☆⋆｡ellie𖦹°‧★

edith academy is bigger than you imagined.

your trunk drops to the floor as you gape at the towers. you’ve heard stories from your mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight of the world’s leading academy for magic users. 

"it never gets old,” jaehyun sighs, staring wistfully at the gold towers. ribbons cascade over the entrance and wind up to read ‘WELCOME’ in large letters. pixies and sprites zoom past you, and one of them deposits a cupcake in your hands. the rainbow sprinkles dance in the frosting and eventually settles into a crooked ‘HELLO!’.

"you’ll want tea with that,” jaehyun conjures up a teaset from thin air and your jaw hits the floor. you’re still a rookie in witch terms - you could only levitate objects and summon them from across the room. object teleportation was still a work in progress.

jaehyun chuckles at your reaction and offers you a teacup. you hold it as he pours piping hot tea into it. you take a cautious sip and it tastes of strawberries and roses.

"here, let me show you around,” he flips his hands and the teapot disappears. a flick of his fingers and your trunk levitates.

"i still have to hold my hands out to levitate things,” you say, your mouth full of cupcake that seems to switch flavours everytime you chew.

"you’ll learn to do stuff like this pretty quickly,” jaehyun offers you a comforting smile, "and soon you’ll be one of the greatest witches the world has ever seen!”

… "so this is the dining hall.”

jaehyun pushes open the doors and you’re immediately hit with the smell of food. your stomach growls, even after you’ve stuffed yourself with cupcake and tea. 

"the food is adjusted based on your preferences,” jaehyun waves in the direction of the food bar, "so if you like it spicy, it’ll be spicy. if you don’t, well, they’ll try to make it as milque toast as possible.”

you watch as a ladle lifts itself into the air and plops a spoonful of rice onto a plate, dousing it in sriracha before the plate gently floats away.

"the plates are always warm for hot dishes, and it’ll come over to your seat automatically, since it’s synced to your magic signal,” jaehyun waves his hand around his head, and you watch the plate of red rice float past a plate of plain rice before landing on a table.

"once you’re done unpacking, we should go get dinner together,” jaehyun beams reassuringly, "in about… two hours?”

"sure,” you hope you aren’t drooling, "i’d love to.”

“mom!” you yell into your mirror, hands gripped on the handle.

your mother’s forehead stares back at you, obviously - your distress is not one of her priorities.

“why is taesan in my room?” you angle the mirror so your mom can see taesan in the frame, and when you stare accusingly at him all he does is lick his paw non-chalantly.

“and just because you wrote a note pretending to be him doesn’t make me forgive you!” you grip the note in your hand, a rough ‘human, you forgot to take me with you.’ scrawled onto it. your mother must have written it with her non-dominant hand to get the ugly looking handwriting.

“i’m sorry, sweetie,” your mom finally floats into view, her hair frizzy and purple from an experiment, “i kept him inside! but he just exploded into silver glitter and disappeared!”

she showed you the kitchen floor, covered in said silver glitter. you watch as taesan shakes and more silver glitter dislodge from his fur and all you can do is sigh. 

“i’m telling you. he’s your familiar - your lucky charm.”

“but we’re not allowed pets, and you gave me him!”

your mother shrugs, “- to protect you. have you considered he’s just doing his job?”

you frown. technically protecting you and following you around was taesan’s job as a familiar. you weren’t really sure how a cuddly black cat could do anything to protect you - he lives off fatty tuna and wacky bed-times, and would probably abandon you in a cave for the concept of a tube of churu.

“fine,” you huff, more at taesan than your mother, “but if you cause any trouble i’m sending you straight home.”

taesan just flops onto your bed and settles in, obviously not at all discomforted by the sudden change in environment and your accusatory tone.

“you can try, but he’ll find his way back to you no matter what,” your mother scrunches up her nose, “even if it means he explodes into glitter every time.”

she sighs, “there has to be a spell to clean this up, right?”

you end the call through her mumbles.

you stare at taesan and sigh, scratching him behind the ear. his midnight black fur is soft to the touch and he blinks slowly at you, obviously pleased by your scratches.

for a moment, the shadows flicker, and they seem to stretch longer than they should. taesan’s ears twitches and he hisses as his head swivels to the corner of the room.

“what’s wrong, baby?” you follow his gaze, but there’s nothing there.

“are you seeing ghosts? they did say this place was haunted,” you wonder out loud, and you shudder when a chill runs down your spin.

taesan settles back down, but his tail flicks in agitation.

“calm down, taesanie,” you pet his coat. when you pull your hand away and it's covered in glitter.

you wrinkle your nose.

“you need a bath.”

taesan yowls.

“no, no alcohol, please,” the champagne bottle freezes in mid-air and turns it’s mouth towards you, tilting slightly as if to ask - seriously? you’re not getting champagne? it drifts back dejectedly into the ice bucket and bottles of various drinks jump up, each vying for attention.

you’re dizzy by the selection and you blurt out - “apple juice, thank you!” 

the carton quickly leaps into action and gurgles apple juice into the wine glass, it floats gently into your hands and you grip the stern uncertainty - you were for sure not in the budget to be breaking crystal glassware. 

jaehyun waves you over to a table, his wine glass sloshing with red wine (or cranberry juice, who knows). you avoid a plate that would’ve decapitated you if you hadn’t ducked in time as you maneuver your way to his table,

“the food’s gonna be here soon!” jaehyun announces as you slip onto the bench opposite him, “you gotta try the tteokbokki!”

“sounds good!” you try to speak over the incessant chatter, “but this seems kind of dangerous!”

you stare at the tongs behind the dinner bar furiously moving at inhuman speeds to dump vegetables and meats onto plates as the plates swerve out of the way of students and launch themselves into the air overhead.

“oh, you’ll get used to it,” jaehyun takes a sip of his wine, “it calms down after -”

someone shrieks. there’s a resounding bang that echoes around the hall as mashed potatoes and gravy fly into the air.

“- after the first week,” jaehyun finishes, sighing and shaking his head as people start swearing and conjuring magic spells. mops come waddling into the hall, their mop heads wetly slapping across the marble as they wriggle through the crowd to clean up the mess, shooing students away (‘more trouble than help,’ jaehyun quips, as you hear someone yell - ‘wait! let me practice my art spell!’)

you laugh behind your hand as you avoid another panicked plate whizzing overhead, “i can see why!”

“jaehyun!”

jaehyun yelps and nearly falls off the bench when someone suddenly slams their hand on his shoulder.

“whoops, sorry,” a ginger laughs as he steps back.

“riwoo, my love!” jaehyun recovers quick enough, picking himself off the floor and throwing his arms around riwoo.

riwoo stares at you awkwardly as jaehyun squeezes him.

“is he always like this?”

“always,” riwoo mouths, before clearing his throat, “okay, that’s enough.”

riwoo peels jaehyun away from him with his fingers.

“this your new little?” riwoo flashes a smile at you, “i’m riwoo.”

“hi,” you beam at him, and he laughs.

“she’s just like you, jaehyun.”

“i know,” jaehyun puffs out his chest proudly.

“oh, this is my little,” riwoo points at the guy behind him, who breaks out of his fazed expression and nods his head in greeting, “well, he’s actually on exchange from smiths. my big little - he’s a fourth year.”

“learning about the fun parts of the world, eh?” jaehyun wiggles his eyebrows.

the blonde laughs awkwardly, “well, yeah. i always wanted to be a witch growing up.”

“who knows,” you wink conspiratorially, “maybe you’ll figure out you have magic all along while you’re here!”

“oh, maybe,” his smile falters, and you wonder if you’ve hit a nerve, “i’m sungho, by the way.”

“hi sungho,” you and jaehyun both chirp at the same time and riwoo laughs, sliding in next to jaehyun, leaving sungho to awkwardly squeeze onto your bench. you heat up at how his shoulder nudges against you, and it registers in your brain that his shoulder are actually, very, nicely broad. it’s always just been your mom and you, and then taesan a few years ago. you can’t remember the last time you’ve been this close to someone else, much less a man.

you take a deep breath and subtly try to fan your face as your plate of food wafts slowly in front of you and jaehyun, spices mingle in the air as riwoo’s plate comes zooming over, nearly crashing into the table and spilling his fried chicken over the table.

“oops, sorry. i should’ve let you put yours on my signal,” riwoo looks at sungho apologetically.

“don’t worry, i’ll go get it myself,” sungho sighs, shaking his head as he pushes himself off the table, “you magic people have it so easy.”

jaehyun laughs at how sungho saunters off and fights with a plate floating dejectedly near the dinner bar. you watch him wave his arms around in argument with the plate, who keeps dodging out of his hands, and look around in embarrassment before wrestling it back to your table.

“it’s no fair. why don’t you guys have non-animated plates?” sungho huffs, blowing a piece of hair out of his eyes. he slams the plate down on the wood grain.

“you’ll learn to accept it eventually,” riwoo chuckles.

“so, if you’re from smiths, that means you’re, like, super smart, right?” jaehyun points a fork at sungho, who pushes his peas around the plate.

sungho shrugs, “i’m just good at maths and numbers.”

“what do you do anyways?” you lean forward on your elbows.

“i study architecture,” sungho stabs a tteokbokki with his fork, “i’m here studying the - uh, architecture in magical contexts.”

“so you look at buildings?” jaehyun snorts, “sounds boring.”

“it’s fun!” sungho says defensively, “you look at how buildings are built, why they made decisions that way, and watching people live in that space is honestly a great feeling.”

“wow, so how does magical architecture differ from…” you pause, “normal architecture?”

“well, normal architecture doesn’t attack you for one thing,” sungho laughs, “the doorframe of my dorm moved to hit me, i swear. i’m being bullied by the architecture.”

you watch his eyes light up, “but the shapes are different - because you guys don’t have to rely on man-made machinery and motor skills to build things, so you guys were building things that we were just figuring out recently.”

“you guys are way behind,” riwoo snorts, flourishing a napkin out of nowhere to dab at his mouth.

“we’re independent,” sungho purses his lips as jaehyun slaps riwoo on the arm (‘we’re not allowed to say that to the normies, riwoo,’ jaehyun hisses).

“but still, it’s cool what you can do with magic,” sungho smiles wistfully at you, and you feel yourself being drawn in by his eyes.

“are you sure you don’t have magic? you have very charming eyes,” you suddenly blurt out before slapping a hand over your mouth, your eyes wide. sungho blinks in shock while jaehyun bursts into laughter.

“sorry, i didn’t know why i said that.”

sungho laughs too, not at you, just softly, like you two are sharing an inside joke, “no, it’s okay.”

there’s an odd feeling inside your stomach - the type your mother calls stomach whirlies and butterflies wings.

