Chapter Text
It’s one of those rare days when Heartsteel isn’t tied up with studio sessions, photoshoots, or variety shows. On breaks like this, the boys usually drift into the living room, sharing the quiet comfort of their shared space.
In the middle of the room, placed a huge grey sofa where Kayn and Ezreal were locked in an intense gaming match. Kayn sat cross-legged, elbows braced against his thighs as he leaned forward, a cocky grin flashing sharp little fangs as his thumbs slammed furiously on the controller. Ezreal, curled up beside him—knees pulled to his chest, arms looped around them, a pillow wedged in between. His tongue peeked out in concentration
At the far end of the sofa, Aphelios had all but melted into a beanbag, legs splayed, shoulders slouched. A Switch was cradled in his hands, thumbs idly tapping at the buttons. It sat on top of a chibi Ezreal plushie. Blonde hair, black headband, purple-yellow star under the cartoony eyes—definitely from the Pop Star era—colors faded but clearly loved.
By the counter that connected the kitchen and living room through a wide open window, K’Sante sat on a stool. Sheets of fashion sketches for Heartsteel’s next album were spread before him, half-organized piles flanking an open laptop. Every few minutes, he hums thoughtfully, pencil tapping the edge of a page as he reworks a design.
From the kitchen window, Yone can be seen brewing coffee with the proper barista setup: frother, grinder, milk steamer, the works. The low whirr of the machine filled the space, mixed with the clicking of controllers and the boys’ occasional bursts of laughter.
One member is missing.
A sudden slam of the door against the wall made everyone flinch.
“Check this out, boys!” Sett’s voice boomed through the living room.
He strode in holding a rectangular glass bottle filled with dark golden liquid. “Got it from some mysterious, edgy-looking shop down by the subway,” he announced proudly. “The old lady running it looked like a witch—swore it’s a real magic potion that can turn you into a kid again.”
Ezreal and Kayn didn’t bother looking up, fingers still clicking at their controllers. Aphelios looked up from his Switch, one eyebrow raised in 'I am judging you' face. At the kitchen counter, K’Sante turned around from his laptop to face Sett’s direction while Yone came into view through the kitchen window behind him, letting out a long, weary sigh.
“Please tell me you did not pay a high price for it.” Yone said.
“Don’t worry, man,” Sett said proudly, puffing out his chest. “I got it on a crazy discount! It’s 1,200 RP after eighty percent off!”
Yone groaned. “Settrigh—We could’ve bought three Chagee drinks for that!” he snapped, pointing at Sett with the milk frother in his hand.
“But no, listen—it’s a steal! The shop looked so cool and kinda creepy, like straight out of some witch game! And the old woman said it’s a potion!” Sett said, marching into the middle of the room and stopping behind the sofa. He lifted the bottle like it was a trophy. “Look! Even the bottle looks like a potion. Which is cool, by the way. The price includes the authentic experience!” he added defensively.
Yone pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaustion and disappointment written all over his face. K’Sante, on the other hand, looked more amused than concerned.
“For a Halloween-themed drink,” he mused, fingers brushing his beard, “not a bad marketing hook. Bit overpriced, though.”
From the beanbag, Aphelios didn’t even lift his head—just signed lazily:
[Of course it’s overpriced. Sett’s never been good with money.]
Ezreal tossed his controller aside while Kayn kept mashing buttons, too invested in his game to notice the chaos.
“Cool! Lemme try!” Ezreal said, twisting around on the sofa to snatch the bottle straight from Sett’s hand.
“Hey—!” Sett started, but Ezreal had already taken a big swig.
K’Sante, Aphelios, and Yone had all gone back to their own respective businesses by then, no longer paying attention to Sett’s drink nonsense. Ezreal lowered the bottle, squinting at it for a second.
“Hmm… lemonade,” he said out loud. “But, like… taste super mid.”
The same deep groan came from the kitchen again.
Sett snatched the bottle back. “Alright, don’t hog it. Let me try—”
He froze. The bottle was completely empty. “Bro. Oh, come on! You didn’t leave me any?”
Ezreal blinked at him, confused. “Huh? I only took a sip though—”
Then—pop!
In a blink, Ezreal vanished.
