Archive of Our Own

It's not like no one had warned Jungkook. They had all grimaced, wondering if that was really his best option, pretty confident it wasn't. The witch hadn't listened, of course not: he was positive he was in the right tracks. Not even when Namjoon had shaken his head, seemingly horrified at his friend's suggestion, Jungkook had changed his mind. He was pretty sure Joon reacted this way because Jin was dead against his idea, and Namjoon would react anyway if it'd please Jin even a little. Perhaps he should have taken it a bit more seriously when even Jimin had whimpered and whispered: "I didn't even ask him that, and I'm his soulmate", but Jungkook is just as sure that he didn't ask him anything because he had planned ever since he had met Yoongi to ask him instead. These two had been as obvious as a sleeping draught, which is pretty fucking evident, considering it's a base 1 potion. No, really, nothing anyone could have said could have changed Jungkook's mind. His idea was genius, really, nothing could go wrong. He even had Jimin write him a proper letter, dusted with Yoongi's fae powder, as proof that he had been referred to by his one and only soulmate. Surely, that oughta do the job, eagerly thought the young witch. 

Yet when he found himself, nose to Taehyung's slammed door, all of his unbrazen confidence shrivelled down, Jungkook could only but blame himself, really. After all, it's not like no one had warned the man. 

Kim Taehyung never, ever, made a contract with a witch. 

…

“He said no”, pouts the young man. 

Standing before him, Jimin slowly nods, gaze piercing as he tries to understand, why, exactly, the witch is pouting.

“He said no”, repeats the dream witch, taking a second to breathe in and sigh: “And that’s upsetting because…?”

“I thought he’d say yes,” answers the youngest as if it were obvious. Yet again, Jimin slightly nods, before turning towards his mate: 

“Yoongi, my love, can you tell him he’s dumb for me, please?”

Jungkook’s pouts grows bigger, sadder, as he faces his hyung, despair adorning each of his traits.

“I really thought he’d say yes!”

“You asked an older fae, already settled in the human world, dead set on never making a contract with a witch, if he wanted to make one with you, and you thought he’d say yes”, deadpans Yoongi.

Sighing loudly, slamming his fists down on the table, Kook stands up and repeats, articulating each words:

“I’m friends with Jimin! His soulmate! I’m a nice person! He kinda knows me! I’m of age in two months! It’s obvious we should make a pact!”

There’s no saving him, seems to think Yoongi ; there really isn’t, seems to answer Jimin. Jungkook prefers ignoring both of them, plopping back down on his seat, taking his head between his hands. His plan had been foolproof, he was sure of it. Kim Taehyung was, undoubtedly, one of the most famous fae out there: he was absolutely beautiful, he was talented, and he was unpaired. That was, for witches like Jungkook, a fucking gold mine. So, yes, maybe he ventured towards the fae’s house with less than pure ideas: he had wanted to make a pact, for his own selfish interest, mayhaps. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be kind to Taehyung, nor grow to be a really close friend, if he let him. Jungkook was a talented witch — he had always been first at everything, at the academy, and he was the golden maknae of his coven, without a doubt. His powers could only benefit those of Taehyung, he was sure of it. He was good at music, he could dance, he even knew how to sing a mean G-Dragon song whenever he wanted: he was a fun person to be around. Sure, he could be awkward and shy and perhaps too lost in his own head, sometimes, but he’s convinced Taehyung’s not perfect either — and they could work. They really could. He needed them to. 

Kim Taehyung, after all, was the only unpaired fae in the whole of Seoul. Not that there were many of them to begin with, but Jimin had warned him, a couple of years earlier. Don’t take too long to chose a fae, bun, or you’ll get stuck in Abyss forever. Abyss wasn’t terrible, per se — it was his home, where he grew up, where he joined his coven, his forever family, all six of them. Yet, they had all been waiting for Jungkook to turn of age, twenty, finally, to leave Abyss, together. They’d found a nice house in Seoul, already, in a good neighbourhood, a house with a garden, for Namjoon to grow his plants, and the biggest kitchen, for Jin to fill their bellies with delicious kimchi jiggae every Saturdays, and the largest and widest sofa they could find, for they could all cuddles on it, smashed against the others. There was a big room, for his atelier, and for Jimin’s dancing — he had to catch the tears his works produced to sell dreams, a silly magic that helped people sleep, and Yoongi always cried, cried, cried. It was a useful alliance, their love. 

Their house was ready, then, all but waiting for them to cross the bridge from the Abyss to Seoul, waiting for Jungkook to create his pact. He had waited for the right one, he had said. None of his fae classmates had created any sparks, and he really didn’t want to settle. He wanted to feel it, for he was going to bring this fae in his coven, and it wasn’t an easy thing. Soon, the years had passed by, and now Jungkook would be turning twenty, in a couple of weeks, with no bond on his wrist. Jimin had sighed, a sigh that screamed I told you so, and Hobi had given him a tight smile, not reaching his eyes. He couldn’t cry for him, as the banshee could only shed tears for his person, Namjoon, of all witches, but his smile was loud enough to show his sadness for Jungkook. They wouldn’t wait for him forever, he had made them promise, he would join them again when he had a fae by his side, if he wasn’t bonded by the time he was 20. They had agreed, reluctantly, and they all knew that the time to move was coming, soon. Jin would turn thirty, soon, and he would miss his time for the crossing of the bridge, if he waited any longer. Abyss was a slightly cruel world, after all. Witches could only go out in the human world once a month, but could transition, freely, if they contracted a fae, once they were of age. A fae could contract anyone they wanted, however, which made witches a bit mean, a bit revengeful, when other species mated one of them. Jungkook wasn’t petty, nor did he believe a fae had to love him, or contract him, because he was a witch — but he wanted to cross the bridge, oh, how much he yearned for it.

