“Soulmates… those don’t exist.” The professor was quick to shut down Changbin’s question - the excitement draining from his face. 

“But I heard-“

“What you ‘heard’ was a story, Mr. Seo. Fantasy. Fiction. An idea made up from someone’s delusional thinking. I will have none of that talk in my class.” The answer was final and Changbin didn’t dare argue with their history professor. He was older, wiser and certified to teach the history of magic - of course he would know if soulmates existed or not. Felix had been optimistic when he told Changbin the story, but Mr. Nim had been certain. So clearly he was the person in the right, the one to be believed. So why did Changbin feel like he was being lied to? Maybe it was in the way Mr. Nim had shut him down so quickly. Or was it the flicker of fear that flashed in his eyes for one brief moment - so quick that Changbin would have missed it if he blinked? Whatever the reason, his gut was telling him something wasn’t right and he had learned many years ago to trust his gut. 

[middle to late scene, somewhere]

*Flashback*

“You’re crazy.” His sister snapped finally, pausing in her packing. Setting her keys down on the table, she stared at her brother, his face hardened with a determination he only could have inherited from their mother. “Changbin, the world isn’t as black and white as you think it is.” she started. “To go off and start learning magic now, after what happened.”

“Magic didn’t kill them though.” Changbin grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“It didn’t save them either.” She retorted and almost instantly regretted her words at the sight of how heartbroken and defeated her brother appeared. Closing the distance between them, she pulled him into a hug, bearing his near entire weight as he clung to her. “Doing this won’t bring them back. At least right now, we have some peace.”

“I know it won’t but…something is telling me to do this. That this is the correct step forward.” he whispered.

She was silent for a moment, thinking over his words and the implications behind them. So much could go wrong, but so much could go right. Changbin was an adult now and while she appreciated him telling her his goals and desires, he didn’t have to. He could make his own decisions and she had a feeling he already had. That this whole conversation was only taking place because he wanted her approval, not that he needed it.

She understood.

“Always follow your gut. It’ll never steer you wrong.”

Those had been her last words to him. The approval from his last living relative had meant everything to Changbin and it turned out to be the only thing he had left to remember her by. The accident had happened an hour later and Changbin always blamed himself for it. If he hadn’t chosen that moment to confront her about wanting to attend magic school, or hadn’t pushed to get her to approve, she would have left on time rather than be running late. She wouldn’t have been at the intersection when the truck ran the red light. She wouldn’t be gone. It was all his fault and pain and guilt haunted him everyday.

[so this is true middle scene, fun times!]

“This is it.” Felix whispered, the tome resting delicately in his hands. It was leather bound - genuine no doubt - dyed a gorgeous royal purple. Embossed in gold was the Celestial crest - a crescent moon surrounded by stars overlaid on top of the triquetra, which represented the three founding figures of the Magical Institute of Academia (MIA for short). It was perfectly centered, stunningly gorgeous. 

“How do you know this is the book?” Seungmin questioned as he snatched the tome from Felix’s grasp and looked it over. While beautiful bound - the pages even had golden gilded edges - it appeared to be nothing special. In fact, it looked like one of the many other books in the headmaster’s office.

“Because the headmaster nearly had a heart attack when I discovered it in the library at the start of the semester.” Felix explained. “He took it and wouldn’t exactly say why I couldn’t read it, just that it wasn’t ‘appropriate’.” he mocked as he rolled his eyes.

“So, what you’re saying is that you don’t know if it contains information about soulmates then.” Changbin deadpanned. He had put so much faith in Felix and combined with Mr. Nim’s reaction the other day, he was sure this book held the contents of his curiosity.

“Well, I mean, it holds something secretive in it.” 

Apparently his faith had been misplaced.

“For all we know it’s just the book he hides his alcohol in.” Seungmin scoffed, passing the book to Changbin, who eagerly took it. For how thick it was, it didn’t really weigh much, lending credence to Seungmin’s suggestion. Maybe it really was hollowed out in the center. Before he could even check, their secret gathering was interrupted by the sudden sound of keys jingling. 

“Oh shit!”

“Hide!” 

