u_yy = y u_xx

His fingers are cramping, but he can’t stop. Not now, while he has the momentum. Surely if he stops now, it’ll take ages and self-bribery to regain motivation, hence the growing stack of graded quizzes to the left of him and the small pile of ungraded ones to the right.

“Ah, maybe thirty? It’s a pretty big class; college algebra, usually for freshmen. And it isn’t multiple choice either, so I actually gotta read their answers and stuff.” He doesn’t look up when he speaks, or rather briefly rambles without taking a breath. Pleasantly oblivious to the growing number of little paper squares clinging to his back, Jaeho dramatically smacks down yet another graded quiz to the appropriate pile with a loud and proud ‘hah!’ “Almost done!” ‘Almost’ is a bit of a stretch.

tagged by: @spellbks​ (thank you!!)

tagging: recent followers // @hyeshire​ @doodlebeans​ @thusvitaest​ @98chu​ @rvciere​

His world was crashing down on him. Just like that one time when he accidentally ran head first into a pole via his skateboard. Except this time, he hadn’t crumbled to the ground with a concussion. Yes, he ended on the ground. But this time, it was with a heartache (and a bit of pain in his knees from landing on them weirdly drama-style).

He hoped it wasn’t true. Prayed, even. Or maybe not, since that’s a little too dramatic. But he definitely hoped with all his might. Maybe it was a prank – a sick April Fools’ Day prank almost two months too late. Or, perhaps, about ten or so months too early.

But, alas.

Almost seven whole years. A drawer full of albums his fiancée sometimes poked fun at. Posters on the wall beside his desk his fiancée also poked fun at. And now, it was over. The end was near.

Oh, the humanity!

He had to be strong. That’s what they would’ve wanted. Sure, he’ll be strong. Strong and bitter, like cheap off-brand coffee from a convenience store.

This boy’s transparent. Taemin is having a hard time controlling his expression– he can’t take this kid seriously in the slightest. Admittedly, there’s a certain charm to this. The stranger seems like the type that you could effortlessly be friends with. Especially if you’re the quiet type and you need someone that will make up over 90% of the conversation. His lanky legs, wrapped tight in black fabric smattered with small tears to reveal milky skin, stretch out lazily under the table, one ankle crossing over the other, and he tames his smug grin, sharp gaze lingering on his opposite’s sweet face.

“Let’s start from the top. You shouldn’t have to force yourself to control the dream. Take the potion, and if it’s meant to be it’ll be. Though– if you dream about changing some other physical aspect of yourself, you’re out of luck. Say good bye to your height. But your subconscious most likely wanted.. whatever other change it was, in the first place.” He pauses, thick lips pressing into a thin line. Don’t laugh, Taemin. Don’t laugh. You’ll give it away. “And, uh– These potions have been around for eons. The formulas for them aren’t to be tampered with. If you want vanilla and chocolate, go to Baskin Robbins and eat your feelings when you feel sad over being so adorably short. But if you want change, you gotta tolerate the sour, the bitter, the gross.” He smacks a warm palm against the tabletop, it makes the bottle jump a bit in its spot. “With this.”

He ignores the bit about the friend– let’s not play around here. But there’s something nagging in the back of his brain. Remember that demon you wanted to summon? This kid could make a good offering, right? His lips purse to the side. “Huh, maybe..” It’s a quiet murmur to himself.

“There’s a spell we could try. But it requires quiet and privacy. Wouldn’t do well to do it out here.”

That’s a little concerning. What if he accidentally dreams about his feet and wakes up with bigger ones? Then none of his socks would fit. What a stressful concept. The thought causes his brow to furrow in the middle in slight distress. After all, socks are very important. Plus the male would look exceptionally disproportional with short legs and big feet, like a duck. He’s about to shift into extreme daydreaming mode when the other’s palm so abruptly smacks the table and snaps the male back to reality with a jolt of the body and a soft yelp. “You sure it’d be bad to add flavouring to it? I mean, flavoured water is a thing. It’s still water, but tastes like grapes. Or I guess it probably added a few calories, so it isn’t exactly the same water from before.” Upon realizing he’s just answered his question, Jaeho’s quick to wave a hand about, as if to shoo it away. “Ah, never mind, never mind! Dumb question!”

How long’s this guy been staring? Taemin’s been through an entire palm reading already, and this shorty is still standing in the same spot on the sidewalk like he’s glued there. Taemin’s third eye flutters open, peeking, and it tells him that this kid is.. Strange. A few words jump out at him like bold text in the middle of a thick novel. Easy. Gullible. Living in the moment. Impulsive. Irresponsible. Lazy. It makes the blonde prop his chin up, almond colored gaze lingering on the stranger, a hint of interest sparking in his chest. Well– the easy part has Taemin interested, anyways. If this guy’s got money to give, why not make him turn out his pockets? And.. Awh. What a cute bow.

