Archive of Our Own

⭑｡𖦹°‧ Slytherin Common Room

Sungho could physically feel the burn of Taesan’s stare on Woonhak’s back. The younger boy continued chatting animatedly, blissfully unaware of the presence behind him. 

“–Sungho? You okay? You seem a little off.” Woonhak stopped talking to look into Sungho’s eyes, concern visible.

“Ah–” Sungho coughed awkwardly, “Yes, I’m–i’m okay. Please keep going.”

Woonhak obliged, his voice cheerful as he continued, “So as I was saying, I think if I practice more basketball back home, during the holidays, I might get better at Quidditch, since…”

Sungho nodded half-heartedly, throwing in some ‘Ahh’s and ‘Ohh’s when his brain deemed necessary. In truth, he wasn’t really paying attention. How could he pay attention when Taesan was across the common room, burning holes at them? He had been hovering for a good minute already, pretending to look at the fireplace while very obviously listening.

‘What’s a Gryffindor doing here?’ Taesan’s stare, accompanied by the jutting of his chin in their direction, seemed to ask.

Sungho resisted the urge to sigh. He really didn’t understand why Taesan insisted on keeping up his ‘I Am So Intimidating’ act all the time. Especially when it was fine-tuned to the highest degree when Woonhak was in the vicinity. It had a specific, intense focus that screamed, "Notice me!" It was uncanny.

Sungho had secretly suspected for a while that Taesan had a ridiculous, tiny, completely denied crush on the Gryffindor Keeper, and his constant aggression was just a deeply stupid defense mechanism. Though, he would never bring it up to Taesan in fear that he would be right and Taesan would try to strangle him in his sleep.

Sungho ignored his silent question. Which, in hindsight, was probably not the best idea. Taesan didn’t seem content with the non-answer, and he started making his way to the fireplace where they were.

“Ah! Woonhak! My dear, sweet Woonhak! If you would excuse me for a moment.” Sungho exclaimed. Too high-pitched to sound casual.

Woonhak quirked an eyebrow, his eyes following Sungho’s to land on Taesan, before he let out an incredulous garble. Sungho grimaced. Oh, why did this have to happen to him? Sungho likes Woonhak! He lit up the room when he entered, he smiled at nothing, reacted well to everything, and was overall a great person to talk to! They shared a special, unnamed bond since they were both Muggleborn, too!

So, why is it that on the one day when he bumped into an excited Woonhak in the corridors, who had been jumping up and down to tell him about a discovery he had made that linked Quidditch and the Muggle World, Taesan had to coincidentally run into them too?

Before Taesan could get closer to Woonhak’s purity and defile it with his sharp words, Sungho stalked over to him, hissing under his breath, “Don’t even think about it, you snake. You don’t know how much convincing it took me to even get him to step foot into the common room without shaking like a leaf.”

Taesan raised an eyebrow, “I wasn’t even going to do anything.”

“Like hell you weren’t! Stop overcompensating! You think I can’t smell your… Your… You being strange? What is your issue with him anyways? You don’t even bully the first-years like this!” Sungho was fighting to maintain a volume that wouldn’t reach Woonhak’s ears.

Sungho exaggerated. The word for Taesan’s behaviour wasn’t exactly bullying. It was… It was something else. Instigation? Provocation? Aggravation? Borderline harassment? Depends on who you ask, truly. But it was undeniable, Taesan had his beady eyes locked onto poor Woonhak since the first time they met on the Quidditch field. And he hadn’t let go since then.

Taesan’s eyebrows drooped a little, in the way they did when he sulked, even looking mildly offended. “I don’t have an issue with him! He’s just… He reacts well. And I don’t bully him. Or anyone for that matter. ”

Sungho had to tell himself that violence wasn’t always the answer. But why couldn’t it be? It should be, since he wanted so badly to grip Taesan’s collar in his fists and shake him back and forth. 

Sungho took a deep breath, steeling calmness in himself. No matter how well he knew Taesan, he would never be able to read him completely. “Whatever. Can you please stop glowering in the corner like a rat plotting world domination? Maybe just… Go back to your room? I’ll come look for you after we’re done!”

To Sungho’s absolute horror, Taesan’s sulk deepened, his arms folding in front of his chest defiantly, “What’re you guys talking about that I can’t listen to?”

Taesan raised his voice to reach the fidgeting Woonhak, “Hey,” he cleared his throat and deepened his voice a smidge, “Hey, you. I wanna listen to what you have to say. We’re friends, aren’t we? Tell me.”

Sungho almost bashed his skull into Taesan’s chin. Woonhak’s finger, which had been scratching at his neck, stilled. He let out an undignified yelp, which he would later deny ever making, and his other hand straightened at his side like a soldier at attention. “Huh? Friends? Us?”

“Yes! Tell Sungho we’re friends now!” Taesan demanded petulantly, like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Er! Yes! We’re friends!” There was a flush blooming across Woonhak’s cheeks, rivalling the red in his scarf, “Yep! For sure!”

Sungho yearned for a particularly large and heavy book to thwack across his own head, if only to remove himself from this situation.

There was a moment of silence that started to grow awkward when nobody responded. Taesan looked slightly dubious, as if he was wondering if he had really said what he did out loud.

The silence was cut short by Woonhak’s cough, “I uhh–I have to go to class now! Right! Potions! Haha! Better be off! Goodbye!” 

That was all he said before he practically ran out of the common room and back to the Dungeons. Sungho couldn’t even offer an excuse or an apology; he was already gone. 

“You… You…” Sungho tried to say, but his annoyance fizzled out fast when he saw that Taesan was looking at the entrance of the common room with a similar dejected expression that Sungho mirrored.

“Aren’t classes over for the day?” Taesan asked, his eyes still fixed on the spot where Woonhak had left.

Sungho scoffed, “Yeah. He had Potions before I bumped into him in the Dungeons and brought him here.”

Taesan frowned, his lower lip stuck out in a pout, “Why’d he leave then?”

“Why? Are you really asking that?” Sungho was beginning to feel the pull of insanity again. “Why? Why you… You basically chased him away! You sounded like you were trying to pick a fight with him! You pest!”

“No, I wasn’t! I literally just wanted to hear what he was talking about!”

“You forced him into friendship! I’d even say it–” Sungho’s rebuttal was interrupted by a flap of wings and a loud hoot. Sungho flinched five metres backwards; he always had an irrational fear of owls after one took a dump on him and almost pecked his eyeballs out back in his first year.

The grey owl dropped an envelope on Taesan’s head and perched on the table in front of them, its oddly expressive, huge, yellow eyes seemed to demand praise.

Taesan ignored the owl, reaching up to remove the envelope from his head, smoothening out his hair, and flipping the letter back and forth to glance at it. Sungho raised his brows when he saw that the envelope bore Taesan's name in large, messy handwriting.

“You get letters more than once a week now?” Sungho asked. He was familiar with Taesan’s weekly letters from his family members. Given how much they adored Taesan, they usually compile five or six separate letters that they wrote from the past week and send them all at once when the week starts.

Inside the envelope wasn't another addressed letter. It was simply a folded piece of parchment. 

“I don’t know. It isn’t the owl my mum usually sends.” Taesan shook his head, already tearing the seal apart to unfurl the letter, brushing off Sungho’s unserious bites at how he couldn’t believe anyone else would write to Taesan. And as he read through the letter, Sungho could only watch as pure, absolute disbelief overcame Taesan’s face.

For a few minutes, Sungho was sure that even if he took a moving photograph of Taesan, it would be completely still. His jaw was slack, his nose scrunched in doubt, and then a slow, disbelieving, flushed look overcame his face. The only part that moved was his eyeballs, flitting up and down the bottom portion multiple times, as if confirming the writer's identity. Then, an expression of total, bewildered smugness settled on his features.

