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“So we have a problem,” Taeil says as soon as Yuta picks up the phone. “I’m pretty sure that Donghyuck is an art thief.”
There’s a moment of silence, then Yuta bursts out laughing. “Oh, hyung,” he says, voice fond. “The country air is really getting to you, huh?”
“Yuta,” Taeil insists. In the background, he can hear Yuta making breakfast. The familiar sound of the microwave timer; the flick of the coffee pot switch. “I’m serious.”
There’s a crunch as Yuta takes a bite of toast. “Ok,” he replies, already laughing. Taeil is already regretting this conversation — Yuta is equal parts affection and mischief which means that he has never once let an opportunity to make fun of Taeil slip through his fingers. “So what exactly makes you think that Donghyuck is stealing art?”
A plethora of reasons, which had all sounded perfectly reasonable inside his head:
- There are a few boutique art galleries around town and Donghyuck spends an unreasonable amount of time in them, doing absolutely nothing at all except staring at the same few artworks;
- The strange and suspicious painting-shaped parcels that are regularly delivered to Donghyuck’s door by non-descript private couriers in unrealistically glossy cars;
- The fact that only the night before, Taeil saw Donghyuck with his own eyes exiting what was definitely someone else’s house covertly in the dark, with a piece of art tucked up under his arm that definitely did not belong to him.
“Number three is the main reason,” Taeil says defiantly. “But in the light of last night, I’d definitely say that the first two items on the list are supporting evidence of a crime.”
“Alright,” Yuta admits, “that is suspicious.” He takes another bite of his toast. Taeil glares at his phone; it’s making him hungry even though he’s just finished his own breakfast. “But for all we know, Donghyuck has a perfectly reasonable explanation. Have you asked him about it?”
Through his tall bay windows, three parallelograms of morning lights are glowing liquid against the wooden floor. Taeil watches them and thinks about the night before. The shine of the street lamp and Donghyuck’s lithe, slim figure dressed in warm, dark colours stepping out into the cobblestone street, painting under his arm. The bizarre, striking setting of it all, and the strangest part is — “He saw me,” Taeil tells Yuta. “Last night as he was leaving that house. Turned around and talked to me.”
Yuta asks through a mouthful of toast, “And? What did he say?”
Oh, hey hyung, Donghyuck says in his memory, flashing one of those bright smiles and offering no explanation whatsoever. Good night, sweet dreams.
The whole memory is moonlit, mad, hazy at the edges. “Do you think that he put a spell on me?” Taeil wonders, although oddly, he’s not too perturbed by the notion. After all, it’s Donghyuck’s job to perform magic on Taeil.
“Well,” Yuta says matter-of-factly. “Did you have sweet dreams?”
Taeil shakes his head. The fragile light of morning is slowly deepening into a sturdier shade in preparation for the day. Sky so vivid blue that it’s almost painful to look at. “I didn’t dream at all,” Taeil replies.
“You’re good, then,” Yuta says cheerfully. “Honestly, hyung, do you really think we’d send you to an art thief for help?”
Taeil props a chin in his hand and looks out the window to the sea. “I wouldn’t put it past you lot,” he says, but he’s joking now. “All I’m saying is that if Hyuckie gets arrested, I’m not going to cover for him.”
Yuta snorts. Through the phone line, Taeil hears Jaehyun entering the kitchen, that tell-tale slamming of the cupboard above the sink where Yuta stores the coffee pods. “Gotta go, hyung,” Yuta says, smile audible through the phone. “And don’t worry — Lee Donghyuck can take care of himself.”
The first that Taeil notices about Donghyuck is his house. “It’s gorgeous,” he says, stepping out of the car with a hand over his eyes to block out the bright sun overhead. In the city, there’s skyscrapers and shades to block out the light but out here in the countryside, there’s only wild green under the wide sky.
Jaehyun slides out of the driver’s seat and leans against the open door, squinting up at the house next door. “Colonial style?” he suggests. “Nice windows.”
The sloped, sophisticated roof is a warm brown against the cream facade of the house. A door the same colour as the ocean. “So that’s Donghyuck-ssi’s house?’ Taeil asks Jaehyun as they each pull one of the Taeil’s suitcases out of the back seat.
Jaehyun hums the affirmative. “We told him you’d be arriving today, so he’ll come meet you tomorrow.”
