Chapter Text
The stone stares at Donghyuck. It is unassuming on an average day, but today, Donghyuck cannot take his eyes off it. He's looked at it every time he's passed by his coffee table. It beckons him from the pile of other beautiful stones.
Call us—Haechan, promise us.
Call he has not, though last week Donghyuck stared at his phone, fingers shaking over Johnny's ID. If he thinks about that day now, his skin feels too tight, so he doesn't. It's probably easier that way—to not think about it.
Donghyuck hasn't stopped thinking about it.
That town—please call us if you—
Donghyuck stands in front of the stone, and after a moment, he plucks it from the pile. It's warm in his hand despite his coffee table not being caught in the sunbeams that filter in through his open curtains. He rotates the stone in his hand, fingers rubbing over the protection rune etched carefully into it.
"Ugh," Donghyuck says to no one, or to the stone, or to the bird that settles on the ledge of the half open window and chirps. He doesn't look away from the stone, can't yank his eyes off the rune for more than a handful of seconds at a time.
That means something, he knows. He's not stupid. Donghyuck is many things, but an idiot in magic is not one of them.
The rune itself is beautiful. Dark grays and blacks swirl around the smooth surface, broken only by the single protection rune the flatter side. It's been brushed with gold, settling into the grooves so that it shimmers slightly even out of the direct sunlight. Donghyuck stares at it a while longer, then sighs.
He shoves the stone in his pocket, and the warmth immediately seeps into his thigh. It's not easy to ignore, but Donghyuck has things to do. If the Universe thinks he needs a little extra protection, atop what the sun already gives him, then who is he to ignore the Universe?
When Donghyuck finally makes his way to the mouth of the forest, Jaemin is already waiting for him. He's dressed far more appropriately than Donghyuck's sleeveless tank top and denim shorts. "Haechan! You're late," he says from where he stands under the gentle shade of a nearby tree.
"Yeah," Donghyuck agrees easily, hands in his pockets. His fingers pet across the still-warm rune tucked inside.
Despite Jaemin's too large hoodie, jeans, and a pink baseball cap, the weather is nice. The sun is warm on Donghyuck's skin, the breeze that filters through the trees an occasional gentle reprieve from the heat. "You couldn't leave without me," Donghyuck adds as he steps closer to Jaemin. Immediately, Jaemin links their arms together, a cautious smile on his lips. "This was your idea, Nana."
Jaemin hums his answer as he gently leads Donghyuck into the forest. It's not the first time Donghyuck has gone, but he's never been able to get deep enough in, always spit out at the mouth of the path. "You can call me Jaemin here," Jaemin says. He turns to Donghyuck and his grin grows, straight white teeth almost eerie in the darkening shade of the forest canopy. "It's safe."
With his free hand, Donghyuck pats Jaemin's arm. "I won't," he answers, a pleasant lilt to his voice. It feels odd to be outside and not have the sun's blessing upon his flesh, but the rune in his pocket radiates a quiet warmth that soothes his nerves. "I feel it is only fair, since you must do the same."
As they traverse deeper into the forest, Donghyuck listens to it come alive. Tucked away from the ongoings of the townsfolk, the squirrels don't hesitate to dart in front of their path, pausing on occasion to stare at them with beady eyes before they scamper off into the brush.
"Sorry about my mom," Jaemin says, a bit quieter. His arm tightens around Donghyuck's and when Donghyuck looks over, Jaemin isn't looking at him. "She means well."
Donghyuck hasn't stopped thinking about it. Not really, not in a way that matters. He ignores the thoughts, the vivid memories of his sweet words tumbling from his tongue, curious as he always is. He remembers more the reaction. First, the way Jaemin's back stiffened, his hands pausing on whatever menial work his mother tasked him with in the shop. Second was Jaemin's mother pausing mid-sentence, no longer the same woman who welcomed him into the town the first time Donghyuck stumbled upon her little apothecary.
Her little decrepit apothecary, compared to the wonders and glory of Doyoung's in the city. Honestly, she should be thankful Donghyuck is willing to give her business. He nearly walked right out, the first time. He's no plant witch, but the apathy from the shop still gives Donghyuck goosebumps.