“have we met before?” you suddenly ask.

“us?” sungho looks taken aback, “um, have we?”

you frown, “i can’t remember.”

you wince as a sudden sharp pain drives itself through your forehead, your hands coming up to cradle your head.

“you okay?” sungho asks, eyes wide.

“i’m okay,” the pain disappeared as quickly as it appeared, “just a headache.”

“are - are you sure?” sungho peers at you, hands hovering uncertainly.

“hands off the girl!” jaehyun booms suddenly, springing up from the chair. he points a finger at you and you can feel his magic sparking off his fingers. it creates a soothing feeling in between your brows and you feel yourself physically relax.

“what was that?” you gawk at him.

“it’s a little soothing spell,” jaehyun gives a self-satisfied smirk as he sits back down, “you’ll learn it in spells for healing soon. that’s what got me through my first year of school.”

“how come you guys just get to magic headaches away,” sungho mutters, pushing at his peas with his fork.

“you should drink more water,” he adds, clearing his throat, “it’ll -”

“guys, look, shooting star!” riwoo interrupts your conversation and points out the window. bright lights streak across midnight blue and you see jaehyun immediately clasp his hands together and make a wish.

riwoo stares at you curiously after he’s muttered something that sounds suspiciously like ‘first place. beat leehan at every game’.

“are you not making a wish?”

you give him a tight smile, “i don’t really believe in shooting stars, they never work anyways.”

you freeze in the middle of your room. you’ve put a name to the feeling - deja vu.

taesan cautiously chirps at you when you throw your clothes into the air, frustrated by the snail's pace you’ve been unpacking at - where’s a spell when you need one?

“kitty,” you squeeze taesan in your arms as you collapse onto the bed, smooching him on the forehead, “i have this strange feeling, like i’ve met sungho before.”

taesan nips you in the palm and you release him, “ow! what the hell, sanie?”

he’s never bit you before, but now he looks awfully proud of himself as he licks his fur.

“what was that for?”

taesan turns his butt towards you in response, and you laugh in disbelief.

“you’re a wicked cat, you know that?”

you wag your finger at him and pull it away quickly as he suddenly turns to bite the tip of your finger off. his licks his jowls happily and you give him a rough ruffle on his tiny head as a punishment.

“truce, my lord,” you laugh, and taesan starts making biscuits on your pillow. you take it as a sign of peace.

“goodnight, taesanie. i love you,” you blow out the candle next to the bedside table as you snuggle into your plush pillow, he meows softly in response and you hear him do his usual routine of prowling around the perimeter of your room and sniffing at shadows before leaping back onto your bed. you listen to how he shuffles and gingerly bites down a corner of your blanket and drag it over your shoulder.

you’re nearly asleep when you hear taesan hiss - low and threatening. you barely manage to blink an eye open, and when you do you see taesan at the foot of your bed, fur bristled, staring into a corner of the room.

“taesan?” you mumble, halfway off to dreamland.

he doesn’t respond, staring straight into the corner. after a long moment, he settles down with a dissatisfied mrrow, placing him between you and whatever was disturbing him in the corner of the room.

“silly cat,” you mumble, eyes shut again, words slurring, “protecting me from bed bugs.”

taesan doesn’t sleep. his copper coin eyes glowing in the darkness and fixed on the shadows until dawn.

you wake up to taesan staring at you, cutting off your oxygen as he sits squarely on your chest.

“i’m up, i’m up,” you grumble, shooing him away. taesan paws at you pointedly as you hurry to open up a can of cat food and scrape it in his food bowl.

“there. satisfied, your highness?” you place your hands at your hips as you watch him chow down on his breakfast. 

“i’ve got class all day today, so you better behave yourself and not cause any trouble,” you start throwing clothes onto the bed - a jacket (is the print too on the nose?), a shirt (is this too formal?), and you labour over which shoes to wear. taesan licks his mouth clean as he peers at you curiously.

“what do you think?” you hold up your options, “the sneakers that match my eyes or the boots that make me seem cool?”

taesan patters over and paws at the sneakers.

“okay, okay, thank you, my fashion stylist,” you lean to give him one last pet on the head and he purrs into your palm, rubbing his cheek against it with his tail high in the air like an antenna. you giggle at how easy it is to butter him up.

“and make my bed for me!” you give him one last plea, grabbing your book bag as the door magically swings open. you swear taesan rolls his eyes at you but the door slams shut before you can actually check.

“so do the beds here make the bed for you on their own?” someone asks as you try to slip on a shoe.

“huh?” you look up and slip, falling into sungho’s awaiting arms.

“sorry!” you dart back just as quickly.

“no worries,” sungho gives you an easy-going smile, “i guess uneven cobblestone you can trip on is a common here too.”

you definitely didn’t trip over a rock, but you’re grateful for sungho’s out.

“do you live here too?”

“just down the hall,” he tilts his head, “so do the beds magically make themselves? did i just waste five minutes trying to wrestle the bedsheet down?”

you feel embarrassment crawl up your neck, “uh, no.”

“oh,” sungho frowns, “i thought these were single rooms.”

“um, someone stayed overnight,” you rush out. technically, taesan was a someone, he was just a cat.

an unreadable feeling appears on sungho’s face.

“i see,” he says, suddenly sharp.

“please don’t snitch on me!” you clasp your hands together.

“i’m not that boring,” sungho smiles teasingly, and his hand reaches out to ruffle your hair.

the both of you stare at each other at the sudden movement.

“um,” sungho starts, drawing his hand away in embarrassment, “sorry.”

“no, it’s okay,” you suddenly feel shy and you look away, staring at the floor, but the uneven cobblestone tiles remind you of him, so instead you settle for staring pointedly at cream walls of stone blocks.

sungho clears his throat in an attempt to break the awkward silence, “i think we’re walking to the same class.”

you register the empty hall around you, “oh! transfiguration!”

you look at him, suddenly worried, “but you can’t do transfiguration.”

sungho laughs, “i’m just watching. as long as you don’t turn me into a frog, i think i’m fine.”

you give him a cheeky smile as you push open the doors - “no promises.”

“guess you’ll just have to kiss me back into a human.”

“ew!” you wince at the thought, “sorry, i’m kissing no frog, even if you are the frog.”

sungho laughs, the sound carefree and loud.

sungho settles into the stool next to you naturally, and you watch as the teacher stalks in and shuts the door with a loud bang. he takes a survey of the classroom, disappearing completely behind the stalk of books and papers on his desk.

“morning, new class,” you strain to see him over his stack of papers, but give up when all you can catch a glimpse of is a tuft of hair, “welcome to transfiguration. now, would anyone like to start us off with a definition?”

you see a girl’s hand shoot up.

“hm,” the teacher’s eyes appeared over his stack of papers, “yes, miss eunchae?”

“the ability to alter anything into new forms,” she shoots off quickly.

“a textbook definition,” he applauds slowly, and everyone else joins in hesitantly.

“now, a teacup in front of you,” his stack wavers slightly as he waves a hand in the air and a white teacup suddenly pops in existence, it rattles as it drops onto the table. sungho sucks in a breath as you immediately push your fingers in its direction - you can feel the radiation of magic simmering out of it and you shudder at how intense it feels.

“now, class,” professor lee claps his hands, “turn it into a rat.”

you feel sweat trickle down your back at the assignment. you haven’t done a single lick of complex transfiguration before, the closest thing you’ve ever done was turn a red rose blue. you weren’t even sure where to start, but professor lee seems far too occupied with his papers to care.

you let your magic pulse between your fingers as you hold them around the porcelain, it hums against the signal of the cup, vibrating like a taut guitar string. you rack your head and try to think back on how you turned the rose blue - it was like you just thought it into existence. you purse your lips - imagining a rat - um, gray, big, with whiskers and a tail. you close your eyes and try your best to imagine a rat in your head.

you crack an eye open. still a teacup. 

sungho stifles a laugh as you sigh.

you screw your eyes shut as you try again, this time, you bend your magic around the teacup, and slowly mold into the shape of a rat. you hear a squeak from behind you and sungho’s quiet whoa. it grew a snout, and you frown at the fact that someone has already grown a snout. your magic continues to hum but nothing changes.

“remember,” professor lee’s voice rings out, “transfiguration is all about believing in and understanding both objects. to alter a teacup into a rat, you must know the teacup intimately, and the rat intimately. only then, can you change one into another.”

you pop your eyes open and look around - eunchae has a tail, and the guy next to you has whiskers. everyone around you seems to have managed something, but your teacup just stares at you mockingly.

you stare at the porcelain china. you know its a teacup. it’s made of white porcelain, and rimmed in blue and gold. you drink tea out of it, and you know that if you drop it onto the floor it’ll shatter. you know all these things about it, but apparently not enough.

besides you, sungho has already started on his notes, scribbling away despite the fact you have not even changed the colour of the teacup, much less ta-da’d it into a rat.

“having trouble?” he whispers, quirking up a smile at you.

“no,” you lie, staring at the teacup as if you could will it into rodent form.

sungho glances between your teacup and eunchae’s - a monstrosity of a teacup with a tail and flailing paws, “you’re overthinking it.”

you frown, magic has always come naturally to you - it helps to be born into a long line of witches. you usually got things on the first try, because it's intuitive to you, like centuries of knowledge buried deep inside you, just waiting to be unearthed. you’ve never second-guessed yourself, and you’ve always moved on instinct.

“respectfully, i think not,” you hold out a palm and sungho laughs, putting down his pen.

“i’ve been crunching the numbers - metaphorical numbers,” he adds at your puzzled stare, “everyone who can’t do it is doing the same thing.”

he gestures at woonhak from two tables down, who looks like he’s trying to intimidate the teacup into a rat by glowering at it, “you keep stopping right after you start, you’re second-guessing too hard. your hands keep wavering like you can’t commit.”

you slump in your chair, “my mom could transfigure teacups when she was six. grandma could turn an entire tea set gold, if she wanted.”

“so you're psyching yourself out because you think you should already know how to do it.”

“maybe you’re right,” you stare at the cup.

across the room, minje’s cup grows a pink snout, and he whoops. you wanted to punch him.

“listen, let’s start on a fresh page,” sungho literally flips onto a new page in his notebook and begins sketching.

“in architecture, there’s this theory called form follows function,” he starts, his lines straight, clean, and confident, “it’s the idea that the form of a building should follow its purpose. like, forget functionless flare and make a home a home, an office an office, stuff like that.”

a quick replica of the cup appears on his page, followed by a chubby rat. his strokes are calculated and neat. 

