Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Two endings, two people, both reaching out and connecting to a Happy Ending.”

Wonwoo does not like his dreams.

He much prefers the tangible, the material, when he can hold the thing with his two hands. It is not enough for him to see it with his eyes or hear it with his ears or smell it with his nose. None of those are trustworthy enough. They are not tangible enough.

When he is twelve, he sees his mother’s lifeless body on the road. He hears sirens and he sees the street sign—”GUAMNAM 6-GIL”—and the red and blue lights that reflect off of it. He smells car exhaust and burned rubber. When he goes to nudge her, to see if she would open her eyes and tell him it was only a prank, he is the one waking up.

It does not matter much, in the end. She dies less than a week later. When Wonwoo touches her unmoving shoulder to make sure, it is solid. Cold.

He says nothing when his father tells him it was a car accident on Guamnam 6-gil. Wonwoo does not say much at all after that.

At seventeen, he sees his father tripping over the fifth stair on his way to work, big oxford shoes too clunky, heels too heavy on a staircase that is older than the Jeon family combined. All it takes is that single misstep for him to drop the box in his hands and tumble down the last two flights, head crashing into the wall with a nauseating bang! His fingers give one last twitch before his entire body slumps forward like a stringless puppet.

When Wonwoo bolts up in his bed, he runs to the kitchen where his father grabs his keys to leave, tossing them into the same box Wonwoo saw in the dream.

“Don’t go,” Wonwoo says. His voice cracks. It’s deeper than he remembers it being.

“Wonwoo?” His father’s eyes widen, smiling in disbelief. “Wonwoo! Oh, my god, you talked!”

“Don’t go,” Wonwoo says again, fading halfway into a whisper. He approaches his father, grips his arm with a desperation that he can feel in his bones, simmering just under his skin.

His father’s brow knits in confusion, eyes searching Wonwoo’s face for an explanation, but Wonwoo cannot find the words to give him one. Whatever his father does find, it is enough for him to stay.

Wonwoo’s relief does not last long.

Every night, he sees his father’s fate. He sees him slumped against the wall, head cracked open, inevitably. It does not matter how.

Wonwoo hides his father’s keys; he throws away those clunky oxford shoes; he breaks his phone; he unplugs his alarm—for months, Wonwoo tries and tries and tries, delaying what he knows will eventually come.

The inevitable arrives only three weeks after his eighteenth birthday.

Wonwoo is used to seeing the stairwell, hearing the creaks of each stair, smelling his father’s cologne. Wonwoo is not used to waking up and seeing his father already gone.

He races out, still in his socks, and his heart drops to his stomach when he sees his father slumped against the wall, head cracked open. Wonwoo does not understand how his heart can still beat so fast at seeing such a familiar sight. It is not until he touches his father’s shoulder—solid, cold—that he crumples and sobs, crushing his father’s fingers, hoping to at least see them twitch. They never do.

That night, Wonwoo cannot sleep. Hours later, long after the sun has risen, he dozes off in his aunt’s car. For the first time in months, he does not dream.

❦ ❦ ❦

The library is quiet at this hour. Wonwoo is grateful; he can focus on troubleshooting the library’s website and answering student emails. Mrs. Lee had left hours ago, leaving him to do the closing, but Wonwoo doesn’t have the heart to kick out the last few students who are trying to cram in just a bit more studying. Midterms are in full swing and they are grueling.

Wonwoo should be doing his own cramming, but Mrs. Lee is old and frustratingly terrible with technology, so he’s taken it upon himself to get the website working again. Most of the emails he has to answer are students asking about when it will be back up.

He sighs, fingers poised over the keyboard, trying to think of what to say. It’s getting late and he’s getting irritable, but he knows better than to say, I’m double majoring in Korean literature and video editing, what exactly do you expect me to do?

Mrs. Lee has already spoken with tech support, but they won’t know a diagnosis—is that what they call it? Wonwoo has no idea—until Monday, which means the library staff (read: him) will have to answer dozens of emails that will be sure to continue throughout the weekend.

“Uh, excuse me?”

Wonwoo looks up, squinting a bit to see the person better. He looks familiar—dark hair, awkward smile, handsome face—but Wonwoo can’t remember from where.

“Sorry, but do you know when the library website will be back up?”

Wonwoo wants to sigh.

“Next week,” he says. “Is there something you need?”

The man sighs, biting his lip nervously as he looks behind him. Wonwoo sees another student at a desk, but without his glasses, he can’t see the person properly.

“It’s just- well, a classmate told us we’ll actually need to use our textbook for the midterm, but I don’t have it, and my friend doesn’t have it, so-”

Wonwoo pulls up the registry on the computer. “Class number?”

Silence. Wonwoo looks up to see the man staring, mouth opening and closing. Wonwoo nearly laughs.

“Professor? Class?”

“Oh! Professor Shin, Intermediate Cinematography.” The man rocks on the balls of his feet, fingers tapping against the desk. “It’s- uh- Monday, Wednesday? Nine a.m.? I can’t remember when it ends-”

Wonwoo pauses. He pulls away from the computer to grab his backpack from where he’d stuffed it under the desk, rifling through it until he finds the textbook.

He slides it across the desk to the man before returning to the emails. His eye twitches when he sees that two more have been added to the inbox within the last five minutes.

“Um- thank you?” The man takes the textbook hesitantly. “Do I need to, like, give you my school ID or-”

Wonwoo shakes his head no as he types out a response to an email. “Just give it back to me in class next week.”

There’s silence for a moment so long that Wonwoo thinks he left.

“I’m sorry?” The man sounds so confused that Wonwoo looks up at him once more.

“We’re in the same class.”

His eyes widen. “Oh! Shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize-”

Wonwoo only shrugs and continues typing. In the corner of his eye, he sees the man linger for a few more seconds before he bows and finally leaves. Wonwoo thinks nothing of it.

After all, he’s always lived like a ghost.

The dorms look impossibly small against the gray sky. Thunder rumbles long and low, the clouds heavy with rain, the air already carrying the scent of it. Everything feels suspended, like a bowstring pulled taut, about to snap.

The nameless man hums to himself as he watches the sidewalk, careful to avoid the cracks. When rain begins to fall, he quickly looks up, as if just realizing how dark the sky had become. He shoves the cinematography textbook into his bag, using his height to bend over it so that it doesn’t get wet.

“Aish,” he mutters, glancing up as he hurries down the sidewalk towards the dorms. The streetlights hardly give him any direction.

When the rain switches from a drizzle to a torrent, the man yells and hugs his bag close to his chest. He squints, eyelashes dripping with rain, before he sprints towards the bus stop just outside of the dorms.

As soon as he stumbles under cover, a shadow moves behind the bus stop. The man wipes his wet bangs, laughing to himself incredulously, when his breath suddenly leaves him in a choked gasp. He looks down, hands shaking. He doesn’t see the shadow slink away.

Blood pours from his side, staining his hoodie darker, dripping through his fingers faster than the rain had fallen. He stumbles, watching in a daze as his blood splatters across the pavement. He wheezes, coughs, groans before he collapses onto the bench, blood dripping from his mouth. His eyelids flutter as his eyes roll back.

Wonwoo’s eyes snap open.

His neck and joints protest when he sits up. He must’ve fallen asleep in the library again.

He quickly stands, ignoring how his muscles ache, how the bandages on his arms need to be changed, how his heart is beating far too fast inside his chest. He doesn’t see the man in the library.

Wonwoo, despite his excellent academic standing, does not think. He simply grabs his phone and his ID and he runs.

As soon as he steps outside, the state of the sky sends a chill down his spine. Dark and gray, and growing even darker. Thunder rumbles long and low, and the clouds are heavy with rain—

Wonwoo’s legs work faster than his brain does. He runs past the classroom buildings, pain shooting up his arms with every step, and distantly, he knows this will be in vain because it’s always in vain but if he can just get there, if can just stop it before it happens then maybe—

The man is humming to himself as he watches the sidewalk, careful to avoid the cracks. Wonwoo isn’t too late, he’s not too late—

Wonwoo looks over at the bus stop, squinting, breathing heavily, before he spots it. There’s a flash of something sharp before the shadow slips behind the bus stop completely.

“Oh! It’s you!”

Wonwoo’s head snaps towards the man. He’s grinning with his teeth, eyes sparkling. He waves with the textbook in his hand.

Wonwoo awkwardly bows his head. He isn’t sure what to do from here.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again until class! You were knocked out.”

Wonwoo nods, but he keeps his eyes on the bus stop even though he can’t see the shadow anymore.

“Hey, I think it’s about to-” The rain beats the man to it, falling in a drizzle. He blinks in surprise before he rushes to shove the cinematography textbook into his bag. “Here, let’s go to the bus stop for cover-”

“No, I think-”

“Aw, come on! We’re going to get rained on!” The man drags him by the arm towards the bus stop, not noticing when Wonwoo’s breath hitches in pain.

Before Wonwoo can say anything, he sees the shadow move. His brain both flatlines and kicks into overdrive, and before he realizes what he’s doing, he pushes the man away just as Wonwoo sees a knife flash. It isn’t until seconds later that he realizes he’s bleeding.

“Hey! Get back here!”

Wonwoo stumbles when he tries to take a step towards the man, watching as the idiot tries to race after the shadow. It’s a lost cause; Wonwoo could already tell it was the work of a magic user. The real culprit likely controlled it, but they’d be long gone by now.

The adrenaline is starting to wear off, evident in how wave after wave of pain radiates from his side. He takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself, trying to assure himself it probably isn’t that bad. It wasn’t as direct a hit as it would’ve been for the man. It just hurts a lot. Wonwoo can deal with it.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, oh, fuck, oh, shit-” The man looks at him with big eyes, worry and concern so clear that it might as well have been written on his forehead. “You shouldn’t have gotten involved. How did you even-? Whatever, fuck. This is all my fault, I should’ve known-”

What?

Wonwoo may be getting delirious because of blood loss, but he’s pretty sure this man has more information than he does. Wonwoo was under the impression he was just a naïve idiot who was at the wrong place at the wrong time, but maybe he was the target after all.

Wonwoo squeezes his eyes shut for a second, as if that will ward off the headache that is beginning to take over the front of his skull. He can’t deal with this. He doesn’t even know what this is.

“No! Librarian, don’t die on me! Stay awake!”

Wonwoo glares at him, unimpressed. “I’m not dying.” He’s also not the librarian, but whatever.

“Oh, thank god. I never even found out your name! What if you died and I never found out?”

Wonwoo’s glare does not let up. “Give me your hoodie.”

“Huh?” Despite his confusion, the man takes it off and hands it to him.

Wonwoo huffs as he stuffs the hoodie under his clothes to press it against the wound. He grits his teeth but does not cry or whimper or scream. He is not weak. He is not weak. He is not—

“Let me help.” The man holds the hoodie against the gash, hand brushing against Wonwoo’s for a moment as he readjusts it. “Do you get stabbed all the time? You’re taking this oddly well.”

Wonwoo can’t help but laugh. It’s barely a wheeze, barely an exhale, but it quirks up the corners of his lips just enough. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m serious! You’re taking it better than me, and this would’ve been the third attempt on my life in the last month!”

Wonwoo stares at him. The man freezes and laughs awkwardly.

“Don’t look at me like that! I had it under control, okay, I have friends who-”

“You would’ve died,” Wonwoo says.

“I’m sure I would’ve been fine-”

“No, you-” Wonwoo grunts when the pain suddenly spikes, losing energy in his legs. The man is quick to catch him before he falls, surprisingly strong arms wrapping around Wonwoo’s waist.

“Come on, let me bring you somewhere safer- uh-” He blinks. “Sorry, but you still haven’t given me your name.”

Wonwoo hesitates.

“You know what? You’re right. You did just get stabbed for me. I’ll go first.” The man readjusts Wonwoo’s body, swinging his arm over his shoulder so that he can stick out his hand. “I’m Kim Mingyu, majoring in photography, twenty-one years old.”

Slowly, Wonwoo shakes Mingyu’s hand, so light that it’s only a soft squeeze on his finger. “Jeon Wonwoo,” he mutters. “Korean lit and video editing.” After a second, he adds curiously, “I’m a year older than you.”

Mingyu’s face lights up so brightly that he might as well have dissipated the storm clouds. Wonwoo finds himself momentarily stunned.

“Does that mean I can call you hyung?” he asks. “Or should I stick to sunbaenim? I know we just met and all-”

“I don’t mind,” Wonwoo says, shrugging with his free shoulder.

“Well, then, Wonwoo hyung, let’s get you out of here!” Mingyu says, and before Wonwoo can point out the rain, Mingyu rushes the two of them out, ducking his head.

Wonwoo expects them to head towards the dorms, but Mingyu takes a sudden right, dragging him with him underneath an overhang that peeks out from the side of the Han dorm building just across from the courtyard.

It’s darker here, away from the orange streetlights and out of sight from the windows that line the dorm buildings. Suspicion sends an uncomfortable chill down Wonwoo’s spine, but when he turns to look at Mingyu, he sees him already looking at him.

“I need you to stay silent, okay?” The smile is gone from Mingyu’s face, eyes oddly serious, eyebrows drawn. “This will help, but you have to keep it a secret.”

Wonwoo says nothing, eyes steady and unblinking. He nods once.

Mingyu smiles, but it’s small, anxious, wavering when he looks around them. He puts a hand to Wonwoo’s side, palm covering the stab wound where blood is still slowly leaking, and before Wonwoo can figure out what exactly he’s trying to do, there’s a sudden sting that shoots outward.

Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek and squeezes his eyes shut, breathing deeply to keep his heart calm. The sting is over as quickly as it started, though, and when Mingyu takes his hand away, Wonwoo realizes there is no more pain at all.

When he opens his eyes, Mingyu’s eyes are glowing a soft, gentle yellow, slowly dimming back to brown. He’s staring at him with an odd expression. His eyes drop from Wonwoo’s face to his arms, as if he can see under the sleeves and see the bandages, the wounds—

Wonwoo quickly steps away from him, then, no longer needing the support to stand.

“Hyung, your arms-”

“They’re old,” Wonwoo says, with a bit more bite than he wanted—he never says anything right, voice unaccustomed to being used, even after all these years—as he looks down. Shame crawls up the back of his throat.

“I didn’t mean- I wasn’t trying to see-”

“I know,” Wonwoo says, softer. He clears his throat and looks back up, strangely endeared by the apologetic look on Mingyu’s face. “Thank you, Mingyu-yah.”