Once a month, as early as from his fifth birthday, he had held another witch’s hand to cross the worlds and navigate, for one day only, the streets of Seoul. He had fallen in love with the quirks of humans, with their love for silly things, he had grown fond and fonder of the theatres, and arcade rooms, and noreabangs, and museums, oh Namjoon, could we go yet again to the museum, have you seen the exhibition, this month, it’s wonderful, please, could we go again? And they’d go, and for a couple of hours a month, Jungkook’s eyes shone brighter than the stars, gasping at everything the human world could offer him. He had to cross back before midnight, still, and his heart broke each time. One day, we’ll stay there, and you’ll have so much time to roam through the museum you’ll get bored of it, had promised Hoseok, patting his hair down, comforting, as always. Jungkook had nodded, because he knew he’d cross, there was no other way: and yet, here he was, almost of age, no contract on his wrist. 

Jimin’s still observing him, from his sit on Yoongi’s laps, but before he can say anything — suggest another blind date with a fae from Busan, who might consider relocating to Seoul, we never know, Kook-ah —, the young witch raises his head and catches his eyes:

“Hyung, you have to help me. You have to tell me everything you know about Kim Taehyung…” “No, Kookie.” “… because I swear I’ll do anything, you only have to tell me what he…” No, Kook-ah, I won’t” “…is like and what he likes and what I should give him to court him because I’m sure I can court him or…” “Jungkookie…” “… or befriend him, even, be a really really good friend for him, and we’d be so great, together, both in Seoul, I’m sure…” “Jungkook,” snaps Jimin, voice tight with worry. 

The young kid finally stops talking, eyes brimming with tears, as he shakes his head: “No, don’t Jungkook me. I have to try, okay? I’m… I know we could be good. You have to tell me what you know. Come on, Chim, you’re his soulmate.”

Jimin breathes in, deep, as Yoongi tightens his fingers on his waist, comforting. Jungkook ignores it, eyes never leaving his hyung’s face, his body slightly trembling. “Give me some time to think about it,” whispers the dream witch, resigned. Frowning, Jungkook is about to complain as to why he couldn’t just tell him, now, when Yoongi sputters “You can’t go back there until next month, anyway. Give him time.” 

And Jungkook’s pout grows bigger, his tears sliding down his cheeks as he keeps silent because that is it, after all: he can’t go back there, without his fae. He’d wait, for a bit. 

…

Jimin dutifully ignored the subject for weeks, after this. Jungkook hadn’t pushed further, waiting for the right time. He knew how Jimin was, all push and pull, teasing and teased, but also knew he needed time to make a conscious decision, time to sort out his thoughts, to discuss it thoroughly with Yoongi. He never did anything important, without consulting Yoongi. Jungkook didn’t quite know whether that was because they were lovers, because if Jin and Namjoon were suckers for communication, they most definitely didn’t go as far as Yoongi and Jimin, or if that was because of their particular bond. He didn’t know much about bonding with a fae, to be fair: it wasn’t exactly taught, at the academy, for it was deemed obvious and unrecommended, anyway. People usually preferred staying in the Abyss. It’s mostly why their coven was born, why they had all found each others, at an early age at that. Jimin had met Jungkook first, and they had stumbled upon Namjoon and Hoseok, his banshee. It was obvious, how made for one another they were. Their magic were complimentary, even, creating an equilibrium in their coven that made them content, even more so when they practiced together. For Jimin was the mind, appeasing them, Namjoon was the earth, grounding them, and Jungkook was the soul, energising them. 

Namjoon met Jin first. He was the first outsider to their coven, a man who seemed too big, too wide, too handsome to be a fae — Namjoon was sure he was an elf, and that he was lying to them, at first, but soon found out Seokjin couldn’t lie for his life, his ears turning ten shades of red whenever he tried to shy away from the truth. He had the loveliest voice and his magic was subtle, bringing cohesion to the whole. It helped smooth out Namjoon’s potions, which became stronger and rounder than ever, after their bond. They had started with a written contract, like many witches and faes, at first as friends, both eager to cross the bridge forever, but their alliance stumbled into love and overwhelming fondness as years went by, both finally admitting their contract could take the shape of a bond, and they’d be happier for it. Yoongi came last, and Jimin swears he knew as soon as he saw him that he would be the one for him. It came as a surprise to Jungkook, who knew of Taehyung, of course, Jimin’s childhood friend, and thought they would bond together, but Jimin had given him a small smile, hiding too many secrets, telling him they weren’t that kind of soulmates, despite what everyone thought. Yoongi was that kind of soulmate, it seemed, for they soon became one, and their coven became a group of six. Whenever Jungkook asked why Taehyung never joined, Namjoon pat his hair, Jimin kissed his cheeks, and Yoongi, sometimes, whispered it was different, for faes. He never really understood. Well, and he never really cared to ask more, anyway. But now, now, things were different. He had to know everything about Taehyung. So when Jimin sits in front of him, almost exactly one month after his last visit across the bridge, in the human streets of Seoul, Jungkook beams. He knows it’s time. 

…

It starts, all over again, with Jungkook knocking at Taehyung’s door. This time, it doesn’t open. It’s fair — he probably wouldn’t have opened either, if he was Taehyung. He stays there, despite everything, talking to the man through the door. Well, the witch hopes Taehyung really is behind the door, because Jimin said he would, but he has learned not to trust Jimin too much, for teasing was his best hobby. He has a basket of strawberries in his hands, picked one by one at the market this morning — he went to a human one, to make sure the vendor wouldn’t give him any witch strawberries which did absolute troubles to faes’ stomach. He knows they’re super tasty, because he ate one or two, on the way from the market to Taehyung’s home, so he’s sure he’s going to like them. Jimin told him, after all, that they were his all time favourites. He stands by the door, then, lifting the basket up for it to show through the peephole.