“so, a teacup,” he taps his drawing, “is designed to hold tea. it’s a containment. it’s got walls and a handle you can hold onto. it screams ‘i hold things’, that’s why you put tea into a cup instead of, say, a plate. the cup is defined by what’s inside it, fundamentally.”

he adds whiskers onto his rat, “a rat, on the other hand, is designed for motions. it’s got little legs to scurry around on and a big nose to sniff out cheese. it’s built for motion, a teacup is static.”

he meets your eyes, “in this case, you’re not just changing a teacup to look like a rat, you got to start from square zero - you’re changing the purpose of the object, and so the form will follow.”

your eyebrows furrow, “so, square zero. a rat is a rat and a teacup is a teacup. they are not the same, so to change one i have to inherently change the purpose first.”

sungho smiles, “something like that. however you understand it.”

you take a deep breath in and shut your eyes shut again. your magic comes to life as you hold it around the teacup. this time, you let sungho’s words guide you. a rat's purpose is to live and become the rat king, so you must rebuild a cup into a form that can serve that purpose. the porcelain becomes bone, and the hollow inside is filled with a heart and organs and flesh interiors that allows the rat to live. you let yourself think of the rat - a tail for balance, paws to grip. a static form brought to motion - to life.

the teacup shivers. 

it begins closing in onto itself, growing whiskers and fur. the handle twists and turns until it resembles a tail, and you feel your magic jump from palm to palm as it sparks and sings, changing alongside the teacup.

when you open your eyes, a rat squeaks and twitches its whiskers at you.

“oh my god!” you gasp at the rat, “i did it!”

“who did what?” professor lee drowsily asks from behind his desk, “one of you nimwits did it? well, colour me surprised. see, it’s all about knowing the rat - treasuring the rat, and its all about…”

you tune out his rant as you shake sungho by his shoulders, “i did it!”

“yeah, you did,” he’s already grinning at you, “all you needed was a different perspective.”

“who knew architecture could be so useful,” you throw your hands into the air.

sungho laughs, “well, they’re kind of the same. magic and architecture - understanding how things are built, why they’re built that way, and what makes them function.”

the two of you watch as the tiny rat begins grooming its face with its paws.

“you just have to stop being burdened by what you think you should be,” he says quietly, “just because your mom was a witch and everything was easy for her, doesn’t mean you have to be the same.”

he pokes the rat with his pencil and it squeaks indignantly, “maybe you just needed a little outside perspective.”

when you finally look over at sungho, he has already went back to scribbling in his notebook, but you can see how he hides his smile behind the paper and you giggle at him.

“thank you,” you say softly.

“it was all you,” he says non-chalantly, “besides, isn’t that what friends are for?”

he looks up, suddenly shy, “we’re friends, right?”

friends, the word expands inside your chest, not because he wasn’t your friend, but the feeling of deja vu that hits you again.

“‘course we are,” you give him your brightest smile. 

sungho smiles back at you and you shake the feeling off and look back at your rat.

“oh, no - please come back!” you lunge for your teacup-turned-rat, who has decided to take a hike down the table leg.

sungho laughs, and the bright sound of that makes you laugh too, even as your rat escapes your grasps and makes your entire row of students shriek.

you’re still buzzing after class.

“wait, i need to show you the snow globe mom invented! she’s an inventor - all sorts of weird potions and gadgets. when you shake it, it shows you the place your happiest memory is.”

you drag sungho behind you as you spiel off the rest of your mother’s inventions - a pair of shoes that changes to fit the wearer and the occasion no matter what; a cactus plant that wakes up every year on the eve of your birthday to sing happy birthday; a whisk that can move itself around (‘that’s just a stand mixer’ sungho says, ‘i don’t know what that is’, you reply confidently).

your door eases open as you approach it, and sungho stares at it warily, “it won’t try to throw me down the corridor, will it?”

“not while i’m here,” you say cheerfully, beckoning him in and digging through your trunk for said snow globe.

you produce it with a flourish - “here it is!”

you shake it, and as the snow falls the scenery turns into your bedroom - your favourite place in the world. a miniature you is snoring away on the bed and just outside the door you can see your mother peeking in.

“try it!” you shove it into sungho’s hands and he shakes it hesitantly. as the snow settles, you see his place as a gently sloped hill, filled with daises and wildflowers. at the top, a large tree provides shade for two small figures entangled in each other's embrace.

“aww, cute! is that you?” you peer at the miniature figurines.

sungho looks stupefied, “it is.”

“who’s the other one?” 

sungho looks at you strangely and you backtrack, “sorry, you don’t have to say if you don’t wanna.”

“it’s a childhood friend,” sungho starts, “i just haven’t seen her in a long time.”

“oh, that’s sad,” you frown, “i’m sure you’ll see her again soon!”

“yeah,” sungho stares at you, “i’m sure i will, and i hope she doesn’t hate me.”

you beam at him, “sungho, who could hate someone like you?”

he scratches his cheek shyly, “i’ve been told i’m unsavoury sometimes.”

before you can figure out what to say in reply, a black cat darts between your legs, nearly tripping you. sungho’s hand shoots out to steady you as you stumble on your feet.

taesan weaves himself between your legs, purring loudly. 

“taesan!” you gasp, “i thought i told you to hide when people are around!”

taesan just meows, and his orange eyes fix onto sungho.

“woah, your cat looks like it bites,” sungho jokes, stepping back and letting his hand fall.

“he’s just a little over-protective,” you grunt as you scoop taesan up in your hands, despite his size, he’s heavy, “aren’t you, my taesanie?”

taesan purrs, sungho swears he’s shooting smug looks at him.

“no, i just think he hates me,” sungho says simply, “maybe he knows i’m allergic to cats.”

“you are?” you look horrified as you quickly set taesan down on your bed, “i’m sorry, i didn’t know.”

“it’s fine,” sungho laughs, “but i should go before i start sneezing all over your room. besides, i have a meeting with a professor about the effects of flying buttresses in a magical context in… ten minutes.”

“sounds complicated,” you grin.

“i’ll teach you about it,” sungho returns the grin, “see you tomorrow?”

“yeah, ‘course,” your voice dips, “and thank you for today. i couldn’t have done it without you.”

sungho’s expressions soften, and something unreadable appears in his eyes, “you would have done it with or without me, you’ve always been like that. amazing.”

been. you let that word die on your tongue. sungho speaks like he knows who you are, who you were.

but that’s impossible. you’ve never met him before.

“see you tomorrow, [y/n],” sungho says softly

he patters out of your room, leaving the snow globe on your bedside table, and you watch him go, feeling that strange flutter in your chest again. that sense of something you can't quite name.

taesan meows loudly, bringing your attention back to him.

"what? don't look at me like that - he helped me transfigure a teacup into a rat today,"

taesan's expression is deeply skeptical for a cat.

"okay, sorry i forgot to bring you the rat as your dinner,” you roll your eyes, muttering under your breath, “you're a cat. what do you know about feelings?”

taesan, if he could talk, would probably have a lot to say about feelings.

“taesanie?” you look up from your homework as the black cat leaps into the common room through the window sill.

“you know you’re not supposed to go out by yourself!” you scold him, grabbing him by his collar as you shut the window closed behind him.

“and your paws are all muddy! seriously,” you produce a wet rag from your bag and he meows as you clean his paws, eyes staring innocently at you.

“your feline charms are not going to work on me,” you warn, even though you’re already producing a snack from the pocket of your cardigan.

taesan purrs happily and snaps up your offering, jumping off the table onto the floor. he surveys around the area, on alert, before he jumps onto your chair and nudges his way into your lap, sticking his head into himself as he curls himself into a ball.

“hey, [y/n],” sungho suddenly appears, behind the door. there’s a prominent frown on his face.

“have you seen a research paper around here? its about the effects of carved spells on columns of the greco-roman period.”

you shake your head no.

“what’s wrong?” you watch as sungho ruffles his hair in frustration as he looks wildly around the common room.

“i think i left my paper here last night, next to my model,” he sighs, “but now i can’t find it.”

he sets his stack of books and rolled up blueprints down on the table with a sigh.

“i have an extra copy, but this sucks.”

“i’ll help you look for it,” you offer, shooing taesan off your lap as you stand up, and taesan lets out a meow of disapproval, ending up on the floor as he glares at sungho - seemingly the source of all his problems.

“thanks,” sungho offers you a tight smile as he crouches to look under benches and tables.

thud. the sudden sound makes you jump and you whip around to see sungho’s books scattered across the floor.

“i didn’t realise the table was enchanted,” you frown.

sungho stares at taesan “i think your cat pushed my books off the table.”

taesan, who has made his way up the table in the time you had turn back turned around, licks his paw.

“taesan?” you furrow your brow, “he wouldn’t do that.”

“i literally saw him with my own eyes,” sungho insists, approaching taesan, who quickly hisses at him and leaps off the table to hide behind your legs.

“the table probably thought your books were too heavy or something and threw them off,” you scratch taesan under the chin. sungho just sighs and gives you a defeated look.

you two end up giving up on the search for his paper, having checked every nook and cranny of the room (‘the cleaners probably threw it out,’ you say, ‘they’re dustpans, they can’t see.’)

“shit,” sungho curses under his breath as he unfurls his blueprints.

“what’s it this time?”

you lean over as sungho presents his blueprint with an unimpressed look. muddy pawprints track over his drawings and they look suspiciously like… taesan’s.

the two of you stare at your cat curled up at the corner of the table, who suddenly begins snoring out of nowhere.

“maybe a cat got in through your window?” you offer.

“our rooms are on the third floor,” sungho deadpans.

you shake taesan awake, and his ears flattened as he unfurls to glare at you.

“don’t look at me like that,” you frown, “did you do this, kitty?”

you point to sungho’s ruined blueprint.

taesan yawns.

“see, he didn’t do it!”

sungho looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, “do you guys have telepathy or something?”

“i’ll - i’ll magic it away for you!” you wave your hands at sungho’s blueprints and the paw prints slowly fade. 

“you’re lucky she’s a witch,” sungho grumbles to taesan, who just hisses at him, tail puffed up.

“okay, there!” you proudly say, the paw prints are gone.

“thanks,” sungho says curtly, picking up his pencil again.

“i’m sorry about taesan,” you grab sungho’s hand in apology and he blushes.

taesan makes a retching noise and the two of you quickly draw your hands back.

“is he going to throw up?” sungho says worriedly.

“um,” to your knowledge, taesan has never thrown up, despite how he likes to clean himself every few hours, “i don’t know.”

the two of you watch in horror as taesan makes a choking noise before coughing out bits of paper.

greek, carved, columns.

you register the words still visible in the torn up paper.