"It certainly is a sensitive subject," Donghyuck hedges. He faces forward and steps over an overgrown tree root. A few steps later, Jaemin comes to a halt, just as the noise of the forest dims.
A fluttering of wings draws Donghyuck's attention to a nearby tree, and finds two crows on a low branch. They stare at the two of them before one opens it's mouth, ready to cry.
Caw.
"You know why, right?" It's Jaemin's voice, but it's not. Donghyuck keeps his stare on the crows. Inside his pocket, the rune grows hotter. "The librarian said you were looking at—"
Caw.
Donghyuck stops walking. Digs his feet into the ground when Jaemin lurches forward, unbalanced. "Does it matter?" he demands. "No one tells me anything—it's been two months, and not a single one of you has told me—"
Small towns, Donghyuck was told when he sat down his brother and his boyfriends, can be insidious. For many reasons, but Ten stressed the worst was their inherent incestuous nature. They kept to themselves, only trusted each other, and loathed outsiders even if it was to their benefit. It was him who had tried the hardest to keep Donghyuck in the city, going as far as to promise to be a kept cat.
It was insulting as it was hilarious. It was not enough to make Donghyuck stay.
Sometimes he wishes it was.
Jaemin is still staring at him from under his baseball cap, eyes a little too dark, too knowing even in the shadows of the forest.
Caw.
"It shouldn't be you." Jaemin releases his hold on Donghyuck. Immediately, Donghyuck takes a step back. Jaemin's eyes stay on him and his fingers twitch like he wants to reach out for Donghyuck, but he ultimately keeps them at his side. "Sung saw you—it has to be you. It shouldn't be—I'm, we're, sorry."
In the two months since moving, Donghyuck only knows two people—Chenle, an old friend who grew up in the city with him, and Jaemin. Yet, he's heard of Sung, first from Chenle, whispered into his knuckles as Chenle begged him to move from the city. Then from Jaemin, the first time they met in his mother's shop.
"What has to be me?" Donghyuck takes another step back, only to trip over the same root he took care to step over. It unbalances him and his arms pinwheel to no avail. The ground is hard, and still chilly from cold nights, and it smarts his tailbone. "Fuck."
Caw.
Jaemin steps forward, just one, his arm outstretched as if he plans to help Donghyuck up before he aborts the mission to look sharply left. At the same time, Donghyuck notices the entire forest go silent. He looks up at the crows to find they also have their gaze fixated to the left. He looks back at Jaemin, his posture now straighter, the smile on his face less unnerving and something more—Donghyuck can't describe it. Fond, perhaps. Or even a bit wistful, a bit remorseful.
Donghyuck isn't able to finish that thought, not when the thick underbrush rustles on the left, parting to slowly reveal a deer. His coat is shiny, tawny brown and sleek—antlers nearly half of Donghyuck's forearm.
"What the fuck?" He doesn't mean for the words to slip out, but they do anyways. He's about to scoot back, to put more distance between himself and the deer, when the deer turns to stare at him, black eyes seemingly far more knowing than a deer should be.
The rune in Donghyuck's pocket burns.
Though the deer's sight lingers at Donghyuck a while longer, it is Jaemin who steps in front of him. Like this, Donghyuck can only hear Jaemin's voice, but the heat of his rune lessens and for that Donghyuck is at least mildly grateful.
"I'm being nice," Jaemin complains. To the deer. A magical deer, certainly, but Donghyuck knows that is not a shifter. He's been around Ten—and Lisa—when they shifted to know that their magic doesn't feel like this.
He watches, eyes wide and limbs too frozen to move, as the deer shoves its head into Jaemin's chest, its antlers just barely not impaling him. Watches as the deer seems to shake its head, watches at its front hoof paws at the ground. The deer being friendly is one thing, but Donghyuck is more shocked to see Jaemin pet the massive creature, both hands patting at its sides. He even coos, which only seems to set the deer off.