“It’s me again! I’m Jeon Jungkook, Jimin’s friend. We’re from the same coven. I’m sure you’ve heard of me. Well, I hope you have, because Jimin talks about you all the time and I’d be terribly vexed if he didn’t do the same the other way around. But, in case he doesn’t, well: hi, I’m almost 20 and I’m a witch. That, however, I’m sure you know, because I asked for a pact, like, last month. I’ve been told I haven’t been super smooth. So, here are some strawberries. They’re a token of friendship. I’ve been told, as well, that you love them a lot. I can guarantee they’re good, too — but if you’re worried I’ve poisoned them, or anything, well — I don’t know what your magic is, but I’m sure you can sort this out, there’s loads of poison detector on the market nowadays. I’d give you a flask of Namjoon-hyung’s potions but considering he’s from my coven, you might not trust him, unless you know him already, but that’d mean you know everyone but me, and that’s a bit hurtful to be hon—“

“Everyone brings me strawberries, I’m fed up with it,” suddenly interrupts a low, deep voice, making Jungkook stutter and stare at the aluminum door with wide, shocked eyes. He squeaks a “what?!” But the door stays closed, and the voice keeps quiet. Well fuck.

…

A month later, and Jungkook’s back in front of the door, still terribly closed. He puffs out, knocks once, expects the lack of answer, and shakes his shoulders. He knows Taehyung’s in there, Jimin just left the apartment. His birthday is next month, and he’d love to spend the whole month walking around Seoul, with no time limit — but Taehyung still hasn’t acknowledged him, at all. Jimin said he didn’t even talk about him when he went to see him, probably hadn’t realised the strawberry basket he’d left was his either. Jungkook had written his owl address on it, hoping he’d contact him — but no. Jin had said that Faes usually don’t use owls at all, that he only did because of the coven, mostly for Namjoon, but Jungkook had hoped, alright, had wished Taehyung would. Because he had no phones, no numbers he could be called on, or whatever magic human put into these small grey rectangles. All he had was Beomgyu, his familiar owl, pouting every time he made him travel through Abyss to deliver this and that letter. He could go to the human world but it’s not like Jungkook had plenty of human friends, and any faes or witches he knew that lived there were quite okay with not talking to him outside of their monthly visits. He wasn’t a people’s person, alright? 

Perhaps this is the reason why Taehyung ignores him, even while he knocks on his door, cheeks red from the summer heat. He has a melon ice cream between his lips, unable to resist it, and buckets of banana and chocolate flavoured ice cream in his hands. Jimin had promised, this time, that his information was up to date: Taehyung loved ice cream. How could he not, when he ordered himself, with a very pleased smile, Oreo ice cream scoops at the fast food down the street? Surely, that meant something. Jungkook had shrugged, but that was his only option, anyway, so here he is, arms loaded with ice creams, dutifully ignored by Taehyung.

“Hmm, hi hyung — can I call you hyung? It’s weird calling you Taehyung-ssi, but please knock at the door if you don’t like me calling you hyung. Or double knock if you don’t like Taehyung-ssi either, and I’ll find something else, alright? Taetae, like Jimin, or — well, that’s not important right now, hi hyung, I’m back again. It’s been a month since last time, as you already know, I can’t come quite more than this, considering… well, you know.” He sighs, drops the ice cream by the door. “I brought ice cream. Loads of ice cream. Jimin said you loved it. I hope you do, because, really, there’s loads here. We could eat them in the park nearby, I can stay here for a couple of hours, if you want, or, I don’t know, I guess you have a sofa. You have sofa, right?” Silence. “Well, if you don’t have a sofa, I don’t think we can be friends, anyway, because there’s nothing I love more than cuddles on the couch. Do you like cuddles on the —“

“I don’t really like ice cream, honestly.”

And Jungkook stutters, once again, because, really, fuck Park Jimin. What kind of bullshit soulmate is he? 

…

“Hi, I’m back. Jungkook’s the name, in case you forgot. It’s been a couple of weeks, I’d get that. I’ve got something special this time, no one helped me, promise, I learned my lesson. Jimin was shit at giving advice, anyway. Are you sure you two know each other?” Silence. Striking, really, how nothing changes, months after months. The tall witch sighs, shuffling his weight from right to left. “Well, anyway, what do you think of barbecue? I’m of age, now, and I thought it’d be fun to celebrate together. I’m a pro at that, but I guess that’s obvious, considering my element, but I don’t know if you know much about this, because, well, it’s not like you’ve asked anything about me. I’m getting better at talking on my own, aren’t I? Anyway, I brought some really, really good meat as well. The best there is! Jin sells it at the market, he selected it for me. He doesn’t know it’s for you, though, I’m here low-key this time. I told them I was going to the museum, there’s a lovely dansaekhwa exhibition in a small gallery I love, we could go sometimes. Anyway, meat! Do you like meat? It’s bear meat, it’s so, so tasty I prom—“

“Bear meat?! You fucker, get out of here!”

Jungkook gapes at the door, arms full with an iced bag heavy with bear meat. He shakes his head and puts an elbow against the metal, trying to knock to drown his anguish:

“What, why? I swear it’s —“

He shrieks as the door suddenly electrocutes him and he takes two steps back, eyes wide. What is wrong with this guy?!

…

“You bought Taehyung bear meat?”

“Yes, that’s what I said. Twice, already. Has age made you dumb, Chim?”

“You dumbass, his halmeoni’s soul reincarnated into a bear!!”

Well, shit.