Curious, Sungho inched closer to Taesan and the demon bird, who had begun hooting lightly to get their attention. With Taesan’s momentary distraction, Sungho leaned over his shoulder to read the letter. Concern for privacy long forgotten, Sungho read:

“To, My Number 1 (and only) Crush Ever in My Life (for now),

I don’t know if you noticed, but yesterday in the hallway when I was running, I looked at you for like 2 seconds. I did that on purpos.

You are very pretty. I like your smile. You are a great pile. I can be your tile.

I also like how youre ears look. They are like little shells, better than bells, can you tells?

One time, you sneezed and my kneez got shaky, it made me wheeze, you’re such a teaze.

I think about you like I think about chicken nuggets. I love chicken nuggets.

If we r bears, I would let you highburn hibernat first. Because you are the bear-st! 

Do you like rice? I like rice. We could eat rice together forever.

Xoxo,
Woonhak

P.S. My mama says I’m a nice guy and that’s probably good for marriage.”

Wow, Sungho thought. Because that was… Wow. He knew Woonhak’s grasp on grammar and vocabulary wasn’t exactly the best, but this impressively lousy calibre was… Wow. This was a confession. A horribly written, embarrassingly cheesy confession to Han Taesan. Never mind how he sounded like a loser in the letter; he’s a loser in reality, too. But to see it written out on parchment in big, bold letters was… Wow.

Daring a glance at Taesan, Sungho saw that he had his free hand on the now blissful feathered goblin, gently stroking its chin to appease it. He couldn't stop the triumphant curl of his lip, though he tried to hide it by looking serious.

Sungho resisted a shudder as he bumped Taesan with his shoulder, getting him to meet eyes. “Is this seriously for you?”

Taesan paused petting the owl, turning his head to read the letter again, before the weird look returned to his face. “Did he write this?”

Sungho shrugged, only realising his mistake when the look on Taesan’s face shifted into something coy again.

“Only one way to find out,” Taesan smirked, folding the parchment and sliding it into his coat pocket.

Sungho’s protests went wonderfully ignored. Taesan simply gave the bird another pat on its head, flashed Sungho an unsettling smile, and turned on his heel to walk to his room. 

Sungho hoped that Taesan was joking, like truly, really hoped this wasn’t going to become another weapon for Taesan to torment Woonhak. 

⭑｡𖦹°‧ The Great Hall

Sungho’s worries were slightly quelled the next morning, when he went to the Great Hall for breakfast and saw Woonhak happily chewing on bread next to Jaehyun.

Okay, so Taesan didn’t do anything. Considering Woonhak was still up and early for breakfast as usual, it should mean that nothing was out of the ordinary, and everything should be fine. Great!

“Hey,” Sungho greeted, taking a seat next to Jaehyun. Jaehyun beamed, his hand reaching for Sungho’s immediately as he paused his conversation to blow a quick kiss at Sungho. This was a daily routine for them; Woonhak and Jaehyun would always be in the Great Hall for breakfast, sometimes Sungho ran into Riwoo, and they would all eat together. 

“Hey, Woonhak, you okay? Did… Um. Did anything…?” Sungho trailed off, hoping that Woonhak could understand the question he was trying to convey.

Woonhak’s voice was muffled through the bread, little wet bits spewing out of his mouth, “Huh? Oh, are you talking about the Dungeons yesterday?” He swallowed the piece in his mouth when Sungho frowned in disgust, “Did something happen after I ran–after I left?”

“Ah… Um. About that… He’s kinda, well, you know, he doesn’t mean things the way they sound, right?” Sungho subconsciously hung his head a little, remembering the pretty drastic way he reacted to Taesan yesterday and feeling sorry.

For some reason, Woonhak looked sheepish, and Sungho was about to ask more specifically about the letter before Jaehyun interrupted. “Hm? Did anything happen with Taesan?”

“Hah! Funny that you know it had to do with Taesan before anyone said anything!” Sungho snorted.

Woonhak only seemed to sink further into his seat, shooting conspicuous glances at Jaehyun. Jaehyun looked confused, voicing out his thoughts as such, “What? What’s with the looks? What is it ab–hey!”

Woonhak had kicked them under the table. Or more accurately, he probably tried to kick Jaehyun to stop him from saying whatever he was going to, but had missed so splendidly and driven his toe into Sungho’s shin instead.

Sungho crouched over in dramatised pain, ignoring Jaehyun’s snickering, “Oh, ah, I’m in so much pain. You’re trying to kill me. My leg is gonna fall off!”

It didn’t hurt that much, but neither of them would ever do without a moment to lightly antagonise Woonhak. Jaehyun followed suit, his wails even more theatrical, “Oh no! Oh, good heavens! Woohak! You’ve mutilated darling Yeppi! Whatever do you have to say for yourself?!”

Sungho isn’t sure why Jaehyun always had to have a thick English accent whenever he was acting. But it seemed to bring them the reaction they wanted. Woonhak huffed, rolling his eyes when he realised the two older students in front of him were goading him. “You guys think you’re so funny.”

Jaehyun snorted, “Are you really insulting your seniors right now?” He reached over the table, plucking the food out of Woonhak’s hand and popping it in his mouth.

“OI. HOW DARE YOU. GIVE IT BACK. THAT WAS MY LAST BITE.” Woonhak was back to bickering with Jaehyun, reaching over the table to swat at him.

Sungho inched backwards, feeling very amused by the regular scene unfolding in front of him, but also not brave enough to be in either of their direct lines of fire. Either way, he was relieved. It seemed definite that there was nothing strange going on, and maybe the letter was just a figment of his imagination? The unsettled feeling in his abdomen slowly evened out as he continued observing Woonhak’s easy laughter.

So you can only imagine Sungho’s reaction when he raised the fork to his mouth and heard a familiar voice say, “Good morning.”

Next to him, Jaehyun had his hand pressed against Woonhak’s head and mouth across their breakfast, while Woonhak’s arms were flapping at his chin, “Morning, Taekitty! What’re you doing here?”

Taesan rolled his eyes and ignored Jaehyun’s question, which, of course, Jaehyun also ignored, choosing to focus his attention back on the flailing Woonhak. 

No, but Jaehyun had a point. Why was Taesan here? Sungho doesn’t think he’s ever seen Taesan up for breakfast before. Matter of fact, he’s sure he even heard it from Taesan’s mouth before, saying that he wasn’t one for eating in the morning.

Taesan turned his attention to the two who had stopped squabbling and smiled. Oh. Oh no.

Sungho felt deja vu; this inability to speak before Taesan opened his mouth to further ruin things was happening way too often. “Woonhak. What’s this I have here?” Taesan asked cheerfully, waving the letter around in his right hand.

Woonhak looked at the paper, squinting at it, “What’s that?” He asked, leaning forward to read it and then shooting up in his seat so fast Sungho thought he might’ve flown through the roof. His expression went from curious to the entire spectrum of grief in a few seconds. He lunged for the parchment in Taesan’s hand, only for Taesan to expertly vanish it with a mumble, casting a long smirk while he watched the entire situation.

Sungho’s mouth gaped open. He exchanged a glance with Jaehyun, who wore a look of confusion on his face. There was no way this was happening right now.

Woonhak seemed to understand the situation he was in. His entire face had turned a visible red, his gaze darting from Taesan’s eyes to his empty hand, “W-Where’d you get that?”

