Archive of Our Own

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Exchange was a part of life.

It was a reality Hakyeon had always known and lived by. One thing for another, something taken for something given. Even in minuscule amounts, there was always a balance, a consequence for taking, or a trade for the giving.

Hakyeon didn't particularly care for the trades he was forced to make. In all honesty, he felt fate had given him a poor hand. Even when he gave, the take felt greater. Try as he might – time and time again, indeed – to convince himself that taking only a little, a few precious minutes or perhaps going as far as an hour, was fair game when what he gave back usually amounted to years – it all usually fell flat. He felt like a thief at the best of times.

A thief. Hakyeon’s mouth curled in a wry sneer, gaze never wavering from the crackling fire in front of him, the popping wood doing little to break him out of thoughts.

A thief was what he was. A thief in plain sight. Disguising what he did as an act of kindness was such a despicable way of life, and yet he continued doing just that. Lying to those who came to him for help, most of whom were townspeople with little more to their name than Hakyeon himself –

Sometimes, it just affected him a little bit more. That was all.

He knew he had a choice, he always had a choice, which just made everything worse. For did that make him stop?

It did not. It hadn’t for – for ten years. For ten years, he’d done this. After all – it was so little, wasn’t it? They could afford it. And he gave them back, didn’t he? He mended bones, he sewed together flesh with magical threads, he cured illnesses with nothing more than a touch. He did things that no physician would ever be able to do.

Hakyeon gave the sick and the wounded a new chance at life, and in exchange, he took only a sliver of their time.

That wasn’t too much to ask for, was it? Something given for something taken – that was fair. That was balanced.

At least, that was what he always ended up telling himself when the doubt and self-loathing threatened to overwhelm him. Funny, those particular words seemed to be repeated more often, as of late.

The pricking in his leg was getting harder to ignore, and eventually managed to tear him out of his thoughts. All the same; he was getting jittery sitting down for so long – hours? He needed rest, he told himself, and made his way towards his bedroom to prepare for exactly that.

Sleep would soothe his anxious mind.

Or perhaps he’d just have another restless night.

-

All it took was a touch, skin against skin, and then Hakyeon could heal. The person would always be none the wiser about him taking time off their life, gratefully thanking Hakyeon for his efforts and promising to keep his powers under wraps, for they lived in a time where people like Hakyeon risked being caught and tried – officially; unofficially everyone knew the accused had no chance of defending themselves – and then sentenced to death for witchcraft.

The townspeople’s love for Hakyeon and their appreciation of his care had kept him safe from the eyes of the king’s guard so far, though he was no fool to believe it would last forever. One day, someone would spill the beans, and the king’s guard would come for him. It was inevitable, considering the way he lived.

Many a time had he considered moving, to keep himself safe, but something rooted him in this place. It wasn’t physical so much as sentimental; he had grown up here, after all.

Prior to the passing of his parents, he had lived with them in the town. Without a care he had played hide and seek in the overgrown hills with the other children, waded in the stream that ran through the valley that fell at the foot of the town, took up hopscotch. Upon discovering his magical abilities, however, his parents had moved to an old cottage in the outskirts of the forest to try to keep anyone from seeing Hakyeon’s powers and handing over his name to the guards.

Ever since, Hakyeon had been more aware of life, of the dangers surrounding his abilities. He tried to help his parents as much as he could and gradually lost the innocence of childhood, swept up in his fear of what would become of him - and his parents - if anyone ever found out.

His parents had been poor, but they had never complained and instead worked hard to support their family; he had tried to help, he had, but he had failed so horribly and had hardly been able to look them in the eye since, least of all mention what he’d done. They had done their best up until their deaths, untimely but accidental, and then Hakyeon had tried to keep their spirits alive and bright in his heart, working hard to achieve happiness and careful of the powers he commanded.

However, he couldn’t just stand by and watch someone die before his eyes, which was how people had come to whisper about him in the corners of the town where they were more trusting of witchcraft than the reigning king and his rule; although, in general, this town’s people tended to care more for what they thought was right and what aided them, and would overlook what others would immediately report to the king’s guard. After all, when did the king ever really help them, small town and insignificant subjects as they were?

People had started popping up on Hakyeon’s doorstep, asking, sometimes begging, him to cure a loved one or heal a labour-related injury that hindered them. Hakyeon had never been capable of saying no, and had healed with a smile and accepting only what his visitors could afford in return.

After the curse, however, he had made a point of insisting he needed nothing for his efforts, yet some still insisted on bringing him fruits and vegetables from their gardens or newly-baked goods or tools. Hakyeon always accepted them gratefully, though the guilt weighed heavily in his heart.

He felt bad about taking more than he was giving, yet he couldn’t find it in himself to admit to them what he was taking. It was this, or pain – and this was fair, right? He still tried to convince himself that it was.

The man had arrived earlier that morning, waiting on Hakyeon’s doorstep for him to come home from a trip to the town. A glance had told Hakyeon all he needed to know and he had gestured for the man to follow him inside, shutting the door quickly.

Sickness was plaguing his body, his cheeks sunken, lips cracked and eyes red, his skin pale and glistening faintly with sweat. The man – Wonshik, as he had introduced himself – had fallen ill a few days ago, and had finally been convinced by his sister to give Hakyeon a chance.

“Is it true?” Wonshik asked, eyes nervously trailing Hakyeon as he puttered around to prepare tea for them. It had become a habit over time to offer his visitors tea, particularly the skittish ones who were wary of him and his alleged otherworldly skills; his teas were made from the herbs he brought home himself from the forest, and had soothing effects - usually exploited with a spark of magic. “That you can – heal?”

Hakyeon was tempted to smile. Wonshik seemed reluctant to say it as it was. Magic. “Yes. With a touch, I can heal whatever ailment you suffer from.”

“Just… like that?” There was a hint of innocent awe in Wonshik’s voice, and this time Hakyeon did smile.

“Just like that,” he affirmed, sitting down by Wonshik’s side and handing him one of the mugs; his own he set on the table. Wonshik took it hesitantly, folding his hands around the warm ceramic and sinking back into the chair with a sigh. The sickness was eating at him, exhausting him, Hakyeon could see. He wondered how long he would have if he continued like this, how long the disease would need to completely consume his life. A few days, perhaps, maybe a week at the most.

“If you give me your hand,” Hakyeon said as he pulled himself away from those thoughts, “I will draw away the sickness. You’ll feel good again, perhaps a bit tired, but well.”

He waited patiently for Wonshik to tentatively lay his hand in his, shooting Hakyeon a quick look; he offered a soothing smile in return. He pressed his fingers into Wonshik’s palm, eyes falling closed – it helped him focus – and began directing his magic into Wonshik’s body.

Magic was always a subjective sensation. From what Hakyeon had heard, it could feel like fire inside of the user, or a strong gust of wind. Hakyeon rather thought his felt like a strong current, winding and pulling and pouring from his veins into his visitors. He could feel it move, shifting and curving like a river as it sought out Wonshik’s illness, searching his body for what ailed him.

Wonshik’s hand, so tense before, started to loosen up as Hakyeon’s magic gradually overpowered the sickness leeching off him, replacing the energy with his own healing one. It rarely lasted more than a couple of minutes, and just before Hakyeon drew back, he took hold of some of Wonshik’s life energy and coaxed it back into himself. Three hours, he estimated.

Then he opened his eyes, releasing Wonshik’s hand, and smiled at the look of astonishment adorning Wonshik’s face – it had already regained some of its colour. “There we go. All better, right?”

“Yes,” Wonshik breathed, blinking and looking down at his hand as though he’d never seen it before. “Thank you. I… I’m sorry for not trusting you.”

“Don’t worry,” Hakyeon assured, doing his best to ignore the voice in his head screaming, that’s right, don’t trust me, “I understand.”

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I –” Wonshik’s eyes widened with some realisation. “Oh, no, I didn’t bring anything to give you! Jiwon told me to –”

“It’s fine,” Hakyeon said with a wave of his hand, smiling amusedly at the devastated look on Wonshik’s face. “I never ask for anything in return.”

“But,” Wonshik protested, “that’s hardly fair. You just – healed me, and to just walk away with nothing but words of gratitude…”

“– Is all I want,” Hakyeon promised. “That is enough for me.”

Wonshik swallowed, looking down at his tea. “If you’re sure.”

Hakyeon smiled, reaching for his own tea and taking a sip. It warmed his throat, and he sighed, pleased. “It’s all right, Wonshik. Drink up and take care of yourself in the future. That’s all I ask for.”

-

He had tried to just not take life and instead continue as if nothing had changed. It had worked, the first few days, and then the fatigue had come, sinking into his bones and almost making him want to scratch at his skin for how wrong it felt. Then came the aching muscles and joints, and then the pain. It tore through his body, and when it finally subsided for a time to allow him rest, he was on the floor, out of breath as though he’d just run to town and back again.

