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1.
Minho isn’t a witch—just occasionally dabbles in the occult here and there. He especially likes the craft of potion making, not that he’s very good at it.
Some days go better than others, and those times he can successfully create a potion or medicine to give to some of his neighbours. Other times—more often than not—it goes terribly wrong and he has to call his friend Chan to help.
Chan isn’t here right now, though. He’s on a month-long trip over the hills and across the lake to visit his brother Felix. Minho quite liked Felix.
Chan had specifically instructed Minho not to try to make any potions because “I won’t be here to help”, but who was Minho if not a bad listener?
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
He had gone to the markets early this morning, only to be refused service by Seungmin. He had said “I can’t sell this to you Minho, you’ll burn your god-damn house down without Chan here”, but between you and Minho, he thinks it’s because Seungmin is a jerk.
But what he lacked in magic, Minho made up for with his charm. So in the end, he walked away with a basket of ingredients, and a lighter coin pouch than he had arrived with.
So here he is, trying to crush the chilli flakes for his emberlight elixir—a brew which is supposed to create a warm, protective atmosphere for his house.
He had added all the ingredients earlier, though it didn’t look like what it was supposed to. He shrugged, telling himself it would all work out when he added the chilli.
He placed the pestle down, careful not to inhale any of the spicy dust—he would not be making that mistake again—and measured out the powder. Maybe a tad too much, but if Minho had learned anything, it was to measure with the heart rather than precise measurements.
He took a deep breath, his hand hovering over the bubbling liquid, internally praying that this all worked out. Chan wasn’t here so it could not go wrong.
He tipped the spoon over and waited.
Nothing.
Until the liquid started turning crimson. The potion started bubbling, a sweet and sharp smell filling the air.
“Yes!” Minho cheered. He looked down at the floor, scrunching up his nose when he saw one of his cats retreating into his bedroom. “Soonie, it’s okay!”
It was working.
That was, until it exploded.
A flash, followed by a sharp crack, and the cauldron was spitting out fire.
Little flames caught on his curtains, licking at his carpet—a little spitfire even landed on his tunic.
He yelped, hurriedly brushing the flame off his sleeve before it could spread, leaving behind a singed mark. A permanent reminder of his incompetence.
Minho looked around, the fire seemed red and orange and blue all at the same time. As panicked as he was, he couldn’t help but admire it. It was beautiful, and he couldn’t breathe.
He coughed, belatedly realising a thick smoke had filled his house, the burnt sugar clinging to his clothes and nose hairs. His eyes stung and watered and his chest burned. He looked down to make sure he hadn’t caught on fire again.
A loud bang made him swing around.
A man was standing in the doorway, chest heaving and eyes wide.
“What are you doing? Get out!” The man yelled as his hands started glowing.
Minho felt rooted in place before he registered the words, forcing his sluggish legs to move. He hoped his cats were okay.
He stumbled out of his house, coughing and spluttering as he fell to his knees.
Surprisingly, there was no one around, snooping. Perhaps they had become used to Minho’s antics and simply didn’t care any longer.
Minho couldn’t care—in fact, he was happy no one was here to bear witness to his uselessness.
He heaved in a deep breath, chest stuttering as his throat stung painfully. It felt like knives down his throat, but it was fresh air, nonetheless.
It felt like ages, before the man came back out again, Minho only registering who it was when they made eye contact. Han Jisung—an eclectic witch—had come to save Minho. They had met each other briefly, both sharing one or two mutual friends, but it didn’t go much past that. It didn’t mean Minho hadn’t noticed or appreciated his beauty, though.
He coughed again before trying his voice. “Thanks, for uh, you know.” He looked down, preferring the sight of his charred hands rather than the disappointed stare he knew the younger was fixing him with.
“It’s not usually this bad.” He said, shrugging as he looked up.
Jisung looked at him with disbelief, shaking his head as he scoffed.