Sungho was worried for a second, wondering if the red was from anger or embarrassment or something else. But he didn’t have a chance to react before Taesan’s grin grew wider, his eyes narrowing when he spoke, “Oh, that? Well, an owl delivered it to me. Straight. To. Me. So it’s mine now.”

There was a moment of silence before the colour from Woonhak’s face drained completely, making him look ridiculously pale. Another moment passed, and he turned red again. Then back to white. Sungho was starting to worry about his well-being.

“So…” Sungho started, not really sure what he was trying to achieve.

They both ignored him. Woonhak was still staring at Taesan’s empty hand, and Taesan’s smirk had fallen into a lopsided and unsure line. “Well!” Taesan began, regaining a bit of the falsified, snobby attitude, “It’s mine now. And if you want it back, you… You can’t! It’s mine now.”

Woonhak opened his mouth, his face red now, and said nothing. He just nodded dumbly, as if he wasn’t quite present.

If Sungho was a little worried yesterday, now he was extremely concerned that he would find Woonhak trying to drown himself in the Black Lake in the days to come.

⭑｡𖦹°‧ The Library

It was incredibly rare to see Taesan in the library. But not impossible. What was impossible was that Taesan was accompanied by a younger student who had a tangle of red and yellow mess resting just below his throat. Leehan belatedly notices that it must be an attempt at a loose tie. 

Leehan smiled a greeting to the unlikely duo, making a note in his head that Taesan had a strangely contented look on his face.

“Hi, Leehan! We’re here to collect my book on Boggarts?” Woonhak, who seemed less uptight, had a wide smile on his face, greeting Leehan comfortably like he always did. Even though the number of times they’ve interacted properly can be counted on one hand, Woonhak always treated him as a friend.

Leehan nodded, leading them to the section where the book was. Woonhak had written a request to borrow the book earlier that week, and Leehan, as a temporary assistant to the sickly librarian, was tasked to help students find books they were looking for. Leehan also noted that it was only Woonhak who had written in the request, not Taesan. Hm.

Leehan turned abruptly, making the bouncing Woonhak bump into his chest. “Oh, I’m sorry. Hold on, your tie.” Indeed, the sorry excuse for a tie had somehow become even more tangled. Leehan reached out to fix it. He was good at doing ties; he could definitely make it nicer than the mess Woonhak had.

Before his hands could actually reach their desired destination, Taesan gripped Woonhak’s shoulders and turned him to face Taesan completely. He undid Woonhak’s tie quickly, slowing slightly when he reached a particularly tight knot, before folding it into a proper one. That was odd. Leehan didn’t even know they were close like that. And he knew Taesan definitely didn’t make it a habit to help his friends do up their ties.

That gave Leehan all the time he needed to look over at Woonhak, to see if he also thought the situation was as strange as it seemed.

The look on Woonhak’s face was, in the simplest words, shocked. His eyes were a little wide, his hands reached out as if to stop Taesan, but had fallen back to his sides halfway. So Leehan was right, Woonhak wouldn’t be reacting like this if it were normal behaviour. 

Now Leehan had to figure out why. He didn’t even know the two were friends. The only time he saw them interact was when they were flying across the Quidditch Field on opposite ends, no less. Why would Taesan do something so oddly out of character? He was pretty good friends with Taesan, even if it was something neither of them had ever said out loud. They shared almost all their classes since their first year, and Taesan was the few people who didn’t care much about the rumours of Leehan being a weirdo. Granted, Leehan was also one of the few people who wasn’t affected by Taesan’s cold demeanour.

Taesan finished up the tie, leaning forward to pat it with unnecessary flourish, looking very proud of himself. He smirked up at Woonhak, their noses inches away from touching. He looked expectant, as if he was waiting for Woonhak’s praise. Leehan could only stare.

Woonhak flushed, stammering, “Th-thank you, I like knots. Ties. Knots. Yep. You’re great.”

Taesan’s smug look grew even more, his grin widening to savour Woonhak’s fumbles. Really, really odd.

The moment seemed to drag out between them, with Woonhak looking closer and closer to spontaneous combustion, and Taesan’s smile faltering a bit. “Wow, Taesan. Wanna start a tie-fixing club? You’d be pretty good at it.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

“Huh?” The moment was gone. Two pairs of eyes were on Leehan immediately. 

Taesan sighed softly, “I–you–shut up. Never mind, just bring us to the stupid book.”

Leehan obliged, continuing the walk to the shelf, even though his mind was mainly focused on the palpable tension behind him. 

Then, Leehan thought that this might’ve just been a one-off thing, or maybe it was just the result of some punishment from a professor. Even the tie thing must’ve just been, well, a misstep, or the wind blew too hard and Taesan’s hand just so happened to land in Woonhak’s tie.

But Taesan reached out to grab the book on Boggarts off the shelf, grabbing Woonhak’s hand in the other, and walked out of the library with Woonhak, who didn’t seem bothered by Taesan’s apparent clinginess. Only then did Leehan think that this might be completely voluntary on Taesan’s end. 

⭑｡𖦹°‧ Quidditch Pitch

Riwoo wouldn’t call himself a big Quidditch fan. The fact of the matter is that he wouldn’t consider himself a fan of anything that needs him to sit squished shoulder to shoulder with the entire student body. But the sacrifices he would make for his friends seemed to be boundless.

It was the final match of the inter-house Quidditch Cup, so it wasn’t an exaggerated claim to make when Riwoo said that the whole school must’ve been at the stands, anticipating the showdown between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Although Slytherin had won the Cup the previous two years, making them the top contender for this year, the Gryffindor team had made some amazing plays this season under the guidance of their new captain.

“FIFTEEN MORE MINUTES BEFORE THE GAME STARTS.” The commentator’s voice boomed across the pitch, making the stands tremble and shake. Riwoo winced at the loudness, glancing at the commentator booth to see Soobin, a familiar, graduated Hufflepuff senior in front of the charmed microphone.

The players on their brooms seemed to unlock another level of focus after the announcement, the grim look on their faces visible from where Riwoo was sitting.

“They’re talking this really seriously, aren’t they?” Leehan mused, his mouth pressed up to Riwoo’s ear to make sure he’s heard over the chanting from the other students.

Riwoo wiggled in his seat to fight the itch from Leehan’s breath, raising his voice to reply, “Ahh, yeah, you’re right. Everyone had been looking forward to this match since, like, the beginning of this year, after all.”

Leehan nodded and asked Riwoo who he was cheering for, since both of his best friends were going against each other. Jaehyun as the new Gryffindor captain, and Sungho as Slytherin’s best chaser.

“Both, neither, all. Doesn’t matter, I think. Whoever wins, the other will be happy anyway, you know? What about you? Have high hopes for Taesan?”

Leehan smiled, the glint in his eyes visible as he laughed gently, “Taesan’s good. But I’m cheering for someone else today.”

Riwoo felt his curiosity pique. Interesting! Leehan, like Riwoo, wasn’t exceptionally interested in Quidditch, only coming to watch when someone invited him to. “Wait, you mean Taesan wasn’t the one who asked you to come watch?”

“No, he did. But the person I’m cheering for asked me first. So I have to cheer for him instead.”

Riwoo scanned the players racing across the pitch. Maybe it was Jaehyun? Or Sungho, who asked? None of the other players struck Riwoo as the type who would willingly ask Leehan to come watch their–

“LET’S GO, WOONHAK! YOU’RE THE BEST!” Leehan boomed. He must’ve charmed his voice with a sound-enhancing spell because Riwoo thought that his eardrums might’ve burst. 

Riwoo physically jerked back so far left that his head rammed into the shoulder next to him. He shouldn’t be surprised that Woonhak had managed to charm Leehan with his easy-going and upbeat personality. It was hilarious to watch their housemates gape at Leehan’s uncharacteristic loudness, though.