That seems to ease Mingyu a bit more, the sparkle returning to his eyes. “I’m just glad I was able to return the favor. But- hyung, how did you know that… um…”

“I just did,” he says.

“Okay,” Mingyu says, unsatisfied but relenting. The rain patters against the overhang. “Well, either way, I should be thanking you, too. You did save my life, like, genuinely.”

Something soft, something sweet, blooms in Wonwoo’s chest. It’s warm like the sun, and it feels a little too close to hope. He shoves it down.

“Be careful,” he says, hands shaking by his sides. The thunder makes him flinch just slightly, makes him remember the way Mingyu’s eyes rolled back as he bled out on the bench. Quieter, Wonwoo adds, “Seriously, be careful.”

In the past, when Wonwoo tried to give warnings, no one took him seriously. After the first few weeks of Wonwoo trying to change his father’s fate, he was reduced to a moody teenager who was taking out his stress on his father by breaking his things. But seventeen-year-old Wonwoo did not care how he was perceived so long as his father was safe.

(It did not matter in the end. It never seems to.)

Now, though, Mingyu looks at him so seriously, like he truly believes in Wonwoo’s words. His dark eyes look limitless here under the overhang, raindrops still dripping down his face, eyelashes almost appearing crystalline, cheeks flushed red. In the very back of Wonwoo’s head, he thinks, Oh. Pretty.

“Do you have ma-?”

Wonwoo darts towards him, covering his mouth with a glare.

Magic is taboo. Magic grants you a one-way ticket to jail, or to a sanatorium that further perpetuates that magic is a sickness. It’s why Wonwoo has never breathed a word about his dreams to anyone, not even when he was twelve and saw his mother die, or when he was seventeen and had to break his father’s phone every time he got a new one.

Still, magic isn’t fantasy. It isn’t made up. Wonwoo knows that for a fact.

“Sorry,” Mingyu says. He’s smiling, though, and after Wonwoo takes away his hand, Mingyu laughs, like he can’t believe it. “I just never- you’re always- I never would’ve thought-”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Wonwoo says, leaning against the wall. “I wouldn’t have expected you, either.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear, actually,” Mingyu says with a strained laugh. “People really want what I have, you know?” His expression darkens. “Before, when someone found out, they really wanted to befriend me. But, like, it was only to use me for-”

He doesn’t have to finish for Wonwoo to understand.

“Hey, since you’re- well-” Mingyu stutters, now knowing better than to say it aloud, even in an early morning storm in a deserted courtyard. “My friends, they- they’ve been protecting me. And they’re like us, too. If you need help-”

“I’m all right,” Wonwoo says. Mingyu looks at him like he expects him to continue but there is only silence.

You’re the one that needs help, Wonwoo doesn’t say. I’ll keep an eye on you.

“You don’t talk a lot, but your eyes do,” Mingyu says with a grin. Wonwoo blinks. “Thank you for caring, hyung, even though I’m a stranger. You might be the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

Wonwoo’s ears flush pink as he ducks his head, unable to meet Mingyu’s eyes. He wants to say something, wants to try and refute the words, but random half-thoughts only circle around his head, just out of reach.

Mingyu laughs—a warm, raspy sound that wraps Wonwoo up in a fuzzy blanket. Foolishly, Wonwoo wants to cling onto it, eager to hide in it so he can get away from the perpetual chill under his skin.

“You should come to my dorm,” Mingyu says.

Wonwoo looks at him, caught off guard by both the invitation and the fondness in his eyes.

“Oh! Not to like- not to-” Mingyu flushes, sputtering, waving his hands frantically. “Not to do anything weird! But it’s, like, five a.m., and it’s still raining, and honestly I still feel bad about the whole stabbing thing-”

“I never closed the library,” Wonwoo mumbles, thumbing his student ID in his pocket. He looks behind him, considering how wet he’d get if he were to run back.

“What?” Mingyu pouts, confused. “Why were you over here then?”

Wonwoo levels him with a look that says, It should be obvious, idiot.

The cogs in Mingyu’s brain seem to visibly turn before his eyes light up with realization, his mouth forming an ‘O’. “You just knew,” he says, repeating Wonwoo’s words.

It’s a gross overstatement, entirely too vague, but it’s not false, so Wonwoo just nods.

“I’ll make sure you don’t have to save me next time,” Mingyu says with a smile. “Oh! And if you give me your number, then-”

He presses his phone into Wonwoo’s hand, their fingers brushing for just a moment—

Dark shadows shoot up the side of the alleyway, skittering like spiders. The wind howls through, knocking over trash bags, making the shadows scatter, ruffling Mingyu’s hair from where he sits lifeless against the wall. Black smoke drifts lazily from between his lips, the whites of his eyes stained black and gray.

“Mingyu!”

Wonwoo chokes on a gasp, nearly collapsing if not for how tightly he’s holding onto Mingyu’s arm. He ducks his head, knowing his eyes are glowing night sky blue. The color is almost black, almost able to disguise itself as regular dark brown.

“Hyung?”

Wonwoo looks up, blinking quickly, looking over Mingyu’s face. There’s concern in his eyes, but no sign of black smoke. He doesn’t seem to have realized the eye color shift. If he has, he doesn’t mention it.

Shakily, Wonwoo pulls away and wipes his nose. He can only stare at his finger when it comes away with blood.

“Hey, what happened? Your nose is bleeding!”

Mingyu reaches forward with his bloodstained hoodie to dab at Wonwoo’s nose, but Wonwoo flinches away, heart beating in his throat. He swallows, counts to ten in his head, tries to focus on his surroundings.

“Hyung, seriously, you’re kind of scaring me-”

“Do you have someone to stay with?” Wonwoo suddenly asks, voice hoarse, strained, no louder than a whisper.

“Huh?” Mingyu stares at him with a furrowed brow. “I have a roommate. Why? Should I go somewhere else?”

“Stay with your friends,” Wonwoo says, fighting to get the words out. “The ones who will protect you.”

Mingyu goes quiet for a moment. “Did you see something?”

Wonwoo doesn’t know how to articulate how he didn’t just see something; he saw the shadows, heard the wind, smelled the rot of trash bags and the iron of Mingyu’s blood, and the smoke, the—

“Smoke,” he says, wringing his fingers together to ground himself. “And shadows.”

“Hey, you’re kind of freaking out-” Mingyu reaches out, but Wonwoo flinches back again, afraid he’ll see something else. “Okay, right, sorry. I’ll- I’ll try and call to see if someone is available.”

Wonwoo gives him back his phone after quickly typing in his own number. He stands patiently, watching the rain fall, counting each raindrop to get his heartbeat back to a regular rhythm.

“You don’t have to stay,” Mingyu says, looking at him as he puts his phone to his ear. “I’ll be okay.”

Wonwoo hums in agreement, but he doesn’t move. In the corner of his eye, he sees Mingyu smile with a small shake of his head.

It takes a few more tries before someone seems to pick up.

“Jeonghannie hyung!” Mingyu says, beaming. “Good morning!”

Wonwoo hears the person’s quiet reply: “Good morning. What are you doing up so early on a Saturday?”

Mingyu makes eye contact with Wonwoo, lips pursed in panic. Wonwoo just shrugs.

“I- uh- I did some late night studying with Seungkwannie, but he left a while ago to sleep. I was on my way back-”

“You left alone? At this hour? Kim Mingyu, what happened to the buddy system! I didn’t even know the library stayed open for so long!”

Mingyu chuckles. “Yeah, well, see, we can now mark murder attempt number three on the whiteboard-”

“You are ridiculous. How bad is it?”

“Um, the thing is-”

Wonwoo glares at him with a shake of his head, hoping Mingyu doesn’t mention him. Mingyu raises an eyebrow but nods.

“The thing is,” he continues, “I was able to get away without injury. It was a shadow again, and I don’t really think it’s a good idea for me to, uh, be by myself?”

The line is quiet for a second. “Are you all right, Mingyu-yah?”

Mingyu bites his lip. The tone of the person—Jeonghan?—is suddenly softer, more gentle. The question seems to have brought tears to Mingyu’s eyes but he quickly blinks them away.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” He glances at Wonwoo. “I was just thinking, like, since this happened again, maybe it’s better for me to be with one of you.”

“Well, that is the reason we had the buddy system,” the person teases. “Are you alone right now? Did you make it to your dorm?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Mingyu says. “Just kind of, you know, don’t want to be the target of another attempted murder.”

Jeonghan snorts. “Right. I’ll be there in ten. Do you want to stay on call?”

“No, that’s all right, hyung. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Jeonghan hums an affirmative before the call ends with a beep.

“Why didn’t you let me tell him about you?” Mingyu asks, turning to Wonwoo with a frown.

“I don’t want to get involved,” Wonwoo says.

“You already have.”

Wonwoo’s eyes drop to the ground. How does he say the thought of interacting with another person makes his skin crawl? How does he say that another person he meets is another person he will inevitably see die? In the end, it is best for people to not meet Wonwoo at all. It is best for him to stay in his single suite dorm room, buried in his blankets as he reads novels, away from people’s curious eyes and probing questions.

“I won’t say anything,” Mingyu says. “But I would like to know why, at least.”

Wonwoo looks up to hold Mingyu’s gaze for a moment. His shoulders drop in defeat.

“People make me anxious,” he mumbles. “And I don’t have good luck with them.”

Mingyu hums, still frowning, but his eyes are sympathetic. He sighs. “All right, whatever you say, hyung. But I will tell them eventually.”

Wonwoo huffs. “Why?”

“We’re friends now! You’re going to have to meet them at some point.” At Wonwoo’s nervous look, Mingyu adds, “And they’re like us, remember?”

Wonwoo says nothing, turning his attention back to the rain that continues to fall. Mingyu continues talking beside him, his voice a relaxing hum with the drumming of the rain. Wonwoo finally realizes how exhausted he feels as he lets his eyes fall shut.

“Hyung,” Mingyu says, more serious. Wonwoo hums to show he’s listening. “Before I called my friend, what did you see?”

Wonwoo opens his eyes. He is quiet for a long moment. “An alleyway. With the shadows and the smoke.” His eyes slowly fall on Mingyu. “And you, dead.”

Mingyu doesn’t seem surprised, but the frown on his face shows his discontent with it anyway, like he was given disappointing news.

“And before- when you found me here. Did you- did you see me dead then, too?”

Wonwoo holds his gaze for a second before he sighs and nods, leaning his head back against the wall. He’s just glad he didn’t have to say it.

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu says.

Wonwoo wrinkles his nose in disapproval. “What for?”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Except it wasn’t just seeing. It was smelling it and hearing it, too, powerless in the face of it all. Still, Mingyu’s words bring a tiny smile to Wonwoo’s face. Gratitude feels warm, sweet, kind—he wants to hold it in his hands.

“I’m just happy I could change it.”

Footsteps approaching spur Wonwoo forward, bowing his head to Mingyu before he flips the hood of his jacket over his head. He walks into the rain, barely hearing Mingyu’s goodbye as he rounds the corner to disappear from view.

Before he heads to the library, he pauses, an odd blend of curiosity and paranoia keeping him in place, ears peeled for voices as he presses his back to the wall.

“I almost couldn’t find you!” the familiar voice of Jeonghan says, muffled in the rain. “Are you really all right? No scratches or anything? Don’t be like Soonyoung-ah, don’t try to hide a bullet-”

“I’m okay, hyung, seriously! All good, see?”

“And you’ve been alone this whole time?” Jeonghan sounds suspicious. “You never answered that question.”

Mingyu laughs. “I had some help, but he’s shy and told me to keep it under wraps.”

“Oh? What kind of help?”

“I’ll tell you later, after you meet him. But let’s just say he stood with me until you came.”

“Cute. I look forward to seeing him, then, and thanking him for looking after my stupid dongsaeng.”

“Hyung!” Mingyu whines.

Wonwoo scoffs to himself, only just realizing that he’s smiling. He presses his lips together and shakes his head, returning to the library like he had never left.

❦ ❦ ❦

He doesn’t see Mingyu again until Monday for their shared class, but their text history is full of Mingyu’s excitable—albeit random—insights, along with pictures of the various dishes he made over the weekend, all of which looked too good for a college student to have made. Wonwoo, though, has taken to using text reactions instead of properly replying. Mingyu has already complained about it twice.

“Hyung! You just liked my message instead of saying good morning back!” Thrice. He’s complained thrice.

“Good morning, Mingyu,” Wonwoo says, distracted by his phone as he goes through his daily missions for the most recent game he’s been into.

“Um- do you mind if we sit with you?” an unfamiliar voice asks.

Wonwoo looks up to see a man with a round face and pale blond hair, looking nervous beside Mingyu.

“He’ll be fine with it!” Mingyu says, taking the seat on Wonwoo’s left. “Right, hyung?”

Wonwoo just shrugs, returning to his game.

“I told you,” Mingyu tells his friend before turning back to Wonwoo. “Hyung, this is Boo Seungkwan, my friend who was at the library with me. He’s scared of you because you glared at him Friday.”

Seungkwan sputters as he takes the remaining seat on Wonwoo’s right. “I’m not scared-”

“Sorry,” Wonwoo says, pausing his game to look at Seungkwan. “I didn’t have my glasses so I couldn’t see you. I didn’t mean to glare.”

“You’re that blind?” Seungkwan asks, eyes wide.

Wonwoo snorts, amused, as he resumes his game. “Yeah.”

Seungkwan and Mingyu content themselves with bickering on either side of Wonwoo for the rest of class, leaving him to his game and, once the professor actually comes, his notes. Strangely, he finds that he doesn’t mind their constant chatter.

“No, I’m telling you, there’s something up with Shua hyung and Seungcheol hyung. I haven’t seen them in, like, two weeks.”

“Probably because they have actual adult jobs,” Seungkwan says dryly. “Careers, Mingyu. They have careers.”

“Wonwoo hyung has an actual adult job, too! He’s a librarian!”

“Are you dumb? He’s a student. He’s probably just an assistant.”

Wonwoo hums with a nod, tapping away at his phone.

“Hyung, you lied to me?”

“Huh?” Wonwoo looks up, blinking in confusion to see Mingyu pouting. “I never told you I was the librarian.”

“You never corrected me, either!”

Wonwoo looks back down at his phone, trying to hide his face so they don’t see him smiling to himself. He has to press his lips together to stifle a giggle as Mingyu continues to pout at him.