"Haechan!" Jaemin seems to remember himself then and turns back towards him. "Come meet—"
The deer huffs and pushes Jaemin hard enough to stumble. Jaemin only laughs and pats its snout. "We can call him the forest protector, yeah?"
"What is it—he?"
"He's the reason I called you out!" Jaemin grins, ever bright and this time he doesn't hesitate to stalk towards Donghyuck and outstretch his hand. "Come on, if he's here, there might be a guest waiting in the fields." The deer headbutts Jaemin's side. Jaemin only rolls his eyes. "Or not."
A—what? Donghyuck opens his mouth to ask what the fuck is going on, but Jaemin must figure he's taken too long to stand up because he grabs his wrist and pulls. It's enough to have Donghyuck scrambling to his feet, though he's a bit embarrassed by the yelp that tumbles from his lips. Once back on his feet, Donghyuck yanks his wrist from Jaemin’s grasp and frowns. “Don’t touch me.” Donghyuck rubs at his wrist. The words do not dull the mischief in Jaemin’s eyes, but they do cause him to take a step back. Ironically, it causes the heat from the rune trapped in his pocket to burn hot enough that Donghyuck begins to worry if he will suffer burns upon returning home.
Though his apprehension remains, Donghyuck ultimately follows the deer, and Jaemin, further into the forest. They navigate through the thickening trees, winding turns seemingly at random until Donghyuck wonders if they are doing it so he cannot find his way back here. Just when Donghyuck’s about to give up, about to tell Jaemin that frankly he doesn’t care what he or the damn deer want to show him, the trees and bushes give way to—
A sea of yellows and blues so vast that for a moment, Donghyuck doesn’t notice the forest continue on the other side. Here, he can look up at the sky and feel the sun on his skin, a humming warmth in his veins as the sun greets him with only a small amount of fanfare. The stone's heat lessens now, content with the Sun’s protection to forgo it’s own. The deer continues into the meadow, but Jaemin does not.
Instead, Jaemin backtracks to where Donghyuck’s stopped at the mouth of the meadow. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he says, a vague gesture towards the calf-high grasses and flowers covering the tree-barren land. Donghyuck only can hum in reply. Donghyuck's eyes eyes narrow as he watches the deer tuck his limbs under his body. “We’re safe here, come.” Jaemin holds out his hand this time, but Donghyuck only looks at it. Jaemin tilts his head and offers only a small smile, far weaker than the near-manic grin on his face earlier. “Please—trust me.”
Donghyuck doesn’t trust him, not really—but he is curious, and that’s enough to have him place his hand in Jaemin’s. They settle just far enough away from the deer to make Donghyuck feel safe. Jaemin sits across from him, while his fingers pluck a blue flower from the ground and slowly spins the stem between them. Donghyuck just watches him, a little unsure of what comes next, of why he’s here. Jaemin stated they were safe, that this deer, this non-shifter deer was special and powerful enough for Jaemin to tell Donghyuck that their names were safe here.
For a while, neither Donghyuck nor Jaemin speak. Tucked into the meadow, Donghyuck can only distantly hear the sounds of the forest, and even spies a squirrel come up from a space between the trees, but it does not enter. It merely stares at Donghyuck before scuttling back into the underbrush without sound.
“Why are we here?” Donghyuck finally asks. He glances at the deer. The deer looks back, a little too knowing. He looks a bit amused, if deer could look amused. Donghyuck decides he’s very much not a fan of whatever the deer is. “Why am I here?”
No answer comes. Donghyuck looks away from the deer to find Jaemin silently plucking the petals off a different blue flower. Once out of petals, he grabs a yellow flower and repeats the process. Only when yellow and blue flower petals decorate the pale denim of his jeans, does Jaemin look back at Donghyuck. “Ask better questions.” he says.
So Donghyuck does. “Who is the deer?” he tries.
But Jaemin shakes his head. “I cannot tell you." Jaemin glances away, to the deer, a frown on his face. “I can’t tell you, sorry. Try again.”