“Are you serious, Minho? You really couldn’t have been more stupid?”
Minho flinched at the harsh words, grimacing as he took them, they weren’t wrong technically.
Jisung sighed, running a frustrated hand through his inky hair. Pretty.
“Look, I’m sorry, but this was really dumb Minho. Chan isn’t here right now to clean up your messes. You could have gotten seriously hurt.”
Minho pouted like a kicked puppy, shrinking in on himself as he picked at some grass.
“You added too much chilli,” Jisung informed. “Don’t do this again.”
Minho perked up a bit, a shy smile spreading across his face as Jisung marched off.
“I’ll try something safer!” He called out, and even if he couldn’t see it, he was sure the young witch was rolling his eyes,
2.
“Oh, fuck!” Minho cursed, ducking as the large tongue narrowly missed his face.
A simple rejuvenation potion had somehow turned his leather couch into a giant toad.
After his little fire incident, he had been amazed to find out that Jisung had not only stopped the fire, but he had also fixed everything up.
No wonder he had taken so long.
Though, as clean and unsinged as a burnt house can be, not everything was perfect.
He didn’t think it would be too hard to fix the couch, but obviously, something didn’t work out right.
Minho thinks he went wrong with the toad lily. “Did it just say two lilies then?” Minho muttered, shouting when its tongue stuck to his shoes and pulled it off around his foot.
“Ah, shit.” He winced as he sat up, rubbing his head. The door was open, and the toad was nowhere to be seen.
Minho clambered off the floor, swaying when he stood up. His eyesight was splotchy with black and his head spun. He clenched his eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath to ground himself before running out the door.
Minho paused momentarily, looking around frantically for any indication of the giant toad’s whereabouts.
The grass leading behind his house had been squashed. It appeared discoloured and was covered in some slippery goo, so that’s the direction Minho went.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
He stopped dead in his tracks, mouth slightly agape when he saw Jisung standing in front of his leather couch—no amphibian in sight.
He had come to his rescue again. The thought warmed something in Minho’s chest.
Jisung looked up at the sound, eyes narrowing when they fell on Minho.
“Seriously?” The man sighed incredulously. “Again?”
Minho chuckled nervously, rocking on the balls of his feet. Maybe it was just a coincidence, Minho thought. Wrong place at the right time—all of that kind of stuff. He certainly didn’t look happy to see Minho.
“Well, at least it wasn’t as bad as last time.” He joked, trying to ease the tension, his shoulders falling when he saw Jisung’s scowl deepen.
“You should get this back inside—” he half-heartedly gestured to the couch. “—might take a while and it’ll be dusk soon.”
“A-aren’t you gonna help me?” Minho gaped and Jisung looked at him as if he had grown two heads.
“I think I’ve done more than enough already, Minho.” And with that, Jisung was making his way down the hill.
Minho sighed, pouting as he watched Jisung retreat, his body turning into a blob the further he got.
He ran a hand down his face, gritting his teeth as he muttered “I’m gonna have to call Changbin, aren’t I?”
3.
“Pa, I’m hungry!”
Minho whipped around, nearly shrieked when he realised the words had come from his kitten, Dori.
He blinked, swallowed, blinked again.
Dori tilted his head. “Please, pa. Feed me!”
“Uh, I—uh.” Minho stammered. How fuck had a simple medicine—one that he had made hundreds of times before, successfully—make his cat talk?
“Hurry up old man!” Soonie ordered annoyed.
Correction—made his cats talk.
“This makes no sense! You didn’t even take the medicine, it was for—” Minho was cut off by his own sneeze, groaning as he wiped his nose.
“We’re not the ones who messed up. You obviously did something wrong. But you can worry about that later.” Doongie said.
Minho had been sick for nearly two weeks, the only positive of this illness being that he hadn’t tried to make any more potions. He thought it would go away on its own. But it hadn’t—so Minho decided it was time to take matters into his own hands.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
A bowl of biscuits each and a shared plate of rotisserie chicken later, Minho was sitting in front of his cats, engaging in conversation with them—not that they appreciated it.