“did taesan eat my essay?” sungho says, incredulous.

taesan burps, and another paper drifts down from his mouth.

you wake up gasping - you have been for the past two nights. your mind and heart races as you try to recollect yourself.

taesan is on your chest immediately, purring loudly and shoving his head under your chin.

“what’s going on?” you rub at your eyes and your hand comes away wet.

you remember the taste of fruit on your tongue, and crying - about waiting for someone who never came, about a sadness so overwhelming you wanted to tear it out of yourself, put it in a box, lock it up, and never see it again.

you scratch behind taesan’s ears in thought.

“just a nightmare,” you whisper to him.

but you’ve never been that sad before, and your pillow is wet with tears you don’t remember shedding.

“you’ll stay with me, won’t you?” you give him a soft kiss on the forehead and taesan mrrows in agreement.

sungho finds you in the courtyard, your eyes squeezed shut as a plate sits on the bench next to you.

“tough day?” he offers, and you open your eyes. the yolk of the setting sun frames his face and it turns his blond hair gold.

“yeah,” you offer him a tired smile, “how did you find me?”

sungho shrugs, “i have my ways.”

he presents a pack of chocolate buttons - “for you.”

“wait, these are my favourite!” you grab the packet from his hands, “how did you know?”

“lucky guess,” sungho grins at you as you enthusiastically tear open the packet and drop a few into your mouth. he shakes his head when you offer him one.

“what’s wrong? can’t levitate plates?”

“i did it in class,” you frown, “once. but i can’t do it now.”

“you know, us normies just use our hands,” sungho picks up the plate to sit next to you on the bench, “it’s revolutionary, i know.”

you puff your cheeks out, “not helping!”

“here,” sungho gently sets down the plate on your lap, “a magic trick, for you.”

despite everything, you laugh with him - it’s easy to laugh with sungho, you realise. he always knows what to say, and his laugh is infectious.

“but seriously,” sungho quiets down, “you’re doing great - you’re doing stuff people took ages to learn. some people can barely levitate a feather, much less a plate.”

he reaches out to poke your cheek, “don’t get too upset.”

you stare down at the plate, and your reflection stares back at you through the polished surface.

for a second, your reflection looks wrong. sadder, more angry. it’s like you're looking at someone you don't recognize. you blink and your reflection returns to normal. you squint and plate-you does too.

“maybe i need a break,” you rub at your eyes, you must be so tired you’re hallucinating, “i’ve been up since… since 10pm last night.”

horror fills your voice as you realise just how long you’ve spent trying to levitate a stupid plate.

sungho laughs gently, and he shrugs off his jacket to wrap it around you, “come on, try to get some shut eye, you deserve it.”

sungho didn’t expect you to actually fall asleep.

your head has found its way onto his shoulder, and sungho tries not to move an inch, despite how dead his arm is. 

he studies your face, bathed in the warm glow of sunset. you look the same as all those years ago, even down to the way your eyelids flutter and the way you mutter incoherent things under your breath as you sleep.

sungho remembers the persimmon tree you two used to sit under, just at the edge of town. you’d goad him into picking the persimmons off the tree when they were ripe - because he was always taller than you, and he remember the way you split the fruit cleanly in half with a flick of your wrist and shared it with him, juice dripping down your wrists and staining his school clothes. 

“look, sungho!” you called, yanking twelve year old him out of his daze of weaving the daisy crown you insisted he do, “i told you i could do magic!”

“woah,” he reaches out to touch the leaf floating in between your hands, and it twirls, completely unaffected by gravity.

“how do you do it?” twelve-year-old sungho tilted his head, “i want to try, too.”

“you just close your eyes -” you squeeze your eyes shut in demonstration, “and imagine it in your head!”

sungho screwed his eyes shut and held out his hands like you, imagining a leaf floating in between, but when he opened his eyes the space between his palms remained empty.

“i don’t think i have magic,” sungho says dejectedly, “i want to be a witch, too!”

“well, i want to be good at maths too!” you let the leaf fall to the ground, “so we’re even!”

but sungho thinks being good at magic is so much cooler than being good at maths. being good at maths meant you had to win competitions and stay up til midnight completing complicated questions. being good at maths means that your mom would only smile at you when you got first in class and that you’re already looking forward to bigger, brighter, and better things, even if all you want to do is stay in your little town with people you like and fish on the weekends.

“my mom wants me to start piano,” sungho pulls at the grass at his feet, “says it makes me more well-rounded in applications.”

“do you want to learn piano?” you ask, picking up a daisy to weave into the crown that you’ve picked up off his lap.

sungho paused, “no, not really.” he said honestly. no one’s ever asked him that before.

“then don’t do it,” you say confidently, so simply, as if it was that easy. you finish the daisy crown and plop it onto his head, crooked and imperfect and falling into his eyes, “there, now you’re the king of not doing anything you don’t want to do.”

sungho laughed, and you laughed with him. under the persimmon tree, everything was simple - and for just a few hours, sungho could pretend he was the king of not doing anything he doesn’t want to do.

sungho’s heart aches at the memory - the one only he remembers, apparently. when he first set eyes on you at the dining hall, he knew immediately. but you seemed to have forgotten him completely, and he’s scared that the memories he’s treasured all these years was just a bygone thought for you.

the persimmons were ripe every autumn, orange bulbs hanging from green.he wondered if you went back every autumn to pick them, even after he left.

he looks at you now, and even if you weren’t that grubby kid anymore, everytime you laughed, it was like he was right back under that persimmon tree with the girl that gave him daisies and made him feel like he didn’t need to pretend to be anything more than himself.

he had liked you then. maybe even loved you, in the way twelve-year-olds love - clumsy, earnest, and too big for his chest.

he guessed the feeling never really left. not even when his parents suddenly told him they were moving to the city. not even when he couldn’t find the time to say goodbye. not even when he spent years wondering if you remembered him at all.

and now he knows you don’t. maybe forgetting him was easier than missing him. 

you mutter something that sounds like ‘stupid plate’ and sungho can’t help but smile.

“you’ll get it tomorrow,” he whispers, careful not to wake you, “you’re doing great - better than great. because you’re -”

you.

he lets the unspoken hang in the air.

the sun is nearly gone now, and stars begin to peek through the sky. sungho knows that he should probably wake you up - even with his jacket, you’ll get cold, and you’ll complain about the ache in your neck when you wake up because you’ve decided to sleep in the most uncomfortable position ever. but sungho is selfish. he finds himself craving just a little more time - just a few more minutes of pretending you’re the girl from under the persimmon tree, and not strangers that just met a few days ago.

he’s about to pull the jacket around you tighter when he feels it - it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up and goosebumps dot his skin. the air changes, charged with something that makes his skin crawl.

sungho looks up, and there’s a man standing a few feet away.

he’s taller - probably taller than sungho. lean, with sharp features. cold hostility radiates off of him, and sungho dully registers the cat ears on his head.

cat ears?

they twitch as if he could read sungho’s mind, and a tail from behind him starts swishing in clear agitation.

something clicks.

“you,” sungho breathes out slowly.

the man’s eyes - brown but tinged with copper, narrows.

“get away from her.”

his warning is delivered through gritted teeth.

sungho’s mind races. the cat. [y/n]’s familiar. he’s heard about this before, where particularly strong familiars can switch between forms. the man’s the same cat that’s been glaring at him, pushing his books off the table, drinking from his mug, and making his life miserable.

“you’re taesan,” sungho deduces. his voice is quiet, you’re still asleep against his shoulder, breathing softly.

“and you’re the annoying pain in the ass who won’t leave her alone,” taesan takes a step towards sungho, danger in his movement, “you need to stay away from her.”

“i don’t take orders from a domestic pet,” sungho’s hands curl into fists, but he forces himself to stay still as to not wake you, “you’ve been terrorising me in cat form, and now you’re here to make verbal threats as a cat - cat man?”

taesan’s tail fluffs up and it lashes.

“i’m protecting her,” the corners of his mouth twitches, “from people who don’t belong in her life.”

“you don't get to decide that for [y/n].”

“don’t say her name,” taesan hisses, voice cold, “i’m her familiar. it’s my duty and purpose to protect her.”

taesan scoffs, “and you? you’re a distraction at best, a danger at worst.”

sungho’s jaw clenches, “a danger? how am i a danger? i would never hurt her.”

“but you already have.”

taesan’s words hit sungho like a truck.

“i’m her familiar - i’ve felt the things she’s felt. the memories she doesn’t remember? i do. now you show up - all laughing and carefree. acting like you have any right to be near her, to make her smile. to -” he gaze drops to where you lean against sungho’s shoulder and he scrunches up his nose with disgust, “to let her sleep next to you.”

“i was twelve,” sungho hisses, trying his best to keep his voice down low, “i didn’t want to leave her behind.”

taesan’s eerie brown eyes drill into sungho’s, relentless.

“it’s been ten years. you could’ve found her, but you didn’t. talk about lack of effort.”

“i tried,” sungho protested, “i called the number but no one ever answered. when i went back two summers ago, i couldn’t even find your house. it was just an endless forest and a path that winded back to the start. i came onto this architecture programme because it was my only ticket back to her. and now that i’m here i’m not letting her go.”

“too little too late,” taesan takes a step forward, “she doesn’t need you now. she has me.”

“she has a pet cat, that’s what,” sungho shoots back, and taesan’s eyes flashes.

“see, this is what happens when a human like you pretends to know anything about us,” taesan’s voice drops, “i’m the one who’s been by her side every day. i was literally born to protect her. i’m the one who comforts her when she cries and the only one who can protect her from things you can’t even begin to fathom. you don’t belong here - you don’t deserve to be next to her.”

sungho feels his control slipping and he tries to relax by unclenching his fist, “you can’t tell me what i can or can’t do. i belong here, next to her, wherever she is.”

“no, you’re wrong,” taesan warns, “you? you belong in your human world, with your dinky little normie offices and your normal buildings and your human weaknesses. you can’t do magic. tell me - how are you going to protect her from things you can’t even see? you can’t be what she needs.” 

“you talk a lot of smack,” sungho’s voice rises slightly, and he has to actively remind himself to keep it down, “but you’re wrong. you keep saying protection like it's all about magic and power - some sort of protective shell. but she doesn’t need that - she needs a person. you were born to protect her. i choose to. every single day, i throw myself into a world that doesn’t accept me and choose to be here for her. you can guard her life all you want, but i want to be a part of it. and that’s something your stupid magic - your duty can never give her.”

“you chose to leave her.”

“you think i did?” sungho’s tone is cold, “if i could choose, i’d stay. but i was a kid.”