Taeil’s own house is painted a pastel yellow, asymmetrical and two storeys. It’s a far cry from his apartment in the city. In his whole life, he’s never had so much space to live in. Jaehyun stays until nightfall and helps him unpack his crockery and clothing. “You’ll be alright?” he asks, hands busy with stacking plates away.
There’s a lump in his throat as Taeil nods. “I’m fine, Jaehyun-ah. Don’t worry.”
There’s a shadow in Jaehyun’s eyes as he looks away. “Hyung, I —” He presses his lips together. “We’re all really —”
“Don’t,” Taeil says. “Don’t do that. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” Jaehyun’s throat constricts are he swallows. His eyes are shining suspiciously in the low light. “Besides,” Taeil says, lightening his voice, “Donghyuck-ssi is the best, right? He’ll have me fixed up in no time, I’m sure.”
When Jaehyun drives away, Taeil sends the group chat a text message. Arrived, safe. Jaehyunnie on the way home.
Johnny is the one who replies. Stay well, hyung. Let us know how tomorrow goes.
After assuring them that he will, Taeil locks his phone and exhales into the quiet. Outside, he can hear the buzz of the insects, the song of the sea. Beneath, a deep silence. Through his front windows, Lee Donghyuck’s blue door is a splash of colour in the darkness. The house, Taeil thinks, really is beautiful.
When he wakes up the next morning, the door is still blue but the house has transformed itself into the form of a traditional hanok.
“Why does it do that?” Taeil asks Donghyuck once. They’re in the windowseat, mid-afternoon, and the sky is grey with cloud although there’s still gold on Donghyuck’s cheeks.
“Why does what do what?” is the reply. Donghyuck has tea in one hand and a book propped on his knee. Taeil is supposed to be meditating.
“Your house,” Taeil says. “Changing shape like that every day. Is it a spell?”
Donghyuck glances up. “Why are you asking?”
Taeil blinks at that. “I’m curious,” he says, although it comes out sounding unsure, as if he’s the one asking a question. Donghyuck tends to have that effect on him.
“Does it bother you?” Donghyuck asks next, eyes narrowing to slits. His eyebrows curve into graceful arches.
When Donghyuck is in this mood, it makes Taeil nervous. He inhales deeply through his nose and lets it out slowly. “It doesn’t bother me,” he replies evenly. “I’m just wondering.”
“About magic?’ Donghyuck says. “Or about me?” His voice is casual but his fingers are tapping against the spine of his book in an even, steady rhythm. Pacing without standing up.
Taeil flattens both his palms against his mug, letting the warmth infuse his fingers. Johnny would be good with Donghyuck, or Yuta, or Doyoung. They take to this kind of rhetoric like ducks to water; they always rise to challenge. Taeil just wants to drink his tea and satiate his curiosity. “Both, I suppose,” he answers quietly, honestly.
Donghyuck softens at that. “Magic is unpredictable,” he says shortly. “It does what it wants, especially when there’s nobody there to actively care for it.” He turns a page of his book. “Have you noticed how it only changes form overnight?”
“When you’re sleeping,” Taeil realises. “So your magic leaks out when you’re sleeping? I didn’t know that could happen.”
Donghyuck looks up properly at that, eyes shot through with reflected silver from the glass. He gazes at Taeil for a long moment, then lets out a silent sigh. “No,” he murmurs. “I guess you didn’t. But you also know all too well what can happen when magic gets out of the control.”
Usually, they meet at Taeil’s house but occasionally, Donghyuck will call and ask for Taeil to come to his. Unlike the exterior, the inside of Donghyuck’s house never changes. “Can you imagine how inconvenient that would be?” Donghyuck says when Taeil comments on it. “Magic is independent, not stupid.”
The interior of Donghyuck’s house seems smaller than Taeil’s, although that might just be because of the sheer number and size of Donghyuck’s possessions. A huge old-fashioned kettle perches on the stove; a blown green-glass bowl shaped like a shell in the middle of the table, a teetering stack of books on kitchen counter; a Michael Jackson poster hung on the living room wall. What catches Taeil’s attention are the papers scattered across the large desk next to a set of large windows that almost match Taeil’s own.
“Are these all about me?” he asks, running his fingers over the sheafs of notes and diagrams. “About my — problem?”
Donghyuck fills the kettle. “It’s a very interesting problem, Taeil-ssi,” he replies. “Sorry, that was — I know it must suck for you.”
