Chapter Text
Embers of First Light: Gunpowder Green Tea, Dried Orange Peel, Rosemary
A tea for beginners that feels like endings, and for meetings that will someday change everything
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The rain hadn’t stopped all day.
It lashed against the cafe windows in restless waves, turning the street outside into a watercolor smear of gray and gold. Inside, the only light came from the hanging lamps, warm, honey-hued, and soft enough to make the emptiness feel almost comfortable. Almost.
Jeongin wiped the same table for the fourth time that hour. The cloth was already damp, but the motion gave his hands something to do. The Third Brew always went quiet when it rained, and though most baristas would have welcomed the peace, Jeongin didn’t trust silence. Not anymore.
He glanced toward the door as thunder rolled above the city. The charm around his wrist. A thin black thread with a tiny brass bead gave the faintest pulse of warmth. Nothing alarming. Just the low hum of enchantments woven into the cafe itself, spells meant to keep humans blissfully unaware of what this place really was.
A safe place for magic.
Or it used to be.
The bell over the door jingled once as a gust of wind swept in. No one entered. Jeongin exhaled through his nose, shaking off the jolt of nerves. His reflection in the espresso machine looked pale and worn, the bruise-like circles under his eyes darker than usual. He told himself it was just exhaustion. The fever from last week still hadn’t broken completely.
He reached for another mug just as the door opened again, this time for real.
The wind rushed in first, sharp and cold, followed by a cluster of voices and the sound of boots scuffing against the floor. Laughter, quick and bright, filled the small cafe like a spark thrown into still air.
Jeongin’s hand froze on the mug.
There were eight of them. Drenched, almost all with dark hair and dripping jackets, shaking off rain like dogs that didn’t mind the storm. They carried a strange kind of energy, loud but grounded, chaotic yet magnetic. Even before the charm on Jeongin’s wrist flickered once, he knew.
Not human.
Jeongin forced his expression to remain neutral as the group walked up to the counter. The leader, or what Jeongin supposed the man with warm brown hair plastered on his forehead was, walked up the counter. He flashed Jeongin a quick smile
“Sorry for the mess,” The man spoke, and Jeongin picked up on an accent— Australian?– but brushed it off as non important. “Didn’t think the rain would turn biblical.”
Jeongin suppressed a grimace, adjusting his apron. “No problem. Welcome to The Third Brew. What can I get you?”
The man scanned through the overhead menu. His voice was calm, posture relaxed, but his presence nicked at Jeongin’s magic. The earthy scent, damp moss, soil and iron all lingering with something electric. Lupine.
Werewolf.
“Seven orders,” The man said, and rattled them off easily. “You can put ‘Chan’ as the name on the order, if that makes it easier.”
“Got it.” Jeongin nodded, careful to avoid eye contact as he keyed it in.
The others claimed a large booth by the window. A dark haired one with a feline-like smirk stretched across the seat back, his movements deliberate and precise. Next to him, a shorter man with a dragon-like confidence in his posture tapped his fingers on the table, impatient but amused. Two others, one with golden hair and freckles, the other with brown hair and round cheeks were laughing about something on their phones. A tall, elegant man sat nearest to the door, and Jeongin noticed the silver rings on his hand. Finally, another with a tall figure and shorter hair sat down on the other side, leaving space for Chan, who sat down shortly after.
Jeongin busied himself with making drinks, working quickly with steady hands. The smell of rain and espresso were comforting, but not enough. It wasn't as if these customers were dangerous, but something in their presence stirred up Jeongin’s magic, which churned bitterly in his stomach. Magic curled around that group like bees to pollen. It was too natural, in a way that made Jeongin's hair stand on its end. Thankfully, he had worn his charm rings, which hopefully suppressed most, if not all, of his magic to the outside eye. The fever, aches and vomit were worth it, for his safety at least.
Jeongin shook his head. Focus.
“Order for Chan,” He called out once all the drinks were ready.
Chan approached the counter, flashing the same easy smile that made Jeongin more ill. “Thanks. Been a while since we found a place open during a storm like this.”
Jeongin shrugged lightly, sliding the tray of drinks over. “Guess I'm just too stubborn to close early.”
“You're the only one working?”
“Just for tonight.”
Chan hesitated, eyes flickering to the faint glimmer of Jeongin’s wrist charm. Noticing? No, just curiosity. Hopefully. Jeongin’s throat went dry regardless.
“Well,” Chan finally said, gathering the drinks. “You make good coffee. We might have to stop by again when it's not pouring.”
Jeongin managed a polite nod. “Sure. Have a great day.”
As Chan returned to the table, Jeongin retreated behind the counter, organizing sugar packets and cleaning cups as his ears tracked the conversation. He didn't catch much, just fragments– classes, music, magic residue, a protective ward, but laughter drowned the rest out.
Jeongin’s hand trembled once, he pressed it against the countertop until it stilled.
The strange group ended up staying for nearly an hour, their energy filling the cafe in ways that made Jeongin want to miss it. They talked endlessly, teasing and arguing, their voice overlapping in a rhythm that felt achingly familiar. Almost.