That had been a lesson, one he’d late forget, if ever. His limit was when the fatigue set in; the memory of pain was too vivid in his mind, terrifying him, and he didn’t want to ever go through that again. The reminder was always there, in the phantom throbs in his body, when he hesitated to take what the curse demanded of him.

Though he had the ability to heal through touch, he was also well-versed in brews and creams that he sometimes sent with Sanghyuk - his most trusted friend - to sell on the market. It was one of his only sources of income; asides from that, he now and then provided his help in town, carrying out various tasks for the people in exchange for either food or coins.

It was a simple life, but so long as he didn’t go to bed with a growling stomach, he would be all right.

He had brewed various draughts that morning, some for headaches, joint aches, food poisoning, and had noticed his stock was running low. So with one draught left to simmer for a few hours, he set out to the forest to gather whatever he could find of useful herbs and various other plants.

He had, by now, a pretty large repertoire of information when it came to plants. He knew which plants in the forest were poisonous, which had healing abilities – sometimes along with the poison, and were thus required specific handling – and which were edible, after spending long nights reading about plant life and jotting down notes. Draughts weren’t considered witchcraft, as everyone could make soothing salves if they knew which plants to use, and when he had been younger, reading up on everything regarding nature had been his hobby, for giving people potions were less risky than healing them outright. Plus, if they did seek him out later, he could take less for the healing, his potions already cutting his work in half.

These days, he preferred draughts over his healing abilities, if only for the difference in fee. He’d promised himself to not take time from those wanting his draughts, even if he usually increased their potency with a little bit of his magic. Instead, he charged a small coin fee. It was fair.

On the market, they were fairly popular for actually working, as opposed to the many other mixtures sold that were more placebo than anything else.

It was nearing dinner time when he called it a night, armed with two baskets stuffed with all sorts of plants to enrich his stock at home. He felt quite satisfied, as well, with what he’d gathered – even a few herbs he didn’t often manage to find – and set course for home down the roadside. Darkness wouldn’t fall anytime soon, and his dinner he had in the baskets and his vegetable garden at home, so he didn’t bother hurrying. He enjoyed the peace the forest provided, so might as well appreciate it while he could.

Near the crossroad, however, he sighted another man. Not that it was anything uncommon; people travelled on these roads, as it was the only that led out of the town and took one to the big city some days’ travel away. Sometimes, caravans passed, and Hakyeon had even witnessed, once, back when the fear of witchcraft hadn’t affected him, the king himself ride through with what Hakyeon had then imagined to be the entirety of his court and guards and what else a king required for an evening stroll. It had been magnificent, to see their ruler pass through, and when a messenger had been sent ahead to alert the townspeople, everyone had immediately set out to prepare for his arrival.

The king had stayed for no more than a bite of food and a drink, but it had been the talk on the market for days, Hakyeon recalled. The king rarely showed himself in these areas, and the people had been excited, even if they in their daily life didn’t much care for the royal family.

However, this man was no king, or even a noble, although his attire did speak of more coins than Hakyeon had to his name.

That idea of wealth was tarnished all the same, for the man’s tunic sleeve was coated in what looked like blood - and Hakyeon would know, after all the people he’d treated since discovering his gift. It ran in thin streaks down the man’s arm to his hand, dripping to the ground from his fingertips and leaving trails of red behind him. His face sported a few bruises and cuts, and that was about all that Hakyeon could see. He was almost certain more were hidden beneath the clothes.

At some point in his examination, he’d stopped walking, and he saw clearly the moment the other man noticed he was being observed. His gaze narrowed, and he straightened his back, cradling his wounded arm just a little bit closer to his body, pace slowing down until he, too, stopped just a little ways from Hakyeon.

They didn’t speak, both busy sizing each other up; Hakyeon was looking for signs in the man’s body language that might give away more about his condition, and the man, Hakyeon assumed, was trying to gauge whether or not Hakyeon was a threat.

In the end, Hakyeon was the one to break the silence, once he’d come up short in his second survey. “You’re hurt.”

The man cracked a grin, even going as far as to wink. “Oh, observant, aren’t we. Did you know that wounds heal over time, too?”

Hakyeon frowned, shifting on his feet as he regarded this man pensively. “Are you hurt beyond what I can see?”

The man sighed, shoulders dropping a bit. “I’m fine, noble stranger. I’ve been through worse, so much so that this is almost a relief. Now, with your questions answered, I trust we can be on our merry way –”

“Wait,” Hakyeon said, taking a step forward; the man paused, regarding him curiously, and Hakyeon hesitated. This man could be anyone, a guard even, but the blood… He couldn’t just leave him to bleed to death out here. “I can help.”

“Oh?” He grinned again, jutting out his chin at the baskets Hakyeon was carrying. “Those plants? Not to worry, stranger, I am well stocked at home –”

“No, not that.” Hakyeon shook his head, ignoring the slightly miffed look the man sent him and the words that were already leaving his mouth, That’s the second time you interrupted – “I can heal you. If you give me your hand.” He shrugged. “Any part of you that will put me in direct contact with your skin, really.”

Hakyeon was a bleeding heart, truly. Or greedy, perhaps, another voice added, but Hakyeon shoved it back where it belonged, where it wouldn’t be able to get to him with its toxin-coated words.

The man was arching his brows at him, curiously, but he wasn’t running away, which had to count for something. “Is that so?” he hummed, giving Hakyeon another careful once-over.

Hakyeon set the baskets on the ground, and slowly closed the distance between them. The man didn’t even hesitate giving him his hand when Hakyeon reached for it. “It’ll be just a few minutes,” Hakyeon promised, and when the man gave the go ahead, Hakyeon closed his eyes and directed his energy into him.

It was different from any other person he’d ever healed. While everyone else had been like pushing through sand on the shore, this man felt more like water, like two currents converging. He could feel another push, feel the way this man’s energy seemed to push with him, and Hakyeon didn’t know why that was so. He yearned to find out, but the path was blocked for reasons unknown, and he didn’t want to try to force his way through when the man seemed so aware. Already, he’d healed the gash in the man’s arm, and the small nicks and another cut near his shoulder, as well as the bruises and all other ailments Hakyeon could find, and he shouldn’t be wasting time.

He had yet to take a bit of this man’s life force, as well, and that had priority.

When he drew back, eyes slowly opening, the stranger was blinking speculatively at him. “Oooh,” he breathed. “Curious turn of events. I’ve never encountered anyone like you.”

Hakyeon couldn’t help a snort from escaping him. “Yes, well, I do not imagine there are many like me around.” Not with how the king’s guard had been tasked with chasing down anyone and everyone said to have magic in their blood. They only got more determined as the years went by and witches and warlocks got better at staying out of their sight.

The man squeezed Hakyeon’s hand, which brought him out of thoughts – and reminded him that he hadn’t let go yet of the man’s hand. He tried to draw back, but instead the man held tighter, a smile now lighting up his whole face. “I’m Jaehwan. And you are?”

“Uh,” Hakyeon blinked, eyes going from their entwined hands to Jaehwan’s smile, “I’m Hakyeon.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said, only releasing Hakyeon’s hand then. “I have nothing of worth on my person at the moment – except for myself, of course, but slavery is frowned upon these days, and perhaps giving myself to you is a little too drastic – but I will find you again, and then I’ll bring something to express my gratitude.”

He was back to grinning at Hakyeon, face blessedly devoid of any of the discomfort it had held earlier, despite the effort he may have put into hiding it.

“I never ask for anything in return,” Hakyeon tried, but Jaehwan waved him off dramatically.

“Nonsense, my stranger friend. I will be back with something – after all, nothing in life is free, now, is it?” He winked at Hakyeon, who felt himself go cold. What did this man know about him? “Exchange – that’s the rule we live by, you and I.”

Hakyeon was left to blink stupidly after this stranger – this enigma, who called himself Jaehwan – after they parted ways, with the man’s parting words still hovering in the air.

We will meet again, Hakyeon.

-

It would be a week until he saw Jaehwan again, this time on his doorstep sporting the brightest smile Hakyeon had seen in a long time – and an injured shoulder, from the looks of it. Not for the first time did Hakyeon wonder who Jaehwan really was, for him to get like this and still smile despite the pain that he was undoubtedly enduring.

At least, Hakyeon knew he couldn’t take much pain before it was too much. Perhaps Jaehwan had nearly perfected his mask, or perhaps he just didn’t experience pain like Hakyeon did. Both seemed plausible with what he knew of the man as of yet – which wasn’t to say very much.