“He’s totally fucking with you, hyung,” Seungkwan tells Mingyu, amusement clear as a bell. “I can see him smiling. You can’t hide that smirk, Wonwoo hyung.”

Finally, Wonwoo laughs—it’s more of a chuckle than anything, but it lights up his face, starting low in the back of his throat.

“Sorry,” he says, covering his mouth. “I was waiting for him to realize.”

“Sometimes he really is as dumb as a rock,” Seungkwan says, ignoring Mingyu’s affronted look. “I don’t understand how he got a higher grade than me on the midterm.”

“Oh! Hyung! Your book!” Quickly, Mingyu leans over the side of his chair to grab the textbook from his bag. He plops it down on the desk. “Here you go! And I didn’t ruin it or anything!”

“If you ignore the stain on chapter eight, then sure, it’s fine,” Seungkwan says.

Wonwoo sends a scathing look Mingyu’s way. Immediately, he waves his hands and stutters over his words.

“Kwannie’s exaggerating! It wasn’t even a drop, and it was water or vinegar or something, you can barely see it-”

Wonwoo easily finds the page, the smell of the vinegar more offensive than the tiny speck that stains the paper. Still, he keeps his blank face just to see Mingyu panic because it’s funny. (And cute. And helplessly endearing.)

“Hyung, don’t look at me like that! It’s seriously not that bad! The smell will go away in a few days and then the stain will probably go, too. Honestly, I don’t even remember seeing that chapter on the midterm, so it’s not even that important-”

He glares at Seungkwan when he laughs, sighing as he turns his eyes back to Wonwoo.

“You’re not seriously mad, right?” he asks.

Wonwoo says nothing for one, two, three seconds before he grins, laughing again as he shuts the textbook. “No, I’m not.”

“You looked like you were about to shit your pants!” Seungkwan says to Mingyu, slapping his thigh as he wheezes.

“Hyung is scary!” Mingyu says, half-whining, but even he’s started laughing.

Wonwoo’s smile freezes on his face, body going cold at the words. In the back of his head, he scrambles to get his bearings, tries to assure himself that Mingyu didn’t mean it in that way, that it was just a lighthearted jab—

“That Jeon kid in Class Four is scary. Did you hear about his parents?”

“Didn’t they die within six years of each other? Now no one else wants to be near him.”

“Really? Do you think he killed them?”

“Maybe. I heard he wasn’t surprised at all to see his dad had died. It’s like he expected it.”

“Hyung?”

Wonwoo blinks, realizing both Mingyu and Seungkwan have gone silent. They’re staring at him with matching looks of confusion and concern.

Quickly, Wonwoo smiles at them, tilting his head slightly to try and show he was listening. They don’t seem to buy it, but they continue talking about their shared friends and how they are totally, absolutely, without a doubt dating.

Wonwoo is quiet until they have to leave.

The sky is clear as the sun sets, lit up orange and yellow, smoldering gently, sunlight bouncing off of the blue and green street sign that reads, “ARISU-RO”. Trees sway behind it as a breeze rushes through their branches. When they dip, they reveal an empty badminton court caged by tall wire fencing.

Two men exit the court, wiping their foreheads with the hem of their shirts. Immediately, Wonwoo recognizes one of them as Seungkwan. The other man is much shorter, and as he passes a water bottle to Seungkwan, he grins proudly, trying not to laugh.

“Yah, Boo Seungkwan, are you sure you’re good at these kinds of games?”

“I’m only bad when I have to go up against you or one of the other guys,” Seungkwan says with a huff, glaring at the man as takes a sip from the bottle.

“Oh? So I’m just better than you.”

“Ey, hyung!” Seungkwan elbows him, frown persisting until the man giggles as he dodges the hit. “I just had an off day. Don’t say useless things.”

“Right, because you-”

Suddenly, the man freezes, the smile disappearing from his face. His eyes harden as he turns away from Seungkwan. He spreads out his arms to keep Seungkwan behind him.

“Hyung?” Seungkwan’s voice sounds small.

The man says nothing, eyes scanning the empty streets before he stops, his entire body tensing up.

A shadow. Just across the street, still, watching them. The smell of something charred drifts down.

“Jihoonie hyung-”

“Seungkwan-ah-”

Before either of them can speak, the shadow darts forward, bigger and darker than the ones Wonwoo saw before, and as it passes the trees, it splits into two smaller shadows.

It all happens quickly. One second, the two men are standing, and the next, they’re knocked over, wheezing, coughing, gasping for breath as shadows wrap around their throats. They try to choke out words, but nothing intelligible comes out. Through it all, they stare at each other, dark eyes wide with so much to say and no way to say it.

As their veins darken and bulge from their necks, the shorter man takes Seungkwan’s hand, gripping it, even as something black drips from his lips. Seungkwan’s lip wobbles, eyes turning glassy. He claws at his neck with his other hand, but the shadow remains unaffected, writhing around his throat until Seungkwan’s resolve weakens to the point that he can’t move at all, the whites of his eyes stained black.

“Seu- Seung-” The shorter man wheezes, black tears falling from his eyes as he lurches forward onto Seungkwan, his entire body going lax. Smoke drifts up from his mouth. His grip slackens on Seungkwan’s hand but doesn’t fall away.

The shadows slip away, sliding across the ground and back across the street, merging into a single form once more.

Wonwoo rushes into class thirty minutes early, purple rings under his eyes that he didn’t care to hide. He stuffed his hair into a hat and threw on a worn hoodie that always brings him comfort, and he bolted before his morning alarm could ring.

Before he enters the building, he paces. He counts to one hundred and back, and he tries to name every Korean king in order. He tries to remember what he’s read in the past year, what he liked the most and what he hated the most, but he can’t get the smell of smoke out of his nose.

“Wonwoo hyung?”

Wonwoo snaps his head up, immediately running towards Seungkwan before he can think better of it.

“Seungkwan-ah! Are you all right?” He looks over him with a critical eye, frowning as he only sees a wrinkled jacket and a tired college student face. No black veins, no black eyes, and no smoke.

“What? Yeah, but-” Seungkwan’s brow furrows. “Are you? Have you slept?”

Wonwoo only nods, stepping away to bring out his phone to look up how far away Arisu-ro is. It’s only a fifteen minute walk.

“Hyung, seriously, I don’t mean to nag you, but-”

“Have you been here before?” Wonwoo shoves his phone in Seungkwan’s face.

“Huh? Arisu-? Oh! Yeah, I usually go to play badminton.” Seungkwan blinks, confused. “Why? Did you want to join us some time?”

“Wonwoo hyung wants to play badminton with us?” Mingyu asks, walking up with a grin. It quickly fades when he sees Wonwoo. “Whoa, hyung, your face-”

“When do you usually play?” Wonwoo asks, eyes falling on Seungkwan instead.

“Uh- whenever? It’s hard to get everyone in one place. I don’t think anyone can this week… oh! Jihoonie hyung said he might be able to Friday, though! Would that work for you, hyung?”

Usually, Wonwoo is methodical. Usually, he’s careful and considerate of his words, and usually, he chooses to say nothing at all because it’s easier, safer, better. But that’s when he’s gotten more than three hours of sleep.

“Don’t go,” he says, instead of literally anything else.

Seungkwan opens his mouth and then closes it, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Wonwoo-” Mingyu’s hand is suddenly on Wonwoo’s shoulder, and there’s a flash of shadows, smoke, coughing, wheezing, blood, smoke, smoke, smoke—

Wonwoo wrenches himself away, squeezing his eyes shut as breathing suddenly seems so much harder. He caves in on himself, wringing his hands together, trying to force down the panic attack that’s shooting electricity through every single one of his nerves.

“Hey, hey, hey, hyung?” Mingyu’s voice sounds far away. It makes Wonwoo realize his ears are ringing. “Hyung, it’s okay. I’m sorry for touching you. Can you open your eyes?”

Slowly, after he’s sure his eyes have returned to their dark brown, Wonwoo opens them. He finds himself crouched on the ground, long limbs compressed so he can be as small as possible. Mingyu and Seungkwan are looking down at him, one with a worried frown, the other with wide, confused eyes.

“Hey,” Mingyu says with a small smile. Wonwoo can tell it’s strained. “Did you see something again?”

Wonwoo nods, digs his nails into his palms.

“Something scary? Like before?”

Another nod.

“What are you talking about?” Seungkwan asks. “I didn’t see anything.”

Mingyu hesitates. “It’s different.” He looks at Seungkwan pointedly, urging him to understand.

He holds Mingyu’s gaze for a few seconds before his eyes grow so big that they look like they’re about ready to pop out from his head. He gapes at Wonwoo before having the grace to cover his mouth.

“Really?” he whispers, eyebrows raised high. “But I didn’t see your eyes change.”

Wonwoo only looks away.

“Did you see something happen at Arisu-ro?” Mingyu asks. “Is that why you looked it up?”

Wonwoo wants to cry. He wants to throw the temper tantrum he never gave himself when each of his parents died. But he’s an adult in front of other adults, and he is not weak. So he sucks it up, steadies himself, and rises back up to his feet. He just has to ignore how shaky his hands are.

“Shadows,” he murmurs. It’s impossible to make his voice any louder. “And smoke.” He clenches his fists. “It- it went after-” He clears his throat, tries to get the stench of blood and smoke out of his nose, can’t. “Seungkwan-ah,” he says, quieter, almost inaudible. “And- and a Jihoon? A Jihoon-ssi?”

“Jihoon hyung?” Seungkwan blinks. He lowers his voice. “Wait- you know about the shadows?”

“Hyung,” Mingyu says gently. Wonwoo can’t look him in the eye. “You’re okay now. And Seungkwan is fine, too, see?”

“Hm? Yeah, I’m okay. He asked me if I was all right when he-” Seungkwan pauses. “Oh.”

Wonwoo looks up even though he already checked over Seungkwan. It still manages to reassure him when he sees his awkward wave.

“And Jihoonie hyung is fine, too. He texted our group chat earlier, less than an hour ago now. You probably saw what will happen Friday, not today,” Mingyu says.

“Well, it’s definitely not happening now,” Seungkwan says as he pulls out his phone. “I’ll text Jihoonie hyung that we have to reschedule.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, watching in awe as Seungkwan types out a message.

“Of course.” Seungkwan looks up with a frown. “Why wouldn’t I? There’s no way in hell I’m going after you saw what you did.”

“We really need to talk to Seungcheollie hyung and Jeonghannie hyung about this,” Mingyu says with a sigh, crossing his arms. “We need to get to this shadow person sooner rather than later. They’re going after everyone now.”

“We should’ve looked into them after you were attacked the first time,” Seungkwan mumbles. “You know the hyungs would take care of it.”

“I didn’t think it’d become this much of a problem.”

“You were almost killed!” Seungkwan whisper-shouts, yanking on Mingyu’s ear with a scowl. “Stupid hyung, what is wrong with you? You have eleven people that will back you up.”

Mingyu swats Seungkwan’s hand away. “And Wonwoo hyung.”

Seungkwan pauses, looks between them. “Okay, twelve people that will back you up. You’re missing the point.”

“All right, fine, I get it.” Mingyu sighs. “I’ll talk to hyungs.” He chews his lip, thinking, before he looks at Wonwoo. “I’d like to tell them about-”

“No.”

“Why?” Mingyu almost whines, almost groans. “You saved my life, hyung. And you probably just saved Seungkwannie’s and Jihoonie hyung’s. Don’t you want credit for that?”

“No.” Wonwoo shuffles back, looking to the side of Mingyu’s face instead of in his eyes.

“He saved your life?” Seungkwan asks.

“Yeah, it was last week. He took a knife to the gut for me.”

“What?”

“Yah, Kim Mingyu,” Wonwoo tries, but his voice is weak. “Don’t sound so dramatic.”

“It was a dramatic moment! I didn’t even embellish anything! What would you rather I say?”

“Jeonghan hyung mentioned that he had to pick you up at the ass crack of dawn last week.” Seungkwan frowns. “Is that what that was about? He wouldn’t tell us anything, but he had that weird look on his face. You know, when he knows something everyone else doesn’t and refuses to tell anyone because he finds it funny.”

“Yeah, that was-”

“You should stay with him,” Wonwoo suddenly says, with so much certainty that he feels it thicken his blood. “With- with your hyung.”

The two stare at him.

“You were fine to let me go before?” Mingyu says, tilting his head.

Wonwoo taps his fingers against his thigh. “Now it’s different.”

He pauses, hearing—

footsteps thumping against concrete, loud yelling, sirens wailing, heavy breathing, a “hyung!”

Wonwoo shakes his head as if to shake off the premonition. “It’s different,” he says again.

They look at him curiously now. It’s better than the fear Wonwoo is more familiar with, but it’s still unnerving how they’re searching him for something he isn’t sure he has.

“It’s time for class,” he mumbles, walking forward—probably too quickly—and ignores the confused exclamations behind him as they rush to follow him.

“Hyung! Seriously, how does your- how does your thing work?”

“Yah, why’d you say it like that? It sounds like you’re implying something else-”

“What? Boo Seungkwan, when did your mind get so dirty?”

Fortunately, they forget to ask him for specifics, losing themselves in their usual banter as they enter the classroom. Wonwoo is content to listen and watch.

❦ ❦ ❦

The next two weeks go by smoothly.

Wonwoo does not dream and his phone is full of text messages from new friends. He still gets surprised when his phone vibrates, unaccustomed to getting notifications. Despite himself, he smiles every time, something sweet and soft unfurling in his chest when he reads their messages.

Usually, they’re arguing about mundane things, complaining about coursework and assigned readings and how hard it is to schedule with a dozen people. Mingyu still hasn’t found the time to talk with his hyungs, but Seungkwan assured them both that no one would be going to the badminton court by Arisu-ro for the foreseeable future.

As always, Wonwoo says very little. He’s busy with his own coursework and assigned readings, and he spends most of his nights working at the library. Now that the wave of midterms has ended, though, it’s much quieter, and—although he’d never tell them—he always finds the time to read their hundreds of texts.

At first, the two would tease him for lurking in the chat, occasionally accusing him of muting it or ignoring them. Wonwoo never confirms nor denies, but he guesses they understand because after the first few days, they stop teasing him and just assume he is reading the texts. (He is. He always is.)

It’s nearing the end of his shift now, and as he looks around, he sees no students. He breathes a sigh of relief as he tidies up the desks and couches and chairs, wiping down some of the bookcases and tables before he tucks away a few stray books.