“Please call me hyung,” Taeil requests. “And to be honest, I don’t feel any different from before. I can’t feel it at all.”
Rounding the kitchen counter gracefully, Donghyuck joins Taeil at the desk. “I can feel it,” he says, eyes raking over Taeil from head to toe. “Believe me.”
“I do,” Taeil says, swallowing at Donghyuck’s sudden nearness. “So could the others — Yuta, Jaehyunnie, Taeyongie, Jungwoo — that’s why they sent me to you. It was damaging them, I think.”
Donghyuck nods. “Dark magic does that.” He looks down at the papers and books on the desk. “But don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”
And then he’s gone, back to the kitchen, like a wisp of wind. Taeil’s chest releases and he’s aware of his pulse hammering strangely. “I trust you,” he says quietly, even though he’s not sure if Donghyuck hears.
Taeil doesn’t pluck up the courage to ask about the Art Heist night (as Yuta has now dubbed it) until weeks later, when spring has well and truly arrived. “Were you stealing it?” he asks, feeling sheepish but determined.
They’re taking a walk through town. It’s Sunday, market day, and the whole street is full of life. Donghyuck freezes where he’s bending down to examine some jars of honey. “What?” he asks, then bursts into peals of laughter before Taeil can answer. “Oh — oh, hyung, that’s — “ He leans on Taeil’s shoulder for support as he giggles, half-hunched over. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.”
Embarrassed, Taeil looks in the other directions. The Kims, a married couple who run the flower shop in town, have their spring blooms out. The colours burst vividly in bouquets but it’s nothing to Donghyuck’s garden. “I take it the answer is no?”
“Do I strike you as someone who would steal?” Donghyuck asks, grin wicked.
Taeil is struck speechless for a moment. “Oh, well, I —”
Donghyuck’s eyes are sparkling, face full of mischief. He looks the absolute picture of glee and it almost stops Taeil’s heart. “I didn’t steal that painting,” Donghyuck assures him. “I borrowed it and it’s been safely returned.” He traces two perpendicular lines over the left side of his chest. “Cross my heart.”
“Good,” Taeil retorts, the pulse receding from his ears. “I’d hate to think of you behind bars for grand larceny.”
“Don’t rule it out, hyung,” Donghyuck sing-songs. He flashes another one of those full-face smiles at Taeil. “I didn’t say I don’t steal other things.”
Taeil watches him float off down the street. There’s some magic at work here, he thinks. There must be. Donghyuck is a witch both in spirit and practice. He charms absolutely everybody and Taeil is no exception.
After the accident, they’d sat him down. The whole coven plus Johnny and Doyoung, who didn’t quite understand what was happening but deserved to be there. There’s a witch, Yuta had said, troubled and tear-stained. He doesn’t usually do this kind of thing but he’s living separate from his coven at the moment and he’s said he’ll help.
Taeil hadn’t understood at the time. I thought you said the dark magic couldn’t be erased, he’d said.
Not by us, Taeyong had replied. But this witch isn’t quite like us.
Coven Dream, they’d explained, was a group of very young witches. Some of the most powerful witches alive. They had a reputation for being tight-knit and closed off, but there had been rumours that one of them had broken off temporarily. I found him, Jaehyun said quietly. Out in the countryside. You’d have to move out there for a while, until Donghyuck-ssi can figure out how to remove the magic from you.
Do you think he can? Was what Taeil had asked.
If anyone can, had been Yuta’s reply, expression dark.
Taeil had gone to take Yuta’s hand, then pulled back. You tried your best to, I know that.
We should never have meddled in the first place, Yuta said, gripping the edge of the table.
Taeil had looked at Johnny. What about work?
Johnny, God bless him, had squeezed Taeil’s shoulder. I’m useless with anything magic-related, you know. But if they think this Lee Donghyuck can help you, then you should go.
Here he is, and in the months so far that Taeil has been here, he’s seen Donghyuck perform extraordinary magic. Donghyuck has bottled light on full moon’s night and woven it into thread; has healed animals with only a touch of the hand; has commanded the wind and water in ways that Taeil knows his other friends could only dream of.
Donghyuck has never, in these months, mentioned details of his own life, or even the name of Coven Dream.
“Do these really predict the future?” Taeil asks, flipping the pack of cards between his hands. He’s lying on the teal sofa in Donghyuck’s living room while the latter perches on a high stool, weaving a spell that appears like a golden web.