“Why did your mom get so—”
“No.” Jaemin cuts him off this time, shaking his head a second time. He groans and plucks another petal from the ground and immediately begins to slowly pluck the petals free. “No, you aren’t thinking,” He stares at Donghyuck, the weight of his gaze heavy enough to cease Donghyuck’s fingers from restlessly rubbing the hem of his shorts. “Try harder. Think, Haechan, Witch Blessed by the Sun.”
So, Donghyuck thinks. About the library—about what his brother and Ten told him before Donghyuck finally packed his bags and hitched it hours away for the betterment of his health and a glowing review from Chenle.
The newspapers Donghyuck found were far from old—he could smell the ink on them still, as if they were still wet and warm from the printing press. Their pages had yet to yellow. The papers spoke of a boy, an orphan. They spoke of death, of a tragedy, of a horror. Donghyuck can read between the lines, from when the boy was spoken about with pity, to the disgust that lingered between the adjectives. Aloof. Overtly emotional. Pessimistic.
Donghyuck had thought then, that this child was different from the others, confirmed when a later newspaper described the young boy as fatherless—only to later call him parent-less. Some publications went as far to blame his mother's death on the child. Yet, only a single newspaper spoke of the blight on the town, a vague mention that Donghyuck didn't understand then. He's not sure if he understands now.
Yet. He tries. Because his potions can only be as powerful as the ingredients he uses, and the town's apothecary is far weaker than Donghyuck would expect from a witch of Jaemin's mother's standing.
“Before your mother—before you, was there a plant witch?”
The smile is small, a quick thing that Jaemin smothers before he answers, “Yes.”
“What happened?”
“She died.” Jaemin leans back on his arms and looks up at the sky. It hides his face well enough, but Donghyuck doesn’t miss the way his chest collapses under the force of his sigh. “She was very sick, and quite weak for some time. She shouldn’t have lived as long as she did, my mother told me that it was a miracle she made it to her son’s tenth. But her plants loved her—nature loved her.”
Grief, however removed from it Donghyuck is, settles over his skin. The sun dims, a gentle reminder that she’s here, that she understands. Donghyuck rubs his arm. “And when she died, did her plants mourn? My brother’s boyfriend told me he has a sort of connection with them, like a friendship.”
“Yeah,” Jaemin sighs again and looks back at Donghyuck. “Her plants mourned, the town too. But, nature did not think it was enough and—” he shifts to gesture towards what Donghyuck assumes is the city, “now, we are cursed because of it.”
A beat of silence. Jaemin offers yet another smile, though this one is different. It’s sharp at the edges, a threat and a promise and a plea all tucked into the corners.
“What are you hiding?” Donghyuck asks, stupidly.
The grin only sharpens. “Try again.” Donghyuck wishes he were brave enough to punch him.
“Does her son live here?”
“Yes.” a beat. “Haechan, think.”
Donghyuck can’t think. He has too many questions, and the answers only lead to more questions. He doesn’t know what Jaemin is willing to answer, doesn’t know what will get shot down with that fuckass grin. “Is her son cursed? Is he that man I saw in the house, just north of mine? Is he—”
“Not really, and yes,” Jaemin answers. It looks for a moment that he wants to say more, but his head jerks to the right—towards the deer, who slowly pushes itself to its feet—and the smile vanishes off his face. “Haechan, quickly think.”
And there is only one thing Donghyuck wants to know. “Why did you say I was chosen? What am I chosen for?”
The deer approaches, and Jaemin brushes the petals from his pants to stand. Again, he extends his hand to Donghyuck, eyes bright under his cap. “To save us.” His fingers wiggle. “Now, come. It is time to go home.”
꧁✮..🔮☽..✮꧂
The tinny sound of music pours from Donghyuck's phone, halfway across the room. It's yet another loop of Billie Jean, and Donghyuck's hips sway with the beat as he sweeps across the shop floor. In a perfect world, he would be upstairs, with Chenle, bickering over the placement of his pots and pans and what show they wanted to watch on Donghyuck's brother's streaming service account. In a just world, the lights would be off in the shop and Donghyuck would not be sweeping thyme off the floor.