“and she was a kid who cried herself to sleep, every night,” taesan’s voice is louder now, “you left her behind - she waited for years under that tree until she forgot why she was even there. every time she saw a shooting star - she’d wish for you to come back. but you never did. she eventually lost all hope when you stopped writing.”

sungho’s blood runs cold.

taesan’s face twists as he realises he said something he shouldn’t.

“i wrote to her every week,” sungho starts lowly, “until she stopped replying and i thought she didn’t want to hear from me anymore. what do you mean i stopped writing?”

taesan’s face is quickly overtaken by guilt before he steels himself, “i got rid of them before she got to them. she didn’t need your extra baggage. i could feel it, the way your letters just tore at her and made her worse. she got ill - the grief and longing was physically afflicting her. she used to be able to float plate after plate with just her mind and teleport a croissant from paris right into her hands. but after you left, her magic grew unstable. i had to cut the pain at the source, and the memories were so painful for her she locked it up.”

sungho feels sick. all this time, he just thought it was you being forgetful - not remembering anything from when you were so young. you never got his letters - you had thought he abandoned you. you thought all those awful things until it hurt so much you’d rather forget it.

“so,” taesan continues, “you need to leave her alone. you’ve already broken her once. i won’t let you do it again.”

“i’m not going to. if you hadn’t thrown away those letters in the first place then -”

“you’ll leave eventually. your exchange programme will end and you’ll go back to your ugly city blocks and your normie life. you’ll leave, and she’ll mourn what you had and be hurt again.”

“i’m not leaving her,” sungho says firmly, “not again. not when i finally found her.”

“you speak like you have a choice -”

“i do,” sungho interrupts, unflinching, “that’s what you’re not getting. i have a choice, and i choose her. i’ll defer my degree, drop out, whatever it takes. i’m staying because i want to. because i -”

he cuts himself off, but the sentence hisses in the moonlight and finishes itself.

because i love her.

taesan’s eyes narrow, “blah blah blah. words are easy - you can say them all you want but you don’t have to mean any of it. you said so much back then, what makes it different this time?”

“i’m not twelve anymore,” sungho’s voice is steel, “i’ve spent every day these past ten years trying to find her, regretting my uselessness - how i couldn’t find my way back to her. i tried every single way and now i’m here. do you think some overprotective cat is going to scare me away?”

“scare?” taesan scoffs, “i’m warning you, stay away from her, or else i’ll -”

“what?” sungho challenges, “knock over my cup? throw up a furball in my food? eat my other papers? there’s a lot where that came from. i know the rules - a familiar can’t hurt humans without cause or approval from their bonded witch.”

taesan smiles, “i don’t need to draw blood to get you to leave.”

“you can try,” sungho’s voice is steady, “give me your worst. i’m not going anywhere. i’ve lost her once already, i’m not -”

“sungho?”

the two of them freeze.

your voice is still thick with sleep, and you stir against sungho’s chest.

“what’s happening?”

sungho catches how a look of panic runs across taesan’s face.

“[y/n] -” sungho starts, but taesan is already moving.

in a blur, taesan’s form shimmers, and there’s an audible pop as he pops into his black cat form, landing gracefully on the bench.

a small puff of glitter explodes in the air, catching the moonlight and dusting the grass in silver.

“what’s -” you rub at your eyes, “taesan?”

the cat meows instantly, padding over and headbutting your hand.

“i thought i heard -” you look around, “heard…”

you trail off, suddenly hyperaware you’re laying on sungho’s chest.

you pull back as if you’ve been electrocuted, a hand wiping at your mouth.

“i didn’t drool, did i?” you asked, slightly horrified.

“no,” sungho replies, but he’s staring at the cat - taesan, who is now cheesing it up and purring into your palm like he’s the most innocent creature in the world. but his copper eyes flash at sungho and he gets the message: not a word.

“[y/n],” sungho says carefully, “i think taesan -”

“did you see how he got out?” you frown, rubbing his forehead, when you pull away, your finger is coated in glitter, “i know i locked the door before leaving.”

“he just -” sungho guestures helplessly, “appeared and -”

“ugh, taesan! you gotta stop teleporting!” you sigh, and taesan just flicks his ears playfully, “and stop leaving glitter everywhere! i swear - i wake up every day and there’s still glitter in my hair, no matter how many showers i take!”

“[y/n], listen to me. you’re familiar with how - uh, familiars can turn into different things right? taesan isn’t just a cat, he’s also -”

“a pain in the ass,” you nod sagely, “but he’s my pain in the ass.”

you scoop taesan up and he settles into your arm, looking incredibly pleased with himself, “aren’t you, kitty?”

taesan purrs in agreement.

sungho opens his mouth, at a loss for words. he closes it. opens it again.

how should he start? your cat can turn into a human and he threatened me and also revealed he kept intercepting the letters i sent to you? he’s actually evil and you need to kick him out? actually i’m your childhood friend and i basically scoured the whole world just to find you again because i’m in love with you?

“are you okay?” you shoot him a concerned look, “you’re doing that thing again with your hands.”

he realises he’s been running his thumb over his knuckles and he stops abruptly.

“i’m fine,” he finally manages, “thought i saw something, that’s all.”

“maybe you’re the tired one,” you laugh, still holding taesan. sungho’s jacket is slipping off your shoulders.

“whoops. sorry - here.”

sungho takes his jacket back mechanically. he can still see taesan’s eyes, orange and knowing and self-congratulatory.

“thanks, by the way,” you say as casually as you can manage, “for the chocolate. and the jacket. and letting me sleep. i feel a lot better now.”

“anytime,” sungho gives you his best smile, electing to ignore taesan’s loud purring.

you gasp, “maybe i can finally levitate that plate now!”

you look around and frown, “where’s it gone?”

sungho shrugs, he’s lost all sense of surroundings when taesan suddenly appeared.

“oh well,” you sigh, “see you tomorrow? study group?”

“of course,” sungho stares at taesan, “but maybe don’t bring the cat.”

he sneezes and your face drops.

“right, sorry,” you slap a hand against your forehead, “i forgot you were allergic!”

“tomorrow,” you promise, “it’ll just be us.”

sungho gives you a soft smile, “okay.”

you turn to walk away, taesan still in your arms. but just before you disappear out of sight, the cat looks back at sungho over your shoulder - a warning.

sungho watches you go, and his hands curl into fists.

“goddamnit!” he punches the wall and immediately regrets it, the pain reverberating up his arm. he winces as he sits down heavily on the bench.

his shoulder is still warm from where your head was resting, and his jacket smells like you. he wonders if you still like persimmons.

he’ll stay by your side. he’ll make you laugh tomorrow - and the day after that, and every day after. he’s not going anywhere, not even if your magical cat threatens him.

sungho brushes off the glitter on his jacket with contempt, patting it down with more force than necessary.

the abandoned north wings smells like dust, ancient magic, and mold.

it’s not the fanciest place to practice magic, but it's quiet, and no one’s around. you let yourself mess up without fear of watching eyes and you get to feel magic do absolutely nothing when you try to manipulate it to your desires without feeling embarrassed.

taesan yawns as he settles at a windowsill, bathing in a ray of sunlight slipping through the glass.

you’ve successfully levitated plates with just your mind now, and you can open any locked thing with a thought. you’re working on memory spells now - the same kind your mom used when creating that snow globe that still flutters with white snow and changing scenes on your window sill.

the magic itself is simple enough - pulling from the strands of magic that weave through the air and drawing out memories. you coax thoughts and memories forward, that part was easy, but pinpointing a specific memory to manifest in your mind like a photograph being developed was the tricky part. 

you practice on taesan, closing your eyes and letting your fingers gently move into the magic radiating off him - it’s soft, but familiar, the two of you share similar signatures thanks to your bond. you run your hands over the strands of magic emanating from him and gently pull one towards you. instantly, the dark before your eyes is replaced with taesan’s point of view, low on the ground as he jumps towards a butterfly fluttering in front of him and falling before he could even graze it. he lets out a frustrated meow as anger floods through you and you giggle, cracking open an eye. taesan’s tail flicks in irritation on the window - displeased that, of all memories you’ve pulled, you’ve pulled an embarrassing one.

“sorry, kitty,” you poke him in the side and he turns his nose up at you, purposefully looking out the window, away from you.

you raise your hand again, this time finding your own hum in the discord.

gently, pull. remember.

several sensations fly through you as you tug on memories. the taste of persimmon fills your emotion and an ache for something overwhelms your heart. 

you gasp - opening your eyes, but the sensations don’t stop, and your vision blurs in front of you.

a hill, the daisy petals dotting green grass. someone’s laughing in your ear and you’re laughing back at him.

pain strikes through your skull as you break through your illusions. the shadows on the wall have grown, and the memories scatter like broken glass. the air is thick with the feeling of something wrong.

it’s cold, heavy, and hungry.

the shadows begin to move as one, towards you.

“wh - what’s happening,” you gasp, head still spinning. you faintly register the danger and your hand instinctively raises - the magic in the room has grown thicker, more discordant, and there’s another distinct magic signal in this room that smells like danger.

the shadows coalesce - rising from the floor, creeping down from the wall. it twists and writhes and bends in onto itself. the shapes it bends itself into are puzzling, and the longer you stare the more it hurts you - the ringing in your head getting louder.

it finally takes form, and you realise with horror the shadow has taken a form of - you. ten year old you, curled up in a ball, your eyes filled with tears and hollow.

“no,” you whisper, “what - what are you?”

‘he left. he abandoned you.’

the voices - your voice, growls.

“huh?” the pressure in your skull grows, and you collapse to your knees, hands flying to your temple.

‘he left. he promised you and then he left.’

“what are you talking about?” you blubber, kicking yourself away from the shadows. your magic sparks urgently and you raise your hand, expelling that spark outwards. a blazing white hot orb is sent flying in their direction, but the darkness swallows up the light easily, the shadowy mass relentless in its pursuit of you.

‘you were probably too much. he probably forgot all about you. he never came back. no matter how hard you wished.’

“stop it,” you grit your teeth, pushing out against their magic signal with your own. you don’t know what they’re talking about, but the pain between your eyes is unbearable and you’re losing feelings in your legs. the banishing spell ripples through the air, whistling as it shoots towards the threat.

the spell hits the shadowy mass, and it disperses - only to reform immediately. closer now.

their magic hits you - it grabs at you and pulls, tugs, until you unravel. it’s like you’re being hollowed out from the inside, scraping until you’re an empty shell. you gasp for air and throw your hands out, a ring of fire erupts in the air, crackling hot and illuminating.

but it passes through the shadow like it’s smoke.