He checks between aisles once more, rushing up the stairs to the second floor, humming a ballad that’s been stuck in his head for days. He pauses when he sees someone in the furthest corner of the room, sitting in one of the plush chairs, features and frame hidden in shadow.

“Hello,” Wonwoo says, bowing. “I’m sorry, but we’re closing for the night. If you-”

Suddenly, the shadow of the person grows, becoming taller and taller until it hits the ceiling, completely transformed from the innocuous form it had taken before.

Wonwoo’s heart thuds in his chest as he realizes, Oh, it’s not a person at all.

He takes an instinctual step back, eyes glued to the shadow as it remains in the chair, watching him as he watches it. Sweat beads at his brow as his hands shake by his sides, his throat going dry. He swallows.

For just one moment, there is stillness.

Wonwoo lunges for the right aisle of bookcases, slipping in between just as he sees a blur of shadow move in the corner of his eye. He pushes his legs as fast as they will go, sprinting from aisle to aisle. He jumps over the couch by the technology desk, nearly tripping over the cords, before he chances a glance back.

He immediately regrets it when he sees the shadow giving chase, darting from shadow to shadow, splitting into three and then two and then four. Before they can surround him, Wonwoo jumps down the staircase, his breath leaving his lungs in a rush as pain shoots up his ankles.

He stumbles once before he forces himself down the last few steps, running into the main area of the library, but before he can reach for the doors, he feels something cold wrap around his leg, forcing him to fall. He grunts when his other leg takes the brunt of his weight.

His head whips behind him as he tries to scramble away, startled by the impossibly strong grip. His eyes widen when he sees two shadows skitter up his leg like spiders.

It seems like it should tickle but it doesn’t. It is only cold, cold, cold, as if Wonwoo were eight years old again, running through snowdrifts that reached his waist. Not for the first time, he wishes he were anywhere but here.

“Yah!”

Before Wonwoo can turn towards the voice, there is a blinding light that fills the library, forcing him to shut his eyes with a wince. Almost immediately, the chill disappears from his leg, leaving nothing more than a tingle.

When the light fades from behind his eyelids, Wonwoo opens them. Seeing no shadows, he jumps to his feet, ignoring how sore both of his legs are. He turns in a circle, analyzing every corner, but he sees nothing. He finally realizes how fast his heart is beating.

“Are you okay?”

Wonwoo’s eyes flick towards the voice, landing on a man leaning against the front doors to keep them open. His eyes glow a soft orange color, already dimming. He’s breathing heavily, too, but there’s a gentle smile on his face when he meets Wonwoo’s eyes.

“I- yes. Yes, thank you.” Wonwoo bows ninety degrees, hands clasped. He adjusts his glasses when he stands back up.

“That was a close call!” the man says, his smile growing into a grin, his eyes curling with it. “I’m glad we were able to get to you in time!”

Wonwoo stares, confused, before he sees another man running up, panting as he comes to a stop beside the front doors. When he lifts his hat to fix his hair, Wonwoo recognizes him.

“Jihoon-ssi?” Wonwoo says, more to himself than anything, blinking one, two, three times, just to make sure he isn’t dreaming again. He pinches himself and- yeah, no, he is not dreaming.

Jihoon looks up with furrowed brows. “Yeah? Do I know you?” He pauses. “Hold on, you’re-”

Wonwoo’s heart drops to his stomach. Did Mingyu or Seungkwan tell him? Does Jihoon know?

“You’re the other aura!” Jihoon says, knocking his head back as he ahh’s, nodding to himself. “I thought I saw one, but I wasn’t sure. The shadow was kind of overpowering.”

Wonwoo is now even more confused. He looks between them.

“Jihoonie hyung can see auras,” the other man says kindly. “And I can control light, which is why I was able to kick that shadow’s ass!”

“No one else is around,” Jihoon says, “so we can talk freely. Are you all right?”

Wonwoo stares for a few more seconds, still baffled, still overwhelmed, before he mumbles a yes and backs up, bowing his head once more as he gestures inside. “Do you- uh- would you like to come in?”

Jihoon frowns, eyes turning ruby red as he surveys the building from outside, before he hums and nods. He walks in and the other man follows him.

They plop down on a couch as Wonwoo tidies up the front desk, securing his ID and phone in his bag, ignoring the slew of texts from Mingyu and Seungkwan. He suddenly pauses when he sees one: “shadow by library and fine ar…”

When he checks the time, it says that it was sent six minutes ago. He curses under his breath before he types out a response to reassure them it was taken care of.

“So you’re the librarian?” the unfamiliar man asks, finally breaking the silence.

“Idiot, he’s the assistant. Does he look old enough to be a librarian to you?” Jihoon asks, scowling.

The man shrugs with a laugh. “I don’t know. He could be ninety or something.”

“No, I’m just the assistant, Jeon Wonwoo.” He bows again.

“It’s great to meet you, Wonwoo-ssi! I’m Lee Seokmin and this-”

“You already know me,” Jihoon says, eyes narrowed as he stares at Wonwoo.

Wonwoo shuffles awkwardly, fiddling with the straps of his bag. “I just- uh- I’ve seen you before. From a friend. In a picture.”

“You’re an awful liar. Does it have something to do with your magic?”

Wonwoo freezes.

“A magic user’s aura is different. It has little… sparkling orb things.” Jihoon waves his fingers to illustrate, but it only serves to be more confusing. “Otherwise, I would’ve never known, but it is weird that you know me.”

“Hyung-”

“No, it’s important that we know,” Jihoon says, ignoring how Seokmin looks at him with a frown. “And Wonwoo-ssi is taking this shadow attack oddly well.” Jihoon leans forward. “Did you already know about the shadows?”

Wonwoo looks between them nervously, wringing his hands together, trying to stop them from shaking so much.

“I- I know Mingyu-yah,” he finally says, the words burning on their way out. “And Seungkwan-ah.”

Both Jihoon and Seokmin frown, faces becoming more worried. They look at each other, seeming to speak with their eyes, before Jihoon looks back at Wonwoo.

“The shadows have been bad, then?”

“Yes,” Wonwoo says, though he wishes there was a better word for it. They aren’t just bad; they’re catastrophic. Every night, Wonwoo is terrified of another dream where one of his new friends is swallowed or strangled by shadows, robbed of their oxygen, only to be left with smoke in their lungs.

“You know more,” Jihoon says, matter-of-fact, expectant. His eyes are piercing.

“Yah, hyung,” Seokmin says, gently chastising. “Give him some space. He said he’s a friend of Mingyu and Seungkwannie. You don’t need to be so harsh.”

Jihoon glares at him. “This is about the shadows, Seokmin-ah. There’s no time for-”

“Wonwoo hyung!” Mingyu’s voice reaches them before the man himself does. He comes crashing through the front doors, long limbs flailing. As soon as he sees Wonwoo, he races towards him, wrapping him in a hug before Wonwoo can react.

Wonwoo freezes, expecting a premonition, but there is nothing but the feeling of Mingyu’s soft sweater against his cheek and the warmth of his body as he squeezes Wonwoo into his arms. It takes a second, but Wonwoo relaxes into it, his arms slowly coming up to rest against Mingyu’s back. Finally, his heart calms down.

“Are you okay? Do I need to heal you?” Mingyu asks, pulling away to look over Wonwoo’s face. Seeing nothing, he only adjusts Wonwoo’s glasses.

“I’m all right. Seokmin-ssi and Jihoon-ssi got rid of it.”

Mingyu blinks and turns his head, suddenly realizing the two are sitting on the couch. They wave at him, Seokmin with a smile and Jihoon with a scowl.

“When were you going to tell us the shadows were getting worse?” Jihoon asks. “Your new friend here almost got killed.”

Seokmin nudges him. “Hyung-”

“You said it was taken care of!” Mingyu says, turning to Wonwoo with a frown. “Hyung, seriously, you need to react more. Overreact, for all I care—that’s better than what you’re doing now! You almost got killed again!”

“Again?” Jihoon and Seokmin ask.

“This sounds familiar,” Wonwoo says, crossing his arms. “Weren’t you the one who’s been the target of three attempted murders?”

“Three?” Jihoon and Seokmin ask.

“Okay, no need to play that game, all right? The first one hardly counts-”

“No. No, no, no.” Jihoon shakes his head as he waves his hands. “Back it up. Last I checked, the counter was at two.”

Wonwoo and Mingyu share a look.

“Well, see, funny story, that’s how I met Wonwoo hyung-”

“That’s what you start with?” Wonwoo asks, eyebrows raised.

“-when he saved me from a shadow a couple weeks ago, took a knife for me—he doesn’t like to take credit for that—and now he’s been helping with the shadows.”

“They’re stronger now,” Wonwoo says. “They multiply. Did they do that before?”

“What?” Mingyu frowns. “No, I don’t think so.”

“There were four earlier, then it merged into two and then one. And with Seungkwan-ah and Jihoon-ssi, there were two. It splits into smaller ones.”

“Okay, can you guys slow down? And why are you mentioning my name?” Jihoon crosses his arms and leans back. “Seriously, how do you know me?”

“I-”

Mingyu interrupts him. “Hyung is- he can see stuff.” He pauses, looks at him. “Right?”

Wonwoo sighs, suddenly exhausted. “See, smell, hear. Not touch.”

“Touch activates it sometimes, though, doesn’t it?”

“The shadows want you,” Wonwoo says, with that same certainty that follows him in his dreams. “It’s potent enough for me to see it again and again, even when I am awake, but only from you.”

“So you’re clairvoyant,” Seokmin says.

Wonwoo shrugs. “In a sense.”

He doesn’t think a single word could encapsulate it. Clairvoyance, clairaudience, claircognizance—whichever “clair” it may be, Wonwoo cannot resonate with it. Throughout his life, his premonitions have brought him a certain solitude that he grew to hide in. It is not a simple matter of seeing the future, or knowing what fate has in store, because it is only ever death and it is only ever devastating, inevitable in its cruelty, impossible to define and impossible to understand.

If it were so easy, he would not sob every time he has a dream. He would not descend into a panic attack at the smell of smoke, and he would not dissociate at the sight of blood. The effects of the premonitions follow him into the present, and they cling onto him from the past. How can it be so simple as to call it a single word?

Of course, Wonwoo says nothing. He is used to keeping his thoughts to himself, used to watching and listening and nothing more.

“Why couldn’t you have just said that?” Jihoon asks, still scowling. “I must’ve been in one of your… visions, then, with the shadows.”

Wonwoo pushes down the swell of panic that rises in his chest at the reminder. He can still smell the smoke, see the waving trees and the setting sun.

“You and Seungkwan-ah died,” Wonwoo says, forcing the words out. “At the badminton court by Arisu-ro.”

Jihoon’s scowl softens. “I guess that’s why Seungkwannie canceled, then.”

“Wonwoo hyung has been keeping an eye out for us since I met him,” Mingyu says, crossing his arms. “So you’re not allowed to be mean to him, Jihoonie hyung.”

“You’re mean to me, though?” Wonwoo says, the corner of his mouth raising, just hinting at his teasing.

“You deserve it sometimes.”

“Wonwoo-ssi,” Jihoon says, “what exactly did you see?”

Wonwoo’s face darkens immediately, smile falling. He holds Jihoon’s gaze for a moment.

“Are you sure you want to know?” he asks.

The air feels heavy with his implications. Jihoon glances at Seokmin, but when he only shrugs, Jihoon looks back at Wonwoo and nods.

“It was at dusk,” Wonwoo says. “You and Seungkwan-ah were leaving the badminton court. You won, and Seungkwan-ah was being a sore loser.”

“Figures,” Jihoon says dryly, ignoring Seokmin’s snickers.

“It was normal at first.” Wonwoo pauses, looks down at his hands, watches how they tremble. “And then Jihoon-ssi saw the shadow.”

There aren’t any snickers or dry remarks this time.

“He got in front of Seungkwan-ah,” he continues, forcing his voice not to shake. He clears his throat. “But it was too late, and the shadow attacked both of you by splitting into two smaller ones. Seungkwan-ah was strangled and died first, but Jihoon-ssi-” A heavy breath. “You held his hand until the very end, even as-”

Wonwoo can’t say any more. He presses his lips together, stifling a sob or a whimper or whatever sound it is that’s trying to rise up from his throat. His breath shudders.

“Hyung?” Mingyu asks, voice so gentle, so soft, that it hurts.

Wonwoo only shakes his head, unable to look at any of them.

“Thank you, Wonwoo-ssi,” Jihoon says, voice free of its usual edge. “That really does help us.”

“I think we should get ice cream,” Seokmin says.

Silence.

“Ey, come on, we all need some cheering up! I’ll pay!”

“It’s almost two in the morning,” Jihoon says.

“No, Seokminnie is right! And you never sleep anyway.” Mingyu turns to Wonwoo. “Hyung, do you like ice cream?”

Wonwoo glances up—Mingyu is smiling at him, still so gentle, still so soft, and his eyes are warm, warm, warm—and nods.

Mingyu and Seokmin cheer as Wonwoo locks the drawers behind the front desk and grabs the keys, the two talking behind him as he leads them all back outside. Jihoon says nothing, but Wonwoo sees the way he looks at the two with a little smile.

Seokmin ends up being the one in the front of their group, guiding them to the nearest corner store with a bright grin and a song that he sings with surprising ease. He’s dramatic with his high notes, as if he were in a musical, grabbing one of Mingyu’s hands to swing as they walk.

By the time they reach the store, Seokmin and Mingyu have dissolved into giggles, and even Jihoon laughs with them as he props the door open behind him for Wonwoo.

The woman behind the counter startles when they come in, bowing her head with a cursory greeting before sitting back down, her eyes already starting to fall closed again.

They all bow back to her before heading down the aisles towards the freezer of ice creams, though Jihoon breaks away when he gets distracted by the rows of ramyeon and kimbap.

“Have you guys eaten?” he asks, scanning the food.

“I could eat,” Mingyu says as he picks up a small tub of mint choco ice cream.

“Me, too,” Seokmin says. He hands Mingyu another tub of mint choco and reaches for vanilla. “Jeon Wonwoo-ssi, what ice cream do you want?”

Wonwoo peers down into the freezer, humming thoughtfully for a moment.

“Rainbow sherbet,” he says.

Mingyu snorts as Seokmin laughs, though he reaches for a tub of it anyway.

“Why are you laughing?” Wonwoo asks, blinking.

“It’s just- well, has anyone told you you’re intimidating?” Mingyu asks.

“I’ve been told I’m scary.”