…

“Taehyung-ssi? Or hyung, we never quite got settled on that, right?” starts Jungkook before coughing, realising he’s already getting side-tracked: “Hmm, I realise we might have started off on a wrong foot, but I’m quite sincere about becoming friends with you, because, you know, all of my coven knows you and love you so, so much, you must be someone quite spectacular. I’ve heard a lot about you already, as you know, but everything has been so wrong, I’m starting to believe they did it on purpose, you know, maybe to make me realise something, but I’m not too good at realising that kind of stuff on my own. Well, I just wanted to say sorry, for last time, with the bear — it was really out of place, and I really didn’t know. I would never try to offend you or hurt you, I hope you know that? I was truly trying to… I don’t know. Ugh, I don’t even know why I keep on trying so hard. It’s all I know to do, really, try hard until I somehow get it right, so I thought it’d work with you, because I really want it to work, you know? Not only because it’d be kinda thrilling, drafting a pact with you, but because, well, I’ve already said, I’m rambling now.”

He shuts his mouth, eyes fixed on the door, before sighing heavily. Without saying anything else, he drops his ass to the floor and shuffles in his black backpack, looking for something. Pulling out his sketch board out, with a couple of grey crayons and an eraser, he sits comfortably against the door, breathing in deeply. Soon after, he starts sketching out, his low voice just a little shy as he speaks out:

“Please don’t open the door without telling me, I’m sitting right here. I thought I could stay a little and draw, if you don’t mind? I can just talk and tell you about me, and when you feel like it, you can answer anytime? I draw all the time, you know, it’s kind of my thing. I’ve got a room, in our future house, where everyone’s put out canvas and buckets of paints and some wonderful red ink that does wonder for spirit spells, I can’t wait to use them all. You know Jimin, so you know that he dances to create his magic — Yoongi’s the softest crying fae I’ve ever met, seriously, they were born to end up together — but I use drawings. Well, it’s more like, what material I use to paint and draw kind of gives a path to the spell I’m doing, and the drawing gives it life, and the paper gives it substance, and then I burn it for the spell to happen? It’s actually pretty cool to see, I’ll have to show you sometime. I don’t have to burn the paper myself for the spell to work, so I’ve been gaining some money by selling spells, but I usually don’t do anything too special when I’m not the one setting it on fire, I don’t like strangers having too much liberty with my magic. What’s your magic?”

And Taehyung doesn’t answer, at that time, but Jungkook keeps on talking. His voice is a little hoarse, by the end of his drawing, but he’s quite proud of what he’s done. There’s flowers, everywhere, all types of flowers, red and pink and purple — lots of purple. They flow all over the page, and Jungkook knows that if he were to light it up, it’d smell like the smoothest of perfume, all over the room, and a bouquet of orchids would fall on his laps. He doesn’t, though, prefers to roll it up and tie it with a small blue ribbon he had prepared in his bag. He looks at it, clearing his voice a bit. He spoke for an hour, two, maybe? He talked about his childhood, by the sea of Abyss, in the Wings neighbourhood, he talked about his forever friendship with Jimin, and Namjoon, and Hoseok, and Jin, and Yoongi, and how much he loves them all, so, so much. He talked about how they’re moving out, next month, so he might not be able to stay long, next time he comes around, because he has to see them all as well. He talked about how hard it’ll be, to be the only one left in the Abyss, but how that’s okay, because he’ll meet them again someday, in Seoul, he knows it deep in his bones.

He talked about his magic, and how much he struggled, as a kid, because he would never finish a spell on time, spending too long trying to perfect the design, perfect the outlines, how he had struggled for ages. He talked about meeting Namjoon, changing his life, how he took him by the shoulders and told him to stop trying to create perfect, because every act of creation was deep enough, heavy enough, and perfect in itself. How, since then, his magic had blossomed and how much fun he has, now, when he draws, when he sets fire to his spells. He talked about how he’ll never regret not settling down with any fae from the academy, or that lovely girl Jimin wanted to set him up with, because as much as he felt it in his bones that he’d live in Seoul, he knew deep down that Taehyung was his. He talked about how silly that was, considering they’d never really spoken, how this monologue probably wasn’t going to go anywhere, but at least he’d have tried, and he’d stay in the Abyss knowing he gave his person his whole. He had stopped talking, at that point, realising how deep his discourse had become, and a flustered giggle had broken free from his lips.

Now, he’s on his feet again, and the tied, rolled paper is by the door. He knocks on the door, just once, and says:

“Well, I really hope you were here all this time, or I’ve been even more silly than usual. I left you a gift by the door — it’s a real gift, this time, something from me, really. Set it on fire, I promise it won’t do you any harm. I’ll be back next month, okay?”

…

He does come back, a month later, a slump in his shoulders, his eyes slightly puffy and red. He’d say he’d come, so he’s here, but his heart is still somewhere between Hobi’s shoulder and Yoongi’s cuddle. Perhaps between Jin’s lasagna, or in the middle of Joon’s speech on music therapy and how life changing it is. It’s not between his chest, anyway, that’s for sure, because it hurts way too much for it to be there. He only has one or two hours left in Seoul, he’ll have to run to grab the magic toad, back home, before his curfew, but he’s here, by Taehyung’s door, still closed, and his heart aches, aches, aches. He breathes in, and drops to the floor, face in his hands.

“I’m back. I hope it’s fine. Did you like the gift?”

It’s not like he expects an answer — he’s been here for, what, five months already, and Taehyung never answers if it’s not to shut him out, so Jungkook’s about to keep on talking, like he always does, when a cough makes itself heard, from behind the door. He stills — his whole body tenses against the metal and he takes it on himself not to immediately turn back, to see if, maybe, perhaps, there’s a tiny chance it’ll open. He keeps silent, not even breathing, and then he hears it, a small voice, undoubtedly shy, so shy:

“It was beautiful.”