“Can you just shut up already?” Soonie complained. “I’m sick of talking to you.”
Minho pouted, “But don’t you realise how happy I am? I can finally talk to my babies!”
His cats all looked at each other, understanding something Minho didn’t.
“Can you just get Jisung?” Doongie asked.
Minho furrowed his brows. Jisung?
“What on earth for?” He asked, completely confused.
Soonie sighed before speaking—something that made excitement buzz under Minho’s skin even if he had been at this for nearly an hour.
“So he can reverse your spell, duh. He might even make you all better if you ask nicely.”
Minho froze. His cats didn’t want to communicate with him? They wanted to go back to how it was?
“You don’t want to talk to me?” Minho whispered, voice impossibly small.
“No pa!” Dori cried. “We love you, but it makes me feel all weird inside.”
Soonie and Doongie agreed, and Minho felt his heart sink. He didn’t want his babies to feel sick or be in pain.
It wasn’t too late, only around four in the afternoon, so he figured he might be able to convince Jisung to come over. He said his goodbyes to his cats before walking down the path into town.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
“Yes?” Jisung asked, opening the door.
Minho smiled a bit shyly when his gaze fell on him, eyes widening.
“Minho? What are you doing here?” He questioned hesitantly.
Before he could say anything, the tickling feeling built up in his sinus, and he had to quickly turn his head before he sneezed on Jisung.
“Bless you,” Jisung said.
“Umm, I kind of need your help. My potion didn’t go too well.”
Jisung raised a curious eyebrow, opened his mouth then closed it, choosing to wait and see what beheld him.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
“Oh, you’re back pa!” Dori greeted, pittering over to where Minho and Jisung stood by the door.
Jisung looked at Minho, then at Dori, and back at Minho before bursting into laughter.
“Your—you made your cats speak?” He giggled between breaths.
Minho glared at him, only stopping when he had to sneeze one, two, three times.
“Ah, you were trying to make medicine, weren’t you?”
Minho nodded, trying to fight the urge not to sneeze again. “I don’t know how it made them talk, they didn’t even ingest any!”
Jisung hummed in consideration. “You measured with your heart again, didn’t you?”
“Yeah—wait, how did you know I did that?!”
Jisung chuckled fondly. “I’ll set this all right. The only reason they feel weird is because their connection with you was heightened. When the spell breaks, everything will be back to normal.”
Minho nodded, but he couldn’t help the small frown on his face. Jisung just looked at him and directed him to the couch, telling him to spend time with his cats before he wouldn’t be able to understand them.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Twenty-six minutes later, the cats were back to meowing rather than speaking words.
It was sad, but Minho would much rather listen to their meows knowing they were happy and healthy.
He also noticed that his sniffles were gone. Jisung didn’t say anything about that.
4.
“What the shit?” Minho whispered dazed as he looked around his surroundings. His head felt like it was filled with cotton.
He didn’t know where he was, and he didn’t know who those cats belonged to. Oh, and he didn’t know who he was.
The last realisation caused a bout of panic inside him. He jolted up, making his way to what he suspected was the front door.
Minho shoved it open, bolting outside only to trip over a stepping stone.
He pushed himself up with his hands, groaning as pain shot through his face.
He winced when he brought a hand to his nose, a small gasp escaping his lips when he saw crimson.
He sniffed, trying to clear his nose, but the air felt like jagged glass in his sinus, a sharp and painful burn that made his eyes water immediately. Then came the copper—a warm and metallic liquid pooled in the back of his throat, making him gag and cough.
He hunched over, grasping at his chest as he coughed, sprays of red painted the grass below him.
Minho stayed bent forward for a while, trying to compose himself as he let the shock wear down and the blood trickle out of his nostrils.
He didn’t know what to do. He felt lost—unsure of his location and himself.