Jungwoo has tarot cards too, but Taeil has always assumed that they were just for fun — mostly because that’s what Jungwoo has always implied. Donghyuck’s flicks a quick glance over at Taeil’s question. “If I want them to,” he replies.
Making neither heads nor tails of this, Taeil frowns. “What if you don’t?”
With a tinge of impatience, Donghyuck says, “Then they’re just a pack of cards.”
Taeil opens the flap of the box and tips the cards into his hands. They’re absolutely exquisite, each one painted with a dragon. Taeil flips the top card — the Emperor — and studies the image. This dragon is a white-silver, sinewed wings extended, against a star-studded sky. “What do they mean?” he asks.
“Hyung, that’s a whole day’s worth of explanation,” Donghyuck says. “Come over here.”
Taeil gets up obediently, bringing the cards with him. Donghyuck spreads his hands to stretch the delicate netting of his spell and drapes it over Taeil’s shoulders, fingers lingering slightly. Donghyuck looks up from where he’s sitting and their gazes lock. For a wild moment, Taeil thinks about pulling Donghyuck closer, of crushing their lips together; then, Donghyuck jerks backwards and it fades.
The golden netting has promptly disappears. Taeil clears his throat. “Are you…fishing me?”
That gets him smacked across the arm. “It’ll take two or three days to work properly.” Donghyuck points to the kitchen counter where a diagram identical to the spell itself is sketched in a notebook. “I can sense the magic in you, but it’s slippery. I’m trying to stabilise it so that I can catch and extract it.”
“Sounds like fishing to me,” Taeil says, then holds out the tarot deck face-down. “Pick one?”
Donghyuck leans back, exasperated. “Why?”
Taeil shrugs. “I’m curious. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to mean it.”
Donghyuck purses his lips and reaches out a hand, selecting a single card from the middle of the deck. With two long fingers, he flips the card over. The Lovers, Taeil reads, and tries not to let it show in his face. In the image, the two dragons are joined by a flower vine that curls around them both. “It’s upside down,” Donghyuck says quietly.
“Meaning?” Taeil asks.
Donghyuck doesn’t look up as he says, “A loss of balance. A lack of harmony.” He replaces the card in the stack. “Unmoored.”
They’re very tight-knit, Yuta’s voice flashes through Taeil’s mind. Very closed.
“Can I pick one?” he blurts out, instead of asking about it.
The tension snaps and Donghyuck is back to giving Taeil an exasperated look. “If you want,” he shrugs and shuffles the deck. “Here.”
Taeil runs his fingers over the cards until he finds the one he wants and pulls. “Wheel of Fortune,” he reads aloud, glancing up. “What does that mean?”
Donghyuck licks his lips. “It means that your fate is coming to you,” he says. “Has possibly already arrived.”
The Wheel of Fortune card is a dragon chasing its tail around the moon. “They’re lovely cards,” Taeil says, admiring them one last time before handing them back.
“Thank you,” Donghyuck says, voice low. “They were a gift from someone very close to me.”
Taeil looks sharply at him. It’s the first time Donghyuck has said anything about anyone he knows outside this town, but his face gives nothing away. Taeil thinks of the vine between the two dragons, delicate and thin, and can’t bring himself to push further. Instead, he asks, “Did you mean it, then? Or were those just random cards that we pulled?”
Donghyuck doesn’t respond, which is enough of an answer.
A sudden chill has swept through town and Taeil pulls his jacket tighter around him as he crosses the short distance between Donghyuck’s house and his own, still thinking about the cards, about fate and harmony. He almost doesn’t notice the cat scratching at his door.
“Oh,” he says, surprised, glancing around. The cat has no collar but has obviously been groomed recently, its black coat shining dully. “Are you cold? Do you want to come in?”
The cats meows, which is answer enough for Taeil. He scoops the cat up into his arms and unlocks his front door. As soon as they’re inside, the cat trots straight over to the fridge and looks expectantly at Taeil until he takes out the milk and a dish. “You belong to someone, alright,” he laughs. “Or someone belongs to you.”
The cat seems to approve of that, winding its way around Taeil’s ankles with a purr. Taeil puts the saucer on the floor and pets the cat’s little head. “Sleep wherever you like,” he says and is gratified when it bumps his head back against his hand. “You’re adorable,” he laughs. “Good night.”