“It’s not that I seek to take advantage of you,” Jaehwan started, “or, well, perhaps a little, to be fair, but – as I think you knew from first glance, my shoulder, ah, it’s fractured. And hence, I thought of you, and after asking around a little bit, I was led here. So.” He shifted on his feet, looking past Hakyeon’s shoulder curiously at the interior of his home. “Can you help me?”

Hakyeon had hardly opened his mouth before Jaehwan suddenly gasped, and then proceeded to bend down, picking up a basket to shove into his arms. Going by the smell, Hakyeon suspected the basket contained bakery goods.

When he looked up at Jaehwan again, the man was beaming. “I brought bribery, just in case. Freshly baked and delicious, trust me, I snuck one on the way. So, you’ll help, right?”

Bemused, Hakyeon stepped aside to let Jaehwan inside his home for the first time, but not the last.

Jaehwan came back two weeks later, illness clinging to him like a leech and draining him, but he still spared Hakyeon plenty smiles, and a week after that it was a head wound leaking blood together with a disorientation that was as entertaining as it was unsettling.

Hakyeon had made him stay the night, for while he had healed everything, Jaehwan could’ve still experienced dizzy spells, and it would be a waste for him to return with another head wound the next day. Hakyeon could not alter another’s mentality, after all.

As time passed, the two wordlessly managed to fall into a routine. Jaehwan would come back to have his ailments healed, and he would always bring something as bribery, as he liked to call it, even if Hakyeon would never think of refusing to help.

Slowly, Hakyeon realised, a sort of friendship was forming between them. He started to look forward to Jaehwan’s visits, even if they were always due to Jaehwan suffering from one thing or the other. It started to get harder to keep his smile hidden at a witty joke, and he found himself joining in with the teases. He could feel the longing in his heart, particularly painful when Jaehwan just kept getting hurt.

He had yet to get it out of Jaehwan, why that was so, but with this frail friendship budding between them, he intended to find out.

-

“Do I get some kind of discount if I want one of the draughts?”

Hakyeon looked up from stirring the content in the pot long enough to regard Sanghyuk speculatively. “Why? Are you coming down with something?”

Sanghyuk gave a wave with his hand, followed by a shake of his head. “Nah, not me. It’s my… my friend. He’s looking worn these days, and I know this draught –” he shook the bottle in his hand, “– should make him feel better.”

Hakyeon hummed, nodding to himself. “You can have it. Consider it a perk of carrying out tasks for me.”

“Oh, neat.” Hakyeon glanced up again to see Sanghyuk grinning at him. “Thank you, Hakyeon!”

“If the draught only works for so long, consider bringing your friend to see me,” Hakyeon mused, turning away from the pot for now; once brought to a boil, the draught didn’t need much attention until it was ready.

Sanghyuk hesitated, pursing his lips as he tucked away the bottle in one of his pockets. “I’m… not sure that’s wise.” He sighed, gaze falling on one of the shelves that carried all sorts of potions, all brewed by Hakyeon for one purpose or another. “I don’t think he really condones, uh… witchcraft. It’s for that reason that I’m just giving him one of these. It’s not as…” He trailed off, frowning.

“Condemned,” Hakyeon finished gently, and Sanghyuk’s shoulders sagged. He aimed his frown at Hakyeon this time.

“Isn’t it getting dangerous for you?” he nearly whispered, concern dripping from his tone. It warmed Hakyeon’s heart, knowing someone worried.

“It has always been dangerous for me,” Hakyeon answered, smiling when Sanghyuk rolled his eyes.

“I’m being serious, Hakyeon. Someone is going to report you to the king’s guard one day, whether that be out of fear or blackmail or a promise of a reward. I don’t… I don’t wish for you to be caught and executed, Hakyeon.” He drew in a sharp breath, and Hakyeon got the feeling he’d been contemplating this for a while. “I… think you’ll be safer if you leave this place. As much as I don’t want to see you leave, I’d rather be able to visit you one day, in another town, safe, and not when you’re in prison and waiting for your sentence.”

Hakyeon had silently gestured for Sanghyuk to sit down while he talked, and he now took a seat, as well, in front of his young friend. Sanghyuk wasn’t even fully grown yet, and still he carried this weight on his shoulders. Hakyeon reached out for his hand, and Sanghyuk, usually reluctant to do such things – possibly because he thought it was childish – for once accepted it, and even grasped Hakyeon’s hand tightly in return.

“I’m sorry,” Hakyeon said, and meant it. Sanghyuk’s mouth thinned, but Hakyeon carried on. “You shouldn’t be worrying this much about me, Sanghyuk. I’ll be fine.”

“But you won’t,” Sanghyuk whined, and Hakyeon almost smiled.

“Says who? Who’s to say I haven’t got any tricks up my sleeves, in case the king’s guard corner me?” Hakyeon asked. “Perhaps one of the draughts creates a heavy fog that will confuse the guards long enough for me to get away.”

“But you won’t,” Sanghyuk said, and Hakyeon’s easy smile faded around the edges. “That’s what I worry about the most. You wouldn’t fight them if they came for you.”

Hakyeon hummed, one corner of his mouth lifting in a wry smile. “I’ll think about it.”

“Think about what? Fighting?” Sanghyuk asked, and then tried again when Hakyeon shook his head, “Leaving?” Hakyeon nodded, and some of the tension slowly left Sanghyuk’s body. “All right. I can accept that, for now.”

“Why do you insist on making the mood between us so morose, little one?” Hakyeon mused. That earned him one of Sanghyuk’s glares, but Hakyeon only laughed.

“I’m taller than you. I should be the one calling you little.”

Someone knocked on the door, and Hakyeon rose from his seat. “You got snarky, too,” Hakyeon sighed, moving to see who had come to visit him.

“I’ve always been snarky,” Sanghyuk insisted, smugly.

Hakyeon smiled, shaking his head as he made it to the door. Outside stood Jaehwan, beaming sunshine at him. “Greetings, Hakyeon!”

“Hello, Jaehwan,” Hakyeon said, already giving Jaehwan’s body an examination with his eyes. Jaehwan noticed and grinned.

“Ooh, but for once I come without broken bones,” he sang, and Hakyeon narrowed his gaze.

“Is that true?”

“Why would I lie?” Jaehwan countered and cheerily moved past Hakyeon. He greeted Sanghyuk, the two familiar with each other by now, and plopped down in the seat Hakyeon had evacuated. “Did I interrupt anything?”

“Not really,” Sanghyuk assured, standing smoothly from the chair. “I was just about to leave, actually. I’ll be back tomorrow, Hakyeon.”

Hakyeon nodded and strode towards Sanghyuk’s chair. “Sure. Be well.”

“You, too,” Sanghyuk said, waiting for Hakyeon to sit down and look back at him before winking salaciously. Hakyeon was confused, but Sanghyuk was out of the door before he got the chance to ask. When he looked at Jaehwan, the man was smiling amusedly, but shook his head at Hakyeon’s questioning look.

Hakyeon cleared his throat. “Well, how come you’re here when you’re not in need of my services?”

Jaehwan sent him a wounded look. “Are you saying I’m not welcome? And here I thought we were friends.”

Hakyeon shook his head, laughing. “We are. You just never visit… like this.”

“I decided we were past that,” Jaehwan shrugged. He leaned forward, watching Hakyeon contemplatively. Hakyeon waited patiently, sensing Jaehwan had something to say, and instead sipped at the tea he’d prepared for him and Sanghyuk. He blinked.

“Would you like anything to drink, Jaehwan?”

“You stopped,” Jaehwan said suddenly, causing Hakyeon to draw together his brows in confusion.

“I stopped what?”

“You stopped taking my life energy.”

Hakyeon almost spilled his tea on the floor, but managed to right the cup in his hand. “Life energy?” he asked, feeling small. Thieves never get away with their crimes, a voice reminded him. He swallowed.

“Stop parroting me,” Jaehwan snorted, “and look at me.” He waited for Hakyeon to lift his eyes tentatively before he spoke again. “I knew from the first time you healed me. I felt it. And I bet you felt something was off about me, as well.”

“I did,” Hakyeon affirmed quietly, wondering where Jaehwan was getting with this. Could he perhaps dare to hope for answers, at long last?

Jaehwan nodded. “I thought so. And you haven’t realised why, yet.” He placed his chin in his palms, looking – amusedly? – at Hakyeon. “Have you got any bright guesses? I gave you a hint when we met.”

Hakyeon slowly shook his head, mouth pursed contemplatively. “I am not sure.”

Jaehwan tilted his head, blinking at him. “It has to do with me always coming to visit you.”

“Your wounds?” Hakyeon asked. Jaehwan nodded. “I figured you took a few beatings.”

He was startled by the sudden laugh that evoked from Jaehwan. He shook his head, mirth left in the curve of his lips, and gazed fondly at Hakyeon. “No, Hakyeon. I said to you once that we’re much alike. We live by the same rule. Something given for something taken, right?”