A muffled voice brought him back to the real world.
“Minho? Are you alright? That’s a lot of blood.”
He tilted his head up, looking at the worried man above him. He was very pretty.
“Umm, thank you.” The man said abashedly.
His mistake, he must have said that aloud—but his pink cheeks were very cute, so maybe it wasn’t that big of a mistake.
He shook his head slightly, spitting when more blood flavoured his saliva.
“I’m sorry,” he began, voice hoarse. “Who are you exactly?”
The man recoiled at that, looking a mixture of confusion and hurt.
“Minho, what did you do?”
He furrowed his brows. “Min—Ho?” He asked curiously.
The pretty boy’s eyes widened, his lips parting slightly. “Shit. Tell me you didn’t. Jesus Christ! Do you know who I am?”
Minho shook his head, frowning when the pretty man frowned. He didn’t know what he had done wrong—as far as he knew he hadn’t done anything wrong!
The man straightened up, reaching a hand down for Minho, who cautiously took it. The man took his time helping Minho up, steadying him when he lost his balance, before leading him back into the house he had run out of.
“Sit.” He ordered, chuckling when he looked at the couch—what was so funny about a leather couch?
Minho watched the man intently as he rummaged through cupboards—grabbing plants—conjuring what he didn’t find.
His mouth formed a small ‘O’ when a snowdrop flower suddenly appeared in the man’s hand after it had just glowed with a soft light.
The pretty guy was muttering something that Minho couldn’t hear as he was tossing things into a cauldron.
Minho spent a while just staring at him work away, a deep furrow set between his brows as he unconsciously chewed on his bottom lip. Pretty.
Eventually, the man picked up a ladle, poured the light blue liquid into a cup and turned his attention back to Minho.
He walked over, holding the cup out in front of Minho as he said “Drink.”
Minho carefully grabbed the glass and brought it to his lips. He looked up at the man through his lashes and his cheeks heated as the pretty guy stared intently at him.
He tilted his head back, letting the liquid hit his tongue. He closed his eyes as he swallowed. It was clean—almost sweet—as it washed away the lingering copper taste.
His head felt cloudy, then all at once a million memories and information flooded his brain.
He clenched his eyes shut, hissing as his head throbbed and pounded before slowly fading away.
A warm hand grounded him, he focused on it, rubbing soothing circles on his back.
“You good?”
He recognised that voice. The same one that was always chiding him for his magical mishaps.
“This is so embarrassing,” Minho groaned into his hands. “We have got to stop meeting like this.”
Jisung chuckled, and it was so pretty.
Minho thinks that after everything that happened to him today, Jisung couldn’t bring himself to get too mad this time round.
“Something tells me this won’t be the last time, Minho.”
Minho hummed, a devious smirk growing on his face.
“Got to keep up with the spells!”
The witch beside him sighed. “You won’t give that up, will you?” Minho shook his head. “I didn’t think so. You are the most magically stubborn human I’ve ever met.”
Minho grinned lop-sidedly, bowing slightly. “Glad to be of service.”
“Well, I'll be going now,” Jisung said abruptly, standing up from his spot beside Minho on the couch. He almost wanted to object—grab his arm—and tell him to stay. But he had already caused Jisung enough strife, so he would let him go, even if he didn’t want to.
5.
When Jisung said they would be seeing each other again, Minho really didn’t think it would be only two days later.
In his defence, it wasn’t because of some silly little whim—it was because of Seo Changbin.
That insolent man had forced Minho to make him a love potion for Hyunjin.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
“The fuck I’m doing that!”
“You owe me! I’ve been helping you for years, Minho! All those tiny things add up you know!”
“It’s dangerous, Changbin. Plus I’m like ninety-nine per cent sure he’s already in love with you.”
“I’m not risking one per cent.”