Jungkook beams, bright and loud. His skin is on fire, quite literally, and he has to tap his forearms to calm down his magic. He liked it. It’s all he can think of, his sadness seemingly swiped away by the simple, single sentence. Restraining himself from sounding too excited, the young witch breathes out:

“Can I draw another?”

A moment, and: “Yes. Please”.

He closes his eyes, jerking back the tears, the uneasiness he had taken all the way back from his home-not-quite-home-yet, and he opens his back pack, hands shaky with excitement. Oh, he’ll draw. He’ll draw so much, Taehyung will never be out of flowers, ever again. Or jewels, would he like jewels? A dog, perhaps — but that’s strong magic, making something as big as an animal come alive, he’s not sure he can do that in the human world, under the circumstances. No, no, he has to be delicate, but meaningful — he liked it, like this. He liked it. Jungkook is giddy, overly so, and he can’t keep his giggles out as he outlines his new drawing. It’s all charcoal, this time, on a brown paper, and he hopes the fae will enjoy it. 

“Can I talk, while I draw?” he asks, again, hoping for the same answer.

It’s all silent, for a long time — longer than it took for him to say please, but then it drops, finally, and Jungkook doesn’t know if he can hold this much happiness at once, all of a sudden. Because Taehyung had answered, “I’ll be the one to talk, this time.” 

Oh, he talks. He really does. It starts out shy, as much of a monologue as it had been, the first times Jungkook had spoken to the door. It starts out with a small introduction — hi, Kim Taehyung, I’m a star fae — and Jungkook had almost whispered an of course you are, you’re a star, but he hadn’t, because Taehyung was finally, finally speaking to him. He talks about his life in the human world, how he sells stardust to the witches and magical beings living in Seoul part-time, and how he spends the other part of his day photographing this and that for humans. He loves shooting weddings, because of how happy people are, but his favourites are silly days booked in for fun. Shoots were friends roam the streets of Seoul, pulling weird faces at one another, or shoots were a couple decided they had to celebrate their 100th day together by taking good photos by the mountains, on top of Seoul. He loved it, because it radiated daily life, daily love, and there was nothing he loved more. He talks, also, about his passion for art, and how he had loved Jungkook’s drawings. 

At that, really, Jungkook had to react. 

That’s when they start talking together, rather than at the other. It’s a simple change, really, but one that warms Jungkook’s heart like it never had. He hadn’t stopped smiling for at least five consecutive minutes when he realises he has to go, now, quick, for fear he’d miss the magic toad, and get stuck in the limbs forever. He chokes out a terrified “shit!” and jumps to his feet, shuffling everything back in his bag without thinking. He leaves the drawing by the door, once again, and then starts running as he screams out: “I have to run b-but I’ll be back, I swear. Next month? Next month! Wait for me!”.

…

Taehyung waits for him. Jungkook likes to believe he does, anyway. Because, when he stops by the door, exactly one month later, after spending the whole morning snuggled up against Hobi-hyung, it’s wide open. The witch stares at the entrance way, eyebrows furrowed, worry filling up his eyes quick. He takes a step forward, wary of surprising the fae, and whispers:

“Tae-hyung? Are you there? Is everything —” 

His voice gets chocked up as he stills, shell-shocked. Taehyung’s there, standing tall before him. Jungkook had almost forgotten, after all this time, just how beautiful the other man was. He’s slightly taller than him — or not, perhaps it’s his pants, his black fitted pants, that make him taller. He’s older, his face more refined, his jaw more defined, his lips full and teasing, it’s unfair, how pretty he is, even for a fae. His beauty is not all that shocks Jungkook, however, for he has two single gems hiding in the corner of his eyes. He’s drawn to it, like he’s never been attracted to anything, every single cell in his body aching to touch it, just a little bit. He shivers, from head to toes, and takes a step forward, then another, without realising it. He’s entered Taehyung’s entrance, now, broken into his personal space, but he really can’t control it — his hands go up to his face, his fingers trace his cheeks, his index brushing the gems, oh so softly. He hears himself whisper-shout: “fuck, your gems are the prettiest.”

It’s probably fair that Taehyung slams his hands away, but Jungkook doesn’t quite understand why he’s being pushed back, away, away, when all he wants is to never keep his hands away from him. He doesn’t quite get it either when the fae turns white, livid, even, and pushes him further away, out of his space, out of his apartment, out, out, out, slamming the door to his face. Stupefied, shock ringing through all of his cells, Jungkook stares at the metal by his face, but he doesn’t even have the time to ask what’s wrong, this time, or how sorry he is, because Taehyung shouts, voice tight and definite: 

“Leave, and never come back.”

…

Jungkook is not quite crying, when he stumbles into his coven’s house, but his eyes are full of tears, his nose is almost runny and he most definitely looks pathetic. Yoongi stares at him, gawking, before shuffling back, panic flooding his system. His voice is a little high when he screams Jimin’s name, making his partner run on the spot to him, eyes wide. 

“What’s going on, hyu— oh dear gods, Kookie, are you alright?” 