Thyme that he spilled. Foolishly, in his opinion. Earlier he'd checked the stock of his supplies and found his thyme to be perfectly topped up, yet unlike every other bottle and jar of herbs, it remained suspiciously near the edge of the back counter. In a perfect place for Donghyuck to knock into it just as he and Chenle were ready to scurry up the back stairs to Donghyuck's apartment above.
At least he has Michael to keep him company.
It's not until Donghyuck has swept the thyme into a near perfect pile and is setting his broom down when he first hears it.
A set of three frantic—yet still timid—knocks on his locked shop door. Donghyuck stares at it, wets his lips, and elects to ignore it. Chenle is with him, and if Jaemin needed him—well.
Donghyuck hasn't seen him since the forest, since the meadow, and honestly he's a little bit okay with returning to his mundane day-to-day life. Whatever Jaemin spoke of Donghyuck isn't entirely sure he wants to be a part of. Though, a part of him knows, regardless of his thoughts on the matter, whatever the Universe deemed him ready for, Donghyuck will go through.
The knocks happen again, louder, more frantic. This time, Donghyuck goes to pause his music, and waits. There's no message from Chenle, none from his brother either, and of course Jaemin went ghost the moment he dropped Donghyuck off at his house a week ago.
Donghyuck reasons it's a customer, one a little too desperate to recall that his operating hours are operating hours for a reason. Donghyuck loathes to do business at night, not when he's spent a day fielding requests for the ten thousandth love potion (doesn't exist), or a one stop cure all (also doesn't exist).
"Please," Donghyuck hears through the worn oak door. He stops in his tracks. Something about the voice is—familiar. Not in a way that Donghyuck would recognize, but panic and terror are no stranger to Donghyuck. Not in this line of work. "Please, it's an emergency."
With one last glance at the pile of thyme on the floor, Donghyuck heaves a sigh. "Lele!" he calls up the stairs. He waits for Chenle's answering shout before continuing, "Don't burn my house down, we have a guest."
"A what?" There's a crash, a curse, and feet stomping down the stairs. Donghyuck ignores all of this to unlock the shops door. "Don—Haech—we have a what?" Donghyuck hears Chenle slip off the last step, as he always does because he never pays attention that it's tilted and wonky.
In the doorway stands a man barely taller than Donghyuck, eyes wide behind round rimless glasses. Donghyuck immediately notices the flush on his cheeks, the disarray of his clothes and hair, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Almost as if—
Donghyuck inhales. "Can I help you?" he asks.
Before the man can answer, Chenle says, "Mark?"
It shouldn't be possible for the man's eyes to widen further, but they do. Donghyuck finds it kind of cute. "Lele?" The man—Mark—scrubs his hands over his face and doesn't seem to care that the action knocks the glasses from his face. Donghyuck picks them up from the ground and smiles at Mark's mumbled thanks. "Why are you here? Do you know Haechan?"
Chenle's body heat blankets Donghyuck's back moments before Chenle's bony chin digs into his shoulder. "Yeah," he says. "Childhood friend, I've talked about him before. Don't you listen to me, Mark?" the last bit ends in a whine, so annoyingly Chenle that it makes Mark and Donghyuck laugh. It seems to dispel some of the panic caught in Mark's shoulders. "What are you doing here so late?"
The laughter on Mark's tongue dies, his face growing serious once more. "Can I come inside—it's urgent." he says to Donghyuck. To Chenle he says, "It's about Sung."
Again this Sung person. This witch that seems to know more about Donghyuck than Donghyuck knows about himself.
Still, Donghyuck lets Mark into the store, and lets Chenle take him to the well-worn dark green loveseat Doyoung let him steal upon finding out Donghyuck was moving. Even his shop in the city was decorated by Doyoung, it's no surprise he took it upon himself to expand his decorating mania to Donghyuck's new shop.
He leaves Mark to Chenle when he sees Chenle crouched in front of Mark, his hands covering Mark's shaking ones. "Lele, I'm going to make tea, okay?" he says from the base of the stairs.
"Okay," There's a long beat of silence, words passing unspoken to Donghyuck's ears. "Can you bring down four?