Hakyeon nodded, but remained quiet, and Jaehwan continued without prompting. “I heal people, just not like you. Where you take away their ailments, but have to steal a portion of their life, I take them upon myself. I heal quicker than everyone else, but still I suffer the pain of having my bones broken, or fever threatening to take me out for a few days.

“We are the same,” Jaehwan mused, “and yet different. Isn’t that fascinating?”

“Is it true?” Hakyeon wondered, heart racing as he took the information in. He hadn’t thought - could Jaehwan really be like that? Be like him? “You can really do that?”

“I thought bringing my beaten body to your doorstep time and time again would’ve answered that,” said Jaehwan dryly.

“Oh, shush,” Hakyeon sighed. Jaehwan grinned back at him.

“I pride myself in being a good judge of character,” he admitted, his voice serious, “and it stumped me when I felt you take some of my time. I wanted to know why you did it, if it were a necessary evil in exchange for the healing or something else. I saw goodness in you, heard the sincere concern in your voice when you offered to help me, a stranger, so I sought you out to see if I had been wrong about you, if perhaps you were stealing life out of a malicious intent and not necessity.”

Hakyeon opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again with a frown. “I am not as good as you make me out to be.”

Jaehwan smiled, amusement and fondness in the expression. “I think you are. What I’ve seen in you, being with you, makes me certain of that.”

Hakyeon watched him for a bit, mouth pursed, before he blew out a slow breath. “I stopped taking life force from you for various reasons. First and foremost, I don’t know how much time you have, and as I’ve already taken, ah…” He hesitated, but Jaehwan gave him an encouraging nod, so he continued, softer, “A few days. And… you’re my friend, now, and I don’t want to do that to my friends.”

“Oh?” Jaehwan straightened in his seat. He was a curious being, this man. “So I can gather taking life force isn’t something you’re forced to.” He said it as a statement, but Hakyeon sensed the questions burning underneath.

“That’s right. I don’t need to, well, to take it from those I heal.” A dark smile widened his lips. “One is a curse – the other a blessing. They are not connected like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Hakyeon sighed, closing his eyes, “that I was born with the power to heal. But a witch cursed me to need the life energy of others.”

He hesitated with the whole story. He hadn’t told anyone, not even Sanghyuk, who knew more about Hakyeon than anyone else, but this… This was his secret, one he’d held close for ten years.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Jaehwan said softly, reaching forward to grab Hakyeon’s hand. Hakyeon was amused, reminded as he was of the scene from earlier; now, however, it was him needing the comfort. The courage.

He steeled himself, and shrugged, aiming for nonchalant and knowing it fell flat. “I might as well,” he said. “I’m just not very proud of it, that’s all. It’s my own fault, this curse.”

His gaze fell to Jaehwan and his entwined hands, and he started, “When I was sixteen, I snuck into a witch’s home. My parents worked hard and got little in return, and I just wanted to help them a little, lighten their load. I thought the witch might have some artefacts or precious gemstones I could sell, but she caught me.

“Needless to say, she was furious. As punishment for my greed, she placed this curse on me. I would be forced to steal time of a person’s life – and if I didn’t, it would inflect me harm. I never told my parents, couldn’t bring myself to it, and they died like that, still believing their son was good, blessed to do such a great and noble thing. But I’m not. I failed them. And I failed myself.”

Hakyeon was grasping Jaehwan’s hand tightly, he was aware, but Jaehwan seemed not to mind, and Hakyeon liked knowing Jaehwan was still here. He did loosen his hold a bit, but he didn’t let go. It felt good, to finally tell someone about what he’d done. It surprised him a little, although, he supposed, it shouldn’t. Carrying such a burden all by himself was lonesome and exhausting, but after telling Jaehwan… He felt a little lighter. A little happier.

Jaehwan squeezed his hand gently, and Hakyeon lifted his eyes, meeting Jaehwan’s imploring ones. “You didn’t fail anyone,” said Jaehwan, smiling kindly. “What you did wasn’t right, but it wasn’t an act of hate or meant to harm the witch. You did it for your parents, in an attempt to help them. You didn’t fail them, Hakyeon.”

“They had the right to know,” Hakyeon whispered, but Jaehwan shook his head.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. It’s your decision – your burden. Didn’t anyone ever tell you to not stay rooted in the past?”

Hakyeon smiled dryly at that. “I never had anyone to tell me. Sanghyuk, perhaps, but he doesn’t know.”

Jaehwan nodded sagely. “So I’m the only one.” He grinned, suddenly, and squeezed Hakyeon’s hand once more. “I feel special.”

“Trust me,” said Hakyeon, arching a brow, “you are one of a kind.”

“I choose to believe that’s a good thing,” Jaehwan hummed, smiling softly at Hakyeon.

It sparked something in Hakyeon’s heart, and he held Jaehwan’s hand tighter as a result.

Had Jaehwan’s smiles always made Hakyeon feel so warm inside?

-

Hakyeon suspected Sanghyuk’s suggestive winks each time Jaehwan was over, or each time the subject fell on the man, had to do with the feeling he got every time he was around Jaehwan. He wasn’t entirely sure how Sanghyuk had managed to catch onto it before Hakyeon himself, but, well. So long as Sanghyuk didn’t shout it to the heavens, Hakyeon could deal with Sanghyuk being in the knowing.

Even if he could be quite the little pest about it.

“You should tell him,” he insisted each time he stepped through the door, and each time he left again.

“Perhaps,” Hakyeon always answered.

“But really,” said Sanghyuk one day, squinting at Hakyeon. “What’s the harm? You aren’t going to scare him away.”

“How can you be so sure?” Hakyeon muttered.

Sanghyuk huffed, as though insulted. “The way he looks at you. He adores you. He’s always looking at you, did you know?”

Hakyeon kept an eye on Jaehwan after that, trying to catch him in the act – and the man wasn’t even subtle about it. Sanghyuk had tried to sound so observant, so wise beyond his years, but Jaehwan merely tilted his head cutely each time he realised Hakyeon had caught him staring.

They held hands, sometimes. It was usually Jaehwan who initiated the contact, fitting his fingers between the spaces of Hakyeon’s. Hakyeon didn’t really count the times he had to heal Jaehwan, and thus always reached for his hand, though he didn’t let go immediately after, as he usually would. Jaehwan didn’t seem to mind.

So Hakyeon took a gamble, one day, and asked, “Can I kiss you?”

And Jaehwan had grinned, had answered, “I thought you’d never ask.”

-

The next time Jaehwan visited, Hakyeon didn’t so much see as hear what was wrong.

“Fractured ribs,” he deduced from Jaehwan’s wheezes, and Jaehwan merely grinned at him. He would probably be laughing on his deathbed –

“Here, I’ll heal you,” Hakyeon blurted out, and ignored Jaehwan’s frown.

Instead of the chairs, Jaehwan grabbed Hakyeon’s wrist and took him to Hakyeon’s bedroom, where they sat on the bed. Hakyeon watched as Jaehwan pulled off his tunic, smiling a bit despite the way his heart picked up at the sight of the man’s bare skin.

“I just need your hand,” Hakyeon teased, earning a smirk from Jaehwan.

“I think some direct contact will do me some good, here.”

When Jaehwan told him to touch, Hakyeon did.

He reached out with his hand, curling it around Jaehwan’s neck gently. Jaehwan sighed, eyes slipping closed, and Hakyeon moved his hand over Jaehwan’s chin, before splaying his fingers over his chest that was dotted blue and purple. He closed his eyes, and focused on mending Jaehwan’s ribs, taking away whatever pain he might be enduring. And when that was done, the bruises gone from Jaehwan’s pale chest, he scooted over, swinging one leg over Jaehwan’s so that he came to sit on his lap. His arms slipped around Jaehwan’s neck as Jaehwan’s came around his waist, and then they were kissing, gently, without any hurry.

Hakyeon was mindful of Jaehwan’s stomach, for while he’d healed him, an echo of the pain would remain for a while until the body adjusted. Jaehwan was as aware of this as Hakyeon, yet he didn’t seem to care as much, needing Hakyeon as close as he could possibly be.

“Jae,” Hakyeon sighed against his lips, “remember –”

“I’m fine,” Jaehwan whispered, biting down on Hakyeon’s bottom lip teasingly. “Just peachy. Don’t worry.” His lips left Hakyeon’s, moving down to his throat, and Hakyeon inhaled sharply, dropping his head to the side and curling his fingers against Jaehwan’s neck, blunt nails scraping against his skin; he felt Jaehwan shiver underneath him, and did it again.

“Do you want me?” he murmured, eyes half-lidded. Jaehwan breathed deeply against his throat for a moment, before drawing back to look up at Hakyeon.

“Can I?”