Where he’d been sitting, a tiny version of him—maybe four years old—now sat on the sofa, half-drowned in an oversized pastel-purple sweater. His big doe eyes looking around.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Kayn—who had been sitting right beside him—was the first to react. He dropped his controller and let out a bloodcurdling “AAAAAAHHHH!” as he scrambled off the couch, tripped, and landed flat on the carpet. Looking up, he pointed at the sofa.
“SETT, WHAT DID YOU DO!?”
“What happened?!” K’Sante’s voice boomed from the counter. He turned around from his laptop, eyes darting between Sett and the panicking Kayn—but from his angle, Ezreal was nowhere to be seen.
Aphelios had gone still on his beanbag, his Switch slipping from his hands as he stared wide-eyed at the… baby on the couch.
Then Yone appeared in the doorway, finally walked into the living room, wearing a rare, horrified expression—one reserved only for true emergencies—“Sett! What is this?!”
Sett, frozen in shock this entire time, finally threw up his hands in pure panic. “I DON’T KNOW, MAN!”
K’Sante shot up from his stool and hurried toward the couch, steps uneven with panic. There, on the cushions, sat a baby—an Ezreal-looking baby.
“Sett! What the hell did you give him?!” His voice came out an octave higher than usual.
“I SAID I DON’T KNOW!” Sett barked back, holding the empty bottle up like it might explain itself. “It’s this thing! From that creepy shop!” He pointed frantically at the bottle. “The old lady said it—”
“—was a Halloween gimmick,” K’Sante snapped.
“THEN HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN FUN-SIZED EZREAL RIGHT HERE?!” Sett shouted, gesturing wildly toward the crying child like a cartoon character mid-breakdown.
“GUYS, WE HAVE A BABY ON OUR COUCH!” Kayn yelled from the floor, still sprawled on the carpet.
“WE KNOW, KAYN!” K’Sante exasperatedly shot back.
And in the middle of the chaos, little Ezreal’s wide blue eyes filled with tears. The band’s overlapping shouting seemed to crush him into himself, and then— “WAAAAAAAHHHHH!” High-pitched, loud, and utterly distressed. He clutched at the giant purple sleeves, stumbling backward like a trapped animal, crying so hard his breath hitched.
The sound was ear-splitting.
“OKAY, OKAY—HEY, HEY, NO, NO, NO CRYING—” Sett tried, hands flailing.
“You’re scaring him more,” Yone’s voice cut sharply as he swept over, kneeling down with calm, careful movements. “Ezreal, darling, you’re alright. Just breathe.” He offered his hands slowly, like Ezreal was a stray kitten ready to bolt. Ezreal only wailed harder, flinching back into the couch cushions.
Sett looked completely lost, glancing between them like he was waiting for someone to throw him a lifeline. “I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen! I didn’t even—how the hell do we un-shrink him?!”
Aphelios, who had been frozen the entire time, finally stood up from the bean bag and furiously hand signed to Sett. [Maybe don’t yell while the kid’s already screaming.]
K’Sante rubbed a hand over his face. “Okay, step one, calm him down before the neighbors call the cops. Step two, then figure out the potion thing.”
But Yone wasn’t hearing any of it. He was leaning closer to Ezreal now, voice dropping into that soft, parental tone he rarely used unless it was late at night and usually only reserved to certain blonde hair in the house. “Ezreal. Come. It’s me. It’s okay.”
He scooped the tiny, shaking Ezreal into his arms like he weighed nothing, tucking him close to his chest. One large hand cradled the back of the boy’s head, the other resting firmly against his small back, slow and steady in its pats.
“It’s alright, little one,” Yone murmured, voice so low it was almost a hum. His tone was pure warmth—soft, protective, and completely void of his usual reserve. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”
Ezreal’s fists clung to Yone’s shirt, face pressed into the safe darkness of his chest, still trembling with hiccuping sobs and Yone’s arms tightened instinctively, his thumb brushing gentle circles against the boy’s spine.
It was like the rest of the room had faded away for him. The noise, the confusion, the half-shouted questions from the others—none of it mattered. Right now, it was just Ezreal, small and terrified, and Yone’s singular focus on making him feel safe.
