughtful, meaningful gift or gesture that someone wasn’t asked or coached to give. That’s what can make Hanahaki wilt.”
Jungkook drooped in Yoongi’s hold like he was absolutely crestfallen. “Oh,” he whispered.
Seokjin shook his head. He turned and squeezed Taehyung’s shoulder, tapping the tin of balm he set down to the nightstand. “If you have trouble breathing again, use that, okay? A friend gave it to me, and it obviously works.”
Taehyung nodded. “Thank you, Hyung.”
With a small smile, Seokjin walked away, gesturing for Yoongi to follow him. “Come on, let’s give them some space. We have an antidote to finish.”
Yoongi let go of Jungkook, but hesitated, glancing at Taehyung. He sent his cousin a little wave of his fingers, sticking out his tongue, and that seemed to ease him enough for him to follow after Seokjin, leaving them alone.
Jungkook stayed put in the middle for the room. He was staring at the floor, and though his bangs covered part of his face, Taehyung could still see the flush that stubbornly stuck to his cheeks. It was silent between them, Jungkook watching his feet and Taehyung watching him.
“…Come here, Kookie.”
Jungkook’s head jerked up to look at him, eyes blown wide with what might’ve been anxiety. Taehyung just tilted his head and smiled. “Come here.”
He reluctantly crept closer, never quite meeting Taehyung’s eyes. He didn’t mind it. He’d been in Jungkook’s place before, after all — regretting confessing at all, terrified of what the answer would be. It felt like the nerves would eat you alive.
When he was within reach, Taehyung stretched his arm to take his hand. Jungkook jolted like the contact was unexpected, his lips parting soundless, then snapping back shut. That blush started turning red all over again.
Cute.
“I’m not going to give you an answer right now,” he told him softly. Jungkook immediately frowned, and Taehyung huffed a laugh, squeezing his fingers. “Kookie, I think we both know how we feel by now,” he teased. “But I want to tell you when I’m not choking on petals, you know? I want to do it properly.”
Jungkook focused his eyes on the blanket for a long moment before tentatively meeting his gaze “…You promise?”
He took his hand away just enough to present his pinky. Jungkook shyly hooked it with his own. “Promise,” he reassured him. “Give me a day or two to not be potentially dying. And hopefully get to properly sleep. But after that, we’ll talk.”
Jungkook’s lip twitched up a little. It wasn’t a full smile, but it was enough. “Okay.”
Taehyung let him slip away when he mumbled about picking up the broken cup, observing the way even his ears had tinted pink. Jungkook threw the shards away in the trash can under the desk. But when he headed for the door, Taehyung sat straight up. “Where are you going?”
The younger turned and blinked at him. “Home? I thought you’d want me to go.”
Taehyung pouted. “When did I say that?” He outstretched his arms invitingly. “Stay here. Please? I don’t wanna puke flowers by myself.”
Jungkook finally smiled. “Are you sure?”
He grinned despite the cough that bubbled up out of him. “Of course I am. Get over here.”
His giggling made Taehyung’s stomach flutter, but it was with butterflies rather than bile. He tugged him closer the second he was on the bed and sighed happily.
“I hope you feel better soon, Taehyungie,” Jungkook told him, nuzzling his shoulder.
Taehyung curled his arms tighter around him. He was already trying to think of ways to properly confess to him. “Me too, Kookie. Me too.”