‘unwanted. abandoned. left behind.’

“stop it!” you sob as you feel it get closer, it’s cold tendrils wrapping around your heart, black creeps into your vision. it draws out emotions you’ve long forgotten - grief, loneliness, sadness. it overwhelms you like a tidal wave and you’re unable to fight back, crashing against rocks and thrown by the waves.

“you’re not real, you’re not real,” you repeat, mind scrambled but reaching for something - a spell that eliminates illusions, a curse that exorcises abstract threats.

‘we’re very real. we’re you. can’t you see?’

they reach for you with fingers that aren’t quite fingers. and where it brushes up against you, you feel cold. the cold of lonely nights, unanswered letters, and every moment of wondering why you weren’t enough for him to stay.

you try to move away, further from the figure, further from the pain, further from the anguish. but it consumes you.

“taesan -” you gasp. you weren’t even sure why you were calling for him. he can’t help, he’s just a cat -

taesan’s yowl cuts through the air.

your small black cat appears behind the shadowy mass, his fur is standing on end and his tail bristled, angrily swishing back and forth. his copper eyes gleam and it clears your head momentarily.

“taesan - no, you have to run!” you try to yell, but your voice is hoarse and small, and taesan never listens to you much anyways. he launches himself at the mass and it recoils, and he lands in front of you, hissing as he bares his teeth.

taesan’s magic warps under your hands, changing into something you’ve never felt from him before. it floods the room you feel it thrum in harmony with your’s, amplifying it, complimenting it, resonating with it.

light explodes around taesan - not silver glitter, but pure white energy that singes your hair and makes you squeeze your eyes shut. you feel a tug on your own magic and when you open your eyes -

there’s a man crouched where your cat was.

“what the hell?” you mumble, but instinctively you know it’s taesan - your stupid black cat. and if you weren’t completely sure, a pair of cat ears nestled in his dark hair and his tail lashes angrily behind him confirmed it all. his tail nicks you with his fur as he growls again, this time deeper - more human.

"get away from her," taesan - because it couldn’t be anyone else, snarls.

‘oh, look. a familiar and a witch. such delicious devotion. such fear of loss.’

“i said,” taesan’s ears twitches, “to stay away from her.”

magic explodes from his hands, wrapping around the masses like silver ribbons as it squirms and howls.

“taesan?” you gasp, and he quickly turns his eyes onto you. his orange eyes has mellowed into a dark brown. up close, he's striking. sharp cheekbones. intense eyes. those cat ears twitching with agitation. his expression is laced with urgency, protectiveness, and desperation.

“[y/n], look at me,” there’s a pleading tone in his voice as he drops to his knees near you and cups your cheeks with his hands, “you know what these are, right? we - you learnt about them in class last week.”

“shadow parasites,” you say almost instinctively, “they feed on negative emotions like loneliness.”

“that’s right,” taesan nods.

“so they’re not real, they’re all in here,” he taps your forehead, “and here,” he taps the place where your heart would be.

‘you can't destroy us.’ the masses shriek. ‘we are her loneliness. her pain. her buried memories. we are what she tried to forget.’

“don’t listen to them,” taesan insists, forcing you to look him in the eyes, “you need to remember you’re strong enough. that you aren’t alone. you’ve never been alone. i’m here. i’ll always be here.”

‘liar!’ the masses sing-song, still struggling within his silver bands. you hate how it sounds like you. ‘you’re bound to her - you don’t have a choice!’

“no,” taesan says, directly at you, “my duty is not my devotion. i might have been born by your side, but i stay because -”

he cuts himself off, jaws clenching.

the shadows laugh, discordant and escaping through cracks in the glass of the window like wind.

‘you love her. oh, how wonderful! how painful.’

you watch as taesan’s ears flatten against his head and you realise.

oh.

“taesan,” you say through swirling emotions.

his emotions leaks into your own - love, fear, anger, and sorrow.

taesan’s eyes bore into yours - vulnerable, raw.

“i should’ve told you earlier,” his jaw sets, “should’ve shown you sooner. i thought it was going to be safer if all you thought i was just a cat. i thought i could protect you and take away all the bad things you’ve felt. i couldn’t be selfish - i couldn’t complicated us and burden you with my feelings, i couldn’t ruin what we already had.”

he swallows harshly.

‘carrying someone’s grief - for a person who just thinks of you as her cat!’ the shadows cackle. they’ve broken out of taesan’s restraints and are now circling you two, sneering. ‘she can’t love you, you aren’t even human! you’re just a familiar, a pet -’

“that’s enough,” you snarl, pushing your hand onto taesan’s very human, very real chest. you feel his heartbeat and magic thrum in tandem under your fingers and you feel the familiar hum of the magic that binds him to you, and you to him. his magic connects with your’s, interweaving and complementary in a way that you’ve never felt with anyone else.

you squeeze your eyes through and reach for that familiar hum - feelings & memories flood your brain.

every morning, making your bed because you forgot to. every night, patrolling your room and sniffing corner for threats. every time you cried, he’d swipe his tail under your nose so you laughed, and every time you laughed, a warm feeling flooded his chest. every time you said ‘i love you’ to him, and all he could do was meow and hope you could feel the ‘i love you more’ in it. every time you were scared or angry or confused, all he wanted to do was to help you, protect you. and every time you said “taesanie” his tail would immediately go up embarrassingly high, and every time you mumbled about how he was the only one who understood you, and he thought ‘yes, yes, always. i’ll always understand you -’

“i’m not alone,” you whisper, “you’ve always been there, you’ve always been -”

yours,” taesan finishes, “i’ll always be yours.”

taesan grabs your hand and your magic flows through your bond, amplified by his. you pull - not your memories, but his. every moment he’s been there. every time he’s decided to stay with you, protected you.

the magic fills the room, singing in harmony as it surrounds you and taesan. proof that you’ve never been alone, that there’s nothing for the shadow parasite to feed on.

the parasite shrieks, attacked by the blinding light as it shrinks back onto itself. shadows dissipate, scatter, and flee, leaving only you and taesan in the suddenly silent room.

the magic fades and you start coughing violently, tipping over. taesan catches you with practiced ease and holds you in his arms.

“i’m okay,” you cough.

“you’re okay,” taesan affirms, “i’m here.”

your hands are shaking and you can no longer feel your magic hum in the air. you’re completely drained and your head is pounding. but you’re safe now.

because taesan’s here, like he always have been.

“taesan,” you manage. you weren’t sure what to say. thank you? it’s okay? what was that? i’m tired?

“shh, don’t talk,” taesan’s voice is filled with worry, “you’ve completely drained yourself.”

“you’re not a cat,” you blurt. 

he manages to give you a crooked smile, “no, i’m not.”

“then you’re…” you think about how you should complete that sentence. my familiar? my protector? in love with me…?

“i’m your familiar,” taesan says quietly, his voice fringed with carefulness, like he’s trying to not ask for more than that, “i am bound to protect you, and that will never change.”

“but you’re -” you’re too tired to string words together into a sentence, “cat ears.”

you point vaguely at his head.

taesan’s ears flick, self-conscious, “yes.”

“but human.”

“brilliant observation skills,” he can’t help himself.

your head still spins, unsure on what to feel. your cat is a human, and he just indirectly confessed his probably undying love for you. and even if that’s true, you’ve known him as a cat - something simple, safe, and uncomplicated.

except, now, nothing is simple, nothing is safe, nothing is uncomplicated.

“you need to rest,” taesan mumbles, “i know this is a lot, and you’re exhausted, don’t you know how dangerous it is to drain your magic?”

“you used it to transform,” you mumble.

“i’m sorry,” taesan’s ears drooped, “it was an emergency.”

“i know, it’s okay,” you say simply, because without him, you probably would’ve died.

taesan must’ve felt it too, because his arm tightens around you and you feel a surge of protectiveness grow in your chest from his end, “you don’t need to say anything right now. you don’t have to feel anything. i just need you to be safe.”

“i’m just… adjusting,” you place your hand against his face, just to make sure he’s actually real. his eyes widen in shock and his magic faintly reacts to your touch, “i’ve felt magic from other people before. just not like this.”

“it’s different,” taesan says, “we have a familiar bond. our magic is built to work and complement each other.”

you yawn and taesan smirks.

“you’re tired. you need to rest.”

he stands up and carries you in his arms easily. he feels warm under your skin and the black turtleneck that magically manifested with him when he transformed. his magic hums, comforting and steady.

you study his profile, trying to reconcile this person with the cat you share a bed with every night. the sharpness of his jaw; the way his cat ears swivel, tracking sounds you can’t hear; his brown eyes that flicker between shadows and sudden movement. 

he’s still your taesan. but he’s also a person, with feelings and thoughts you’ve never had access to. with a love he’s apparently been carrying for years and devotion so deep it runs in his veins.

you’re at a loss for what to feel.

“taesanie?” you murmur.

“hm?” his reply reverberates in his chest and thrums against you.

“thank you,” you say, “for saving me.”

taesan looks down at you, and you think it's cute that whiskers appear on his face when he smiles.

“always,” he says softly, but the word weighs heavy in the air, a promise - “i’ll always save you, no matter what.”

you’re in the library when sungho finally jumps you.

you’ve been avoiding both him and taesan ever since the attack, mind too scrambled by all the information and late night cramming sessions to make sense of your own emotions. the dreams have come back stronger - sungho’s round face as a kid, the persimmon tree, the hill behind the town - you’re starting to remember what you’ve locked away in your mind all those years ago.

“hello,” sungho says softly, sliding into the seat across from you.

you look up from the book you’re reading (you haven’t really been registering the words, you’ve just been staring at the same page for twenty minutes).

“hi,” you manage.

sungho looks nervous, and he fidgets with something in his hands. you peer over your book and you register it as a worn photograph - edges uneven and colour faded. he runs a finger up and down the edge in anxiousness.

“i need to tell you something,” he rushes out, “and i just need you to listen, please? until i’m done.”

you nod, your throat dry.

sungho takes a deep breath in, “i’ve been hiding something from you. i know you. since we were children. we used to play under the persimmon tree at the back of town. you made me pick the fruits because i was taller, and you’d split it in half with your magic. the juice would get everywhere and make a mess. but i think you don’t remember, or maybe you do, and you just don’t want to acknowledge it.”

you grip the seat of your chair.

“you taught me things,” sungho smiled sadly, “i never could do magic. but you let me feel like i was just sungho, your friend, and nobody else. you made me feel it was okay i wasn’t perfect the first time through and i could do anything i want.”

he slides the photograph over the table, and your eyes widen. it’s you, no doubt about it. gap toothed with flowers in her hair and smiling at the camera. the taste of fruit invades your mouth, sticky and sweet on your tongue.