Meanwhile, on the far side of the room, chaos was unfolding.
K’Sante had taken the mysterious bottle from Sett and was squinting at the tiny printed text on the back. “These instructions are half in another language,” he muttered, turning it under the light.
Sett hovered nervously. “What does it say? Can we… like… reverse it?”
K’Sante’s brow furrowed deeper. “Hold on… something about… ‘effects irreversible until duration ends’… one-time use… four days.”
“Four days?!” Sett shrieked. “He’s stuck like this for four days?!”
Kayn, leaning over his shoulder, snorted. “What if it’s permanent? No amount of PR can cover this shit up–”
—Smack— Aphelios wordlessly smacked the back of Kayn’s head.
“Phel—hey! HEY! Attack Sett, not me! He’s the one dumb enough to buy a turning-into-a-baby potion!”
Sett threw up his hands. “You seriously think I believed it was real?!” he said, waving frantically at the bottle in K’Sante’s hand. “It looked like one of those fancy energy drinks! Y’know—‘immersive magic experience’ type stuff—”
Kayn snorted. “Pfft—yeah, immersive for sure. Let’s just hope he’s potty-trained—”
—Smack— Again, courtesy of Aphelios.
“NOT HELPING, KAYN!” K’Sante and Sett shouted in unison.
Aphelios calmly taking the bottle and snapping photos of the label with his phone—probably to Google something about it.
K’Sante rubbed his face with both hands, pacing in frustration. “Okay, I’m just gonna say it—none of this makes sense. Magic? Potions? We’re not in some fantasy RPG. This is real life.”
Sett jabbed a finger toward the couch. “Yeah? Then how do you explain that?”
They all turned—only to realize Yone wasn’t there anymore. The couch cushion was empty, a faint trace of Ezreal’s sniffles echoing from the kitchen.
Kayn groaned. “Great. Dad Mode’s fully activated. Not even questioning how our vocalist just randomly turned into a toddler. Classic.”
“Look, how do we even know this label’s legit?” Kayn continued, both hands on his hips. “Could be total marketing bullshit. For all we know, it’s permanent—and then every media outlet’s asking about Ezreal’s disappearance, we’re losing fans, and we have to cover his school and lesson fees.”
“OH MY GOD, KAYN, CAN YOU SHUT UP?!” Sett flailed his hands in the air, face twisted in frustration.
K’Sante exhaled slowly through his nose. “Alright. Hypothetically—if we believe this nonsense—four days isn’t the end of the world. But we can’t just sit here and hope.”
He turned to Sett. “Where exactly did you get this?”
Sett hesitated. “Uh… y’know that alley market? The one with the weird incense smell? Yeah… third stall down.”
“That’s vague,” K’sante snapped. “We need an actual address.”
“Man, I didn’t exactly get their business card!” Sett shot back.
Aphelios stood quietly in the corner, scrolling on his phone. He held the bottle under the light, studying a tiny emblem near the barcode. Then he snapped another photo and began searching.
[Found the logo. But no identical search on google.] he signed toward them before showing the photo in his phone.
“That’s not helpful…” Sett muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
K’Sante straightened. “We’re not wasting time. If this stall’s still open, we’ve got maybe an hour before they pack up.”
Halfway into his coat, he ordered, “Sett, Kayn—you’re with me. Phel, stay with Yone and Ezreal. We’ll find that stall and figure out what this is.”
Sett was already pulling on his sneakers. “And what if they’re gone? What if it’s just fake?”
Kayn shrugged. “Or what if it’s not fake, and we walk straight into a hex or—”
“Not helping,” K’Sante snapped, grabbing his keys. “Let’s go.”
Kayn groaned but pulled his hoodie on anyway. “Cool. If we die, I’m haunting you.”
The front door slammed shut.
The house fell silent.
Aphelios stood alone in the living room, bottle in one hand, phone in the other.
Meanwhile in the kitchen, Yone sat with Ezreal perched on his lap, a soft blanket wrapped snugly around the tiny boy’s shoulders. Ezreal clutched a cup of warm milk in both hands, hiccupping between quiet sniffles.
“Small sips, sunshine. Don’t rush,” Yone murmured—his voice low, steady, grounding.