“Go ask Chan when he comes back—or Jisung! I’m a human, and my potions don’t go very well, if you hadn’t already noticed.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? No way I’m going to ask Chan! You know what he’d say!”
“Maybe there’s a reason for it.”
“Please, Minho. Just this once.”
“…”
“Please!”
“Fine.”
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
To Minho’s surprise and delight, the potion had worked. Completely and perfectly.
A gorgeous, iridescent pink liquid swirled in the glass cup as Minho held it up to the light.
He put it down on the bench to finish up making his tea—hibiscus, his favourite.
His ringtone sounded from beside him, and he was going to let it go to voicemail when he saw it was Changbin, but the small part of him that liked him decided to answer.
“Hello?”
“Hyung! Oh my god! I’m so happy! You don’t need to make the potion anymore.”
Minho’s hand instantly tightened around his phone, mirroring the tension in his jaw.
“Excuse me?” He gritted out.
“Yeah, he asked me out! We’re going on a date later today, can you believe?”
Minho spent the rest of the conversation answering half out of it.
He had spent hours upon hours making this, just for it to go to waste?
He reached for his cup, swinging his head back and letting the tea pour down his throat.
It wasn’t until he had nearly downed the whole glass that Minho realised his mistake. He had accidentally drunk the potion.
Well, shit.
But it’s not like it was his fault!
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the wisest to make his tea in the same type of cup the potion was in, but he was running on two and a bit hours of sleep. (Read: thank you, Changbin.)
Minho was trying to stay calm. All he had to do was stay indoors and not look at anyone. Then there won’t be a chance for him to fall in love with any—
“Minho?”
He looked to the open door.
“Oh fuck.”
Next thing he knows, he’s in love with one Han Jisung.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
“Hyung, what the fuck did you do?” Jisung exclaimed incredulously.
That was a very good question, actually. Because at this current moment in time, Minho couldn’t think of anything but how pretty Jisung looked—and since when was he calling Minho hyung? He liked it—so he made sure to tell him that too.
A fiery blush spread across Jisung’s cheeks, and Minho felt like an artist; painting his love’s face with the prettiest colour he could think of.
Fingers snapping in front of his face made him flinch, blinking at Jisung dazedly.
“Minho, why the hell would you make a love potion? You’ve made a huge mess, one that even I can’t fix, we can only hope to wait it out.”
Minho pouted. “I’m sorry Jisungie. I don’t want to make you upset.”
Jisung sighed, resting his hip on the counter as he crossed his arms.
“I can’t believe it. You finally made one correctly yet have once again wrapped me up in your shit.” Jisung chuckled, though the tone sounded warm.
“I’m sorry,” Minho apologised again. “Can we spend some time together?”
Jisung let out an awkward cough before speaking. “Sure, not like I really have a choice.”
Minho smiled and celebrated like a little kid, bouncing over to the couch.
He petted the side of the leather, inviting Jisung to sit next to him, frowning when his pretty boy chose to sit in the armchair across from him.
“Why don’t you want to sit next to me?”
Jisung winced, looking as if he were in pain. Minho didn’t want him to be in pain.
He pouted, sliding off the couch and shuffling over to Jisung’s feet on his knees.
“Are you okay, Jagiya?”
The pretty colour was painted over Jisung’s face again, even reaching his ears and neck.
“Y-yeah, I’m okay Min.”
Minho smiled brightly at the nickname, placing his arms on Jisung’s knees before resting his chin on them.
“You’re so pretty.” Minho sighed looking up at Jisung whose jaw and eyes were squeezed shut.
They spent a while like that, Jisung going through various forms of embarrassment, and Minho who happily watched—taking in his pretty boy.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
When Minho was perfectly content from having his fill of Jisung, his eyes grew tired and his body became heavy. If Minho was hurting Jisung’s legs, the witch hadn’t said anything.
“I wan’ go to bed.” Minho slurred, opening his heavy lids to see Jisung already staring at him. “Come to bed with me, Jagi.”