With another hum, Donghyuck goes upstairs and sets about boiling water in the kettle. The state of his kitchen, half chopped vegetables and a cold pan on the burner reminds his stomach that he hasn't eaten since the morning. He decides then and there that whatever Mark needs, Donghyuck cannot do on an empty stomach—and so it is in his best interest to at least make a quick dinner for himself. And for the others as well, since the smell is surely to creepy downstairs.
By the time Donghyuck shuffles back down the stairs, balancing a tray of hot tea mugs and some sugar, there's a third person in the shop's lounge. "Lele, can you grab the food upstairs," Donghyuck asks as he places the tray on the coffee table in front of the sofa. "I don't have enough arms, and we need to eat."
"'Course." Chenle squeezes Donghyuck's bicep as he passes, "Thanks for the tea."
"Lavender?" the mysterious man says from next to Mark. Where Mark is soft, this person is decidedly not. Even sitting, he towers over Mark, bright white hair falling in oddly healthy waves across his forehead. He's far more pale than Mark, even paler than Chenle who lives on a strict code of SPF 100 every time he steps outside. "Mark is that—"
Donghyuck opens his mouth to answer, but snaps it shut when he sees Mark slowly trace letters into the other's arm, each stroke so careful that Donghyuck marvels at the tender care. "Oh," he says, a bit uselessly.
"He's not usually like this," Chenle says from behind. Donghyuck shuffles aside to allow Chenle to place the four plates on the coffee table, silverware taken from sweatpants pockets and put in a pile. "It's his magic."
On the couch, Mark ruffles the boy's hair, and this is when Donghyuck notices the milky haze in his eyes. "Blind too?" Donghyuck asks as he sits down in front of the food. He grabs a mug at random and takes a sip from it. "Is this normal?"
It's Mark who answers. "It's not uncommon," he starts. He glances at Donghyuck, then at the boy. He taps him twice on the thigh.
"Hi," the boy says, his voice just as deep and rich as before. "We haven't met, but I know much about you, Haechan, Witch Blessed by the Sun." he smiles, and the low light of Donghyuck's various lamps catch the star freckles on his cheeks. Donghyuck pauses mid-chew. "You can call me Sung, Witch Blessed by the Stars."
Again, Donghyuck can only say, "Oh." Sung, of course, cannot see or hear him, but he seems to guess Donghyuck's bewilderment by stifling his giggle with the back of his hand. There too, are little stars pressed into his skin.
"It's nice to meet you, officially." Sung ducks his head and then turns towards Mark. "Mark—" he doesn't finish his sentence. Mark laugh cuts him off, his touch against the back of Sung's neck halting his words as Mark guides Sung's head to burrow into his shoulder.
It's cute, watching how they dote on each other. How Mark's fingers play with Sung's for a while as Donghyuck tries to eat quickly. He stays out of Mark's and Chenle's inane conversation about a game of basketball over the weekend. It's far easier to sip his tea and eat his dinner. Mark watches him on occasion, their eyes meeting every time Donghyuck is mid-bite of hastily cooked omelet.
Only when Donghyuck has finished his dinner does Mark pivot the conversation to the matter at hand. "I'm sorry to come in so late, but as you can see," he gestures towards Sung, sitting patiently and staring into the abyss. "Is there any way to fix this—him?"
Quieter, Chenle adds, "Is it permanent?"
Donghyuck looks down at his empty plate, then back to Sung. "How long ago did this happen?"
"Just before I came. He's a divination witch, so blindness isn't that uncommon to him. Being deaf is." Mark runs a shaking hand through his hair. "He was so calm when he called me. Just told me that he had seen something he shouldn't have, and to bring him here—to you. He said that you could help."
That makes Donghyuck laugh. "Me? I can't cure him from being deaf, or blind. That's his magic." Next to him, Chenle presses against his side and his head tilts to rest on Donghyuck's shoulder, nearly a mirror him to to Mark and Sung.
"Please," Chenle says, cutting off whatever Mark opened his mouth to say. "Is there anything that might help him?"
"Anything at all?" Mark adds.
In the back of Donghyuck's mind, he hears Jaemin from the meadow, staring him down and telling him Think, Haechan. Think harder.