The witch shakes his head, dropping his backpack on the floor, as Jimin takes a swift step forward, circling his arms around him. He’s tiny, so small compared to Jungkook, but his head snuggles right where it should in the croon of his neck, his hands patting his back up and down, his body full of comfort and radiating warmth. He’s whispering loving words, as Jungkook hugs him tighter, trying to calm down his trembling, trying to stop his tears from flooding so hard. He feels ridiculous, coming back here so soon after leaving, but his heart aches, his mind aches, and he’s so, so lost. He thought he had made progress, thought Taehyung was opening up to him, and perhaps it had been silly, perhaps it had been too much, to touch him like this, but he definitely didn’t feel like he deserved this, whatever that was. He’s trying not to think anymore, to let his despair crawl back to the back of his head, because it won’t help, it won’t do anything at all, but soon, Hobi is joining the hug, and Namjoon is patting his head, and Jin is pinching his sides, hands full of worry, and even Yoongi is whispering sweet words, voice low and shy. Jungkook sobs harder, then, his heart clenching in his ribs, as he takes in all this love, all this fondness he doesn’t quite deserve. It’s his fault, his own, that he’s still in the Abyss, waiting like a madman for a man who doesn’t want him, for a fae that was clear in his rebuttal, he has no right breaking down. No right, no right at all. He’s sobbing too hard, now, his breath getting ragged, his mind slipping out of consciousness, and he knows his anxiety is striking him hard, he’s going to fall, fall, fall — Jungkook, love, bun, stay with me, listen to me, can you breathe in, baby bun, breathe in deep for me, please, in and out, in, one, two, three, four, five, out, and in we go again, two, three, four, five, out, that’s it, my love, you’re doing great, Kook-ah. And, ah, there, finally, he breathes again.

He’s on the couch, now, his head on Jimin’s laps as he carefully threads his fingers through his head, speaking lowly to the other members of the coven, warily sitting on the other couch, attentive not to overwhelm Jungkook. He blinks, once, twice, coming back to himself. He’s in their house — his, one day, maybe — and they’re all here, and they’re worried, because — ah, yes, he cried. Sobbed his heart out. Realised he’s a failure. Can’t even draw a spell to make himself feel better, cause he can’t feel his fingers. He realises he got all tensed, again, when Jimin’s fingers dig slightly deeper in his skull, massaging him slowly.

“You’re back with us, bun?”

Jungkook breathes in, once, twice, and nods: he realised not everyone can feel it, nor can see it, so he squeaks a small yeah, voice still too rough from his crying. He feels silly, but he tries to forget it, because the magical beings in the house are radiating with so much warmth and love, it’d be absurd trying to deny it. He can soak in it, instead, and take a moment to appreciate the help of his coven. He hadn’t realised how strongly it had affected him, being away from them. His magic has become so dependent on them, on the balance they had created. He sighs, as Yoongi whispers, ever so careful:

“You want to tell us what’s going on, Kook-ah?”

He wants to shake his head, and say no, no, he doesn’t want to talk about it, but he knows he has to, because they’re them, his coven, his family, and he owes to it them. They need to know he won’t make it, he won’t be able to leave the Abyss, because his chance had been slammed back in his face, and he has to come to terms with that. He struggles to stand up, Jimin’s hand falling from his skull to the back of his neck, keeping it there, grounding him to them, his calming magic. Jungkook breathes, in, out, counts to five, and then it all stumbles out, in a shaky sigh:

“He slammed the door, again. Told me to leave, never come back. It was going so well. He listened, he listened from the beginning, I’m sure of it, and he talked back, last week, he spoke for so long, told me so many things, and it was going so well, we were definitely, definitely becoming… something, but he slammed the door, he pushed me back, so hard. He sounded so…” Jungkook chokes up, blinking to chase away tears that threatened to fall yet again. “I only said he looked beautiful, with his gems, they were so, so pretty, hyungs, I hadn’t seen them, the first time, and I was so shocked by how pretty they were, I brushed them slightly, that’s all I did, and I know it’s not great, it’s probably weird, or creepy, but I don’t think it deserved… I don’t think I…” He can’t go on, not anymore, his throat all closed up, his eyes too watery, and he drops his gaze to his laps, swallowing hard.

Everything is silent, around him — Jimin’s hand has stilled against Jungkook’s neck. 

“You saw his gems?”

Jungkook doesn’t look up, shrugs slightly. “Yeah, I told you, they were so, so pretty, two little gems, by the corner of his eyes, it was —“

“Oh dear gods, Jungkook!” It’s Jin, this time. He got up from the couch, striding towards the witch, and his hand falls repeatedly on his arm, swatting hard. “Oh my gods, you dumb ass, you saw his gems! Why did you leave!?” 

Furious, Jungkook jerks away, trying to escape from his hits, but Jimin is still holding him down by the neck, shell-shocked beside him. The witch stares at his hyung, lips parted wide, completely lost: “He told me to scram, Jin-hyung, what was I supposed to do?” 

“Do they teach you witch boys anything at all? Oh, mother nature, give me strength,” mock wails Jin as he falls down to the floor, his head dropping on Namjoon’s thigh. Tight-lipped, the older witch slowly pats his lover’s shoulder, before turning his head towards the youngest of the coven, working his lip slightly: “You don’t know anything about gems, do you?”

And Jimin sighs, deep, low, heavy. 

In the end, it’s Yoongi who explains everything. Jin is too busy whispering insanities against the system, and how terrible it is, which Namjoon approves way too heartily, jumping into the debate with mumbled agreements. Hobi hasn’t said anything, lips tight, eyes sad, simply walking around the couple to sit by Jungkook, hugging him softly. The witch had melted by his sides, as Jimin had continued massaging his neck, letting Yoongi explain everything. Jungkook had gaped, mouth wide, as he learned all he needed to know about gems, about faes, about witches and contracts, and Jin was right, why don’t they learn anything about this at school? What’s the point of knowing the perfect way to manipulate a human if you can’t even go to the human world by properly understanding the laws of faes and witches? By the end of Yoongi’s explanation, Jungkook is still trembling, but for a whole other reason. He doesn’t quite know whether he should believe all of what he’d just heard, but he can’t really deny the proof, can he? 

His head falling against Hobi’s shoulder, the witch sighs. What is he supposed to do, now? Go to him, you absolute moron, swears Jin.

…

“Taehyung? Please, I know you’re here.”

The door remains locked, the metal still in his face, but Jungkook doesn’t care. He ran here, not confident enough to use his magic in the human world after all the emotions he went through, this afternoon. He can’t wait to cross the bridge, properly, to have all of his powers stabilised down here. Soon, soon, if everything Yoongi’s told him is true. 