“i moved when i was twelve,” sungho says softly, voice cracking slightly, “i didn’t want to. i didn’t want to leave my best friend behind. i didn’t have a choice.”

your vision grows hazy the longer you stare at that photo.

“i wrote to you all the time, every week for months. i wrote about the city, and how much i hated it. i wrote about all the mean people in class and how none of them were as cool as you. i wrote about how much i miss you and the time we spent together under tree, and how much i wished moments like those lasted forever,” there’s a stack of letters in sungho’s hands now, sliced open and held together in twine. you can tell it’s well loved, stacked neatly on top of each other.

“but you stopped writing back. i thought it meant you had moved away, or you didn’t want to hear from me anymore - the way i promised to be your friend forever but then left without a goodbye. but i never stopped thinking about you.”

letters, your head hurts, you don't remember getting letters.

“i tried to find you,” sungho rushes out, “i went back to the town two years ago. but the forest kept looping, like it was trying to keep me out. so i applied to every exchange program to edith - i knew you were going to be here, you always talked about how much you wanted to go. i wanted to get back to you.”

he looks up, and his eyes are shining with unshed tears.

“and then - then i saw you. in the dining hall. i knew immediately, you were her,” sungho shakes his head sadly, “but you didn’t remember me. i thought to myself - it’s what i deserved, for leaving you.”

“sungho -” you interrupt him, but he stops you.

“let me finish, please.”

you shut your mouth as sungho carries on.

“i just need you to know - i didn’t come here by accident. i came here for you.” sungho says softly, “these past few weeks have been the best of my entire life. getting to know you again, it was like - like falling in love with you again, or maybe it’s just falling more in love. i’ve loved you since i was a kid.”

the words hang in the air between you, air thick enough you struggle to breathe.

“you don’t need to say anything back,” sungho sighs, but there’s no bitterness, just resignation, “i know about taesan - i know what he feels about you. and i know - i know i can’t compete with him, with someone who has been by your side every single day. someone who’s literally bound to you by magic.”

he reaches across the table, hesitates, then gently takes your hand. his warmth gently seeps into your palm and you look into his eyes - vulnerable, kind, and just full of love for you. your reflection swims in his irises and he gives you a sad smile.

“but i’ve chosen to be here, next to you, and if you’ll let me, i want to stay. i want to be part of your life - not as someone you used to know, but as someone who wants to know more about you, and someone who wants to know about the you tomorrow,and every other you after that.”

his thumb brushes across your knuckles and you don’t pull away.

“sorry, but i just needed to let you know - the truth. all of it,” he whispers.

he gives your hand one final squeeze and releases it. you watch as he rises from his seat and walks away, the photograph laying next to your limp hand, still left on the table.

you sit there in the library, silence weighing on you as memories flash through your mind.

you stare at the photograph. you smiled like the world was simple - how you wish it was.

taesan is sitting on your window sill. he’s in his human form, legs dangling out the window as he surveys the sky.

you feel him before you see him, the pain blossoming in your chest like a bruise that's being pressed on.

"taesan,” you call softly, and his ears flick in acknowledgement, "i talked to sungho.”

“i know,” he says coldly, “i felt it.”

you think about how he probably felt your heartbeat speed up when sungho held your hand, and he probably felt your nervousness as he walked away.

“he told me everything,” you clear your throat, “did you really throw away the letters?”

taesan’s ear flattens against his head and his tail slowly uncurls.

“yeah.”

“why?”

taesan finally looks at you, his brown eyes just sad, “because you were hurting. i could feel it, the way your heart ached every time you read his letters. the way your magic stopped working, and you stopped eating, and all you did was hide under the covers and cry. i couldn’t stand it -”

his voice cracks, “i just wanted you to stop hurting. i’m sorry.”

“he was twelve, taesan.”

“i know,” he says softly, “but i was young too. the only thing i could think about was - how do i protect her from this pain? all i knew back then was that my witch was hurting and i had to do something to make her feel better. so i made it stop, and eventually you stopped crying, and then you stopped remembering.”

“you must’ve been feeling it too,” you murmur. taesan purses his lips and looks away, silence your answer.

“i’m sorry,” you fiddle with the hem of your uniform, “i never - i never wanted you to carry my grief for me.”

“i did it to protect you,” he whispered, barely heard over the wind.

“you can’t protect me from everything, taesan.”

“i know, but i want to try anyway.”

you watch his tail twitch with anxiety as his ear droops even lower.

“you’re going to be happier with sungho,” taesan says, like it’s a fact.

your eyes widen, “what are you saying, taesan?”

“i can feel it,” his tail wraps around him protectively, like it’s shielding him from the self-perceived truth of his own words, “everytime you're with him, he makes you laugh, and he gets your jokes. you feel… like you’re home, like you’ve found something you lost.”

“and that’s okay,” taesan forces himself to say, “i understand. he was here first. and he’s human, like you. he can give you things i can’t. stability, a normal life, a home. a future not bound to a familiar who you can’t get rid off even if you wanted to.”

you surge forward, “taesan! i never would -”

“but what if you do?” he interrupts, taking in a deep breath, “what if you get sick of me, but i can’t even leave you alone?”

he grows quieter, “what if our bond makes what i feel… less real? less valuable?”

his head drops down.

“that’s not true! you said you stayed because you wanted to, isn’t that proof enough?”

“but how can i be sure of that?” he looks at you, his face twisted in a pain only heartbreak can bring, you feel his ache in between your ribs and your mind swims confusingly with a mix of his emotions and your’s.

“if you say you love me, how do i make sure that it isn’t magic forcing you to?” he whispers.

“i don’t know,” he laughs, hollow and empty, “at least with sungho, you know - because there isn’t some type of magic that’s making you fall in love with him. you just chose him because of who he is, and he chose to love you because you’re you. how could i ever compete with something as human as that?”

you don’t have an answer for him, and the bond between you two ache. you place a gentle hand over his that rests on the windowsill and his tail sways.

“i need you to know - it isn’t the bond making me say this,” you finally say, breaking the silence, “but i’m happy that you’re by my side, taesan.”

his eyes flicker to look at your’s, and he finally turns his palms up, intertwining his hands with yours.

“i love you,” he says, so quiet you strain to hear him, “i know, bond or no bond, i’d still love you. i love the way you talk to yourself when you’re concentrating on something, and i love the way you save up to buy me the expensive fatty tuna even though you know i’d eat anything. i love how you mumble in your sleep, kick off the blankets, and then complain about it being cold in the morning.”

he finally looks at you, brown eyes glinting with the silver of the moon, “i love the way you trust me enough to fall asleep next to me, and that you tell me all your secrets and dreams and worries. you’ve always treated me like i matter - that i’m someone, and i’m not just some cat or your familiar.”

“you are someone,” you insist, tears pricking at your waterline, “you’re taesan, you’re -”

“i know,” he says softly, his other hand coming up to wipe away your tears, “thank you. that’s enough for me. it has to be enough.”

“i’m not going to make you choose,” taesan cups your cheek, “i’m not going to guilt you or beg you or cry, because i know it’s hard for you. and the truth is, i’m going to always be here, no matter what happens. it’s not a threat, or a promise, it’s just… fact. i’m always going to be your familiar.”

“i was put on this earth so that one more person could love you, i’m sure of it.”

he smiles at you sadly as he retracts his hand, wet with tears.

“take your time,” he whispers, swallowing harshly, “choose whatever makes you happy.”

before you can reply, his form shimmers. there’s no glitter or lights or theatrics this time, just him fading into the form of a small, black cat, with copper eyes glinting with grief.

he meows softly and head butts your palm - an apology, or goodbye.

then he leaps down gently, in the branches of the tree outside your window, and disappears into the night.

you stand there, holding a pulse that isn’t yours in your palms.

you wonder if it’s okay - if you can give taesan back the love he’s apparently been harbouring for years. if it was okay you complicated the relationship of a familiar and his witch. every time you try to get closer, he shifts away - maybe it’s the fact that you and taesan were woven from the same things - and like repels like.

you don’t even know if you could give him your heart, or if it’s already been claimed by someone else. someone with warm eyes, architecture drawings, and a shared history you’re only beginning to remember.

the thought of sungho sends a different type of feeling through you. it tastes like chocolate buttons and smells of lead against paper. you think about how sungho sees right through your facade and into you, like he knows you intimately. you think about how his smile makes you feel complicated things.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper into the evening air, even though you're not sure what you're apologizing for or who you’re apologising to.

"i don't know what to do."

UNLOCKED: SUNGHO ENDING

you find sungho in the courtyard, perched on the bench from all those nights ago. he has his head buried in his sketchbook, pencil harsh and unforgiving against the paper.

he looks up when he hears the crunch of grass, and when he sees you he unfurls himself and a look of hope skitters across his face, before he tamps it down.

“hey,” he says carefully, setting down his sketchbook.

“hi,” you mumble, sitting down next to him, leaving enough space between you two.

the silence seems to stretch for hours, and sungho starts fidgeting with the pencil between his fingers.

“i remember,” you say suddenly, “basically everything.”

you turn to face him completely, “the letters, my feelings.”

“and how i’d force you to give me the bigger half of the persimmon, and how you’d let me everytime. and how you would always laugh at my jokes, no matter how terrible they were. and how you would make me feel like magic wasn’t the only important thing about me, and how we would do mundane things like share candy and blow on dandelions.”

you choke on your words, “and i remember how i’d wait under the tree everyday, and wish on shooting stars that you’d come back. and when you didn’t, i stopped believing in stuff like that.”

sungho’s hand clenches around his pencil.

“eventually, i guess my mind broke. it went into self defense mode and locked away all those memories,” you look down at your hands, “i know it’s not your fault. but it still hurt. it still stings now.”

“i’m sorry,” sungho says, his voice rough, “i’m so sorry -”

“but you came back,” you interrupt him, “and these past few weeks… you’ve seen me - as what i was and what i am.”

sungho sets down his pencil, his hands shaking.

“i hope i haven’t changed into someone unrecognisable,” you give him a tight smile and he shakes his head furiously, “i’ve grown too, you know? i’m not that kid anymore. i understand. i just wish i understood it sooner, then this wouldn’t be so complicated.”

you purse your lips, “i can’t promise you it’ll be easy. i’m a witch and you’re a human, and i’ll always be entangled with magic and this world - one that doesn’t fit people like you. and taesan’s still going to be here, as my familiar, no matter what. but i don’t love him like he loves me, so -”

you pause for a moment, savouring the words. then sungho reaches for your hand, grabbing onto you like his life depended on it, like you’d slip through his fingers if he didn’t.