“Right, and you chose the brightest, most obnoxious ice cream you could.” Mingyu laughs. “It’s just funny. And cute.”

Wonwoo’s ears flush pink but he doesn’t know why. They are just joking, after all.

“It’ll be sweet and refreshing, just like you, sunbae!” Seokmin says, still laughing to himself as he shuts the freezer.

“Thank you, Seokmin-ssi.” Wonwoo laughs, ducking his head shyly.

“Oh, stop, you can drop the formalities! I’m the same age as Mingyu-yah!”

“Ah, then I’m your hyung, too,” Wonwoo says with a small smile.

“You’re collecting dongsaengs, hyung.” Mingyu laughs, arms full with tubs of ice cream.

“We’re the same age, though, aren’t we, Wonwoo-ssi?” Jihoon asks, dumping three cups of ramyeon into Wonwoo’s arms without asking. Thankfully, Wonwoo is quick enough to catch all of it.

“Yes, I think so.” He tries not to laugh when he sees the four packages of samgak kimbap piled in Jihoon’s own arms. “You don’t have to use formalities with me, either, by the way.”

“Same here,” Jihoon says without looking at him, readjusting the food in his arms so nothing falls. “Are we good to go? Seokmin-ah is buying, right?”

Seokmin, despite his smile, looks at the food with pained eyes. “Right.”

Mingyu wheezes beside him. “Jihoonie hyung got you again!”

Seokmin sighs dramatically. “I’m a good dongsaeng. It’s what a good dongsaeng would do.”

“Isn’t a good hyung supposed to buy?” Mingyu asks.

“Yah, there are two hyungs here, why are you only looking at me?” Jihoon asks, but he’s smiling mischievously, his hat casting a shadow over his face.

“I can pay for the food,” Wonwoo says with a shrug.

Mingyu and Seokmin ooh, shaking their heads in awed disbelief, as if Wonwoo had offered to pay for a house and not just kimbap.

“You and Jihoon-ah did save my life, so I think it’s only fair,” Wonwoo says.

“Really? Okay.” Jihoon dumps the kimbap on the counter, startling the cashier awake. “Give me the ramyeon, Wonwoo-yah.”

Wonwoo hands him the cups one at a time, waving his hand at Mingyu and Seokmin to pass him the ice cream. Soon enough, everything is paid for, two bags hanging off of Seokmin’s arms as Jihoon and Mingyu walk over to the automatic machines to pour hot water into their ramyeon.

Seokmin plops the bags on the adjacent table, looking out through the window at the empty streets. Wonwoo quietly joins him.

“How are you feeling, hyung?” Seokmin asks, a smile still bright on his face when he turns to look at Wonwoo. “I know it’s been a long night.”

“I’m fine,” Wonwoo says with a little smile, because Seokmin’s positivity is infectious and he can’t help it. “How are you?”

“Pretty good, actually! I got a ninety-seven on this test I totally thought I failed. This is the last technical class I need to take before I can start focusing on the actual theater performances of theater arts, but it’s so annoying because of how the questions are asked.”

“You’re a theater arts major?”

Seokmin nods, his smile brightening. “I’ve always been a theater kid. One of our hyungs is a theater arts major, too, but he’s your age, so he’s a year ahead. But I’m hoping we can be in a performance together soon!”

“Are you talking about Jun hyung?” Mingyu asks, clambering onto one of the stools. He curses when he drops a chopstick.

“Yeah! I was just telling Wonwoo hyung about my major.”

“Oh! Hyung double majors in video editing, and-” Mingyu pauses. “What was it? Literature?”

Wonwoo hums an affirmative as he takes one of the hot cups of ramyeon from Jihoon, who quickly goes back to the dispensers to finish off the last cup for himself.

“You double major?” Seokmin asks, eyes wide, eyebrows high. “That sounds so stressful! And don’t you work at the library, too? Do you ever have free time?”

“He never answers my texts,” Mingyu says with a huff as he mixes his ramyeon. “And he only ever reacts to the message.”

“It’s funny,” Wonwoo says, smiling.

“Yah! What do you mean it’s funny? Do you enjoy watching all the texts roll in?”

Yes.

“You and Seungkwan-ah talk enough for the three of us.”

“That’s true,” Jihoon says as he half-jumps onto the stool, careful not to let his ramyeon spill. “They talk the most in our group chat, and there are twelve people in there.”

“I thought I talked the most?” Seokmin asks, trying to frown, but a smile pulls on his lips.

“Sometimes. Depends on the day.”

Wonwoo is content to watch and listen, just as he always has, as the three of them talk and argue amongst themselves even as their eyes droop with exhaustion. There’s something fascinating about how fondly they look at each other in spite of that, whether it be Jihoon’s teasing smile or Seokmin’s giant grin or Mingyu’s giggles.

After eating his ramyeon, Wonwoo leans his cheek against the palm of his hand, watching them as they talk about a hyung named Shua and how surprising he is at times, mentioning how his sly behavior is a symptom of being around their Jeonghan hyung for too long. Jihoon seems adamant that Shua hyung has always been like that, though. The others aren’t convinced.

Soon, the stress of the night catches up to Wonwoo, and he finds his blinks growing slower and slower before he doesn’t open his eyes anymore at all, falling asleep to the sound of dry remarks and snickers.

The sun hangs high in the sky, brilliant and beaming with no clouds to obstruct it. Below, Seokmin and a man Wonwoo doesn’t recognize walk the busy Seoul streets, their pinkies hooked together. The man is a bit taller than Seokmin, his hair dyed silver with his roots showing. He jumps over each crack in the sidewalk, laughing as Seokmin tries to steer them away from passersby.

“Are you sure you’re the hyung?” Seokmin asks, laughing when the man nearly trips over the curb.

“Yup!” the man says with a grin. “My ID says so.”

Seokmin snorts. “Just don’t fall.”

“I won’t,” the man sing-songs, eyes sparkling.

As they pass by a white and green restaurant with “Wannabe box” written across the side, there are sudden screams from behind them. They both freeze, whipping their heads in the direction of the noise to see the crowds of people rushing forward in a frenzy, the entire throng of people moving forward like a crashing wave.

“Magic! Magic user!” someone cries.

The crowds move even faster, squeezing in between the buildings, running over each other in their haste to get away from—

The shadows.

They crawl out from the restaurants on the opposite side of the street, growing out from the shadows of the buildings until they stretch impossibly long. They writhe in between bodies, climbing up legs, sending people to the ground with sharp cries and screams and yells. The smell of smoke is overpowering as they suffocate the people who fall.

“Jun hyung-!” Seokmin tries, grabbing the man’s wrist as they get swept away in the crowd.

“Run, Seokmin-ah,” the man says, smile gone, brow knit together as he pushes Seokmin forward, uncaring for the people around them as he shoves his way to Seokmin’s side.

Seokmin nods grimly, glancing back at the shadows before he weaves in between the crowds of people, ignoring the curses thrown at them as he tries to get to the fire escape on one of the apartment buildings up ahead.

Abruptly, he trips over someone’s foot, his hand falling away from his friend’s wrist from the momentum. Immediately, he tries to grab it again, but when he looks up, his friend is gone, tugged forward by the crowd.

“Hyung! Jun hyung! Wen Junhui!” Seokmin yells, eyes wide with panic, looking around frantically, but his voice only adds to the unintelligible clamor around him.

He turns his head every which way, trying to spot familiar silver and black hair, but he’s suddenly pulled away by a shadow that creeps up his leg.

Screaming, Seokmin’s eyes light up a soft orange as a ball of light forms in his hands, blasting forward at the shadow, immediately disintegrating it.

“Another magic user!”

His head shoots up. The people all glare at him, though some rush away as far as they can. The angry ones pull him by his sweatshirt and, incredibly, the rest of the crowd parts to let them shove him towards the shadows.

“No! No, wait-!” Seokmin tries, but the crowds are already running, leaving him to be consumed by the four dark, dark shadows that coalesce to form a thick ring around his throat.

He chokes and gurgles on his spit, eyes rolling back—

“-woo hyung! Wonwoo hyung!”

Wonwoo jerks forward, eyes blazing midnight blue, always so bright after a dream. He breathes too quickly and his heart pounds and his ears ring and his hands feel cold, cold, cold—

“Hyung, can you hear me?”

Slowly, he regains awareness of his surroundings. He feels the cool surface of a table under his arms, hears the AC thrumming overhead, sees his own hands shaking from where they lay on the table, his empty ramyeon cup stacked in the two others.

“Hyung?” Seokmin.

Wonwoo turns towards him, scanning his face. He looks terribly concerned, almost on the verge of tears. He reaches his hand out, but Mingyu gently pushes it down before it can make contact. Wonwoo is grateful.

“Are you all right?” Wonwoo asks, breathless.

Seokmin blinks. “Am I-? Hyung, you’re the one that just had a nightmare! And I’m pretty sure you’re having a panic attack right now-”

“He’s fine,” Mingyu says to Wonwoo. He frowns as he looks at him. “But seriously, are you okay? Take a second to breathe.”

“As long as he’s all right,” Wonwoo mumbles, barely audible, before he curls in on himself, hiding his face in his sleeves on the table. It’s stuffy, but it’s private, and it’s what he needs.

To their credit, the others keep quiet as he calms down. He’s well accustomed to these attacks now, having had them since that fateful night when he was twelve years old, but they’re still awful. Some nights, it takes hours for him to regulate his breathing. Some nights, a migraine blooms behind his eyes, keeping him in the dreaded darkness of his room for the rest of the day. Tonight, it only takes him ten minutes to get his bearings, leaving behind a throbbing headache.

“Do you want some ice cream?” Seokmin asks gently.

Wonwoo chuckles, soft, weak, peeking out from his arms to see Seokmin holding the rainbow sherbet ice cream. With trembling fingers, Wonwoo accepts it.

“Your magic doesn’t seem fun,” Jihoon says. Despite his words, his eyes are trained on Wonwoo, and he seems to have purposefully nudged one of his kimbaps closer to him.

Wonwoo pauses, fear freezing blood at the mention of magic. He looks around to see if there’s anybody that heard them, but Jihoon is quick to assure him.

“The worker’s been asleep, and there’s no one else here.”

Wonwoo nods, glancing at the unconscious woman behind the counter before he turns back to his ice cream.

“So how-”

“It was Seokmin-ah this time,” Wonwoo mumbles, interrupting Mingyu, not looking up. “He was with- with that Jun hyung you mentioned before, by Wannabe Box, probably Dongsan-ro. There was a karaoke nearby and a lot of restaurants.”

Even though the words come out of his mouth, it doesn’t feel or sound like his voice. He stares at the swirling colors of his ice cream, barely tasting it. Half of it is melted.

“The shadows attacked in public this time,” he continues. “It caused mass panic. It separated you,” he says, looking at Seokmin, “and your Jun hyung. I don’t know what happened to him, but you died because the crowd threw you to the shadows when they realized you had magic.”

“That’s horrible!” Mingyu says, eyes big.

“If this magic user is willing to attack random pedestrians now, we really need to talk to Seungcheol hyung and Jeonghan hyung,” Jihoon says, looking between the others. He pauses when he sees Seokmin’s head bent, his face obscured. “Seokmin-ah?”

There’s a sniffle. “Sorry. Just- just give me a second.”

Wonwoo chews his lip, feeling guilty. He did just lay it all out at once, didn’t he? He forgets how difficult it is for people to hear about their deaths, to know the gritty details, to know about it at all. It’s even worse when the death is because of intent rather than accident.

He leans towards Seokmin and gently nudges his arm. When he looks up, his face is red and his eyes are wet as tears drip down his cheeks. Wonwoo offers a spoonful of ice cream.

Seokmin’s familiar smile crinkles his eyes, a soft laugh breaking past his bitten lips as he wipes his nose and accepts the ice cream.

“I’ve been trying to figure out a way to talk to the hyungs, but it’s hard.” Mingyu sighs. “They’re always busy.”

“Not too busy for something like this,” Jihoon says. “It’s a matter of your life, Mingyu-yah, and our lives, too. We formed this group to protect each other.”

“I know, but…” Mingyu groans into his hands. “I just think I can handle it myself, you know? I don’t want to-”

“Yah, Kim Mingyu,” Jihoon says, eyes narrow, sharp, “I know what you’re going to say. The hyungs aren’t assholes like your parents, so stop thinking like that. You know the hyungs were ready to tear down all of Seoul the first time you got attacked.”

“You’re not a burden for wanting to live, Gyu,” Seokmin says through a mouthful of ice cream. “That’s, like, a basic human need. Honestly, not even only human-”

“Just don’t be stupid, Mingyu-yah,” Jihoon says with a long sigh as he crosses his arms. “We have enough idiots in our team as it is. At least Wonwoo-yah seems to have a good head on his shoulders.”

“Hm?” Wonwoo looks up, surprised at hearing his name. He holds a chopstick in his hand, poised over the tower he was trying to stack on the empty ramyeon cups. Seokmin steals another bite from his tub of ice cream.

“Fine, I’ll try and call Seungcheol hyung tomorrow.” When Mingyu checks his phone, his eyes go wide. “Holy shit, it’s almost four o’clock! I have a class in three hours.”

“I told you the shadow was taken care of,” Wonwoo mumbles, squinting as he focuses on the chopsticks.

“Sue me for being worried about my friend!” Mingyu huffs as he scowls at him. “Also, you don’t really have a whole lot of self-preservation, so you can’t blame me for wanting to check on you.”

Wonwoo pauses. His arms seem to flare with pain as if to mock him, but it’s been long enough that all the marks have scabbed over, so he knows the pain can’t be real. Still, he abandons his chopstick tower to bring his arms closer to himself, tugging down the sleeves so they cover his hands (and to ensure no one can see the bandages, but he ignores that thought).

“He runs super fucking fast, to be fair,” Seokmin says, wiping away the ice cream smeared across his cheek with the back of his hand. “He almost got away. Maybe he would’ve even if we weren’t there.”

“No, I definitely would’ve died,” Wonwoo says, leaning back. “The shadow would’ve crawled up to my throat and strangled me, taking away my oxygen to replace it with smoke.” He hums, thinking. “Maybe asphyxiation would be a better way to describe it.”

“Asph- asphys- what?” Mingyu blinks.

“Suffocation,” Jihoon says.

“Wow! That’s even worse than I thought!” Mingyu looks at Wonwoo incredulously. “How are you not freaking out?”

