Chapter Text
When the hit comes, Minghao almost expects it.
He tries to be rational about it, but uncertainty is brewing inside him — is this how this ends? Would be a stupid way to go, in a water-logged basement smelling of all the worst things known to mankind. Stupid but, perhaps, entirely appropriate.
Time slows. Magic is tingling all around him in tiny, warm sparks. He doesn’t feel pain, necessarily, but it hurts nonetheless, in a different way — with a shiver that feels like his soul is splitting in two. Faintly, it registers that he’s floating now, and his eyes slide to the right, to Hansol’s face.
He’s there, of course. Minghao recognizes his stance — Hansol was just about to charge forward, protective, but the hit caught him off-guard as well, and his arms lower involuntary. Their gazes meet. Minghao has barely a second to try and reassure Hansol somehow, but his voice, when he finds it, comes out in a gasp. The moment passes.
It was going to end like this, he thinks, a stupor that feels a lot like melancholy slipping over him.
All around, reality shatters.
[Seven months earlier]
This story starts, as many others do, with an arrival.
Ahead of Minghao’s year abroad the Xus pull a few strings to ensure his stay in Korea would at the very least be comfortable. Seoul meets him with humid air and, eventually, rain; Minghao does his best to look somewhat composed and dignified. He knows someone should be arriving at the airport to meet him, a family friend who was kind enough to provide him with housing. He’d rather not start his journey with bad impressions.
Soonyoung is not hard to spot and appears to be, for the lack of a better description, very enthusiastic about the task — he greets Minghao in rapid, excited Korean and practically drags him to the car, an umbrella in his hand tilting this way and that in a manner Minghao finds slightly alarming. He tries briefly to focus on his companion’s words, recognizes a few syllables and immediately gives up on the rest. The speed with which Soonyoung is talking dissolves any familiarity he has with the language. Minghao’s confidence wavers just a little bit. He waits for Soonyoung to inhale in the middle of his speech and makes a request, as politely as possible:
“Sorry, can you be… Could you speak slower?”
“Oh!” Soonyoung’s eyes become comically large for a moment as a laugh startles out of him. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. Um, yeah, yeah, certainly!”
They get in the car. Soonyoung becomes a little more cautious after that — it’s not that noticeable, and seems like he’s doing it out of consideration more than anything, but Minghao feels being studied as much as he’s trying to study Soonyoung.
“Well, I’m thinking,” Soonyoung carries on, “that we could stop for food first- you’re hungry, right?”
“Not extremely.” Minghao’s stomach immediately rumbles in protest, and Soonyoung laughs. “I mean-”
“Hey, no judgement! Those flights take a lot out of you.” Soonyoung waves him off. “I found a few Chinese restaurants in the vicinity, just in case. I’ll send you a list. Speaking of which- my phone number! You should have it. We’re gonna share living space for a while, it’s always good to have means of communication- a way to contact each other.”
“Oh, sure.” Minghao waits until they stop at a red light, then lifts his phone up wordlessly. Soonyoung passes him his own.
“For the record,” he says once they start moving. “I think it’s really cool. Going to another country to follow your passion. That’s a big commitment.”
Minghao fidgets. As much as Soonyoung’s words are flattering, he is also reminded of just how much is gonna be changing now. “Thank you.”
“Aaaand I could tell you’re creatively gifted right away. That outfit, man- phew!”
Minghao looks down at his clothes skeptically. They’re not terrible, but the goal was to be comfortable above fashionable. Nothing to phew over.
“Thank… you? It’s nothing special, really.”
“Nothing special,” Soonyoung laughs. “If you say so. What I mean is-” His tone turns a little more serious. “I know it must be nerve-wracking. To go through all of that. It’s good to be nervous, but don’t overwhelm- don’t be too nervous, you get me? You seem like a very capable person. And if you do have any problems, there will be people to help you! After all, you have me!” Soonyoung laughs again, an over-the-top, spaced out ha ha has that sound so ridiculous Minghao lets out a startled chuckle. The smile Soonyoung sends his way tells Minghao that was exactly the goal.