It was even more hilarious to see Woonhak’s head whip in their direction, his helmet falling askew with how hard he turned to look. Instead of embarrassment, which Riwoo predicted, Woonhak beamed. The air around him seemed to glow and sing as he opened his mouth to yell back an equally loud response, “THANK YOU, LEEHAN. I’M GONNA MAKE YOU PROUD.”

Riwoo couldn’t hold back his bark of laughter and saw that from the other side of the pitch, Jaehyun had also started cackling.

Riwoo had always had good intuition, so when he felt a shiver roll down his spine, he could immediately spot a pair of eyes glowering at him from near the Slytherin goal hoops. Dark eyes were staring down at him, or in his general direction, and it was making him increasingly uncomfortable.

“Why does your best friend look like he’s trying to cast wordless hexes at us?”

Leehan looked at Taesan’s glare and laughed. “Probably because Woonhak smiled at me and not him.”

Riwoo’s eyebrows raised, not daring to look away from Taesan, even through the slight tremble in his knees, “Woonhak? What? Why would he care? Are you alright?”

Leehan giggled again, “You’ll see.”

Right now, all he could see was Sungho flying up to Taesan and smacking the back of his shoulder to get him to stop looking at them. It worked, somehow, and Taesan’s attention moved to Sungho, scowling and saying something Riwoo couldn’t make out. 

“FIVE MORE MINUTES, PLAYERS.”

The nerves from the players seemed to be contagious; Riwoo felt his stomach churn and his hands sweat, as if he was also on a broom in front of thousands of students screaming their heads off.

The Gryffindor team descended to their side of the pitch, with Jaehyun huddled in the centre, his mouth moving at an unimaginable speed with the other players hanging onto each word.

The Slytherin team didn’t huddle, not until the announcement that there was one more minute left. Only then did the players hop off their brooms to gather in the centre of the field, no words exchanged except for when they put their hands together and shouted a loud, decisive “WIN”.

“Players, mount your brooms!” 

The students at the stands had fallen silent, everyone hanging off the edge of their seats.

“On my whistle! Three, two, one…” Madame Kogawa gave a loud blast on her silver whistle, “BEGIN!”

The stands erupted, cheers and chants bellowed from each tower, drowning out each other as fifteen broomsticks shot into the sky like fireworks. The game had begun. 

The Quaffle was released, and immediately Jaehyun darted forward, sleek and confident, cutting past another Slytherin Chaser with ease.

It wasn’t easy to follow every player with his eyes; everyone seemed to be at the top of their game. No mistakes from either side as Riwoo craned forward for a better view of the players zipping and zapping around each other, turning into blurs of red and green. 

“And it’s newly-appointed Captain Jaehyun with possession—swift as ever—look at that handling, would you believe he nearly slept through practice last week? Guess he’s still got it. He’s racing toward the Slytherin hoops—passes a Bludger—dodges left—GOAL! First ten points to Gryffindor! HOW WILL THE REIGNING SLYTHERIN CHAMPIONS TAKE THIS?”

The Gryffindor side exploded with cheers. Woonhak, hovering by the goalposts, punched the air and let out a cheer loud enough to carry across the pitch before remembering himself. He coughed, adjusted his gloves, and tried to look serious again.

Riwoo elbowed Leehan. “He’s grinning like he just won the Cup himself.”

“Mm,” Leehan mused, unimpressed, “I wanna see him make an actual save.”

And sure enough, the Quaffle whipped back down the field in Sungho’s hands.

“Chaser Sungho with possession now—look at him weave! Looks like he’s not going to take this disrespect standing up, that boy’s out for blood—no, Professor, not literally—and here he comes—shoots and—BLOCKED! Oh, what a save from Keeper Woonhak! Did you see that? Nearly snapped his broom in half getting there, but worth it! Yes, you heard that right, Woonhak—don’t look so surprised, the boy does actually know how to ride a broom.”

The Gryffindors whooped, red and yellow banners whipping the air, and even Soobin sounded impressed. Woonhak’s ears went pink under the praise. He ducked his head, trying to hide the grin stretching across his face.

“That’s one big moment already. He’s going to get insufferable.” Riwoo chuckled.

Leehan clapped and cheered, “Good save indeed, I would’ve thought he would’ve trembled off his broom at the sight of Park Sungho zooming straight at him.”

“Back to the match! Quaffle’s with Gryffindor now—Chaser Keonho racing down the pitch—Bludger incoming—oh, lovely swing from Beater Wonhee! Nearly clipped Jaehyun’s head off, shame it didn’t land—don’t give me that look, Professor, I’m rooting for safety here.”

“Wait…”, Riwoo gawked, “Is that Taesan?” 

Sure enough, high above the posts, Taesan hovered in that infuriatingly casual way of his, one hand on his broom, eyes locked not on the Snitch, but on Woonhak.

Unfortunately, Soobin seemed to notice as well. “And Taesan, our Slytherin Seeker, is—well, I’d like to say he’s searching for the Snitch, but he seems very interested in Gryffindor’s Keeper instead—don’t glare at me, Professor, I am commentating—”

The crowd exploded in ‘Oohs' and Woonhak stiffened, glancing up—then nearly slipped on his broom handle trying to look away. His ears were scarlet even from the stands as he scrambled to right himself.

Riwoo muttered, “What are they doing? He’s going to fling himself off the broom at this rate. He’s not even being subtle!”

“Which one?” Leehan asked dryly.

“Back to the Quaffle—and Sungho snatches possession straight from midair! Did you see that dive? C’mon, Professor, I am sticking to the game, thank you very much—he’s darting down the pitch like he owns the place—Keeper Woonhak is flailing, can’t seem to reach the—and SCORE FOR SLYTHERIN!”

Slytherin’s tower roared and cheered, but on the pitch, a distinctive voice raised above the rest, “NICE SHOT YEPPI! WOONHAK, GET YOUR DAMN HEAD BACK IN THE GAME.”

Woonhak whipped his head around like a cat that had been caught knocking over a vase. He blinked twice, looking as though his soul had just been yanked back into his body.

Riwoo didn't know whether to cheer or groan. Of course, only Jaehyun could simultaneously praise a point scored against his team and yell at his own Keeper.

From high above, Soobin’s voice rang out, clearly delighted, “Aaand there it is! You’d think yelling ‘Yeppi’ in front of a thousand people would’ve made Sungho drop him, but no, they just get more disgustingly in love every game. Can someone please file a complaint with the Ministry for excessive displays of affection during a–right, sorry Professor, the match.”

Leehan was laughing so hard his shoulders were bouncing against Riwoo's. Woonhak, cheeks a violent shade of red, adjusted his gloves with excessive focus, as if he could tighten away the embarrassment. He didn’t look at Taesan, who was still hovering just a little too close.

“What is wrong with everyone?” Riwoo grumbled, though a reluctant smile touched his lips. He looked over to the Slytherin Chasers and spotted Sungho, who was giving Jaehyun a small, almost imperceptible smirk before turning back to the game. Unbelievable.

The game surged on, but every time Woonhak made a save, Taesan seemed to glide a little closer, as if ‘patrolling’ the area. Every time their eyes met, Woonhak jolted like he’d been hexed.

A fourth-year Gryffindor Chaser that Riwoo didn’t recognise held the Quaffle, darting between Bludgers with elegant precision.

“Chaser Ryul on the move—passes left—no, fakes it, clever lad—straight to the hoops—AND IN! Another ten to Gryffindor!”

“Sixty–Forty,” Riwoo murmured.