Wonwoo doesn’t know how to articulate his apathy towards himself. He doesn’t know how to say that he’d allow fate to do what it will with him, but at the same time, he would fight fate for a stranger if it meant that that person could live. He doesn’t know how to face the questions of double standards, of If you can fight for a stranger, why can’t you fight for yourself?

Such questions only lead to panic, only lead to new mistakes and another kiss with death. Wonwoo shoves them all to the back of his mind where they belong.

“He’s probably used to it at this point,” Jihoon says with a shrug. “Anyway, I should get going. Soonyoung-ah is going to wake up in a couple hours and I know if I stay here any longer, I won’t be getting back home till noon, and he’ll bother me about it all day.”

“We wouldn’t keep you here that long,” Mingyu says.

“I don’t know, I think we could find a way,” Seokmin says with a laugh. His face is puffy from crying, but his smile is genuine. “But yeah, I need to go, too. Crying always tires me out.”

“I’m leaving first,” Jihoon says, stuffing the last package of kimbap into his bag before he heads for the door.

“Bye, hyung!” Mingyu calls. Wonwoo waves.

“Hyung! Wait! I have to give you a goodbye hug!” Seokmin jumps up from the stool, quickly thanking Wonwoo for the ice cream before he races out the door, Mingyu and Wonwoo watching through the window as he nearly barrels over Jihoon to squeeze him into a hug.

“Bye, Seokmin-ah,” he says begrudgingly, eyes blank as he pats (hits?) Seokmin’s arm. “Please let go now.”

“Only because you said please!” Seokmin grins as he pulls away. He turns toward the window to wave at Mingyu and Wonwoo. “Bye, guys!”

“Why don’t they get goodbye hugs?” Jihoon asks.

“Because I know you love them.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

Seokmin only laughs, keeping to Jihoon’s side as they walk down a street, disappearing from view.

“Ah, I can’t believe I stayed here so late,” Mingyu whines, leaning his elbows on the table as he stuffs his hands in his hair, palms pressed against his temples. “And the walk to the dorms is like fifteen minutes!”

“I have to go back, too,” Wonwoo says, gathering all of the trash to throw it away.

“Really?” Mingyu sits up, looking at him with sparkling eyes. “We can walk together, then! I didn’t know you lived on campus.”

Wonwoo hums. “I live in the Kim Yeon dorm.”

“You’re joking.” Mingyu’s eyes widen. “I live there, too! What floor are you on? If you say second, I’m going to lose my mind.”

Wonwoo huffs out a laugh. “No, I’m on the first.”

“Why haven’t we been hanging out this whole time? We could be having sleepovers!”

“Don’t you have a roommate?”

“Yeah, but he’s almost never there. I don’t know him super well. How about you?”

“I don’t have one.”

“What?” Mingyu moves so quickly that the table shakes. “You’re so lucky! I thought everyone got at least one!”

Wonwoo shrugs. “My room is a single. I think the whole first floor is like that.”

“Well, that just means I have to go to your room instead for sleepovers!”

Wonwoo snorts and shakes his head, but a smile remains on his face, stubborn and unmoving. He looks at Mingyu, sees that he has a snaggletooth, only visible when he smiles wide like this, and Wonwoo’s heart does a little swoop that he doesn’t know what to do with.

“Come on, let me walk you home, hyung,” Mingyu says, jumping up from the stool.

“We’re going to the same place.”

“I’m still technically walking you home.”

“Fine, I’ll walk you home, too, then.”

Mingyu giggles, high-pitched and raspy, and Wonwoo can’t help laughing with him as they leave the store. He doesn’t know what’s so funny, but seeing Mingyu laugh like that spills warmth into Wonwoo’s chest. It’s a welcome relief from the spring chill.

The walk is nice. Mingyu fills the silence with mundane anecdotes, talking about his day and how the semester has been going. He tells Wonwoo that Professor Shin is his favorite professor since she has the best late work policy—But don’t think I’m slacking, hyung! I just forget due dates sometimes, you know? My friends always distract me!—and Professor Cho is his least favorite professor since he assigns, according to Mingyu, millions of discussions every week.

“I don’t understand why we have to do discussions online when we meet face-to-face,” Mingyu grumbles. “And he always wants us to include one of the pictures we took. Seeing everyone’s pictures is so-” he huffs. “Everyone is so talented.”

“I’m sure you’re talented, too,” Wonwoo says.

Mingyu chews his lip. “I don’t know. I guess.”

“Can I see one of your pictures?”

Mingyu stops in the middle of the empty street, looking at Wonwoo with sparkling eyes. Wonwoo stops, too, if only to see how the streetlights make his eyes look like they’re filled with stars.

“You really want to see?” Mingyu asks.

“Of course.”

“I don’t have my camera with me, but I think I downloaded some onto my- oh! Here’s one!” Mingyu taps a few things on his phone before he turns it towards Wonwoo.

The screen shows a black and white picture of a dog, some sort of terrier mix, standing in the center. Its tail is blurred from the motion of its wagging, its body light gray, its ears almost black. It looks at the camera like it knows it’s being photographed, its leash pulled taut from where it goes off screen.

“There was this really nice ahjussi walking his dog at the store my friend works at, and when I saw it I just knew I wanted to take a picture!” Mingyu beams. “It’s honestly not my best work, but isn’t the dog so cute?”

Wonwoo nods, and before he can say anything, Mingyu swipes to the next picture.

This one is of a man, the background blurry and indistinguishable. The man stares right into the camera, eyes big and dark, a single pinprick of light in each of them. There are bags under his eyes, making them look even darker, the right side of his face turned away from the light of the room. He isn’t smiling or frowning, but the corners of his lips raise as if he wants to smile.

“This is Vernonie! Isn’t he so handsome? He’s a music composition major like Jihoonie hyung. This was during finals last semester. We were taking the same technical classes and I swear we were going crazy.” Mingyu laughs, looking at the picture fondly. “He made me help him with writing the lyrics for his song at one point. I don’t think I did a great job, but he seemed impressed.”

Mingyu continues to the next picture. “Oh! And here’s a picture I took back in January for Seollal! I couldn’t go home to celebrate so Shua hyung invited me to his apartment! This is Junnie hyung, Minghao-yah, and Shua hyung.”

He points to a man with silver hair that Wonwoo immediately recognizes from his dream, then a man with strawberry pink hair, and finally a man with dark hair and pretty eyes. Mingyu has his arm around the third guy’s shoulders, a bright grin on his face that all the others share, a table full of food spread out in front of them. The lighting is a bit too dim and the focus is a little wonky, but Wonwoo finds it charming.

“To be honest, it’s their apartment, too, not just Shua hyung’s, but they agreed to have me come over, anyway. It was Chinese New Year, too, right, so Jun hyung and Minghao-yah made all this delicious Chinese food, and oh, my god, it was so good! I still remember the hotpot!”

Mingyu continues to swipe through his pictures, some of them of flowers, some of them of random household items, but mostly, they’re of his friends. Some pictures are sillier than others, with his friends making faces or laughing or looking too seriously into the camera, or being way too close, or being way too far away. Other pictures are clearly candid, showing his friends speaking with each other where their hands blurred from gesturing and their eyes are bright and focused. Or they show his friends performing on stage in flashy clothes and colorful lighting, or they show his friends working in a recording studio, their faces lit up by laptop screens.

At some point, Wonwoo and Mingyu start walking again, shoulders brushing every other step as Mingyu keeps his phone in between them. He describes each picture and tells the story behind it, stumbling over his words as he talks fast in his excitement.

Wonwoo listens with rapt attention, trying to keep up. He hums and nods and laughs at all the right times, but he keeps getting distracted by how Mingyu’s smile seems to glow and how his eyes seem to shine more and more.

Mingyu doesn’t stop talking until they pass through the courtyard that leads to their dorm. The sky has lightened into a moody gray that warns of daybreak.

“We’re here already?” He looks up. “Damn, I talked too much. Sorry.” He laughs awkwardly as he rubs the side of his arm.

“It’s okay,” Wonwoo says. “I had fun listening to you.” As I always do.

Mingyu’s smile turns soft. “Thank you. I really love photography.” He snorts. “I’m sure you can tell by now.”

“You’re good at it, too. You can talk to me about it as much as you want.”

“Really? Are you sure? That was, like, thirty minutes of me rambling. It doesn’t seem fun for you.”

“I like hearing you talk about it.”

Wonwoo takes his school ID out from his pocket as they pass through the dorm’s entrance. “My room is just a few doors ahead past the staircase.”

Mingyu stops at the base of the staircase to twist around, peering out. “What number?”

“154.”

“I will remember it!” Mingyu pokes his temple. “My room is 215. Don’t forget.”

Wonwoo mimics him with a laugh. “I won’t. Good night, Mingyu-yah.”

“Ey, don’t say that when it’s almost five o’clock already. I’m not getting any sleep.”

“Don’t die today, then.”

“Thanks, hyung.” Mingyu laughs.

There’s a beat of silence where they stare at each other before Wonwoo turns to walk down the hall.

“Wait! Can I- can I give you a goodbye hug?”

Wonwoo pauses and looks back to see Mingyu fidgeting with the collar of his sweatshirt, the tips of his ears flushed pink.

“Um- actually, you know what? That was a weird question-”

Before he can overthink it, Wonwoo reaches out to wrap an arm around Mingyu. It’s a little awkward, but Mingyu responds immediately, closing the space between them to squeeze Wonwoo into his chest, resting his chin on Wonwoo’s shoulder with a quiet sigh.

All the thoughts in Wonwoo’s head settle, leaving behind a cozy warmth that blooms and blossoms in his chest, right between his ribs underneath his lungs. Mingyu is warm, warm, warm, wrapping Wonwoo up in a blanket so snugly that he feels like the world can’t find him here.

He doesn’t know how long they hug for—which probably means it was for far too long—but he pulls away first, afraid Mingyu will fall asleep on him. Based on how he blinks and lurches back onto his feet, Wonwoo was right to be cautious.

“Go sleep,” he says. “Seriously.”

Mingyu pouts like a child and mumbles something before he waves at Wonwoo and trudges up the stairs. Wonwoo watches him to make sure he won’t trip and fall.

When Wonwoo gets into bed, for the first time in years, he doesn’t worry about whether or not he’ll dream. He worries about nothing at all, even if it’s just for that moment before his consciousness wanes, warmth still bubbling in his chest, suspiciously close to where his heart beats.

❦ ❦ ❦

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Please, hyung! It will just be Seungcheol hyung and Jeonghan hyung!” Mingyu looks at him with wide, pleading eyes, his hands clasped under his chin.

When hour five of Wonwoo’s shift had passed, he’d assumed it would be another uneventful night. He was almost done reading his assigned chapters at the front desk when Mingyu had suddenly burst through the doors, disturbing the peace, and proceeded to beg Wonwoo to join him for his weird hyung shadow meeting.

It’s only been four days since Wonwoo gave Mingyu that goodbye hug, but Wonwoo is already questioning why he agreed to it. He thinks he might’ve underestimated how clingy Mingyu would become.

“Why do you need me there?” Wonwoo asks, highlighting a phrase in his book.

“Why wouldn’t I need you there? You’ve been involved with all this stuff for over a month now, and you’ve been helping protect all of us! And your-” Mingyu pauses, looks around, lowers his voice. “-your thing lets you learn more about the shadows.”

Wonwoo makes a face at the term, looking up with a scrunched nose. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not! Look, all I’m saying is your perspective would be really helpful in the meeting.” He leans in over the computer. “And I think it’s only right that my hyungs know who’s been protecting me all this time.”

Wonwoo averts his eyes, cheeks dusting pink as he focuses on his book. “Your hyungs will protect you just fine.”

“But not like you do.”

How can he just say things like that? Wonwoo wants to scream.

“When is this meeting supposed to be?” he asks.

“It’s in about an hour, actually.”

Wonwoo levels him with an unimpressed frown. “My shift ends in an hour.”

“Wow, really? What a coincidence!” Mingyu’s laugh is far too forced to be believable. At Wonwoo’s unrelenting stare, he says, “Okay, so what if I recommended eleven o’clock to the hyungs? It’s a perfectly reasonable time.”

Wonwoo sighs long and deep, perhaps a bit too dramatic. Mingyu keeps looking at him with his big, hopeful eyes, and Wonwoo already knows he’s lost.

“You can’t blame me when we’re late,” he says.

Immediately, Mingyu’s eyes light up as he grins, snaggletooth peeking through his lips. Wonwoo looks back down at his book like anything he reads will somehow be more endearing than the sight in front of him.

“Thank you, hyung!” Mingyu reaches over the monitor to hug Wonwoo’s head. He manages to knock over a cup of pens and a stack of paper in the process. “Shit, sorry!”

Wonwoo awkwardly pats Mingyu’s arm before nudging him away so he can clean up the mess. Despite himself, Wonwoo can’t fight the little smile that tugs on his lips.

“Jeonghannie hyung and Seungcheollie hyung are both really nice, I promise you won’t regret this! They might seem a bit intimidating at first, but I’ve known them since I transferred here last year and they’ve been so kind to me. You know, I think you’ll find you have a lot in common with them…”

Mingyu rambles on and off for the next hour of Wonwoo’s shift, uncaring when Wonwoo turns a page or highlights something or writes a note in the margins. Mingyu seems to talk just to talk. Still, Wonwoo tries to keep up with his tangents.

As Wonwoo gathers his things and tidies up the desk, Mingyu continues to talk about how Seungkwan left him on read and how Mingyu would never do that, ever, even to his worst enemy, because it’s just cruel—

“Are you ready to go, Gyu-yah?” Wonwoo asks as he stands and pushes in his chair. He adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose as he observes the room. “I just have to check for students and then we can leave.”

“Oh, I can go check the second floor!” Mingyu springs up from where he’d pulled up a chair.

Before he can run for the stairs, Wonwoo stops him with a gentle tug on his wrist. “Check this floor instead.”

“Why? Are you hiding something up there?”

“No, I have some books to put back.” Wonwoo picks up a couple of random books and heads for the staircase, eyeing Mingyu to make sure he stays.

When Wonwoo peeks out from the top of the stairs, his heart loud in his chest, he sees nothing out of the ordinary. No shadows slip out from the aisles of bookshelves or the display stands, and there are no suspicious figures hunched over in any of the couches or chairs or booths. There is no one at all.

Relaxing a little more, Wonwoo glances downstairs to see Mingyu flitting from aisle to aisle, nearly knocking over a sign with his shoulder. Wonwoo grins, shaking his head, and finishes checking the second floor.