As if they needed to be told twice. The three scattered, searching for cover and barely concealing themselves in time for the door to be opened. The light in the room was turned on, but nothing else followed. No footsteps or soft breathing - anything to indicate another person had entered the room. Time seemed to have stood still and the three waited with baited breaths. No sooner had the lights turned on where they turned back off and the door was locked again. This time the footsteps were audible, slowly fading as the person walked away. Another minute went by, just to make sure the coast was clear before the three crawled out from their places.

“That was close.”

“I’ll say. Good job Felix, almost got us caught.” Seungmin scolded lightly. In retaliation, Felix swatted at him.

“Shut up. How was I supposed to know someone might come around?”

“You could have.” Changbin defended.

“Thank you hyung! See? At least Changbin hyung likes me!” Felix and Seungmin started their usual childish banter of who was right and wrong, which on a normal day would have been funny, but it wasn’t the least bit amusing at the moment.

“Alright, stop you two. Let’s get out of here before that person comes back.” A brilliant idea and one the two quickly agreed upon. As they snuck their way out, Changbin had half a mind to leave the book there, but thought better of it. After all, if the headmaster didn’t trust Felix of all people to read the text inside, then it must be something worth investigating. 

They managed to sneak back to their dorms without incident and Changbin hid the book under his pillow to read through later.

The shabby door of Jon’s office (if the poorly refurbished remnants of Gertrude’s leftover furniture could even be considered anything remotely adjacent to an ‘office’) opened suddenly.

Suddenly- but not at all harshly… if anything, it was handled with a surprising amount of care compared to what The Archivist was acclimated to. It wasn’t Martin’s joyful barging in with a cup of tea or Tim’s reckless intrusion with misfiled statements. It was novel and for some nameless reason, mildly frightening.

“Elias.” Jon eventually stated after a few painfully awkward moments of silence, with a barely present note of surprise carrying itself weakly through his voice. The acknowledgment could hardly be termed a greeting. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he followed up, sarcasm palatable in his tone. Jon reflexively began scolding himself for his lack of professionalism but as he lowered the recorder placing it on the chipped wooden desk, he realised he couldn’t find it within himself to genuinely care.

The older man leaned against a filing cabinet with a positively filthy smirk as his piercing eyes scanned Jon’s frame. To the untrained observer his expression would perhaps signify civility, charm and refinement but The Archivist knew that look all too well as to be so naive to assume it boded anything other than trouble. It made him feel bare, splayed naked before something he couldn’t even hope to challenge. Returning the favour, he let his own gaze loose, drinking in the portrait before him.

Elias rarely looked anything short of picture perfect.

His cotton shirts were always starched and ironed to the standards of 60s business fashion magazines, his trousers were always sharply creased in parallel by the undoubtedly skilled hands of dry cleaning clerks, his embezzled tie clip never needed any adjusting, his ever-so-slightly heeled Oxfords never needed any polishing and his gracefully greying style never needed re-touching at any point in the day. He looked entirely too expensive to be standing amongst the filth of Jon’s office, he looked entirely too expensive for Jon to be able to afford.

However The Archivist would be lying if he tried to convince himself he didn’t find his superior attractive, if only to a minute degree. He did however dare to advise himself it was simply because extreme care for hygiene and aesthetics quite often equated to physical attraction in most.

“Simply paying visits to my employees.” Elias finally broke the stalling silence, seemingly deciding he was done undressing the exhausted man before him with his eyes, his voice smooth and not too unlike a well made roast drank on a gloomy Sunday morning.

Jon had the curtsy to turn his dingy office chair away from the confines of his desk, now fully facing his tailored employer.

This was redundant.

If there ever was a living manifestation of ‘Time is Money’ that creature would be positioned right before him. Elias Bouchard didn’t stall, he didn’t waste his breath on frilly dialogue decorations, he pounced straight to the point and made his wishes abundantly clear… if he wasn’t out for amusement that would breach far beyond appropriate for a boss and subordinate relationship, that is.

Jon saw straight through his veiled bullshit, of course he did, and he was pretty sure Elias saw through his own bullshit too. The Archivist leaned back and with one swift move got rid of his glasses, placing them gingerly on the desk’s surface, folded.

“Don’t pretend to be coy, it suits you terribly…” he spat.