One corner of Hakyeon’s lips curved upwards, and he moved his hands to Jaehwan’s front, pushing until he sank back into the sheets. He moved to hover above Jaehwan on all fours, bending down to spread kisses across Jaehwan’s chest, nails gently caressing his sides. Jaehwan responded with soft sighs and tender hands.

They moved languidly, exchanging kisses every now and then, touching skin that hadn’t been touched before by any of them as they gradually undressed until they were down to nothing, exposed for each other.

Hakyeon guided Jaehwan to his oils as he made himself comfortable on the bed, and when Jaehwan returned, dipping down onto the bed on one knee, Hakyeon welcomed him with open arms and more kisses. Jaehwan sang his praises into his mouth as he slipped a finger inside Hakyeon, loosening his body for him, and Hakyeon sighed and helped him as best he could, relaxing for him.

The air was chilly against his heated skin, and when Jaehwan finally slid inside, Hakyeon released an involuntary whimper. Jaehwan kissed him, again and again, as he began an even pace – the heat was almost unbearable, the slide of Jaehwan’s length so good, and Jaehwan’s face, his body, everything Jaehwan – Hakyeon couldn’t get enough, and he tried to express this through breathless whines and whimpers, words beyond him at this point.

“I’ve got you,” Jaehwan promised, “I’m here,” and Hakyeon tipped over the edge with a sigh and then – he felt light, content, so happy, and blessedly free from any of the worries that usually nagged at him.

Jaehwan followed him not much later, a soft cry escaping his plump, kissable lips, and Hakyeon lifted his head from the pillow to press his mouth against them, kissing him as Jaehwan breathed heavily, the haze of pleasure still clinging to them.

“You’re a good person, Jaehwan,” Hakyeon murmured, later, with Jaehwan’s head pillowed on his chest, fingers carding through his hair indulgently. He slid his hand down to Jaehwan’s neck, squeezing gently, before moving back to his hair. “Did you know?”

Jaehwan didn’t answer, though he did press his lips to Hakyeon’s chest, right where his heart was beating steadily, so full of love and adoration.

-

A month passed.

Jaehwan came by every other day, keeping Hakyeon company on trips to the forest for herbs, and for dinner, staying back when other people sought out Hakyeon and asked for help. Hakyeon had had Sanghyuk for almost two years, but it wasn’t the same as having Jaehwan, never would be, almost always there with a soft smile and a gentle touch. Some nights it was more. Hakyeon realised that he hadn’t been this happy since before his parents died.

His parents would’ve wanted him to be happy, even if he’d kept secrets from them.

Sanghyuk was acting oddly one day, and Hakyeon could tell something was bothering him. He waited, wanting to see if Sanghyuk came to him first, and when he didn’t, Hakyeon asked about it.

“It’s… my friend,” Sanghyuk admitted, shifting on his feet. “I couldn’t wake him this morning, and he had a fever. When he did wake up, he said he wasn’t feeling well, which I could see, but he still wanted to get up from the bed. He couldn’t even get up, Hakyeon. And I’m… worried. I left him at home, and I know our friend will watch over him, but…”

“You could’ve stayed with him,” Hakyeon reminded, and Sanghyuk frowned. “Do you want to go back now? I won’t mind if you do.”

Sanghyuk hesitated, but then he nodded. “If you don’t mind, then…”

“If he doesn’t feel better tomorrow,” Hakyeon started softly, “consider taking him to see me. I can come by yours, too, if that’s easier for him.”

“All right,” Sanghyuk said. “I’ll see you.”

It took two days, but then Sanghyuk did come back, this time with a man in tow that Hakyeon could only guess was Sanghyuk’s friend. His eyes, tired and red from the fever that was burning him up from the inside, never really strayed from Hakyeon once seated on a chair, only now and then glancing at Sanghyuk, who smiled in assurance each time and held his hand between his own.

“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said, moving a chair to stand near the duo and slowly sitting down on it. “For me to heal you, I will need to touch your hand. Is that alright?”

With another glance at Sanghyuk, Taekwoon nodded and held out his hand for Hakyeon to take.

“Good,” Hakyeon hummed. “You won’t feel much, except for a tickling sensation, perhaps – some have reported feeling that when I healed them, at least. It won’t take long, so just relax.”

He closed his eyes once Taekwoon nodded his assent, and reached out with his magic to find and vanquish whatever was ailing Taekwoon.

And what he found disconcerted him, though it wasn’t anything particularly taxing. Something was off, like it had been with Jaehwan, but this wasn’t the same oddness. He hesitated, energy flowing freely between them without a firm grasp to rein it in, but then he gathered himself and got to work. He was done soon enough, as promised, and had taken a few hours of Taekwoon’s lifetime in exchange, and then he opened his eyes.

Taekwoon was watching him with a peculiar light in his gaze, and Hakyeon considered it momentarily, before he was reminded of his discovery. He glanced between Sanghyuk and Taekwoon, frowning. His behaviour alerted Sanghyuk, he could see, and he decided to just say it as it was.

“It was poison,” Hakyeon stated, and looked up in time to see Sanghyuk’s shocked expression.

“Poison?” he asked, eyes wide as he looked at first Hakyeon, then Taekwoon, then back at Hakyeon. “But why? Who would poison him?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Hakyeon sighed, then amended, “possibly better. Taekwoon?”

“Poison?” he repeated, softly, looking at neither of them. “Really?”

“Taekwoon,” Sanghyuk implored, grasping both of his hands tightly, “who would poison you?”

“I don’t know.”

-

Hakyeon was drawing water from the well outside his cottage when Jaehwan came by the following day, winding his arms around Hakyeon’s middle and hooking his chin over Hakyeon’s shoulder.

“Hello, Yeon,” he greeted, and Hakyeon smiled.

“Jaehwan.”

Jaehwan helped him carry the water buckets inside, and then sat with him as they chopped vegetables for the soup they’d make for dinner.

“My sister is getting married in two days,” Jaehwan started, “so it’ll be a bit longer than we’ve gotten used to before I’ll be back.”

“I didn't know you had a sister,” Hakyeon mentioned. He only knew Jaehwan lived in a village with his parents a day’s travel away.

Jaehwan grimaced. “It's not the best of relationships,” he admitted, “but it is her wedding day. You’ll be all right, won’t you?”

Hakyeon snorted, casting Jaehwan an amused look. “I’ll be fine. I’ll miss you, though.”

Jaehwan grinned, leaning across the mess between them to press a kiss to Hakyeon’s lips. “We’ll just have to kiss a lot to make up for it, right?”

Hakyeon shoved him back in place, and pointed at the vegetables with his knife, even if he were laughing. “Finish this up, you cur.”

Jaehwan was still grinning, but he went back to the vegetables. Before long the pot was hanging above the burning wood in the hearth, and they sat on the floor in front of it, Hakyeon with one arm slung over Jaehwan, his chest supporting his lover.

“Sanghyuk had his friend over, yesterday,” Hakyeon told, and Jaehwan hummed in interest. “He’d been poisoned, but neither of them knows who the culprit could be. Sanghyuk was distressed, and Taekwoon was… quiet.”

“I imagine you would be, if you found out someone had made an attempt on your life by poisoning you,” Jaehwan mused. “That’s odd. He isn’t a noble?”

Hakyeon shook his head. “He’s like Sanghyuk and me.”

“What would someone gain from killing him?” Jaehwan wondered aloud.

Hakyeon could only shrug, tightening his hold on Jaehwan. “I really do not know. I know nothing about Taekwoon, except that he means a lot to Sanghyuk. I imagine Sanghyuk loves him, and from the way Taekwoon acted around Sanghyuk, it looks like those feelings are returned. But no one would gain anything from killing Taekwoon, and Sanghyuk hasn’t a lot to his name, so using Taekwoon against him is absurd.”

“Curious,” Jaehwan murmured. “Sanghyuk will tell you if something happens, right?”

“I believe so,” Hakyeon said.

“How could you tell?”

“What do you mean?”

“The poison,” Jaehwan elaborated, looking through his bangs at Hakyeon. Hakyeon brushed them away, shrugging.

“I can tell the difference between something… natural, you know? Poison isn’t natural, not like a sickness that comes from staying out in cold weather for too long. I can sense that.”

“I can’t,” Jaehwan mused. “At least, I’ve never encountered anything but natural illness, as you put it.”

“Neither had I, before yesterday.”

“Well,” Jaehwan stated, letting out a sigh, “all you can do for now is keep an eye on it and hope something comes up to shed some light on the situation.”

“Yes,” Hakyeon said quietly. “That's all I can ask for. Answers.”

“I'd wager you'll find out before I'm back from my trip,” Jaehwan said with a dramatic stretch, throwing his arm around Hakyeon with a cheeky grin. “I expect to hear all about it when I get back.”