"Maybe, I can help," Donghyuck begins, only to hold up a hand when Mark visibly perks up, "Help, Mark. I can't cure him, but I can help his magic try to re-balance itself."
"So he cures himself?" Chenle pipes up from Donghyuck's shoulder. He snuggles further into Donghyuck's side and chirps happily when Donghyuck raises his arm to drape it across his shoulders.
Donghyuck shrugs one shoulder. "Yes and no. Mark, how often does his magic take his sight?"
"Uh, I don't know—it's been a while. It used to happen more when we were all younger," Mark looks at Jisung, and pokes his cheek. Jisung smiles and turns to Mark, milky eyes squinting in muted mirth. "Though recently, I think it's been a bit more? Why?"
Interesting. Once Sung is back to normal, Donghyuck has some questions.
"Well, we're taught our magic is a current right? If it's stable, we can do things. But when we are sick, or hurt, or our emotions too volatile—"
"It all goes crazy," Chenle mumbles. Which, aren't the words Donghyuck would have used, but sure.
"Yeah, sure. It goes crazy. Sung's magic is crazy, right now, and the kickback is this." He gestures at Sung's polite little face. "Potions are like medicine, but more powerful. If I can get the correct mixture of herbs in him it should work like—I don't know. A kickstart to reset his magical current."
"Like a defib." Mark nods. "Do you have the stuff?"
Again, Donghyuck shrugs. "Don't know. I can try though. Nothing worse can happen to him, but I don't want to make promises I can't keep."
Mark looks at him, stares him down through those big rimless glasses, and heaves a sigh. "Okay." He turns back toward Sung, fingers careful as he grabs Sung's arm again and starts to trace characters once more.
It doesn't take long for Sung to answer, startling both Mark and Donghyuck. Chenle by default, also jolts. "Yes." he says, honeyed voice so smooth and rich. Donghyuck wonders what his personality is like when he's not stripped of half his senses. Sung turns his head to stare in Donghyuck's direction, somehow nailing his exact position. It's unnerving as it is interesting. "Haechan, please help me."
And so, Donghyuck does.
It's not easy—if it was, Donghyuck would have long been ordered by the Board to use his talents in the medical field. As it was, he only has his stock to work with, and whatever warmth the sun buried into his skin during the day.
From behind the counter, Donghyuck stares at his pitifully large pile of thyme. Looking over towards the lounge, he sees Mark slowly tugging Sung down onto the loveseat and muffles a giggle when Donghyuck notices that Sung's leg easily drape over the other armrest. "Mark, can you do me a favor?" he asks. He would ask Chenle if he were back from upstairs.
"Hm, sure. Anything, man, like this is such a big help," Mark comes over while Donghyuck is reaching up grab his lesser used stock, one knee on the counter top while his fingers clumsily grab one, two, three jars. "Oh, I can grab those if you—"
Donghyuck tosses him a smile and cradles the jars a little closer to his chest. "No, it's okay. Can you just sweep up that pile? Trashcan's under that last counter there." he gestures with his free hand towards the broom.
Mark does as he's asked, the broom finding little pieces under the counters Donghyuck foolishly missed. He's methodical about it, letting the quiet linger in a way that doesn't give Donghyuck goosebumps.
It let's him concentrate, for which he is thankful. There's too many jars in front of him, yet none of them have any sort of cure for hearing or vision. Usually medical situations such as these go to medical doctors. If Sung wanted medical, he would have told Mark to get Chenle, or even call the town's doctor herself. She was old and weathered, sure, but Donghyuck wasn't under the impression that Sung's life was in danger.
Between sniffing jars and fingers stained with pollen and sap alike, Donghyuck doesn't know how long it takes for him to feel semi-confident in his ratios. He's meticulous with it—a sprinkle of rosemary, a heavy handed shake of of hollyhock—but staring at the combination of herbs in his mortar Donghyuck still feels like something's missing.
A shadow falls over him, "Vervain," Sung says, too close and way too silent for someone who is blind in someone else's house. "I saw, once. You have it."
"I do but—" Donghyuck stops when he realizes Sung can't hear him.