Something in him settles. He can work with that. He doesn’t thank Soonyoung outright, but the silence that follows is comfortable rather that awkward. Minghao lets himself to enjoy the view, take in the new city.
Soonyoung can be a really good guide when he’s not trying to race the conversation. He is mindful of Minghao’s energy levels and lets him digest everything at his own pace. They eat (and get extras for dinner), they head home. Soonyoung points out places of interest to Minghao as they pass them by — stores, a library, a park. Hands him a transportation card and explains how to get to Minghao’s university.
“Subway is the easiest way, although it’s a bit of a walk,” he explains. “You can also go by bus first and switch to the subway, if you’d like. It’s a little more complicated but actually saves you time. I’ll walk you tomorrow, you can try both and see what works.”
“Thanks.” Minghao wrestles with himself to not yawn. The exhaustion is starting to catch up to him.
“You’ll also need a Korean phone number and a bank card, just in case. You’re staying for a while, it will make things more convenient. So, something to put on the list. We can probably do that tomorrow as well-” Soonyoung looks up from his phone and sees Minghao’s face. “Want to nap before dinner, maybe?”
Minghao thinks of his luggage Soonyoung dragged away earlier.
“If you sleep now, I’ll help you unpack after dinner,” Soonyoung suggests, accurately reading his hesitance. “And I’m going to show you to your room now anyway. So…”
That does sound very tempting. Minghao turns the suggestion in his head for entirety of two seconds before giving up. “Yeah, actually. A nap does sound nice.”
Soonyoung gives him a little conspiratorial smirk.
“Good choice. As I always say, what can’t be done now can be done later.”
“Maybe don’t make that a habit,” Minghao snorts.
“Too late,” Soonyoung sing-songs, leading him down the hall.
The room is spacious, if somewhat empty. There’s a bed to the wall, a bedside table with a withering plant right behind it, a sturdy if outdated wardrobe to the left of the door. Light carpets the floor in warm post-afternoon hue. Minghao’s luggage rests in front of a long full body mirror — not framed or attached to the wall, but instead just leaning against it. Huh.
“Someone in the art department was getting rid of that,” Soonyoung explains. “I thought you could use one.”
“So…” Minghao blinks. “Did you steal a mirror?”
“Well, they said they were going to throw them out. I just made their job easier,” Soonyoung shrugs. “It was a pain transporting it in the subway, I’ll tell you that!”
Minghao reaches out and carefully touches the edge. The mirror has no spots or stains on it — Soonyoung must have cleaned it beforehand.
“That’s very thoughtful,” Minghao says. “Thank you.”
Soonyoung waves him off.
“Don’t mention it. If you decide to frame it or something, let me know. I know a guy.”
Minghao hums. The bedroom is nice. Like a blank canvas, almost.
“Can I ask what the deal with the plant is?”
Soonyoung yelps and darts towards the table before Minghao can stop him.
“Oh, this shouldn’t be here! I’m so sorry. I am terrible with plants. I put it here because of the windows and the sun, but… Every time I enter this room, I forget to water it…” He trails off and lifts the pot up. “I’ll see where to move it, don’t worry.”
“I don’t mind taking care of it,” Minghao says.
Soonyoung stops. “Really?”
“I mean, yeah. It will still get enough sunshine and I’ll water it. Consider it thanks for the mirror.”
For a few seconds, Soonyoung stays still, fingers tapping on the pot, before he sets it back down. “Sure. Probably for the better, honestly. My friend won’t kill me if I murder it, but he will find it funny, and that’s worse.”
A present, then. Minghao has half a mind to ask about it further, but at this exact moment a yawn decides to make itself known, and Soonyoung snaps to attention.
“What is it with me, I keep talking when you clearly need rest!” He marches up to the door and grabs the handle decisively. “Please sleep. Uh, shower’s down the hall, your towels are green. Should I wake you, or?..”