“Please, hyung, open up. I know, for the gems. I understand, now.”

There’s still no answer, so Jungkook sighs, and drops down to the floor. He sits, legs crossed, backpack between them, and he hugs his bag against his chest. His voice is slow and tired when he whispers, hoping Taehyung can hear him, despite everything.

“I don’t have much longer, the day is almost over, hyung. But I have to talk to you, okay? You can listen — I know you’re good at listening, that’s okay, you don’t have to say anything back. But listen, please. Can you do that for me?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, shuffling slightly closer to the door, whispering harder: “I’m sorry if you thought I had taken all of this lightly. I never knew how special it was, the bond between faes and witches, because it’s the only one I ever really saw near me. My coven — you know all of us, all the witches are with faes, hyung. It’s all I know, and yet I never really tried to understand it more than that. I thought Jin and Namjoon hyungs had this deep connection, this passion for communication, because that’s how they were. I thought Yoongi and Jimin hyungs were this particular with their love, their magic, because of how emotive their powers are, anyway. I never thought — I didn’t think it was the pact, you know? I didn’t know faes hated getting contracted to witches because of how strong, how deep, it is. It’s a lifetime commitment, Yoongi’s told me. It’s something stronger than a simple contract you could get with a werewolf — I know Jackson’s been pretty into you for ages, too. I know it’d be easier, with him, because your magic don’t try to eat one another. I know it’d be dangerous, with mine, we could either explode or become so much more powerful. I know the bond would never leave our wrists — I know, now. I’m sorry, if I made you feel like I wasn’t taking it seriously because this knowledge escaped me. But, hyung — the bonds in my coven were the only ones I knew of, and I knew how deep and grounded they were, without needing to know the contract itself made it even stronger. It’s how I always imagined my bond to be, you know? There’s no way, not a single chance, that I came in here not expecting to love you tenfolds. That’s just how I know it, Tae-hyung.”

He stops, then, for a little while, doesn’t know if he should keep on talking, if it’s already too overwhelming, for Taehyung. He’s a bit mad, probably, being so honest, so open — but it’s been months, of getting to know him through all of his acquaintances, through their closed doors discussions, months of yearning, and aching, and bones-deep knowledge that he was his person. Jungkook has to say everything, all the way through. His voice is stronger when he speaks up again.

“I know what the gems mean, as well. I hope Yoongi hasn’t been saying shit about this, because I’m going to be really, really hurt if he is. I know they appear to your mate’s eyes only, that they’re only here when you open up yourself enough, when you feel at peace, loved, and when you love back. I don’t know if you love me, hyung, because I only saw two, and Jimin told me Yoongi has a whole constellation on his chest, and I’m positive I can love you just as loud as this, too, so I don’t really know if we’re deep in love, yet, but I know I can see two of your gems, Taehyung, and I never yearned to touch and love this much.”

The witch leans against the door, shutting his eyes to calm himself down, preventing his throat from acting up again, as he pleads.

“Please, please, Taehyung, please, can I come back again?”

…

He says yes. 

His voice was shaking as much as Jungkook’s, and the door was still muffling most of the sound, but he said yes. Jungkook let out a sob, just one. When he left, that night, there was another drawing by Taehyung’s door, a page full of flowers, so bright, so round, so fierce, that the fae had smelled like flowers for weeks, after the spell cooled down. 

…

“I’m back!”

It’s three month later, and he’s there, again. He came back, each month, and they talked some more. It was easier, now, because Taehyung knew, Jungkook knew, and yet the door was still there, between them.

Not this time.

Jungkook stills when he sees that the door is open, this time again, and he steps back, furiously, away from the entrance. Not again — he can’t trust himself, doesn’t know how he’ll react, if the door slams to his face once more. He can’t afford to fall into pieces right by his person’s doorstep, can he? 

“Jungkook?” 

He hums, arms wrapped around himself, still standing far away from the apartment. He can hear a chuckle coming from the front door, but he shakes his head.

“I don’t trust myself.”

“Jungkook, please.”

It’s all Taehyung has to say for Jungkook to take a step forward, immediately, too weak to disobey anything the fae whispers. They always say witches have the upper hand on faes, but he’d like to disagree, and quite strongly. He really cannot do anything against Taehyung. He knows he’s whipped, now and ever.

Taehyung’s in the entrance, his eyes observing him calmly. The witch really doesn’t know how his hyung can be this still, this calm. He can feel his whole body burning up, and he knows he’ll probably set his own arms on fire, with how heated up he’s getting. It’s spring, soon, but the fresh air doesn’t help his situation at all. If only, it makes his hair stand up, caught up between the cold of the outside and the warmth of his body. He lets out a shaky breath, taking another step forward. He hadn’t forgotten, this time, how beautiful Taehyung is. He thinks about it every single day, between each monthly visits, he has the traits of his face memorised to the angle of his nose and the arch of his eyebrows. The power of an artist in love, setting in his mind, for ever, the memory of his face. Despite knowing how exquisite he is, it doesn’t prevent Jungkook from feeling his breath catch in his throat, his stomach burning up, his head getting dizzy. Taehyung has even more gems, now.

There’s the two gems he first saw, in the corner of his eyes. But there’s some bigger ones, on his cheeks, and a hazard of little jewel dust spreading on his cheekbones. Jungkook feels his hands rise to his face, about to touch, and he stills, immediately. He steps back, a whimper down his throat, apologies on his lips, worry filling his eyes — but Taehyung is already there, right against him, and everything he wanted to say dies on his tongue. 