Hakyeon smiled, pushing against the man's side.

“Of course. You'll be the first to know.”

-

Taekwoon returned two days later, with no Sanghyuk in tow, and Hakyeon led him inside with a gentle smile when Taekwoon asked if they could talk. Hakyeon thought it was strange to see the man alone, but wondered if he had found something out about the poisoning and didn’t want to worry Sanghyuk about it. He was nervous, it seemed.

The man was looking much healthier this time than he did last Hakyeon saw him, which was only to be expected. His gaze was keen, unfaltering as he met Hakyeon’s eyes, and he held himself with a straight back and an air of importance that hadn’t been there before. Hakyeon paid it little attention, figuring it might be some kind of wall Taekwoon put up; according to Sanghyuk, Taekwoon was hesitant when it came to Hakyeon and his abilities, so he would be on his guard.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked, gesturing for Taekwoon to take a seat. The man went without protest, sitting on the edge of one of the chairs and looking around carefully.

“That won’t be necessary,” he spoke, with that same gentle voice he had used last time. Hakyeon had pegged it to be so due to the poison in his body, but perhaps he just didn’t talk loudly on a normal day.

“I’ll make some for myself, if you don’t mind,” he said, moving to get some of his herbs from the shelves. “What did you come to discuss with me?”

“That was a lie,” Taekwoon revealed, and Hakyeon paused, turning to look at the man in question. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement, something going past the window. And it dawned on him, then, what was happening, his eyes slipping closed for a moment in resignation. He moved towards Taekwoon, the tea long forgotten, and sat down on one of the other chairs.

“You just wanted to make sure I was by myself,” he said softly.

Taekwoon’s head tilted, and he regarded Hakyeon with a hint of surprise. “You know why I’m here?”

“You poisoned yourself,” Hakyeon accused, and this time, it was definitely surprise that lit up his expression, and not the kind one would usually feel after such an accusation. Taekwoon knew Hakyeon had seen through him. He felt cold, a little empty. “You would actually go that far to get to me.”

“I realised Sanghyuk wouldn’t take me to you unless he thought it was dire, and asking him to let me meet you would have raised his suspicion.” He hummed, watching Hakyeon idly. “So I drank poison, and he took me to you.”

“You manipulated him,” Hakyeon said, hands fisting on his knees, and Taekwoon’s eyes glanced down at them. He shook his head.

“You can try to escape, but I’ve got your home surrounded. You won’t make it far,” he warned.

“I won’t fight.”

Taekwoon smiled wryly. “No, I suspected you wouldn’t.”

He straightened his back, looking Hakyeon over. “I didn’t do this to hurt Sanghyuk. I’m doing this to protect him.” His voice lowered, and Hakyeon closed his eyes. “Witchcraft is illegal, and being associated with someone commanding such darkness – Sanghyuk risks getting dragged down with you, if anyone finds out.”

“You seem convinced I won’t tell on him to the guards,” said Hakyeon, and Taekwoon huffed.

“I do not know you well,” he sighed, “but you and I both know that’s ridiculous. You would never endanger Sanghyuk. You obviously care for him.”

His mouth thinned, and he shook his head slowly. “But not enough to keep him uninvolved, not enough to leave so he would never have to fear being caught with you and your practise. That is where I step in, to assure he is safe.”

Hakyeon remained quiet, and Taekwoon nodded to himself. “Sorcery is dangerous, Hakyeon. It is malicious, and not meant to be wielded by humans, or anyone.”

“I fail to see how healing someone can be considered a threat,” Hakyeon said coolly, remaining seated even as he heard the doors to his home being opened and footfalls on the floor, coming closer.

Taekwoon frowned, mouth pursing disapprovingly. “Magic sullies the soul, Hakyeon. I won’t allow you to ruin Sanghyuk.” He stood from his seat, gracefully, and went behind Hakyeon; Hakyeon didn’t turn around to see where he was going.

“In the name of the king, I hereby arrest you for witchcraft,” a new voice spoke up, loud and clear and full of bravado, and Hakyeon drew in a breath. “You will be trialled tomorrow at dawn, and should you be found guilty, you will be sentenced to death and burned at the stake.”

Hakyeon, suddenly, oddly, wanted to laugh, even as he felt large hands grasp him and pull him off his seat, none too gently. Had he had even the smallest chance, he might have fought to escape, but there was no way he’d get past – he scanned the room, counting quickly – ten guards and Taekwoon, who impassively watched him be dragged through his own home. Their eyes met, just before Hakyeon passed the threshold, the look in Taekwoon’s eyes subdued, yet also revulsed at what Hakyeon was, and Hakyeon…

Hakyeon didn’t know what his eyes would tell Taekwoon. He felt angry, that Taekwoon would do this to him, but… he also felt helpless, and miserable, and regretful. And, in some way, he understood Taekwoon – or, at least, he wanted to. Taekwoon was afraid of what he couldn’t understand, magic too otherworldly for humans to really grasp. Hakyeon himself hardly understood it, but he’d stopped questioning it a long time ago. Healing wasn’t wrong, was it? It wasn’t wrong to help, to grant people a new chance at life.

But it was wrong to take life, whether that was a few minutes or an entire lifetime, and that, in the end, was why Hakyeon wouldn’t fight. That was why he didn’t curse Taekwoon’s existence.

Hakyeon just happened to wield both good and dark magic, and for that, he would be punished, no matter how small the dark may be.

You deserve this.

Their eye contact broke, and Hakyeon was hauled out of his home and into a carriage, one meant for prisoners. A guard secured the lock once he was seated inside, and Hakyeon slumped against the wood, feeling oddly serene in the face of what awaited him come dawn.

He had run out of time.

-

He wasn’t entirely sure where they’d taken him. They had put him in a makeshift prison, which was really just an abandoned cottage somewhere. Usually, a convict would be taken to the town’s stronghold and kept there until the trial, but this town was too small and insignificant for any nobles to settle down, hence.

He wondered when word of his upcoming death would reach Jaehwan, or if it already had. He had no sense of time inside the dark like this, with only a small candle illuminating the corner where he sat, hands tied behind his back by a rough rope that gnawed at his skin whenever he shifted. He thought it might be nearing evening.

There was some sort of commotion outside, a voice yelling at what Hakyeon guessed to be the guards, and for a moment, he dared almost hope it was Jaehwan who’d come for him. But when the door was opened, Sanghyuk stood there, eyes blinking against the darkness – it was evening outside, possibly even night time – before they settled on Hakyeon, and a broken little sound left him. Hakyeon immediately felt bad for the flare of disappointment when Sanghyuk hadn’t turned out to be Jaehwan, and he squashed the feeling down. Sanghyuk deserved better.

Hakyeon managed a small smile at Sanghyuk, who remained frozen in the doorway. “I would open my arms and ask for a hug, but –” he shrugged one shoulder, and saw Sanghyuk’s eyes fall to the ropes around his wrists, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to.”

“Hakyeon,” Sanghyuk whimpered, and then he was right there in front of him, on his knees, and reaching for him like a child who didn’t know what to do. It was probably how he felt, Hakyeon reckoned, leaning his head against Sanghyuk and listening to the quick but comforting all the same thumps of his heart.

A child who could only watch helplessly, feeling small and young and unprepared for the ruthless world.

“It’ll be all right,” Hakyeon shushed, but was interrupted almost immediately by Sanghyuk.

“How can you say that?” he cried, sounding on the edge of tears. Hakyeon’s heart ached for him, and he wanted so badly to hold him, comfort him, shield him from the world, but when he tried, he was just reminded of the ropes tying his wrists together. “You’re – Hakyeon, I told you, I told you I didn’t want to visit you in prison!”

Hakyeon breathed out a soft sigh, resigned to his fate, as Sanghyuk fell to pieces before him.

“I don’t want you to die,” he sobbed, tightening his hold on Hakyeon and burrowing his face into Hakyeon's shoulder. “I can’t watch you die. I can’t.”

“Ssh,” Hakyeon murmured, and Sanghyuk only cried harder, his tears seeping through Hakyeon’s shirt. “Sssh, Sanghyuk, everything will be all right. You’ll get through this.”

“But you won’t,” Sanghyuk moaned, grasping blindly at Hakyeon’s shirt behind his back. “Hakyeon, you won’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Hakyeon whispered, feeling himself start to choke up, “for not fighting. I – I wanted to, but there were too many of them.”

Sanghyuk’s body shook with his tears, and Hakyeon longed to wipe them away when Sanghyuk lifted his head just enough to look at Hakyeon. “Whose fault is this? Someone –” he choked, “– someone did this. Do you know who?”