Jisung shook his head, smiling fondly. “No, darling. I don’t think that’s the best idea.”
Minho didn’t know whether to dance at the pet name or cry at the rejection. He settled for grabbing both of Jisung’s hands.
“Why not?” Minho whined. “You don’t love me?”
That elicited a surprised laugh from Jisung, causing Minho to frown.
Jisung squeezed Minho’s hands reassuringly before helping him stand up, Minho ragdolling against Jisung, who just held him by his waist.
Jisung was so warm, and Minho felt so safe and happy.
“How about this, darling? You can sleep on the couch and I’ll sit beside you. I’m not quite tired yet anyway.”
Minho hummed in agreement as Jisung led him backwards, lowering him down onto the couch. It wasn’t overly comfy, but as long as Jisung was beside him Minho was certain he’d be well rested.
After a soft pillow had been slid under his head and a fluffy blanket had been draped over Minho, Jisung sat on the floor by Minho’s head. He ran his hand through Minho’s hair, making him sleepier every second.
“Sleep now, darling. You won’t remember any of this tomorrow.”
+1
“So, it’s gone then?” Minho asked, patting Dori who was currently napping in his lap.
Jisung nodded, though it was as if he knew something that Minho didn’t.
“Why do you look like that?” Minho questioned, eyes narrowed.
“Like what?” Jisung asked, looking anywhere but Minho.
“Like you’re not telling me something.”
“I’m not.” Jisung squeaked, and Minho knew he was.
“Look, Jisung. If I made you uncomfortable yesterday in any way then I’m sorry. It was no reflection of my actual feelings towards you.” Minho was pretty good at lying out of his ass. He didn’t remember what he had done, and Jisung made no attempt to tell him—maybe it wasn’t too bad.
They could move on from this, pretend yesterday never happened and maybe even become good friends.
Jisung doesn’t seem to hold the same amount of distaste for Minho anymore as he originally had, so Minho has to suck it up and suppress his growing feelings. He’s pretty certain his feelings are unreciprocated anyway.
Jisung seemed to frown at that. Jesus, what had Minho done?
“If it makes you feel any better, you won’t have to clean up after me anymore. Chan’s back tomorrow and I think it’s pretty safe to say I’m not cut out for this. I guess humans and magic just don’t mix.”
Jisung looked like he wanted to say something—his mouth opening and closing continuously.
“Aww, don’t try to look so happy Jisung.” He teased, giggling when he finally got an eye roll out of Jisung.
“You’re wrong though, hyung.”
Now it was Minho’s turn to be confused. First of all, what’s up with the hyung now? Secondly, what the hell was he wrong about?
“You see,” Jisung started, his tongue darting out and wetting his bottom lip, “the feelings were real—mostly.”
Yeah, Minho knew that, the question is how did Jisung?
“The potion enhances what’s already there, so when you saw me—”
“—It just enhanced it?” Minho mirrored nervously.
Jisung nodded, a growing flush on his cheeks.
So that’s how Jisung knows.
Minho exhaled through his nose, running a hand down his face.
“Well, this is pretty embarrassing.”
“Not as embarrassing as last night.” Jisung teased, and despite the embarrassing implications that he’d rather not think about, it seemed to lift a weight off Minho’s chest.
Jisung knew Minho had feelings for him, and Jisung didn’t mind.
“Hey, darling—” and if Hyung was a shock, imagine Minho’s surprise when Jisung called him darling. Jisung giggled at Minho’s reaction. “I’m happy I was able to help all this time. And if it’s any consolation, I think you are quite magical in your own way.”
Minho’s eyebrows shot up at his words, tilting his head as a way to let Jisung know he didn’t quite understand.
A shy grin appeared on Jisung’s face. “Well for starters, your love potion was pretty effective—seemed to work on me too.”
Minho and Jisung locked eyes. Maybe Minho was magical in his own way; he seemed to create something no witch could, not even with potions.