Still, there's a smile on Sung's face, and his over-large palms reach out to allow fingertips to graze clumsily across Donghyuck's cheekbone, up to his ear, and then finally landing in Donghyuck's hair. Sung pats the top of his head, his smile grows from mysterious to far more gummy. It shocks Donghyuck, but he ends up laughing and patting Sung's cheek. He nods under Sung's heavy hand.
"I can't wait to hear you," Sung says. He leans carefully against the counter and allows his hand to fall from Donghyuck's head. Donghyuck takes that as a sign to get back to work. "My visions never let me hear your voice, you look so passionate."
In the end, Donghyuck does add the vervain, juicing the plant in a separate mortar and filtering out the leaves with water and cheesecloth. He adds the rest of the herbs—hastily broken apart if only to let their dormant juices awaken—to the cauldron and covers it. He's not sure how well the potion will take, but making more than one batch will likely serve Sung well in the long run.
"Haechan," Sung says. He's not looking at him, but rather off into a distance that Donghyuck cannot fathom. "I've seen your name, I know—"
Donghyuck is quick to grab Sung's hand, shaking in his loose grip and flips it so that it is palm up. "It's okay," he writes into that same broad palm. "It's okay."
"It's only fair you know mine," Sung mumbles. Donghyuck doesn't need to know that, just like he didn't need to know Jaemin's. Donghyuck doesn't need to know, but Sung can speak faster than Donghyuck can write no, and so he says, "My name's Jisung."
"Pretty," Donghyuck writes out, smiling when he sees Jisung's face flush. The star freckles on his cheeks pinken. "So cute."
The words seem to please Jisung, the panic of knowing something Donghyuck never gave to him lessening the longer Donghyuck writes silly praise into his palms. After while, he turns to shut off the gas burner. Before he fully lets go of Jisung's hand, he pats it twice before dropping it.
Suspiciously, Chenle chooses that moment to appear, and Donghyuck would assume that he was upstairs washing up if it weren't for the over-eager grin on his face. Still, Chenle says nothing, only guides Jisung back to the sofa and laughs at Mark for falling asleep.
It's easy to get Jisung to drink the tea, sweetened with a dash of honey Donghyuck runs upstairs to grab, and somehow even easier to guide him up the back stairs into Donghyuck's apartment living room.
Donghyuck leaves Chenle to assist Jisung in changing into something more comfortable, staying downstairs with Mark to clean up the mess he made of his counters again.
When Mark brings up the time, Donghyuck inwardly winces. "Sorry." Mark dries the last mortar and lays it next to the others. "If I knew it could wait, I would have."
He's going to be exhausted come morning. "It's okay," he says. Because it is. He's happy to help. It's his job, but challenges are fun and tonight, was a little fun.
"Sung said he would pay you tomorrow, but I also think I should offer up some sort of pa—"
Donghyuck lets his laugh cut Mark off. "I said it's okay," he repeats. He waves off Mark's words with a limp flick of his wrist. "Go home, Mark. I'll have Jisung call you in the morning."
It takes a bit more nagging and a compromise that Donghyuck has him give Mark his bank details to wire him something, but eventually Donghyuck is able to drag himself back to his apartment to find Chenle getting ready to head out, and Jisung asleep on the couch.
Unlike Mark, it's nearly a fight to get Chenle to leave, and Donghyuck nearly gets on his knees to beg Chenle to let him rest. Yet, Chenle still frets over him, fingers quick where they press against his pulse points, before laying his palm flat against Donghyuck's sternum.
"Inhale." It's an order. If Donghyuck fights, he will not win. Not here.
He inhales.
The worry on Chenle's face eases up. "Exhale."
Donghyuck exhales.
Chenle removes his hand and gives a nod. "Call me in the morning." Again, it is an order. Donghyuck has fought this one before, more than once, and only ended up with Chenle banging down his door.
Donghyuck agrees without a fight, half because he knows it will get Chenle out of his apartment faster and half because there is only one correct answer. "Sure. I'll call when Jisung wakes up." He pushes Chenle towards the stairs. "Leave, please. Good night."