But Slytherin wasn’t far behind. Sungho, determined, seized the Quaffle off the rebound and thundered back toward the opposite end. He faked right, swerved left, and hurled the ball towards his teammate. Who nearly dropped it, fumbling before clutching it to her chest and darting straight towards the goal, eyes ablaze as she launched the Quaffle towards the goal—

—only for Woonhak to block it again with a spectacular dive.

The Gryffindor stands howled with delight. Woonhak nearly dropped the Quaffle in shock, fumbling it to Jaehyun, who darted away with a triumphant yell.

“An incredible save from Keeper Woonhak! What a redemption! The boy is back in the game! Someone get him a Butterbeer—actually, no, get him a leash, because if he keeps looking up at Taesan instead of at the Quaffle, he’s going to miss one sooner or later—yes, Professor, I’ll stick to the game, but I’m not blind!”

Sure enough, Taesan was circling lower and lower, a deliberate shadow near the hoops. He had the nerve to give Woonhak a jaunty little salute after the save, a smirk curling his lips. 

Woonhak’s blush was so vivid it was visible from the stands even as his shoulders huddled up to hide his face in his scarf.

Riwoo and Leehan exchanged a look.

“Is… Is this how normal rivalry works?”

Leehan shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the fidgeting Woonhak, “…No. This is their strange flirting ritual. And we’re all being forced to watch it.”

Riwoo could vaguely hear the Professor yelling at Soobin to focus over the peals of laughter from the stands.

“Flirting ritual? Woonhak looks like he’s trying to recalibrate his whole life,” Riwoo said, watching the Keeper draw deep, steadying breaths as if he were about to take a final exam, not guard a goalpost.

“I’m telling you, they flirt weird. He probably just realised that everyone knows that he and Taesan have been staring at each other for the past fifteen minutes,” Leehan offered.

The game continued in this back-and-forth manner for the next few minutes, with neither team letting up on their defences or their attacks. Here and there, Soobin would call out the blatant lack of focus from the Gryffindor Keeper and the Slytherin Seeker.

Soobin chimed in again, barely holding back a laugh. “Yes, yes, back to the Snitch—er, the Seeker. Taesan is finally moving. That’s right, folks, he’s doing his job. He’s—oh, wait—nope. False alarm. He’s still watching Woonhak. Oi, is this still a Quidditch match or a slow-burn romance?” 

An audible grumble from the Professor could be heard as he continued, “Taesan, Woonhak—someone blink twice if we should clear the pitch.”

The crowd cracked up, and Taesan, from his position in the sky, tilted his head slightly—whether in amusement or annoyance, Riwoo couldn’t tell. But he did notice the twitch in Taesan’s hand, like he was seriously considering taking a Bludger from his teammate and launching it at the commentary box.

Sungho had looped around midair and was now shouting something in Slytherin's direction, arms waving as he gestured wildly at Taesan.

Leehan squinted. “Think he’s yelling at him to actually look for the Snitch?”

“Maybe,” Riwoo said, shuddering and leaning over to Leehan, “I swear Soobin’s going to get hexed by the end of the day.”

The match surged forward again, faster now, tension building as both teams seemed to double down after the close scores. The Quaffle rocketed between players like it had a mind of its own, Bludgers zoomed through the air with lethal intent, and Taesan was still hovering like he was in an entirely different game.

Another round of cheering broke out as Gryffindor scored again, and the noise was deafening. Jaehyun executed a celebratory loop in the air while Woonhak pumped his fist, still visibly red in the face.

It wasn’t until a glint of gold shimmered near the stands that the game truly shifted. A collective gasp swept the crowd.

“THE SNITCH! It’s been spotted near the Ravenclaw tower!”

Taesan moved. And this time, it was real.

No hesitation. No sideways glances. Just pure, practised speed. He leaned forward, shot into a dive, and for the first time that match, he looked like a Seeker on a mission. 

Gryffindor’s Seeker, a wiry fifth-year with windswept hair, spotted it too and dove hard after him. The pitch tilted with anticipation, the air thick with held breath.

Woonhak, from the goalpost, had forgotten all about guarding the hoops. He was turned fully around in the air, eyes locked on Taesan as if willing him to slow down.

“He’s fast,” Riwoo murmured, impressed despite himself. “I’ve seen him chase Snitches before, but never like this… Never this fast.”

The Snitch zipped low, weaving dangerously close to the stands, and the two Seekers followed, neck and neck. Soobin’s commentary was drowned out by the growing gasps and shrieks from the audience.

Then—bam. 

The Gryffindor Seeker clipped the corner of a stand, her broom wobbling wildly before she pulled up, losing precious speed.

Taesan didn’t.

He streaked ahead like a bolt of green lightning, hand outstretched. The Snitch dipped low, and Taesan followed. He swerved under one of the stands, and everyone held their breath in a heart-stopping second. 

Two seconds passed. Three. Then—

Madame Kogawa’s whistle shrieked.

“HE CAUGHT IT!” Soobin screamed, his voice cracking, “HAN TAESAN HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! SLYTHERIN WINS THE MATCH, AND THE CUP—THREE YEARS IN A ROW!”

The stands exploded.

Slytherins were screaming, hugging, and some were throwing green and silver confetti in the air. Gryffindors looked devastated, some clapping in good sportsmanship, others already plotting vengeance for next year.

Riwoo’s jaw dropped, “Merlin.”

Leehan huffed, “I wanted Woonhak to win.” Before standing and clapping.

On the pitch, Woonhak stared, open-mouthed, as Taesan circled the stands from the sky, raising the golden ball triumphantly.

“HOLY SHIT—GO TAE—uh—I mean, BOO! BOOO!” Woonhak shouted, far too late to save face, when he buried his head into his free hand that wasn’t on the broom.

“Interesting noise from the field there,” Soobin quipped gleefully. “Did anyone else hear it? No? Just—wait, no, Professor, I’m sorry, I’ll do it properly—please don’t take the—”

CRACK.

The crowd gasped. Leehan jerked forward so fast he nearly took Riwoo with him as he yelled, “OI!”

One second, Woonhak was still hovering midair, trying to sink into his gloves. The next, a rogue Bludger—forgotten, unclaimed, and apparently very angry about being ignored—slammed into Woonhak’s face with the force of a fully grown troll.

There was a beat of stunned silence.

His broom jerked, and Woonhak’s body snapped backwards like a rag doll.

The stands screamed.

“WOONHAK!” Jaehyun’s voice cracked mid-air as he twisted around, already hurtling forward, wand drawn. But someone else got there first.

Taesan.

A blur of green shot across the sky like a meteor, streaking downward so fast it looked reckless. He dove without hesitation, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, but there was no plan, no grace to it, just pure, blind instinct. Fast, even faster than when Riwoo had seen him chase the Snitch.

Woonhak reeled back with a shocked, “OW, WHAT THE—” before his broom tipped sharply. He managed to grab it with one hand, teetered, before promptly spiralling downward in a slow wobble like a confused moth, yelling, “I’M OKAY, I’M FINE—WAIT—NO, I’M NOT—”

“Shit—shit—” Taesan muttered under his breath, throwing himself forward. He didn’t quite catch him. This wasn’t a romance drama, and Woonhak wasn’t a feather—but he managed to slow the fall, his broom colliding with Woonhak’s mid-air and dragging them both in a chaotic spiral.

They landed directly in a sand pit by the edge of the pitch with all the grace of a sack of laundry. Woonhak slid off his broom, limbs limp and flailing, while Taesan clutched him in a panicked half-hug, half-grapple.