The fae is there, hugging him strongly, chest against chest. He’s trembling, and his breath hits in shaking waves against the curve of his neck, where he’s hidden his face. He’s trembling, but his arms are strong around his hips, tight against his body. He’s trembling, but he’s right where he’s supposed to be, and Jungkook melts, melts, melts. 

…

Do you really not like ice cream?

No, not really.

But —

But I do like strawberries, you were simply the third one, that day, with a strawberry basket, and I really couldn’t stand it anymore.

Jimin’s the worst soulmate.

He only told you, I’m sure of it. Everyone knows I loved strawberries, it’s just a thing people know.

I didn’t.

You didn’t know anything, Jungkook. You never asked.

Until I did.

Yes, but you asked wrong.

And then I stopped.

And then you stopped.

I did good stopping, didn’t I?

…

“You have more gems, now,” he whispers, so softly, as his hands crawl in his fae’s back, as his mouth drops on the older’s hair, as he kisses the top of his head, overwhelmed with affection.

He loves him more, now, loves him just as much as Jungkook does, maybe, and that’s shuffling something, in the witch’s heart, in his whole body. His hold on Taehyung tightens as he starts laughing, a little, a breathy laugh that shows just how much he doesn’t quite realise the situation. He’s holding Taehyung, he’s breathing him in, he’s kissing his head, and it feels so right. Oh, Mother Nature, bless your soul for birthing such man.

“Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung”, whispers the witch, nosing in the older’s hair, trailing down his hear, nuzzling in his neck, the roundness of his person’s name falling off his tongue as easily as one, two, three. His voice is rough, raw, fond, so fond, and Taehyung says his name back, so warm, so sweet, Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook, the witch burns a little, deep inside.

He invites him in, his hand never leaving his, his body touching whenever he can, starving for his contact as much as Jungkook is aching for his. They stumble on the couch, knees knocking against the other, fingers clasping together, foreheads brushing as they whisper all the words they usually say to the metal door. Jungkook has never adored speaking to a person’s face more than he does right this moment, a never ending flush basking his face pink. He could stay here hours, but he knows his time is counted, knows he has to head back, soon. He tries to forget, because Taehyung is looking at him, eyes so wide, so pure, and he’s speaking, he’s saying everything and nothing, just like Jungkook always wished he would.

…

… Yeah, Kook, you did good. I loved your flowers. I loved your magic. I loved hearing you speak. I loved it even more when you listened. No one talked, no one listened. They came in, with pretty gifts, pretty words, and thought the Fae would fall on his knees for them. 

I didn’t want that.

I didn’t know, at the time.

I wanted you to eat ice cream with me and laugh until our bellies hurt.

I couldn’t know that.

I wasn’t everyone else.

I know, now.

***

Taehyung doesn’t let him go, that night — he holds him tight, and presses his lips against Jungkook’s. He’s warm, too warm, and the witch could burn alive, for the taste of his love is too strong, too sweet, and he’s never known any thing like this, before. Taehyung doesn’t tease, however, he doesn’t mock, he simply stays there, calm and confident, until Jungkook eases up, biting his lip, melting against his mouth, breathing hard against his neck. Are you sure, he whispers under Taehyung’s ear, sucking in the skin, there, devouring his body, leaving his mark everywhere, anywhere he can. Yes, yes, yes, moans the fae, arching his hips against his, sliding his hands behind his beck. He pulls on his hair, slightly, just enough to tease a gasp out of him, and Jungkook knows Taehyung will do anything he wants of him, and he’ll give it his whole without even questioning it. 

They should probably wait some more, before doing this, they know a contract between a fae and a witch is strong, so deep, but they’ve already kissed so much, they’re already so high on love, so when Taehyung whispers now, draw it now, Jungkook knows he wants it just as much. He draws against his skin, he traces the gems, links them together, with a touch of his fingertips, full of charcoal. He draws on Taehyung’s face, he sketches their contract, the one that’ll link them, officially, he draws something pretty, as pretty as the dozen of gems that made his person an art work. And when it’s done, he kisses the gems, one by one, whispering under his breath their oath, Korean mixing with old Chinese as he makes the fae his own. It’s his turn, then, Taehyung drawing on his skin, mimicking the spots where his gems are, and kissing them, one by one, until he’s out of breath, the formula slipping out of his lips in a ragged whisper. A solitary tear rolls down Jungkook’s cheek, as a light shines around them, as his fire burns them both, makes them arch up, and Taehyung would swear he didn’t sob of pleasure, no, he didn’t, but if he cries out, when Jungkook’s lips finally finds his again, no one but them has to know.

He feels it, they both sense it, the spell burning on their skins, their hearts beating as one, their magic pulsing against each others. It’s not yet a bond, not quite what unites Yoongi and Jimin, not yet, but there’s no doubt their contract is stronger than any other official paper. They feel it, and it makes them more hurried, an obvious heat crawling up. Taehyung rocks against Jungkook’s hips, their lengths too hard, too painful, as they whisper yes, yes, my love, mine, yours. Soon, Taehyung is fully open for him, legs wide, heart wide, and he slides himself down, head sent backwards, a silent cry escaping his lips as they part. Breathless, Jungkook can only look at him, flushed, fully undone for his fae, his, mine, mine, mine, and Taehyung laughs a little, as he rides up and down, a chuckle that gets stuck in his throat because of how good it is, how hard it is. They’re going harder, faster, it’s out of control, and Jungkook burns, burns, burns as he cries out, as Taehyung clenches, gems blooming all over his face. They still, shaken to the core, their bodies flushed and dirty, their muscles trembling, but the gems are here, and they shine brighter than they ever did. Jungkook traces them, one by one, as he pulls out, and he shakes his head a little. 

“Fuck, your gems really are the prettiest.”

***

Look, look at me, Kook-ah. Look at my face. I shine for you, my love. Can’t you see? These gems, all of these, only for you.

For me.

For you.