“I think I can manage myself, but if I take longer than four hours, probably.”
“Noted. Well, I’ll leave you to it.”
Just like that, Soonyoung’s gone. Minghao sighs and sits on the floor. It finally sets in — he’s here, in another city, in another country. He probably should call his parents, let them know how the flight was, but he doesn’t have it in him to talk to anyone right now. He settles on a quick message and attaches a photo of his bedroom to it. That should do for now.
For Hansol, it starts a little differently. It starts, actually, with a realization, because he probably should’ve seen this coming.
Firstly, credit where credit’s due: Hansol has dedicated his life to studying magic. Comes with the job — or, in his case, with the family. He knows everything there is to know about finding a source of power, harnessing it, making it your own, so of course he has no problem locating magical energy when it makes itself known. A magical gift, he knows, is especially potent, and it doesn’t manifest itself often, so when he does feel its presence, it nearly knocks him off his feet with excitement.
The time and place are a bit inconvenient. That should’ve been his first clue that something’s off. Usually a gift would choose to welcome someone one on one, in a peaceful, restful state. Hansol feels it in the middle of gym class, of all things, and has to improvise an excuse to step aside.
He takes his time tying his shoelaces, his fingers tingling with anticipation and nervousness. He has waited for his gift to arrive longer than anyone else in the family, but for it to manifest now, something drastic surely must have happened.
Vernon gets up, makes sure he’s alone (relatively, but beggars-choosers, eh?), and beckons the tiny ball of light closer.
“Come on… Come on…”
It listens easily, floating towards him at a leisurely pace, warm and hungry for his owner to claim it. Hansol extends his hand. His fingers close around it and bask in pleasant, tingly warmth, like bubbles exploding just beneath his skin.
Then, he feels it slip from his grasp, passing through his fingers as if this encounter was entirely insignificant.
Vernon swallows, dumbfounded. Could he have been mistaken? He’d be the first to admit that he was, well — a little desperate, but surely not enough for it to have driven him to delusion?
He turns and extends his hand again. There’s a familiar tingling at the tips of his fingers. This must be a gift of magical nature, then, unclaimed, wandering. But that means-
“Hansol!” Mingyu slaps him on the back. “Come on, man. How long are you gonna stand there?”
“Sorry, hyung,” Vernon mumbles, watching his magic float away. “Got distracted.”
“Typical,” Mingyu sighs. “At least it’s only gym class. Now if it was something more important, imagine-”
Vernon tunes him out. His head is swimming. That was the gift that he witnessed. The one that members of his family have received for generations. The one that is going to someone else for the first time in- how long it’s been, forty years? Must’ve been more-
Mingyu tugs him by the hand, so he follows.
The gift has welcomed someone else, and it is not him.
And if he hasn’t received the gift, then that means the newcomer will have no idea what they’re doing.
His heart sinks.
“…Professor Kim would have your head for sure- uh, bud, you alright?” Mingyu turns to face him. They don’t stop walking, but Vernon registers their steps slowing down. A plan starts forming in his head.
“You know what, yeah. I feel a little bit under the weather, actually, can you just- I’ll be right back.”
“Now you sound like you’re just trying to skip gym and leave me alone in this hellhole-”
Hansol watches the gift float around the corner, and dashes. That’s probably something he’s going to regret later. Mingyu yelps behind him, but. Priorities.
It takes Hansol half a minute to realize two major holes in his plan.
One, his gym shorts lack pockets, so most of the trinkets he tends to carry around are peacefully resting in his backpack and he cannot rely on any of them. Two, the gift, being a literal ball of magic, possesses some qualities Hansol as a regular human simply does not. It quickly becomes evident that the gift is trying to leave the school grounds — not surprising, although disappointing — and Hansol, as much as he’d like to be committed to the cause, cannot follow it wherever it’s going. Not for the lack of trying, but rather the fact that magic does not care about Hansol trying to track it or, regretfully, about his feelings. He has to watch it soar up five meters in the air and rapidly take off… somewhere.