He suddenly drew in a sharp breath, and he looked at Hakyeon with wild eyes. “It wasn’t Jaehwan, right? He isn’t here –”

“No, no, Sanghyuk, it wasn’t Jaehwan,” Hakyeon quickly interjected, voice firm and heart heavy at the thought of the other man. He couldn’t allow himself to linger there. “It wasn’t him.”

“Then who?” Sanghyuk’s eyes were red-rimmed from crying. Hakyeon wondered when he had heard the news, and if he’d been crying before coming to see him. “I’m going to – I’ll find them, I, I’ll –”

“Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon called, and waited until Sanghyuk met his eyes, tears trailing down his cheeks, “I – don’t know. And I don’t want you to devote yourself to finding out who’s behind this. I want you to be happy, in time, not seeking revenge for me. Promise me.”

Taekwoon loved Sanghyuk, he knew that. And he wanted to believe in that part of Taekwoon, at least. Sanghyuk would need someone to be his pillar, when Hakyeon was gone, and Taekwoon was the only one who could be that person. Sanghyuk had no one else, just like Hakyeon.

Sanghyuk was protesting, but Hakyeon shushed him. “If you – if you see Jaehwan, yeah? After I’m – gone. Tell him I’m sorry we didn’t have more time together. Tell him I –” he swallowed, “– I was truly happy with him. But I want him to leave. The guards cannot find him, as well, Sanghyuk.”

He might be able to trust Sanghyuk with Taekwoon, but there was no way Jaehwan could stay here when Taekwoon was like a bloodhound on the hunt, following the scent trail to every magic wielder in the town. Taekwoon would discover Jaehwan, Hakyeon had no doubt of it, and he couldn’t. Hakyeon wouldn’t allow that to happen.

“Hakyeon,” Sanghyuk said, and his voice was so small, his expression so lost that it hurt, “this wasn’t Taekwoon’s doing, right? Please tell me it wasn’t him.”

“No, Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon whispered, “no, it wasn’t.”

Sanghyuk’s face scrunched up, at that, and he fell forward, limply, clinging to Hakyeon as a new wave of tears crashed over him. “I’ll tell Jaehwan. Trust me.”

Hakyeon couldn’t hold back his own tears after that, and ended up crying soundlessly into Sanghyuk’s shoulder. He felt Sanghyuk’s arms tighten around him as a result, and again wished to be free to hug him back.

-

I can get you out, Sanghyuk had begged, desperately. I’ll help you escape.

But they both knew it would never work, not with the guards stationed outside of the makeshift prison, and Hakyeon didn’t want Sanghyuk’s blood on his hands. He had to protect those he loved, until his dying breath, even if his options were considerably limited.

The guards had come for Sanghyuk eventually, announcing that time was up. Sanghyuk had screamed and clawed at them as they led him out of the cottage, but they were deaf to his pleas and Hakyeon could only call after him to be happy before the door closed behind them, and Sanghyuk’s cries slowly faded away.

-

When the door opened next, long after the small candle had burned out, Hakyeon knew, with some dread, that this was it.

Dawn was upon them, and with it came Hakyeon’s trial, and his death.

He was led outside by two expressionless guards, though they were gentler with him than the others had been when he’d been dragged from his home; he thought it might be because he went willingly, wordlessly. Hopelessly. His wrists remained tied as he closed the distance between his prison and the stake – the sight of it jolted him, reality cutting off his breath briefly – with the two guards flanking him.

There were people, all with grim faces as they watched Hakyeon approach. Children kept to their mothers’ side, not understanding what was unfolding between them, but all the same staying quiet, pressured by the heavy silence, broken only by Hakyeon and the guards’ steps on the gravel beneath their soles, and the occasional coughs and mutters from the onlookers.

There he goes, a dead man walking.

Hakyeon stopped in front of three men of noble upbringing, evident in the way they carried themselves and their attire. One, in particular, the man in the middle, seemed to be the most important. He was the one who would soon look at Hakyeon, then the crowd, before passing his verdict.

Death.

Hakyeon held his head high, meeting the eyes of the three men unflinchingly. The man on the left frowned, obviously feeling provoked, which almost made Hakyeon smile; Hakyeon was subdued and facing the stake, essentially a dead man walking already, and yet this man, this noble who had everything, was looking at him like his unyielding spirit was unjust.

The right man was different, slightly. There was a smile hidden in the corner of his lips, and he was looking Hakyeon over like his defiance pleased him greatly. Some people just wished the worst for others, and this was one of them, unthreatened as he sat on his pedestal, his title his shield.

Hakyeon focused on the man in the middle, the sole neutral one of the three – at least on the surface. Perhaps he was just as disgustingly elated that he got to murder another person, but at least he wasn’t showing it. Hakyeon could approve of that.

“Name,” the man prompted.

“Hakyeon.”

He gave a slight nod. “You have been accused of witchcraft. Do you oppose to this claim?”

“No,” answered Hakyeon softly.

That seemed to surprise the three, who exchanged a look. Hakyeon’s guess was that they had expected him to grovel at their feet. Never. The middle man cleared his throat, tried again. “You have nothing to say in your defence?”

“No,” Hakyeon repeated, “I do not. I will not defend something that is a part of me.”

The judge let out a breath. “If that is so, I will pass on my verdict and sentence you to death.”

Hakyeon was quiet. His fate was sealed.

With a final nod, the man gestured for the guards to step forward and take Hakyeon to the stake.

Everyone was quiet as Hakyeon was fastened to the pole, and Hakyeon, as he waited for everyone to find their place and for the wood to be lit, thought of Jaehwan. It was a small mercy, he supposed, that Jaehwan wouldn’t get to see him like this, wouldn’t watch him burn. It eased him, a little, though the heaviness of the situation was starting to get to him.

This was it. He was really going to die.

He felt like crying. Or screaming. Or both. But instead he stood tall, trying to stay strong. Even when he was terrified.

Coward.

When the first flames flared, there was a horrified scream somewhere from the midst of the crowd. Hakyeon didn’t need to look to know it was Sanghyuk, but he raised his eyes all the same from the small fire to watch Sanghyuk shoving his way through the people, face red and puffed from tears.

Sanghyuk was trying to get to the flames, but a pair of guards, the ones who’d handled Hakyeon, held him off.

“Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon whispered, knowing his voice wouldn’t reach Sanghyuk’s ears, though the loud cry Sanghyuk released could have almost fooled him.

Taekwoon arrived then, throwing his arms around Sanghyuk and drawing him back with an impressive display of strength Hakyeon hadn’t thought the slender male capable of. Sanghyuk was clawing at Taekwoon’s arms, drawing blood with his nails though Taekwoon seemed not to be aware, or care, instead trying to subdue him. He was talking, his words too low for Hakyeon to catch, though Sanghyuk’s cries were more than loud enough to carry through the clearing, possibly even reach the town - not that there would be anyone to hear them. Everyone seemed to be gathered at Hakyeon’s trial, to watch him burn.

“No, no, Taekwoon, no, let me go –” he was saying, repeated between screams of rage and horror, but Taekwoon stood firm. “Taekwoon – Taekwoon – He cannot die in front of me!”

There was a brief moment where Hakyeon met Taekwoon’s gaze, and Hakyeon liked to believe an understanding passed between them. With a small nod, Taekwoon averted his eyes to Sanghyuk, this time refusing to let him free and forcibly starting to drag him back from the rapidly growing fire, away from Hakyeon.

And when he was gone from sight, his shrieks reduced to a distant noise, a tear slid down Hakyeon’s cheek, so relieved that Sanghyuk wouldn’t have to watch this. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stand bravely until the end, but he would fight to keep it up for as long as he mustered.

Jaehwan. Sanghyuk. In a selfish way he was happy neither of them would see the end, though another part of him screamed for their comfort. He prayed they would get over this, prayed for them to not lose themselves in the aftermath. He didn’t want that, would never want anyone to dwell on his death and forget the joys life also had to offer.

He wanted Sanghyuk to live happily, whether that be with Taekwoon or someone else, a family or alone – whatever made Sanghyuk happy, made Hakyeon happy.

And Jaehwan. Gods, he missed Jaehwan. He hoped his message reached him. He hoped he could die in peace, knowing Jaehwan wouldn’t follow him.

The fire had spread further, and his breath was coming in short gasps, some numb panic starting to settle as the fire licked at his feet, taunting, as though to mock him, did you really think you’d have a happy ending?

Smoke was rising from the flames, up into the sky, and the only sound Hakyeon could focus on was the popping wood as the fire engulfed everything in its range. The smell of smoke, of fire, of burnt wood filled his nostrils, and he tensed, pulling at the ropes though he knew they were too tight, knew he wouldn't be able to break free. He couldn’t escape – and the flames were rising around him, intimidating shapes so bright they hurt his eyes.