Soobin, without missing a beat, gasped, “AND THEY STICK THE LANDING. A solid 4 out of 10—bit of a shaky dismount, would’ve liked more class on the exit. Judges? No? Okay.”

Students were shrieking, some in horror, most in laughter. The Gryffindor stands let out a collective “OHHHHHHH”, followed by riotous applause as if the two of them had just pulled off a stunt on purpose.

Madame Kogawa’s whistle shrieked again, this time in alarm, with distinctive yelling to get a nurse on the field.

Taesan ignored everything around him, “Woonhak?! Hey, look at me. Say something.” His voice came out hoarse, barely louder than a whisper.

Woonhak groaned, cracking one eye open. “Huh? Did I fall off my broom? That’s really humiliating.”

Taesan’s hands spasmed around his shoulders. “You got hit in the face with a Bludger, what do you mean—”

Woonhak blinked slowly, “Oh. That explains the buzzing. Is my nose still on my face?”

Taesan just stared at him, his eyebrows furrowed in the middle of his forehead, while he did nothing but stare at Woonhak’s purple nose. Then, “Why weren’t you wearing the damn chin strap?”

Woonhak frowned. “I was trying to look cool—ow, don’t poke me there!”

“I’m not poking you. Your face is swelling on its own.”

From the Slytherin side, Sungho shouted as he ran towards them, “WHO DIDN’T SECURE THE BLUDGER BOX?!”

“I SWEAR IT WAS CLOSED,” yelled one of the Slytherin Beaters defensively.

“WELL, IT WASN’T, WAS IT?!” Jaehyun thundered, already on the ground and skidding to Woonhak’s side like a dramatic soap opera lead. “MOVE—I’VE GOT THIS—Woonhak, hey—hey, look at me. Oh my Merlin, what’s wrong with your face? Did you swallow your nose? How many fingers am I holding up?”

Woonhak squinted between the two of them, the pinnacle of confusion when he responded, “You’re holding a broom. And—why are there two of you? Did I die and this is, like, a punishment?”

“Exactly,” Jaehyun said grimly. “You’re concussed.”

But Taesan didn’t move.

He was still crouched beside Woonhak, one hand ghosting over his arm, unsure whether to hold on or let go. He wasn’t shouting, wasn’t panicking, not like Jaehyun, but he looked like he had been stunned. 

“Am I dying?” Woonhak asked faintly, still dazed.

“No,” Madame Kogawa said briskly, “but you’re going to the Hospital Wing, young man.”

“But I saved, like, four hundred goals,” Woonhak mumbled as they levitated him onto a stretcher.

“You also got your face annihilated by a cannonball, dingus.” Sungho snapped.

Soobin’s voice crackled over the speakers, a little too loud, “Ladies and gentlemen, it appears Keeper Woonhak has been taken out by a rogue Bludger. He is—yes, still alive. Mostly intact. Still has a face, give or take.”

There was a pause.

“Please remember, folks: safety charms exist for a reason. As do helmet straps. And common sense.”

The students roared with laughter.

From the stretcher, Woonhak weakly lifted a hand to wave. His helmet had fallen off, and his nose was swelling impressively.

Taesan didn’t even blink.

Madame Kogawa huffed and stood, running a hand through her hair. “Come on, let’s get you to the infirmary.”

“I can take him,” Taesan said suddenly, voice stiff.

Jaehyun raised an eyebrow. “Can you?”

Taesan bristled.

Woonhak, dazed but coherent enough to register the situation, groaned dramatically. “Don’t let them take me to the infirmary. They’ll feed me poison, call it a healing potion and lie to me about how bad I look.”

“You already look bad,” Jaehyun muttered, “And you’re going, like it or not.”

Taesan finally seemed to snap out of it. He stood, grabbing Woonhak’s arm a little too firmly. “I’ve got it. I’ll—I'll take him. He’s mine—I mean, he’s my—just—shut up, I’ve got it.”

There was half a second of stunned silence before Jaehyun slowly turned to look at him. “...He’s your what, exactly?”

Taesan stared him down. “None of your business.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun drawled, as if he were narrating a soap opera, “Did anyone else catch that? Taesan just pulled a ‘he’s mine’ on the pitch. I feel like we need some romantic background music. I’m his captain. I take him.”

Sungho smacked the back of Jaehyun’s head hard enough to land him on the stretcher next to Woonhak. “Are you twelve? Stop picking fights! There’s space for four people to carry a stretcher; we each take one side!”

No one made a point to argue with that, or to mention that they were all wizards who could use magic to lift the stretcher. Seems like all of them were under the effects of a concussion.

⭑｡𖦹°‧ Infirmary

“I’m not sure if I appreciate that everyone’s talking more about the Bludger smashing your face in than Slytherin winning. It’s nearly been a week, and I still see people wearing ‘God Save Woonhak’s Nose’ pins. It’s making Sungho very, very pissy.” 

Jaehyun was seated in the armchair next to Woonhak’s bed, his shoes kicked off and his toes wiggling in the sheets. 

Woonhak had been stuck in the infirmary far longer than anyone liked. Nurse Blainey insisted that Bludger blows weren’t to be trifled with. “Hairline fractures can splinter if you so much as sneeze too hard”, was what she said. But Jaehyun suspected she also just wanted one less hyperactive Gryffindor darting about the halls.

Jaehyun didn’t mind visiting, though. It gave him the perfect vantage point.

Because Taesan comes by. Often.

He’d known about Woonhak’s crush for ages. It wasn’t hard to spot. The way the kid lit up like a Glow Bug at the mere mention of Taesan’s name, the way his hands fumbled whenever Taesan so much as breathed in his direction. Jaehyun had always written it off as one-sided, a little embarrassing maybe, but harmless.

When he asked Woonhak about it long ago, Woonhak had nearly flung himself out of the Gryffindor Towers in embarrassment before he begrudgingly confessed that it was true. Something about how Taesan was so cool and so cool, and so cool. The word ‘cool’ was used many times.

And once, Jaehyun saw him halfway through writing a letter addressed to Taesan. He looked as though he might smother Jaehyun with the Nasty Pillow, the one that they kept behind their wardrobe, to stop him from asking questions. But after a bit of convincing and a lot of pie, Woonhak shared that he wrote letters to people he felt strongly about, not to send them, but just to get it out of his system and get rid of the crush. To close that chapter of his life so he can move on.

Naturally, after that whole situation at the Great Hall all those weeks ago, Jaehyun guessed that the letter Woonhak wrote to Taesan must’ve somehow been sent out. Woonhak’s bad luck truly made Jaehyun feel sorry for him. 

Jaehyun would’ve said something to Taesan, might’ve threatened him for holding little, innocent Woonhak’s misfortune over his head, childhood friends be damned. But he noticed the way Taesan acted around Woonhak. It reminded him of how Sungho was like in the past. Stupid Slytherins and his stupid soft spot for them.

Anyway, the first time Taesan came over to the infirmary, Jaehyun had been there too. He had to sit at the corner of the room and watch his longest friend lie straight through his pearly whites. If he had been anyone else, the flimsy excuse of “checking in on a fellow player” might’ve worked. But Jaehyun had snorted out loud. Taesan didn’t spare much thought for any random “fellow player” after a match, win or lose. But there he was, hovering by Woonhak’s bed, tossing out some smug comment that had Woonhak choking on his bone broth.

The second time was worse—or better, depending on how Jaehyun looked at it. Taesan had leaned down just a little too close, murmured something, and Jaehyun had caught the tail end of it: “Next time, I’ll make sure you’re the one who catches me.”

Woonhak had gone red to his ears. Jaehyun had nearly dropped the book he was pretending to read in disbelief. The next few times he visited weren’t any better either.