“There’s nobody here, hyung,” Mingyu says when Wonwoo walks back down. “Are we all good now? Jeonghan hyung is waiting outside to drive us to his apartment.”

Wonwoo pauses, blinking owlishly. Mingyu laughs.

“I thought I told you already. Why do you look surprised?”

Wonwoo says nothing, feigning indifference as he grabs his bag and heads for the doors. He hears Mingyu continuing to laugh as he follows him out.

“He should be waiting by the fine arts building,” Mingyu says. “He has a shitty black sedan, and he’ll probably yell from the-”

“Yah! Kim Mingyu!”

Sure enough, there is a man hanging out from the window of a shitty black sedan as he yells at the top of his lungs. His features are soft, but the shit-eating grin on his face is sharp, teeth peeking out from between his lips. His hand goes towards the steering wheel.

“No! Hyung, do not honk-”

Jeonghan slams his hand on the horn, the honk reverberating for far too long before Mingyu runs at him and shoves him away from the wheel. They both fall into laughter as Jeonghan tries to get to the horn again, Mingyu holding him back.

Quietly, Wonwoo approaches the other side of the car to get into the back seat, stifling his own laughter by pressing his lips together. He can’t help the nose exhale when Jeonghan jumps as Wonwoo shuts the car door.

“You scared me! Oh, my god, when did you get here?”

“He’s like that,” Mingyu says, finally pulling away from the window to get in the car. “Jeonghannie hyung, that’s Wonwoo hyung. He’s been helping me so I invited him to the meeting.”

Wonwoo bows his head from the back seat. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

Jeonghan’s grin softens into a smile, but there’s still something mischievous about it, like he knows something Wonwoo doesn’t.

“So you’re the help Mingyu-yah told me about a month ago, hm?”

Mingyu lightly smacks his shoulder, ears red, but Wonwoo only nods.

“It really is nice to meet you, then. I have to admit I’ve been curious about the random good samaritan since he mentioned you, but he’s kept quiet about it.”

Jeonghan settles back in his seat, eyes returning to the road as he starts driving. “Tell me, Wonwoo-ssi, why did you agree to this meeting?”

“Mingyu made me.”

“Yah!” Mingyu somehow manages to twist his entire body around in his seat to glare at him. “It’s not like I threatened you-”

Wonwoo stares at him. “You manipulated me.”

“What are these lies-!”

“Did he make his eyes all big and stare at you until you gave in?” Jeonghan asks. When Wonwoo nods, Jeonghan sighs. “You’re another victim, then.”

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” Mingyu looks between them, his brow furrowed.

“Wonwoo-ssi, what are your thoughts on magic?”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise. He looks to Mingyu, but he only gives a half-shrug, shaking his head with a wrinkle of his nose as if to say, Don’t worry about it.

Jeonghan probably has magic, then, much like many of Mingyu’s other friends. But Wonwoo watches him carefully anyway, because the less people that know about Wonwoo’s magic, the better.

“It’s fine,” he says, clipped, wary.

Jeonghan is quiet for a second. “You don’t talk a lot, do you?”

“He’s not a great listener, either,” Mingyu says.

Wonwoo glares at him. “You’re the one that burst into my workplace to manipulate me into going to your meeting. I do have classwork, you know.”

“You should’ve told me to be quiet, then!”

“I didn’t mind it, but it’s hard to keep up with everything you say. And I was reading the best part of my book, so I didn’t really register what you were saying at that point.”

“How can a book be more interesting than what I was saying?”

“Any book will be more interesting than you talking about how Seungkwan hated your japchae for the millionth time.”

“Okay, well-”

“And don’t say it was because of the mushrooms. You told me three times.”

“Why do you only talk so much when you argue with me?” Mingyu whines. Wonwoo only laughs.

“It’s good to be humbled, Mingyu-yah,” Jeonghan says with a grin. “You’re lucky Wonwoo-ssi listens to you at all when you’re talking his ear off.”

“Hey-”

“Wonwoo-ssi, how old are you? Are you my age?”

“I’m twenty-two,” Wonwoo says.

Jeonghan clicks his tongue. “Ah, you’re younger than I thought.” He smiles at him through the rearview mirror. “You can call me hyung, okay? All of Mingyu’s friends seem to.”

“It’s not my fault you and Shua hyung and Seungcheol hyung are so old,” Mingyu mumbles. He yelps when Jeonghan smacks him. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry!”

“We’re older than you by two years, brat,” Jeonghan says, but he’s still smiling as he returns his hands to the wheel.

He doesn’t ask Wonwoo any more questions for the rest of the drive, instead taking to teasing Mingyu relentlessly, making him whine and pout until all he can do is sigh in exasperation. By the time they pull up to Jeonghan’s apartment complex, Mingyu is staring out the window in defeat while Jeonghan laughs at him.

“Junnie and Minghao might be in the living room,” Jeonghan says as he presses the passcode into the keypad of his apartment. “I don’t know what Shua’s doing, though. He might be asleep.”

Wonwoo’s hands shake. He pulls the cuffs of his sleeves over them. He forgot three other people lived with Jeonghan and Seungcheol; he vaguely remembers Mingyu telling him now. Shit, Wonwoo is not prepared for this.

“I’m home!” Jeonghan calls as he enters the apartment, holding the door open for Mingyu and Wonwoo.

The apartment is surprisingly nice. Pairs of shoes clutter the hallway, only getting messier as they all toe off their shoes to continue inside, and there are clothes strewn over the sofa in the living room, but it’s not dirty. There are abstract paintings along the walls and gaming consoles by the TV—a strange blend, but charming nonetheless—and Wonwoo even sees a vase of only slightly wilted flowers on the coffee table.

A chorus of greetings responds, and the man from Wonwoo’s dream comes running, silver and black hair bouncing with his movements. A big grin brightens his face, but it dims in confusion when he sees that it isn’t just Jeonghan at the door.

“Hi, hyung, hi, Mingyu,” he says anyway, but his eyes are on Wonwoo. “Who’s this?”

“This is Wonwoo,” Jeonghan says. “Mingyu’s new friend.”

Wonwoo bows his head with a quiet hello. The man quickly bows his head back.

“Welcome to the apartment,” he says, his smile shy. “I’m Wen Junhui, but everyone just calls me Jun.”

“He’s the one that-”

Wonwoo elbows Mingyu in the ribs, side-eyeing him. “I know.”

Both Jun and Jeonghan look at the two oddly but brush it aside, leading them further into the apartment. Mingyu glares at Wonwoo when they turn their backs.

The kitchen is small but looks to be well-used, mugs organized next to the spices and the condiments that have been left out. A man with faded pink hair flits between cupboards, storing away dishes from the sink. He looks up when they come in.

“Oh, hyung! There you are! Shua hyung went out to get fried chicken.” He pauses, looks at Wonwoo and Mingyu. “What are you doing here, Mingyu-yah? And who’s your friend?”

“This is Wonwoo hyung,” Mingyu says, jerking his thumb back at Wonwoo. Wonwoo bows politely once more. “He’s here to join my meeting with the hyungs.”

“Ah.” The man blinks before he smiles awkwardly, bowing his head at Wonwoo. “Nice to meet you, Wonwoo-ssi. I’m Minghao.”

“Do we have any more beer left?” Jeonghan asks, already heading towards the fridge. “I would kill for chimaek.”

“Didn’t Seungcheol hyung say we couldn’t drink during meetings?” Mingyu asks as Jeonghan pulls out a can of beer.

“Seungcheol isn’t here-”

“Yes, I am. Yoon Jeonghan, put that back.” A man seems to materialize by the coffee machine, his arms crossed.

Much like the others, this man seems a bit familiar, but he’s not smiling like he did in Mingyu’s pictures. And when he doesn’t smile, he looks extremely intimidating. Every angle of his face is sharp, especially in the harsh lighting of the kitchen.

Jeonghan, however, is unperturbed. “Yah, I paid for this-”

The can is suddenly ripped from his hand right as the fridge opens by itself. Before he can grab it, the beer is placed safely back inside and the door shuts. It takes a second for Wonwoo to realize Seungcheol’s eyes are glowing a soft indigo.

Everyone except Mingyu freezes, their eyes falling on Wonwoo like they just remembered he was there. He blinks.

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan says in a sickly sweet tone, turning his head towards the man, “we have a guest, remember?”

Minghao looks between them, then at Wonwoo, before he shakes his head with a quiet sigh and goes back to drying and sorting the dishes.

Seungcheol, to his credit, does look sheepish. He rubs the back of his head and looks away, laughing nervously. “I mean, it’s probably fine. He didn’t freak out or anything.”

“Oh! You guys are- ha! Wait a minute-” Mingyu laughs so hard he bends over. They all look at him like he’s crazy. “You guys didn’t know- didn’t know that he has magic!”

Wonwoo digs his nails into his palms but says nothing. Leave it to Mingyu to throw everything out in the open. He’s still laughing, and it’s those annoyingly adorable high-pitched giggles, so Wonwoo can’t even be mad.

Everyone relaxes, but now they look at Wonwoo curiously, questions at the tips of their tongues, and Wonwoo wants to die. Okay, no, wait, he doesn’t. He told himself he wouldn’t think like that anymore. He just wants to not be here at the moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the car?” Jeonghan asks, thankfully not sounding angry. “I literally asked you about your thoughts on magic.”

Wonwoo fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeves, unable to meet any of their eyes. They’re all too intense, too much. He inhales, exhales. He accidentally catches Mingyu’s eye when he stands back up, and the smile instantly falls from his face.

“Wonwoo hyung is- uh-” Mingyu stutters and stops, his pinky coming up to hook with Wonwoo’s. For some reason, it alleviates some of the pressure on Wonwoo’s chest. “We’ll tell you in the meeting.”

“Yes, the meeting.” Seungcheol looks at Jeonghan. He only smiles innocently at him. “We’ll have chimaek after, Hannie.”

“We’ll save you some chicken,” Minghao says.

“Sounds good to me,” Jeonghan says. “Come on, off to this meeting we go.”

As Jeonghan and Seungcheol lead the way to a different room, Wonwoo whispers in Mingyu’s ear, “Did you not tell them the nature of this meeting?”

Mingyu smiles nervously. “I thought I’d tell them the details here and not over text.”

Wonwoo stares at him. “Did you even mention the shadows? Or how you almost got killed?”

“It’s fine, hyung, I’m going to-”

“What are you two whispering about?” Jeonghan asks, a strange gleam in his eye.

Wonwoo realizes both him and Seungcheol are staring at them. More specifically, when he sees Jeonghan’s eyes slip down, they’re looking at how Mingyu’s pinky is still hooked around Wonwoo’s. Belatedly, Wonwoo steps away and crosses his arms, trying to ignore the redness on the tips of his ears. Mingyu doesn’t try to help their case, either, instead choosing to shut the door behind them.

The room is small and plain, with a twin bed pushed to the side to make room for a giant table that could seat ten people, chairs neatly pushed in. There’s a window, but the blinds are closed, and the only other things in the room are a huge tiger plushie and a couple of bean bags.

Wonwoo looks at Mingyu. Mingyu looks back, raises his eyebrows. Wonwoo makes a small gesture with his hand, encouraging him to start.

“Hyung, I always do the talking. Maybe you should do it this time,” Mingyu says.

Wonwoo sighs and turns back to the hyungs. “The shadows are back and they want to kill Mingyu and also his friends.”

There’s silence for a split second before—

“What?”

“Excuse me?”

“Okay, you could have worded that better.” Mingyu runs a hand through his hair as Jeonghan and Seungcheol continue to stare, eyes wide, brows furrowed, mouths open.

Wonwoo shrugs. “You should’ve started, then.”

“No. No, okay, hold on.” Jeonghan takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, hands splayed out like he’s trying to find his calm. “Can you- can one of you please elaborate?”

“And don’t leave anything out,” Seungcheol adds.

Mingyu and Wonwoo take turns describing recent events, though Mingyu does most of it, leaving the visions to Wonwoo. It’s hard to describe them, especially all at once like this, but Wonwoo just has to act like the deaths were part of a fantasy series and not real life. If he thinks about them too long, the reality will come crashing back down, but right now, he’s ignoring it. He also feels more and more numb as the minutes tick by, which does help.

Mingyu only talks about things relevant to the shadows, which Wonwoo is grateful for. He doesn’t talk about the wounds on Wonwoo’s arms, or how he’s witnessed Wonwoo’s panic attacks, and he doesn’t mention the night they walked back to their dorm together.

“So you’re thinking the shadows are getting stronger?” Seungcheol asks, frowning. Jeonghan chews his lip beside him at the table. “And that they’re targeting you and your friends? Us?”

“Well, Wonwoo hyung came to those conclusions, but I agree with him. It definitely seems that way.”

“Wonwoo-yah,” Jeonghan suddenly says, making Wonwoo look up from where he’d been staring at the floor. “I’d like to thank you. You’ve been putting yourself in danger for our Mingyu and our dongsaengs.”

Wonwoo’s face flushes and he immediately ducks his head. “It’s all right-”

“I swear, you can never take a compliment.” Mingyu huffs. He nudges Wonwoo’s shoulder. “Jeonghannie hyung is right. And I know your magic takes a toll on you.”

“Oh? How so?” Jeonghan leans forward.

Wonwoo instinctively leans back in his chair. “I don’t enjoy seeing people die.”

Jeonghan stares at him for a moment. “It’s not just that, is it?”

Wonwoo’s skin prickles. He feels like he’s getting picked apart, like Jeonghan can see into his very soul.

“Clairvoyance is interesting,” Jeonghan says when Wonwoo doesn’t respond. “But you don’t really agree with that term, do you? Not with how you describe your premonitions.”

“Jeonghan-”

“You point out what you see, what you hear, what you smell, but never what you touch.” Jeonghan ignores Mingyu. “It’s like you don’t really exist in your dreams. You’re only a witness to the moment, completely powerless.”

“Hyung-”

“Wonwoo-yah,” Jeonghan says, staring deep, deep, deeper into Wonwoo’s eyes, “don’t you forget that you’re alive when you live like a ghost?”

Wonwoo wants to cry. He wants to throw the chair he’s sitting in. He wants to scream until his vocal cords snap. But his eyes stay dry, and his hands stay shaking, and he feels a headache starting at the base of his skull. He has to remind himself to breathe, because he forgets, sometimes, that he isn’t a ghost. He drifts through the seasons like one, and he thinks his escape from death left him feeling colder than before, and a little more translucent, and a little more heavy.