A honey sweet smile splits across his face when the kid opens their mouth, asking about potions. Rambling about height. Taemin leans back in his seat, clearing his throat a little bit. “For a really short friend, of course.” He bends to the side a bit, grabbing his bag from the ground to bring out a small vial, the liquid inside colored lime bright green, fizzing. He sets it on the counter. “I’ve got this, for the brave.” He starts explaining– “If you drink it before bed and dream about the one physical characteristic you wish to change, it shall be granted.” Oh, it’s bullshit. A bottle of lies for 16,000 won. “There’s ground newt and ginseng, willow dust and a few other secret ingredients.” More lies. It’s just redbull energy drink and lime juice, hexed with an incantation that will make whoever drink it hallucinate. If he thought this guy would know better, or if this guy had any real troubles or needs, then maybe Taemin would bring out the real stuff. But when it comes to flagrant wishes and cosmetic whinings, he tends to just.. Con people. Fake it ‘til you make it.

“But, unfortunately, the effects are temporary.” And if it was a real potion to make you taller, your joints might turn to jelly after forty eight hours, he tacks on mentally.

Naturally, Jaeho doesn’t suspect a thing. He simply flops down in that chair, soles of his sneakers barely brushing against the ground as he swings his legs back and forth out of habit like a child. He isn’t sure what to expect – maybe the guy will laugh at him or tell him such a potion doesn’t exist and his ‘friend’ should resort to insoles instead (as if Jaeho hasn’t tried those before). Instead, he’s both pleasantly and confusedly surprised with a hint of fear when some dangerous looking liquid is place before him. Jaeho doesn’t even attempt to mask his in-awe-and-slightly-fearful expression and his lips part to comment on the vial, something along the lines of ‘it looks like acid!’ or an equally as idiotic remark. Fortunately though, Jaeho shuts his mouth at the very last second. Who knows how sensitive the other guy could be? What if he takes it the wrong way and waves some magic wand and gives Jaeho rabbit ears or a carrot for a nose? That isn’t a risk he’s willing to take.

       a quick sigh of relief resounds from hyejin, trying to stand back up with her tray in one hand, and the other holding onto the wall. she just slightly laughs, “yeah… daniel makes me wear these. i’m new to working for him so i’m not really used to wearing them.” the thing is, she is the first female that daniel has ever turned. she was his personal slave to his every need. you can tell it in her eyes that she doesn’t like it there. as she tries to stand up, she falls back down, letting out a miserable groan. her ankles hurt, her feet have huge blisters, but it doesn’t matter to daniel. 

      “hyejin!” daniel’s booming voice resounds from the kitchen and the girl’s eyes grow wide as saucers, she stands this time after awhile of wobbling. “i’ll be right back with you a drink,” she says, shuffling towards the kitchen. shoving and slapping occurs, mostly at the dismay of hyejin, and so she comes back with a few drinks, handing the man she had just met one. “it’s a tequila sunrise.” the only thing she knew how to make. “you’ll like it, just trust me.” her cheek was red, but she is acting normal despite it. “i’m hyejin, if daniel didn’t already spoil that for you.” she laughs lightly, it’s fake as hell but she has to be nice to the guests.

Jaeho may not be exceptionally attentive, but he can definitely tell something’s up. The way the girl laughs, the look in her eyes. Something clearly is wrong. He isn’t intoxicated and blindly assuming this, simply because he’s taken on the role of his coworker’s caregiver (that is assuming the guy won’t go home with some girl later tonight, thus freeing Jaeho’s from his babysitting duties), so that isn’t the case. “Daniel? Is that the guy hosting this thing? I don’t really know anyone.” He’s on his feet to lend a hand to the female when a distant voice even causes his own eyes to widen yet again. That tends to be a typical look for the little guy.

“Okay, so would you rather walk on the beach with Lee Minho, go to an amusement park with Park Bo Gum, a garden with Lee Jong Suk, or none of the above?” Maybe it isn’t exactly the most masculine activity he can partake in. But Jaeho’s stopped caring about silly things like that eons ago. Hair up and out of his face via one single miniature ponytail with a bow on the top of his head, he’s leaned back in his seat, short legs propped up before him. “Lee Minho-ssi, huh?” he murmurs with a small click of the tongue of disapproval, “isn’t he kinda old now? As in almost forty? And isn’t he still dating Suzy or something too? I don’t keep up with these things. You’re lucky I even recognize their names.”

He really should be saving his money to buy cat food and people food and all sorts of other necessities. Maybe he should even save enough to finally pay off those student loans so his former money hungry undergraduate school will stop sending him nonsense once a month. And yet there he is, clutching a plastic bag full of unnecessary snacks and slightly gawking at some guy reading palms and other, according to Kim Jaeho, ‘neat stuff,’ for a small fee.

Now, Jaeho isn’t too sure how much he believes. He’s a man of science. Kind of. A man of numbers and computations. Surely the average human wouldn’t be capable of figuring out when another person would get married or die or become bald. Unfortunately, while Jaeho is particularly skilled number-wise and has the degree to prove it, he’s about as gullible as a five year old and easily swept up in things like this, hence the reason why he bounds towards the male’s table, body instantly lurching forward in a polite, yet far too formal bow of greeting.

Mm! It’s a legitimate concept, and I laugh every time I hearabout it because I’m twelve years old.

Hold onto your socks, sonny, we’re gonna learn some upperlevel topology today.