The heat was unbearable, stuffy and just so hot. He was sweating, though it dried impossibly fast from the fire. His throat itched from the smoke he had already inhaled, and –

The flames had taken hold of one pant leg, and it burned, oh, God, it hurt. It hurt, and he choked for air, shaking his leg in a futile attempt to vanquish the fire but – oh, it only spread, farther up his leg, and he was gasping, moaning, fighting to get away from it, from the heat, from the fire, from everything. Panic filled his lungs as quickly as the smoke now.

He didn’t want to die.

The tears dried on his cheeks, and he whimpered, thrashing from side to side to try to loosen the ropes. His desperation rose when it didn’t work, the ropes biting into his flesh, and the first scream was torn from him, panicked and terrified.

No, no, no, he didn’t want to die – why did he have to die? He tried to look through the crowd, all the blurred faces watching. To hell with sparing the others’ feelings. Where was Jaehwan? He wanted Jaehwan – he hadn’t said goodbye, he hadn’t told Jaehwan how much he loved him, no, no –

He screamed, again, and didn’t stop, the cries rising with the smoke as the flames ate him, and it hurt, it hurt, he wanted it to end, please, please, stop –

No one came to his aid, and the fire didn't stop.

But, eventually, his screams did.

-

He woke, sluggishly. The numbness was the first thing he was aware of, and the only thing for a long time, or at least it felt like it. He was floating, head swimming, and he didn’t know where he was. Or who he was. It took a while to remember his name.

Hakyeon, was it? Yes. His name was Hakyeon.

Through the numbness, he became aware of his body, of just how sore he felt, from his toes to the tips of his fingers to his head. A distant kind of pain that he didn’t care enough to find the source of. Why should he?

Memories started slinking in, but he was still too out of it to really make much sense of them. He wanted to open his eyes, but he hadn’t energy to do such a simple thing, and it frustrated him. He just wanted to see. Why was that so gruelling?

A sense of urgency hit him, and he fought to open at least one eye. He wanted to just squint at his surroundings, because it didn’t feel like home. He was lying on… What was this between his fingers…

Grass. He was lying on grass. He had no memory of ending up here. Where was here, even?

One of his hands was warm. Pleasantly. Something was holding it. The rest of him felt cold, too cold, in contrast. And the air seemed too close, seemed to envelop his form without any barrier. He could feel the grass against his back, his legs, and he realised he was naked.

It took what felt like an eternity, but he finally managed to pry one eye open. Light made him close it again, for a bit, before he steeled himself and tried again, squinting against the glare of the sun.

Where was he? He could faintly recall – flames –

Turning his head took a tremendous effort, but when he did – when he tilted his head, oh, God, he wished he hadn’t.

Jaehwan was there, on his knees, right next to him. His eyes were closed, and – Hakyeon choked – there were burns on his skin, and they were multiplying by the second. A small, pitiful sound passed over his lips when he realised what Jaehwan had to be doing.

The pain was horrible when it hit, crashing over him suddenly, but he didn’t care, he didn’t – the pain was subsiding, tantalisingly slowly, ebbing away, he could feel it, and he knew, he knew Jaehwan was doing this. Jaehwan was healing him.

Which meant he was taking this pain onto himself. He was taking Hakyeon’s wounds.

Why couldn’t he speak? Why couldn’t he move? He closed his eyes, but opened them mere breaths later, unable to keep them closed when Jaehwan was right there, burning in front of him despite the undeniable lack of flames. It hurt to breathe, his throat parched, but he needed – he needed to make Jaehwan stop.

He whined, quietly, and the warmth in his hand – it was Jaehwan, Jaehwan’s hand squeezing his, even tighter now, and he heard Jaehwan emit a tiny whimper.

Hakyeon imagined his heart bursting, and he tried to move, tried to speak, but nothing. Nothing. He couldn’t even squeeze Jaehwan’s hand back. He was limited to pathetic noises because his vocal cord refused to cooperate. He still hadn’t regained his senses completely.

But he was breathing. He wasn’t dead. So why wasn’t Jaehwan stopping?

He made another small, desperate noise that went ignored by Jaehwan, whose face was scrunched up in concentration – and pain. He had to be feeling the pain from the burns and blisters already covering his entire body, they had to be, and Hakyeon was beyond frustrated with this helplessness he was experiencing.

Did death still cling to him, refusing to relinquish his life? Was that why Jaehwan wasn’t stopping?

It still took way more effort than Hakyeon was satisfied with, but he emitted another sound, and this time Jaehwan replied with a stifled sob, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

“I’m – sorry – I wasn’t there –” Jaehwan was saying; Hakyeon had to strain to listen, to catch the words and comprehend. Gods, he really was still hovering somewhere between life and death, wasn’t he? “I came back – and I saw you – Hakyeon –”

He cried out, swaying in place, and the tears were flowing down his cheeks freely now - they had to sting, salt sliding into the raw wounds. “You were already –” He sucked in a sharp breath, whimpering. “But I can’t live – knowing you’re not – with me – not when I could take it back - I’m sorry –”

Hakyeon still hadn’t regained his speech, so he whined again, needing to somehow get it through Jaehwan that this was wrong. He had to stop, before – before –

Jaehwan crumbled to the ground, still cradling Hakyeon’s hand firmly, even though Hakyeon could feel the blisters there, seared into his skin and making him bleed. Hakyeon moaned, trying to move again – pull away his hand, because then Jaehwan couldn’t continue, but Jaehwan was holding on too tightly, refusing to let go.

Hakyeon knew he was crying, small moans and whimpers escaping him as his chest rattled painfully with sobs. Jaehwan wasn’t moving, and Hakyeon was panicking, but another attempt at moving hardly brought him any closer to Jaehwan.

“Jae –” he whined, miserably, throat burning, voice hoarse and almost inaudible as he finally found his words, “Jae – please –”

It took too long, much too long, for Hakyeon to get close enough to reach out, and longer yet to actually touch him. And when he did manage to press his fingers to Jaehwan’s neck, he immediately drew back in horror when some of Jaehwan’s darkened skin fell away as ash at the fragile touch.

“Jae,” he whispered, appalled, and when there was no answer, he tried again, and again, but didn’t dare touch him again for fear of Jaehwan dispersing into ashes. “Jaehwan!”

Jaehwan’s body remained still.

-

Time passed by in a haze, and numbness had settled like a cloak over him. He found it ironic that he was relieved to return to that state, after fighting so hard to emerge from it. But then again, there was nothing left for him to fight it for.

He had buried Jaehwan, in a pathetic hole in the ground dug with his own hands, and a large stone with the words Jaehwan, I love you written across it with charcoal on top of the grave – Hakyeon hadn’t known what else to write, which was all the same; no words would be able to convey what he carried inside. And just like Jaehwan’s life, the words wouldn’t last, would wash away in time from the stone when the dark clouds covered the sky, until only Hakyeon knew what lay there.

He felt like a shell of himself, and he had considered just wasting away a few times already. The one thing that held him back was that Jaehwan had given his life to him, so he should make the most of it, shouldn’t he? He couldn’t just throw it away.

But he was lost without Jaehwan. He felt like he was watching himself from somewhere above, as though this were all a dream. A terrible dream, but a dream, nonetheless. A nightmare. He had stopped believing – praying for – that after two days.

At least, he had thought, the curse hadn’t followed him back to life. He had thought he was free, at least, but on the fourth day after – after, the fatigue burrowing so far as to his marrows made him realise that he wasn’t just malnourished and cold and suffering from sleepless nights because he refused to relive the terrors that haunted him every time he closed his eyes.

When he had realised why, he had slowly started to laugh, crumbling against a tree in some forest he’d lost his way in as he beat the ground with his fists, over and over until they bled – and when they’d healed, he did it again. And again.

He was still cursed. Not even death could separate him from it, and the laughter had slowly turned into sobs, then cries of outrage and disbelief. He still wasn’t free. All of Jaehwan’s efforts – his life – all for naught.

Why did people fear magic? He had showed them time and time again that it was good. He wasn’t the enemy. He wasn’t the villain, he never wanted to hurt anyone. Then why? Why had the people betrayed him like this? He had saved their lives, and yet they had done nothing but watch him burn to death – and after everything he had done! He had risked his life to save theirs, all the time.

And what did he get in return? He saved them – and they hurt him.

Monster.

They took Jaehwan from him. They were the reason that Jaehwan was now a cold, lifeless corpse buried underneath a smothering layer of earth, devoid of any of the light that had lit up his eyes. The king, his people, every person in this godforsaken world; everyone was at fault.

Their fault.

He needed to find someone, soon, if he didn’t want to suffer through that pain again. And this time, he would show them no mercy, the same way they had done to him. They wanted something to hate, someone to hate, to call the villain? Fine. Fine. He would give them a reason to burn him, this time. He wouldn’t stop until he had drained them of the very last spark.

He could become what they feared.