At one point, the golden haired boy spoke to him as Jeongin was wiping the table next to theirs. “You’re working alone in a storm? That’s impressive.”
Jeongin gave the faintest smile, a small crack in his well built armor. “Keeps me busy.”
Yet, the kindness lingered, and for the rest of their stay, it burned quietly in his chest almost as much as the guilt.
When the rain finally began to slow, the group gathered their things. The feline one was the first to stand, grumbling about the cold. Chan left Jeongin a generous tip, nodding towards the barista as they filed out, laughter fading into the soft hiss of rain on pavement.
Then silence again.
Jeongin stood at the counter long after the door had closed, staring at the faint foodprints they’d left on the floor. The storm had passed, but Jeongin’s nerves hadn’t. His charm pulsed once, warning him to rein it in, but it soon faded to stillness.
He should have felt relieved. Instead, he felt something stranger, like he’d watched a door open to a world he couldn’t enter.
Slower than usual, Jeongin turned off all the lights, and the cafe fell into its usual quiet. Outside the wet street glowed with reflection, the city sighing as the clouds broke.
Checking to make sure his charms were still working, he locked the doors and made his way home, telling himself that he'd never see that group again.
And that was really for the best.
_______
Morning arrived heavy and gray, as if the sky hadn't finished crying.
Jeongin dragged himself across campus, coffee in one hand and his laptop, filled with a million unfinished assignments, in the other. The coffee had barely made a dent in the exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin. He had spent most of the night staring at the ceiling and listening to the leftover rain against his dorm window. He had thought of the cafe, of the laughter and warmth that was so close yet so far. The happiness he couldn’t afford to have. It was far too dangerous for people like him.
Everything was too dangerous when you were a witch.
His stomach twisted. The fever he had been battling for almost two weeks hadn’t gone away. Instead it came in waves, sharp behind his ribs and slowly spreading to the rest of his body. He told himself that it was his nerves, the effects of too many sleepless nights and not enough food. He told himself it had nothing to do with the fact he hadn’t taken his suppressor charms off for weeks.
Adjusting the strap on his bag, Jeongin pulled his hood closer against the damp air. Campus was half empty, not many people willingly went to morning classes, far less people actually showed up for them.
He was almost at the library steps, ready for another unfortunate morning of pre class studying when he heard it,
A familiar laugh.
Jeongin froze.
Two figures were sitting on the low stone wall near the courtyard fountain, steam curling from their paper coffee cups. The shorter one’s hair was a sunlit gold beneath the clouds, freckles bright against his skin. The other had a smile that seemed permanently mischievous, voice animated as he spoke with his hands. It only took a moment for Jeongin to see faint hints of gold specks and unmistakable wings.
Fae. Both of them.
For a heartbeat, Jeongin considered turning around and pretending he hadn’t seen them. But the golden haired fae looked up at that exact moment. His eyes widened in recognition.
“Hey!” He called out despite the chill. “Third Brew guy!”
Jeongin’s feet moved before his brain did. A polite smile, a nod, all automatic.
“Didn’t think we’d see you again,” The other fae said. “You go to school here?”
Jeongin’s mouth was dry. “Uh… yeah. Just on my way to class.”
The blonde fae grinned. “Small world! Guess that means we'll be seeing you around.”
The words hit heavier than they should have. Jeongin forced another nod. “Maybe. Excuse me.”
He did a brief bow, and made it three steps before the nausea hit.
It wasn’t just nerves. The world tilted sharply and his stomach tightened with a pain that made his vision blur. He muttered something about being fine, waving off concerned looks and sucked into the nearest building, an old lecture hall that smelled faintly of mildew and chalk.
The hallway spun around him. Jeongin found the restroom, stumbled into a stall and barely had time to lock it before he was sick.
The sound of his vomit echoed in the tiled space, ugly, so human-like and small. He pressed a trembling hand against the wall, the other gripping one of his charm rings so hard it hurt his finger.
“Calm,” He whispered. “You’re fine. You’re fine.”
But his magic refused to believe him. It pulsed in disarray, hot under his skin, like a heartbeat out of sync. He clenched his teeth, willing it down. If anyone felt that surge–if anyone sensed it–
A phone buzzed in the next stall.
Jeongin froze.
For a long moment, there was only silence. Then a voice, low, smooth, almost clunky, slightly amused. “Rough morning?”
He knew that voice. Calm. Unbothered. The one with watchful eyes and a quiet demeanor who had watched more than he had spoken. One of the people from last night. His magic, still a bit out of control, supplied him with an answer he didn’t need.
Siren.
The silence stretched. Then came the faint rustle of movement, the sound of a zipper and the soft click of a stall door opening. After a few moments, Jeongin heard the sink start up.
He stayed right where he was, hyperaware of every breath. The fever had worsened, and the ache between his ribs somehow got worse. His magic was desperate to be let out, but Jeongin couldn’t risk it. Not with someone nearby.
He froze again as the sink turned off.
Meanwhile, Seungmin had already pulled out his phone, quickly opening his messages app.
Six reasons to consider therapy (+ Chan)
Minnie: Fox barista from last night?
Minnie: Just threw up in the stall next to me
Minnie: Pretty sure he’s not a human.