Now, as he sat by Woonhak’s bedside while the boy fidgeted endlessly with the hem of his blanket, Jaehyun decided he’d had enough. “You know,” he started casually, “for someone who claims to hate Slytherins, you’ve got one visiting you more than your own teammates.”

Woonhak jolted, nearly pulling a muscle in the process. “It’s—not like that! He’s just—he was just being annoying!”

Jaehyun raised a brow. “Right. Annoying. That’s why he goes out of his way to come all the way here. Even when we both know he hates doing things he doesn’t have to do.”

“Shut up!” Woonhak squeaked, indignant, and looking two breaths away from throwing his signature temper tantrums.

Jaehyun leaned back, amused. “Relax. I’m not teasing to be cruel. But you should know… Taesan’s probably not doing this to tease you either.”

Woonhak slapped his hands over his face with a groan loud enough to earn Nurse Blainey’s glare. “Oh no. Oh no, no, no. What do you mean? Are you talking about that stupid letter? Oh my God, they were just for me, I never—he wasn’t supposed to see—oh Merlin, isn’t he doing all this just to… I don’t know, blackmail me?”

Jaehyun sighed, patting his shoulder lightly. “Dude… Haven’t you spent enough time with Taesan to know what he’s like?” His mouth quirked, “Do you know how many love letters he gets from innocent little first-years who think he’s some kind of Quidditch superstar?”

Woonhak made a strangled noise into his palms, sinking deeper into the mattress. “But he IS a Quidditch superstar! I’ve never seen anyone fly that fast before…”

Jaehyun chuckled, shaking his head. For once, he wasn’t entirely sure if he should warn Woonhak to run for the hills—or tell him he might already be halfway to catching something more dangerous than a Bludger.

“You troll, I’m trying to say he doesn’t give any of those other letters more than just a glance. But look at you! He’s been—what, following you around for the past three weeks! Like a well-trained cat! He’s clearly enjoying himself!”

Woonhak opened his mouth to answer, but the door to the infirmary slammed open to reveal the subject of their conversation on the opposite side.

“Myung Jaehyun,” Taesan dragged, as he stepped into the room, “Did your mother never teach you that it’s wrong to gossip?”

Jaehyun squawked at the sudden intrusion, too taken aback to respond normally, “Wh—I—Jeez, your mother never taught you to knock?”
 
Funnily enough, Jaehyun remembers being there in person when Taesan’s mother chided him as a kid for sneaking around, telling him to knock before slinking into a room to eavesdrop.

Woonhak’s pillow hit Taesan square in the chest. “Could you not slither in like some kind of cryptid?”

Taesan caught the pillow, raising an eyebrow as he snorted, “Cryptid? Big word coming from someone who doesn’t know how to spell hibernation.”

“Huh? Hibernation?” Woonhak spluttered, “I know how to spell hibernation!”

“Uh-huh. Sure you do. I’ve been meaning to ask what chicken nuggets are. I assumed they were some type of food, since I don’t think you’d ever talk about anything else with so much love.”

Woonhak looked confused. “Chicken nuggets…? I mean, yeah, they’re this super delicious Muggle food, it’s like fried and crispy and so yummy and—no, how do you know about chicken nuggets? I don’t think I ever mentioned the word ‘nuggets’ in Hogwarts after someone in my first year told me you boring purebloods don’t have that here.”

Jaehyun wondered if either of them even remembered that he was also in the room. Clearly not, as Taesan began to speak again, “You wrote it—” Furious shushing from Nurse Blainey had Taesan soften his rising voice, “—in the letter!”

Jaehyun felt his jaw drop, and heard that Woonhak had taken a sharp inhale. An uneasy feeling began to rise in his abdomen.

“DON’T TALK ABOUT THE LETTER YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN’T BRING IT UP AGAIN!” Woonhak was still sitting upright, clutching the blanket around him like armour in a twisted dread. Taesan wasn’t supposed to remember the letter, much less quote it.

Jaehyun would’ve opened his mouth to say something, but Nurse Blainey pulled back the curtain from where she was mixing her potions before, her eyes a dangerous glower. “Mr Kim! If you’re making that much noise, I believe your nose has healed well enough for you to take this outside!”

The three of them froze in unison; Woonhak started blubbering apologies under Nurse Blainey’s burning glare.

“I said be quiet! I don’t want to hear it. You best hope you don’t ever find yourself injured or in the infirmary ever again till the day you graduate! Else you’ll find that the Muggle way of recovery is slow and painful! Now out with the three of you! OUT.”

And out the three of them went. Scurrying like rats chased out of the kitchens with a broom.

Awkward wasn’t a word that Jaehyun was well-acquainted with. But the situation of the three unlikely students hanging outside the infirmary was definitely tethering closer to awkward than it was to comfortable.

“I’m going to leave so that you two can talk about whatever this unresolved letter nonsense is about. Life’s not meant to be this complicated. See you at the dorms later, Woonhak. Come back with a boyfriend or come back dead.”

Jaehyun didn’t wait for a response before he turned his heel and stalked off. 

⭑｡𖦹°‧ Hallways

If it wasn’t awkward before, it definitely was now. If Jaehyun thought that his parting words were supposed to unlock some sort of hidden bravery within Woonhak to proclaim his painfully obvious crush on Han Taesan at the top of his lungs, Jaehyun was wrong.

“Er, I—um. I’m not sure why he’d say something like that… Um. Are you hungry?” Woonhak did not know why he was speaking. Or why he asked if Taesan was hungry. 

For a few moments, there was no answer. Woonhak could only plaster a smile on his faltering lips as he waited, trying his best to focus on the echoes of footsteps of students walking away and the smell of stone and torchlight. 

“... Are you?” Taesan asked, looking equally as constipated as Woonhak felt.

Woonhak nodded, and a bit of that tension seemed to melt off Taesan. “I have some leftovers from lunch in the Dungeons. Do you wanna…?”

Woonhak thought of refusing; he even opened his mouth to express how much he would rather not, but his stomach grumbled a loud and noticeable sound that neither of them were able to ignore.

A pause, then Taesan laughed. Instinctively, Woonhak yelped in denial and defence. And everything seemed to go back to normal, as if the situation from a few minutes ago never happened and they were their usual Taesan and Woonhak selves again.

The walk to the Dungeons started off in a comfortable silence, but Woonhak could pinpoint the exact moment it started to become tense again. It was probably when he let out a dry cough. 

Woonhak scoured his brain for something to say, but could only come up with another cough he did not need to make.

“So… You’ve fully recovered, huh.”

Taesan wasn’t one for small talk; Woonhak knew that. But he grasped at that olive branch all the same. “YES!” He exclaimed, before clearing his throat to sound less enthusiastic and more natural, “Er, yes. Though I don’t think it’s normal for people to take this long to recover from a Bludger to the face.”

Taesan scoffed; he seemed to be very well versed in the art of ignoring the elephant in the room. “Yes, well, I heard the patient was making a miraculous recovery. Thought I’d see it for myself.”

“Did you have to come so many times to see?” Woonhak wanted to slap his mouth shut. The bone broth Nurse Blainey gave him must’ve been laced with something that dissolved his brain-to-mouth filter.

Taesan, ever the expert, ignored the underlying connotation and just shrugged.

“Yeah, well. Miracle revoked,” Woonhak muttered, “I’m dying now.”

Taesan glanced at him from the side. They were almost the same height, thought Woonhak. So different from the first time they met. Then he realised that Taesan was waiting for an explanation.

“Oh. Didn’t mean to say that out loud…” Woonhak muttered, a bloom of heat creeping up his neck.