“- so if you choose me, then i want to choose you too.”

sungho stares at you, his blond hair in his eyes as his hand starts to shake.

“is that okay? that we try to make it work?” you let out a strained, breathy laugh.

“it’s more than okay,” he blurts, suddenly animated and pulling you into his arms.

the two of you burst into laughter that sounds like tears.

“i thought you’d choose him,” sungho mumbles, voice muffled by your hair, “i mean - the bond, the history…”

“but it’s you,” you say, “without magic, without fate. but just because you’re park sungho. i’m sure of it.”

sungho pulls away, his eyes searching your face with a feeling of relief and mirth.

“can i kiss you?” he says, gently.

your cheeks feel hot - “okay.”

he captures your lips with his, it’s sweet and gentle, and it tastes of home, persimmons, and second chances.

sungho pulls away and presses his forehead against your’s.

“i loved you since i was a kid,” he says, somewhat breathless, “and i’ll love you until -”

you shush him by placing a finger on his lips - “let’s not talk about forever or until death.”

sungho’s eyes creases in amusement, “then i’ll say i love you, and i promise i’ll say it everyday.”

he kisses you again to seal the promise.

EPILOGUE

“we should talk.”

taesan looks up from his book abruptly. he’s been like this for the past six months, ever since you’ve started dating sungho - staying in his human form, building barriers, skirting around you.

“if this is about me being around less, i can do -”

“it’s not.”

taesan’s ears flatten against his head.

“then what is it?” he says, careful.

you take a deep breath, “i’ve been researching and talking to some professors - i was thinking about breaking our bond.”

taesan goes white in the face - “you’re going to get rid of me?”

“now if you put it like that -” you sigh, “i’m not getting rid of you, taesan. i just… want you to be free. i can still feel your emotions, you know? and i’m sure you can feel mine. i don’t want you to be burdened by all that.”

“no,” taesan says sharply.

“taesan -”

“no,” his rejection is harsh, “you don’t get to decide to just throw me away like that. you need to take responsibility! do you think my feelings are just going to go poof! when you break our bond? even if you sever our bond, i’m sure - i’m sure i’d still love you, and i’d feel that hole in my heart even more.”

“i just want you to be happy,” you say softly, sad.

“then let me choose,” taesan begs, “i know what i’m signing up for. it’s going to hurt but i choose this, don’t take that away from me.”

you look at him, desperation in his voice and the way his whole body trembles. you don’t need a bond to feel his distraught at even the thought of being away from you.

“okay,” you say finally, “i won’t break the bond.”

taesan sags in relief, and you pull him into a hug. he clings onto you.

“sorry,” you mumble into his hair, “i thought i was helping.”

“now you’re just being hypocritical,” he scoffs thickly, “let me make my own decisions.”

“i guess you’re right,” you run a hand through his hair, scratching behind his ears.

-- two years later

“you’re going to make us go broke if you only eat the fancy tuna,” sungho whispers harshly to taesan, crouching down next to him as he grabs his food bowl from the floor.

taesan blinks innocently at him as he licks his paw. he bursts into silver glitter that floats to the floor and sungho groans at how it coats his shoe.

“where’s he gone now?” sungho sneezes as he drops the food bowl into the sink. the apartment you two have moved into after sungho got an offer at an architecture firm is cozy - which means its too small for taesan, who enjoys teleporting out of your house and only comes back in time for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

“who knows?” you laugh as sungho slides onto the couch next to you, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

he lays his head on your lap and you’re forced to give him pets like you did to taesan (‘i, too, look like a cat!’ he always whined).

a devious grin overtakes your face, “who’s my favourite kitty?” you coo.

“me?” sungho stares up at you, eyes shining.

“well, no, you’re a person.”

sungho frowns.

“that’s it, we’re throwing taesan out.”

you laugh as you press a loud kiss on his head, and you think about how you’re building a future together, slowly, surely, and beautifully. a shooting star darts across the snow globe on your window sill and you thank it silently for bringing sungho back to you.

UNLOCKED: TAESAN ENDING

errrrr! technically shorter than r&j leehan but it felt way longer while writing

♡ or ↻ if you enjoyed, support your writers, thank you!! what did you think? drop your thoughts in my inbox!

This was how you started being more consistent in the gym. Currently in week three and you’re so proud that you’re broken your world record of gym streaks.

You’ve decided then: you’re going to get him.

There was just one slight problem to this equation… you don’t have any courage to talk to him.

All you know are three facts:

His name was Park Sungho (how’d you know?you overheard a friend of his call him once. You’re not a creep, okay!!)

He had the most gorgeous shoulders known to mankind.

You want him.

Okay so maybe the third one isn’t really a fact—and you swear (cross your heart!) that your infatuation with him isn’t merely because his eyes are as twinkly as the moon, nor because his lips were plump and not crusty like most men, nor is it also because his voice is just…

Anyways! You get what I mean.

That was how you ended up ranting everything to your friend Sanghyeok—which apparently calls himself Riwoo now because he said he felt more cool and mysterious with that name. ( ok get it our nonchalant dread head!! )

“Park Sungho??” Asked Riwoo, startled once you blurted everything, “you mean the one with the pointy nose and sweet voice?”

You paused and raised an eyebrow at him, “duh? Have you been listening this whole time?”

“No not like that—you mean Park Sungho in class 19.99 right? He’s in your calculus class, dummy.”

“Wait—WHAT.”

Riwoo threw you a deadass stare, before fishing a muffin out his pocket and shoving his face in it. Perhaps he knew you too well as you started shaking him for answers.

”Just go approach him—”

”I can’t!”

”Then stop talking to me about it!”

“Please, my-Ri-to-the-woo—”

”UGH FINE! But no promises and you buy me a dozen donuts tomorrow.”

”Deal!”

You didn’t get him that dozen of donuts, but Lee Sanghyeok, being the good friend he is, still ended up conversing with his Sungho hyung in their shared dance class for you.

Luckily for you, he managed to score a hangout—the three of you—for next Wednesday over coffee and desserts.

Finally, with all the gears set in, you could start with ‘diary entry 1: A LADY’S GUIDE TO SECURING A MAN WITH BROAD SHOULDERS’

(yes, it’s meant to be this long)

1. A lady hints, not talks

The first ever step-slash-rule to secure a man is to give hints. Yes, hints. No way are YOU the one to make the first move, you hear me ladies? 😒 If he doesn’t pick up on the clues, then you drop!

Wednesday came. And boy, it came with a lot of nervousness, I tell you! But you were ready. Dropped in the cutest fit you have—a pair of jeans with a puffy dress on top (THIS COMBO>>>)—you were absolutely ready to charm Park Sungho.

It took you a while, but you made it on time (5 minutes late) to the cafe, Riwoo and Sungho conversing already at a table near the windows. Riwoo was the first to see you, sending a wave. You returned it, and right after, Sungho sent you one too—albeit less dramatic. Your smile turned up a bit more before sending a smaller wave back to him.

”Hi guys! Sorry if I’m late.”

”It’s okay, we just came,” replied Riwoo, “this is Sungho, my friend in Dance. Sungho, this is my best friend, [reader]”

Sungho stood up to shake your hand, and you both exchanged ‘nice to meet you’(s).

”Let me get coffee real quick!” You told them, before going to the cashier.

After you ordered, you went back to your seat.

“How are you these days, [reader]?” asked Riwoo

”Good, although I think I overworked my feet yesterday, It hurts slightly,” you replied, which by the way, was a big fat lie.

“Ah, is it doing better now?” asked Sungho, who was deeply concerned.

”It should be, I think,” you replied shortly.

More small talk was made before your order number got called. You went up to get it but before you could fully stand—

“I’ll get it for you, [reader],” answered Sungho.

“Huh?” both you and Riwoo replied in shock.

“You should rest your feet since they might still be in pain if you overexert it,” he replied simply.

“Oh there’s really no need, Sungho—“ you denied at first despite the fact that you were internally giggling.

“Please, I insist,” He replied with a smile that almost melted you on the spot, before taking your receipt and heading to the cashier.

It was silent for a moment before your eyes met Riwoo’s, and his met yours. Both of you kicked each other’s feet before suppressing a big fat grin.

2. a lady takes no risks

consult God (or a fortune teller if you’re not religious) to make sure this man is for you. Use the mind, not the heart.

“Okay,” You muttered to yourself like a nutjob, “IF. And only IF he is the one…um..” you paused your prayer for a second because you had no idea what to say.

You decided to just settle for the classic, “Please send me a sign, amen.”

And with that, you fixed your hair and applied pink lip gloss before leaving the house.

Step after steps, you kept thinking of him until you reached the actual library. You took a deep breath before going in. You were early this time, but it seems that Park Sungho has a matter of showing up super early, because he’s already there—sitting in a seat near the windows.

He had his back facing you, so you snuck up on him quietly before placing your hand on his shoulder.

“Sungho,” you muttered quietly, and he jolted, spinning around to look at you fast.

Were you delusional, or is he staring at you?

“Sungho..?” you repeated.

That seemed to jolt him out of his state, “Oh, [reader]—yes, sorry for that. I was out of it—“

You giggled before taking a seat beside him, “It’s fine, don’t worry.”

There wasn’t much small talk after that, as you both seemed focused and determined to do well on your project. Mid-way, however, a crash followed by a yelp took you out of your very focused state. You turned to see Sungho—only, a book fell on top of his head.

“Sorry!” said a boy above you looking down on the rails. You both seemed to recognize him as Myung Jaehyun, who’s also in your shared calc class together.

“Why that—“ said Sungho, before he gives you a quick brb and went upstairs; probably to murder Jaehyun.

You picked up the book on the ground, and then stilled when you read the title.

‘The Sign’ by Robert Van Kampen.

Oh.

I mean, you’re not opposing now, are you?

3. A lady enjoys the reaps that she sowed

Get rizzed up all night by a nice guy (stream nice guy!!!)

“I love your shoulders,” you muttered at him, a hand on his bicep.

2 months had passed since you first dated each other.

”Oh yeah?” He replied, but his words seemed unfocused and disconnected—I mean, who can blame him when you’re sitting on him, looking so cute after you both just made out.

“Mhm,” you answered once more.

”Tell me more,” He asked.

You did, but midway you realized he was just looking over your lips—not paying attention. You rolled your eyes.

“Are you even list—“

He cut you off with another kiss. It lasted a while before he pulled away once more.

”Can’t believe I’m yours,” He whispered, smiling goofily.

You giggled. Yeah, Park Sungho’s yours. The man with broad shoulders is yours.

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