Hansol curses and kicks the asphalt. His sneakers don’t really appreciate the treatment. They are really old and have carried him through his most brutal years (the entirety of high school), so a wrong move could probably tear them apart, but despite his attachment to material objects, right now Hansol finds that doesn’t really matter. He heads to the changing rooms and digs through his possessions, feeling worry, frustration, nothing.
His hand clasps around a pin with a small charm attached to it. Pure focus. Not the strongest artifact, but certainly a useful one. Hansol activates it — a zap goes through his fingers, expected but no less unpleasant, — before a gorgeous spectral magpie manifests itself on his arm.
“Hey, girlie,” Hansol whispers. He watches the magpie slowly gain physical form, any negative feelings momentarily dissipating. It blinks at him. “Yeah, ’s been a while for you? I know.”
The magpie squawks in reply. Hansol reaches out to pet it, but thinks better of it.
“Keep watch. Someone’s getting a gift soon. Any weird bursts on magical energy — you come to me.” He trails off, chewing on his lower lip in contemplation. “Can you not alert the family for now?”
The magpie squawks again. Hansol can’t tell if it’s trying to be judgmental or curious, but he tries for his best pleading look anyway.
“Oh come on, please? They will find out soon, of course, I just want a bit of a head start. Some time to process and figure it all out.”
The magpie’s head turns upside down. Hansol has to remind himself that it’s not actually a real bird. It seems to be contemplative about his order and his motives, but at the very least, it listens to him. Should be enough for now. It lets out another squawk as a goodbye and disappears through the wall of the changing room.
Well, that’s done now, Hansol thinks. Let’s track down this magic bearer.
When he finally gets into bed, Minghao is exhausted enough that he doesn’t expect to dream, so when it does happen, it catches him by surprise.
Correction: it would’ve caught him by surprise. He happens to be very good at telling dream from reality, usually, but in this case, it doesn’t even register that he’s asleep. Minghao just finds himself suddenly walking through the streets on Seoul. The city around him is completely empty, though not abandoned. There are lights and murmurs just outside his perception, a sign of life and a white noise. Despite finding it weird, Minghao feels at ease.
When he rounds a corner, there is someone waiting for him. Minghao recognizes them without recognition. They do not possess a human appearance, but their silhouette somehow seems familiar; they lack human perspective, and yet there is a consciousness to them. As much as Minghao cannot comprehend it, he understands.
It is remarkably easy to reach out to it. Part of him feels like a piece of a puzzle has slotted in, something he didn’t even realize was missing making itself known.
Minghao smiles.
“Holy shit!”
And it’s over. Just like that, the dream’s gone. Minghao opens his eyes, fighting off his annoyance. He likes Soonyoung. He likes Soonyoung, and he’s a great funny guy who seems easy to get along with.
“What happened to not waking me up?” Minghao mumbles. He tries his best not to sound intimidating or accusatory, so instead it comes out kinda whiny. Small wins.
It takes him a few seconds to realize it’s barely been a few hours into his nap and he can’t see with how dark it is in the room.
Soonyoung flips a light switch.
“Huh,” he says, looking somewhere behind Minghao. “When you said you were gonna take care of it, I didn’t realize you had such green thumbs.”
Minghao squints. He can tell it’s supposed to be a joke, but Soonyoung’s face has none of the cheerfulness he carried earlier.
He looks back, starting to get properly annoyed.
“What are you talking abo- what the fuck.” The phrase slips out in Mandarin.
“Not sure what that means, but yeah. Definitely that,” Soonyoung agrees.
On the bedside table stands the withering plant. The reason it’s so dark is because it’s no longer withering. Instead, the entirety of Minghao’s window is covered in fucking vines.
“Well. Definitely don’t have to worry about murdering it now, I suppose,” says Minghao.