Taesan furrowed an eyebrow, “What’re you dying from? Idiocy?”

Woonhak huffed out of his nose, rolling his eyes as he folded his arms, “From embarrassment.”

“From what?”

“Um. Well, er. Nurse Blainey did throw me out.”

Taesan let out a quiet laugh. It was low, almost fond, and that just made it worse. “You really are bad at lying, you know.”“I’m great at lying!” Woonhak said, voice cracking halfway through.

“Sure you are.” He tilted his head slightly. “Blainey had been threatening to throw you out the past thousand times I was there. Nothing different. Tell me the truth.”

Woonhak stopped walking, and Taesan followed.

Woonhak made a strangled noise that could’ve been a word or a death rattle. “Ugrh—are you some sort of lie detector?! It’s…. It’s the letter thing.” The end of his sentence was so soft even he had trouble hearing it from himself.

Taesan didn’t seem to share the sentiment; he crossed his arms and spoke mildly, “The one about tiles. The rice. And shaking knees.”

This was the second time they were outright talking about the letter. The first time was after Woonhak learnt that Taesan even had the letter. And all he did was beg Taesan to not say anything about it, to promise to never bring it up again. Taesan smiled, a scary smile that left Woonhak pouting because he knew it meant Taesan was going to use the letter to his advantage. He did all he could the next few days to appease him.

At first he offered to help Taesan finish his homework. Which was stupid of him, because Woonhak was terrible with his own coursework, and much more terrible with a curriculum two years above his own. When Taesan saw the sorry state of Woonhak’s work, he started circling the parchment in ink, pointing out his mistakes, which were many. Neither could tell you when or how Taesan had essentially started tutoring Woonhak.

Next, Woonhak offered to buy him lunch and dinner. In his own experience, food had never failed him. It made people happy; it would definitely make Taesan happy. But that was shortsighted on his end, because Taesan didn’t frequent the Great Hall during mealtimes and he had the appetite of a little bird. Neither could tell you when or how they started spending lunch and dinner together at Taesan’s many little corners, Woonhak eating more than half of what he bought for Taesan.

Then, Woonhak tried to bribe Taesan with sweets from Hogsmeade and treats from home that his parents would send him. He couldn’t have possibly imagined how that would fail, because everyone who’s tried his mother’s baked goods always said they were fantastic. But again, neither could tell you when or how Taesan had started writing back to Woonhak’s mother, or how they started becoming regular pen pals.

Days turned into weeks, and Woonhak tried many other tactics, anything and everything under the sun to win Taesan’s favour and get him to forget the letter and to give it back to him. It didn’t work. Taesan didn’t forget, and he didn’t return the letter. The only thing that resulted from Woonhak’s effort was the countless hours they started spending in each other’s presence. And if Woonhak thought that this might’ve made his crush on Taesan go away, he was wrong.

The weeks they spent together made Woonhak see Taesan for more than just a senior he admired for Quidditch. In the beginning, it was probably nothing more than infatuation. Probably just genuine admiration for Taesan’s talent, for his appearance. It slowly festered and started feeling less temporary. Now his feelings for Taesan were more tangible and visceral than anything. After seeing the parts of him that not everyone could see.

Seeing the way he used words that made it easier to understand how to transfigure a teapot into a tortoise, the way no professor had ever done for him, the way he let Woonhak practice a full body-bind curse on him, even when Woonhak knew how much he hated to feel helpless.
Or that time Taesan brought him snacks before their tutoring session, saying it was just “to shut him up”, even though they both knew better.

Perhaps the favourite thing he saw was Taesan feeding the cats behind the greenhouse. Taesan likes to pretend he doesn’t like cats, doesn’t like it when Jaehyun compares him to one, but there’s a cat that follows him around school sometimes. Woonhak sees Taesan pretend not to notice, but he also sees him slow down so the cat can keep up.

He doesn’t know when or how exactly he started liking Taesan more than how he usually likes those silly crushes.

Taesan, who was still waiting for a reply.

“Should I continue? If I remember, there was something about how you like—”

“That was supposed to stay private!”

“I didn’t send it to myself,” Taesan said, shrugging.

“That was an accident!” Woonhak all but wailed. “It was—it wasn’t even written to you! A dumb crush from primary school! Like a super long time ago, okay?!”

That stopped Taesan cold.

“Oh.”

It wasn’t an angry “oh.” Just soft. Deflated. Like a note that had lost its tune halfway through.

“But the envelope—it… It had my name.”

Woonhak blinked. “What? I don’t—I don’t know how that happened!”

Another deflated sound, then a small humourless laugh.

“A primary school crush. So all those terrible analogies... they weren't even for me." Taesan rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess I really did read too much into it.”

Woonhak’s brain scrambled, words tripping over themselves, “No—no, that’s not—”

“No, I’m—I’m sorry for assuming that. I should probably go.” Taesan made an effort to walk away, not even in the direction of his common room. Just away.

Woonhak stepped in front of Taesan to physically block him from leaving. “No! Wait! It—it wasn’t just one—you do have a letter—”

Taesan looked up, brows drawing together, the previous hurt in his eyes still evident but with more confusion now. “What do you mean?”

Woonhak’s face went from pink to crimson. “I mean—you—I did write you one! But I didn’t—I never—oh Merlin, forget I said anything!”

Taesan’s voice softened, cautious, but also curious, “Another letter?”

Woonhak squeezed his shirt so tightly it nearly ripped. “You don’t have to sound so interested!”

“Maybe I am,” Taesan said simply. “If I have a letter, shouldn’t I get to read it?”

“NO!” Woonhak squawked. Then, quieter, “I mean… it’s not finished.”

Taesan’s smile twitched and something careful behind it, like he didn’t want to hope too loudly. “Then finish it.”

Woonhak stared at him like he’d just suggested that they run around Hogsmeade naked and screaming. “What, now?”

Taesan shrugged lightly, that same teasing glint in his eyes tempered by something quieter. “You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

“You say that like you’ve been waiting!”

“Haven’t I? I don’t make it a habit to tutor every academically challenged student here at Hogwarts. I’d be stuck here for the rest of my life and even after death if I did.”

Woonhak made a sound that sounded somewhere between a hiccup and a cry for help. “You’re insane,” he muttered, but his pulse was too loud in his ears for it to sound convincing, “I’m gonna puke.”

Taesan’s lips twitched, “As long as it’s not on my shoes. These are new.”

“I hate you!” Woonhak spluttered.

Taesan laughed, “You’ve said that once. But you don’t. I think you like me. Very much. Enough for me to get a letter.”

“Well! Well I mean it this time! I hate you!”

“You didn’t mean it the last time. And sure, you definitely mean it now.” Taesan was the pinnacle of certainty and sarcasm. “In fact, that’s good. Make sure you include that in the letter.”

The half-working brain Woonhak had told him to refuse. To tell Taesan that it was stupid and embarrassing, and that he had already humiliated himself enough to last a lifetime, so much he could even pass it on to his grandkids.

But because Woonhak never listened to his half-working brain, he found himself nodding.

“Finish it,” Taesan repeated, “Then maybe I’ll give you something to read too.”

“You write love letters now?” Woonhak asked weakly, only realising his slip-up after the words left his mouth.

Taesan looked at him, a ghost of a smile still hovering across his face, “Maybe.”

And maybe he did. Maybe Woonhak would finish that letter. Maybe this time it wouldn’t be written to close a chapter of his life but to continue it. Maybe he would actually send it. Maybe it would be with intention, instead of an accident. 

And maybe, just maybe, Taesan would get a letter that was addressed correctly to him this time. And maybe, he would write back.