“Hyung, seriously, what is wrong with you?” Mingyu snaps, and it’s the first time Wonwoo has heard him genuinely angry. “You started out by thanking him and now you’re- you’re doing this? Why? There’s no reason for you to be so- so…” He stumbles for a moment, speaking too quickly for the words to form. “So intrusive! He’s my friend and he’s also your guest-”

“He needed to hear it,” Jeonghan says, leaning back in his chair. “His magic will overwhelm him if he isn’t reminded.” His eyes focus on Mingyu. “Just like how I had to tell you to leave those awful friends behind. Your healing is not limitless.”

Immediately, the fire in Mingyu dies, replaced by smoldering ashes that leave the room feeling cold. A second passes, and then another, and then another before Seungcheol clears his throat.

“Jeonghan-ah just means to say that some lessons are learned the hard way, especially when it comes to magic. No one teaches you these things. He’s just looking out for you. Wonwoo, too.”

When Mingyu still doesn’t reply, Wonwoo glances at him. His eyes are downcast, his jaw clenched, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He has something to say, Wonwoo realizes, but he doesn’t know if he wants to say it.

Finally, Mingyu looks up. “Do you think one of those friends is coming after me now?”

Seungcheol and Jeonghan look at each other.

“It’s possible,” Jeonghan says. “Unless you have anyone else who wants to settle scores.”

Mingyu sighs, so heavy that his entire body moves with it, before he slumps across the table. “I don’t think I do. But I didn’t think any of those people had magic.”

“Sometimes magic develops late. Or they deliberately kept it from you. Shadow magic is always what people think of when they think of black magic, so it makes sense that they’d keep it hidden, even from you.”

“Is there a specific friend you’re thinking of?” Seungcheol asks.

Mingyu covers his face with his hands, muffling his voice. “I don’t know, I don’t know. I thought this was all behind me.”

“You did the best you could.” Jeonghan reaches out to card his fingers through Mingyu’s hair. “We had no way of knowing how they’d react when you disappeared. They weren’t supposed to find you at all.”

“Well, regular people can’t find you,” Seungcheol says. “If one of those friends is a magic user, then his magic could’ve bypassed Vernonie’s tech protections. And Shua’s charms are helpful, but they’re not fool-proof, either. We didn’t think anyone would try so hard to find you.”

“I didn’t think any of them would want to kill me!” Mingyu says, peeking out of his hands with a frown.

Jeonghan glances at Seungcheol and then back at Mingyu. “They didn’t care when you passed out from magic exhaustion, Gyu-yah,” he says gently. “And they always blackmailed you so that you’d keep healing them. None of them cared about your well-being.”

Mingyu goes quiet before softly, he says, “I know.”

His breath shakes and Wonwoo thinks he sees Mingyu’s eyes getting wet before he hides under his arms, like he’s ashamed for giving his old friends the benefit of the doubt, for crying over how he’d been wrong.

Wonwoo wants to reach out. He wants to pat Mingyu’s back or hold his hand, wants to tell him that he’s incredible for assuming the best in people because Wonwoo always assumes the worst, but he stays in his chair, still feeling far away, still feeling like he could pass through the floor and the walls if he wanted to.

“We’ll take care of this, Mingyu,” Seungcheol says, rubbing Mingyu’s shoulder. “We told you we’d protect you and we meant it. It’ll be all right.”

“Wonwoo-yah,” Jeonghan calls, “keep us updated, okay? We’ll add you to our group chat so we can all keep in contact.”

Wonwoo nods, trying to curb the panic at the idea of knowing even more people. Knowing people means knowing their deaths, putting them in danger, seeing, hearing, smelling the danger. Wonwoo is only a harbinger of doom; he is nothing more than that. How does Jeonghan not see? How does Mingyu not see?

You’re a ghost. He squeezes his hands together, palm to palm, pushes the thought away but—

“Wonwoo-yah,” Jeonghan says again, softer, kinder, “it’s okay. You don’t have to talk in it. It’s only in case of emergencies.”

Despite still being unconvinced, Wonwoo gives him his number, anyway. His voice doesn’t sound like his.

Eventually, Seungcheol coaxes Mingyu to uncurl by promising him fried chicken and ramyeon—yes, with the spicy flakes, Gyu-yah—but before Wonwoo can follow them out, Jeonghan calls him back. He doesn’t talk until the door is closed once more and Wonwoo is back in his seat.

“I’m curious about something,” Jeonghan says, relaxed. “You got into all of this by chance, didn’t you?”

Wonwoo nods.

“So you got the premonition, and then you ran after Mingyu-yah. But I have to ask, why did you decide to push him out of the way of the knife and take it instead?”

Wonwoo blinks, taken aback. “I don’t understand.”

Jeonghan laughs. “You could’ve warned him, or you could’ve pulled him away instead of pushing him. Your instinct was to get stabbed instead of him. Why?”

“It all happened quickly, I don’t know. Better me than him, I guess.” He realizes his mistake as soon as he says it.

The amusement leaves Jeonghan’s face. His brow furrows and his eyes grow a little sharper. Wonwoo shifts in his seat, uncomfortable.

“You think a stranger’s life is worth more than yours?”

Wonwoo looks down. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do.”

Wonwoo is silent.

Jeonghan sighs. “I’m not your mom or your dad or whatever else, but I am your hyung. The moment you became Mingyu’s friend, you became ours to protect, too, just like how you’ve been protecting all of us.”

Wonwoo glances up. Jeonghan smiles at him.

“You’re a good person, Wonwoo-yah. Don’t you think you should be a little kinder to yourself?”

Distantly, distantly, like thunder that rumbles far, far, farther away, there is a crack of lighting, a crack of Who the fuck do you think you are? Disgusting rat, look at you crying! You’re pathetic! How can you—

Wonwoo bows his head, hiding, curling, trembling, hating the tears that crowd his water line. He scrubs them away before they can fall.

Suddenly, there’s a pressure on his head. He blinks. He stays frozen even as he realizes it’s a hand combing through his hair, scratching at his scalp, soothing the headache that pounds behind his eyes.

“Has no one told you that before?” Jeonghan’s voice is quiet, gentle, safe.

Wonwoo only shakes his head no.

Jeonghan clicks his tongue. “We’ll have to fix that, then. You’re a sweetheart and you should know.” He adjusts Wonwoo’s bangs with careful sweeps of his fingers, smiling at him when he catches his eye.

“Mingyu told me I was nice,” Wonwoo says, hoarse, “back when we- when we first met.” He doesn’t know why he says it. Maybe it’s because he wants to show Jeonghan that he’s not a lost cause, or maybe it’s because Jeonghan’s kindness reminds him of Mingyu.

Something knowing sparkles in Jeonghan’s eye. “Gyu-yah’s a sweetheart, too. You can learn from each other. He needs someone like you.”

“Me?”

Jeonghan hums a firm yes. “He doesn’t like asking for help, and you help him without really thinking about it. You need a lot of love, and he has a lot to give.”

Wonwoo frowns. How does Jeonghan know all of this? If it weren’t for how his eyes stay brown, Wonwoo would think his magic was mind reading. (Perhaps a bit purposefully, Wonwoo ignores the mention of love. His heart replies in his chest with a staccato ba-bump ba-bump, but he ignores that, too.)

“Have you eaten?” Jeonghan suddenly asks, stretching out his arms above his head as he stands. “Shua-yah should be back by now.”

Before Wonwoo can answer, Jeonghan has already walked out the door, leaving it open. Voices echo from outside, laughter mixing with teasing lilts, and it takes a moment for Wonwoo to gather himself before he walks out, too.

“Wonwoo hyung!” Mingyu yells when Wonwoo enters the kitchen. “Did Jeonghannie hyung say anything mean to you? Or manipulate you? He has a way with words. And he’s a chronic liar.”

There are plastic bags strewn across the counters, boxes of different flavors of chicken opened next to various sauces. Mingyu has a plate already, chopsticks squeezing a piece of chicken as he chews, eyes bright and smile wide as he looks at Wonwoo.

(Ba-bump ba-bump, sings Wonwoo’s heart.

Hush, Wonwoo says.)

Jun and Minghao were talking to each other as Minghao stirred a pot of ramyeon, but they both give matching smiles to Wonwoo when he comes in before returning to their conversation. Seungcheol laughs with someone Wonwoo doesn’t recognize in the living room, his hair dark and his eyes pretty. This must be the famed Shua, then.

“Be quiet,” Jeonghan tells Mingyu, eyes narrowed, lips upturned into a sly smile. “I’d never manipulate our Wonwoo, unlike you.”

“What?” Mingyu drops his chicken on his plate. “Are you still going on about that? I don’t know what hyung was talking about! I just asked him to come with-”

“Oh, you’re back!” Seungcheol bounces into the kitchen. “We were talking about what movie to watch.”

Shua follows him, a gentle smile on his face that grows when his gaze locks onto Wonwoo. He bows his head in greeting, which Wonwoo quickly returns.

As Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Mingyu discuss movies, Shua approaches Wonwoo and says, “Welcome to our home. I’m Jisoo, but I prefer to go by Joshua. You’re Wonwoo, right?”

Wonwoo hums with a nod.

“Seungcheol-ah and Mingyu-yah were talking about you when I got here,” Joshua says, his eyes softening. “They said you’ve helped us from behind the scenes for a while now. Thank you.” He bows his head again.

Wonwoo flushes pink and waves his hands. “Oh, no! No, it’s all right, seriously. You don’t need to thank me.”

“I do, though! You deserve gratitude for your kindness, you know?” His face darkens, his smile becoming strained. “Without you, who knows what could’ve happened.”

I know exactly what would’ve happened, Wonwoo doesn’t say. Joshua already looks disturbed just by the thought.

“While you were in the meeting, I made this.” Joshua pulls a bracelet out of his pocket, made out of colorful beads and smiley face and flower charms. A black cat charm dangles in between two dark blue beads. It takes a second for Wonwoo to realize Joshua is holding it out to him.

“For me?” Wonwoo asks, eyes wide, hesitantly accepting it.

“Yes,” Joshua says, amused. “I had to ask Mingyu for help since he knows you the best. He said your magic is dark blue like the night sky, and that you remind him of a black cat.” He laughs. “Now that I’ve met you, I do kind of see it.”

“You made this that fast?” Wonwoo asks, clutching the bracelet with gentle fingers. “It’s really pretty.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Joshua looks at him fondly. “My magic is charm work, so it was no problem at all. This bracelet should act as protection for you. Always wear it. If it breaks or falls off, it did its job. I gave one to Mingyu, too.”

Wonwoo chews his lip, glancing at Jun. He’s still smiling and laughing with Minghao, cutting a green onion with ease. Wonwoo looks back at Joshua.

“Do you- do you think you could give one to Jun-ssi?”

Joshua tilts his head. “Why? Does he need one?”

Wonwoo runs his thumb over the beads of his bracelet. “I think so.”

He still remembers the fear and resolve in Jun’s eyes when Wonwoo had the premonition of Seokmin dying. Wonwoo knows Seokmin will heed his advice and cancel the plans he had with Jun, but something in Wonwoo’s gut still churns uneasily. The certainty that Jun is next, that he is in danger—it is so visceral that Wonwoo feels it in his bones.

“All right, I’ll make him one, then.” Joshua agrees so easily, so simply, with curiosity in his eyes but no questions leaving his lips. He trusts him, Wonwoo realizes.

“Thank you, Joshua-ssi,” he says with a small dip of his head.

“Oh, no need to be so formal,” Joshua says with a kind smile. “Seungcheol-ah referred to you as a dongsaeng, so that means I’m your hyung, too. Let me know if you need help with anything.”

“Guys, the ramyeon is ready!” Minghao calls, turning the stove off.

He’s met with loud cheers as Mingyu, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan crowd the kitchen. Jun is one of the loudest even as he finishes the ramyeon off with a few more pieces of green onion.

“You haven’t eaten yet, right?” Joshua asks Wonwoo, already heading towards the opposite counter where boxes of chicken still sit. “Here, I got a few different flavors. Eat a lot, okay?”

“Wonwoo hyung!” Mingyu sing-songs, grin so wide that his snaggletooth is on full display—ba-bump ba-bump—as he carries two bowls of ramyeon towards them. “I got you ramyeon! Junnie hyung said you get the bigger portion, though, since you’re our special guest.”

“You didn’t get me any?” Joshua asks with a teasing smile, oddly similar to Jeonghan.

“Ey, you have legs, hyung,” Mingyu says, waving a dismissive hand. “And I’m sure Seungcheollie hyung or Jeonghannie hyung got you some already.”

Joshua laughs as he walks further into the kitchen, only to have a bowl forced into his hands by Jeonghan. Mingyu snickers.

“Oh! Shua hyung gave you your bracelet!” He reaches out to inspect Wonwoo’s wrist but he quickly shies away. Mingyu’s brow furrows, confused.

“It’s pretty,” Wonwoo says, instead sliding off the bracelet to show him. Mingyu is quickly distracted by all the beads and charms.

“I can’t believe he actually had a black cat charm!” He giggles. “And look, hyung, aren’t these beads the same exact color as your magic? They’re gorgeous!”

Wonwoo blinks. Did Mingyu just imply that his magic was gorgeous? No, no, Mingyu was referring to the color, not the magic specifically, so that wasn’t really what he meant, right? For some reason, Wonwoo finds himself flustered anyway.

“Yah, do we have no kimchi in this house?” Jeonghan calls from where he’s crouched down by the fridge.

“I could’ve sworn Channie’s grandmother sent us some a week ago,” Seungcheol answers from the living room. “Did we use all of it?”

Something warm, soft, sweet settles in Wonwoo’s chest at the domestic chatter. He feels like he’s been thrown back in time, back to a well-stocked kitchen in Changwon as his mother hums along to the radio as she uses all of the burners on the stove. Sometimes, she seemed like she had more than two hands, always darting around the kitchen, gathering spices and mincing garlic and dicing vegetables and plating banchan. Wonwoo would try to help, but she’d only smile at him and say, No, no, my Woo-yah, you just sit there and look adorable, hm? You’re good at that.

“Do you not like it?” Mingyu asks, bringing Wonwoo back to the present.

“I haven’t tried it yet,” he says, swirling the ramyeon with his chopsticks.

“Hurry and eat it! You’re built like a stick, hyung.”

Wonwoo glares at him before he takes a big bite. It’s warm, and spicy, and when Mingyu smiles at him in satisfaction, it feels like home.