It’s full moon, he thinks vaguely as he drifts off to sleep. Maybe Donghyuck is out there in the wild night, dancing with the tree spirits and singing to the moon.
It’s almost like waking, but glossier. Everything is muted but somehow more vivid and there’s a strange sleepiness in the air. Taeil finds himself seated in an armchair, a blue-patterned cup in his hand. When he inhales, the tea smells of his mother’s perfume, of books, of Johnny’s kitchen, of sunflowers. It clears his head slightly; makes the fuzziness recede.
“My apologies,” says a quiet voice. “This is a huge intrusion but believe me, if I had another choice, I’d take it.” Taeil looks up to find a young man sitting across from him. Admittedly, he does look genuinely apologetic.
“Is this a dream?” Taeil asks. “You can just do that? You can just go into anyone’s dream?”
The young man winces. “Sorry to tell you, but it was actually you who let me in. I’ll explain at some point.” He bows from the waist and Taeil notices that he has the same symbol inked on his collarbone that Donghyuck does — a heptagon of dark green. “Huang Renjun.”
There’s a quick, hopeful glance from Huang Renjun but Taeil doesn’t react, and the young man’s face falls a little. “Haechannie really never mentioned us.”
Taeil shakes his head. “Who?”
“Oh — Donghyuck.”
“No,” Taeil says, feeling relieved although he’d already assumed this was related to Donghyuck somehow. “Why do you call him that?”
“It’s a nickname. You must be Taeil-ssi.”
“What do you mean,” Taeil says slowly, “when you say I let you in?”
Renjun waves a hand. “I promise to tell you when we meet, but time moves differently in dreams and I want to talk to you before you wake up. Please tell me — how is he?”
Taeil recognises the expression on Renjun’s face. That’s love, pure and simple, love and family and guilt and sorrow and worry and all things complicated. He’s seen the expression on Yuta’s face, on Taeyong’s, on Jaehyun’s, on Doyoung’s, on Johnny’s and Jungwoo’s. Renjun is too young to know the meaning behind that expression but he obviously loves Donghyuck very much. “He’s well,” Taeil says gently. “At least, I think he is. He seems well enough to me, but I’m not a witch so I could be wrong.”
Renjun sits back in his chair, face creasing. “We haven’t heard from him in months.”
“Why did he leave?” Taeil asks. “He’s never told me anything about it. Did you argue?”
Renjun shakes his head vehemently. “No,” he denies. “And he didn’t leave, it — it’s not exactly simple.”
“Things rarely are,” Taeil sighs. “Families most of all.”
That makes Renjun nod. “Taeil-ssi, we — I made a mistake. A big mistake and Haechannie is paying the price. I — I took something from him that I shouldn’t have. He’s trying to get it back.”
“Took what?” Taeil asks, frowning.
Renjun tilts his head back to look at the sky, and Taeil follows his gaze. Above, there’s a scene that he recognises. A pale blue sky adorned with fluffy clouds outlined in shimmering, veined gold. A single dragon silhouette flies partially hidden behind a cloud. Austere and lovely. It looks just like the painting hung above the sofa in Donghyuck’s house. “It’s you,” Taeil realises. “You’re the person who painted those tarot cards.”
“I’ve painted a great many things, Taeil-ssi,” Renjun says quietly. “And one I should never have done. Haechannie needs to know that this isn’t his fault. I bear some of the responsibility, and so does someone else. But if he wants to fix it, he needs to come home.” Renjun looks at Taeil, eyes full of tears. “Please, ask him to come home.”
Taeil leans forward. He’s confused and distracted by Renjun’s obvious distress. The magic is buzzing in his veins. “I don’t understand,” he says. “Why don’t you come yourselves to tell him?”
That makes Renjun chuckle, wet and sad. “You know Haechannie. He never does what he’s told.”
“I don’t know what good it’ll do if I tell him, then,” Taeil replies, trying for lightness. “He definitely won’t listen to me.”
But Renjun doesn’t laugh again. “He’ll listen to you,” he replies, voice sure. His eyes flicker downwards. “I can feel the magic inside you — how did it get there?”
“My friends,” Taeil replies, pressing a hand to his chest. He can never sense the darkness, but lately he thinks he’s imagining a heat or a throbbing where he knows the magic is nestled. “It was an accident. They’re researchers, they were doing an experiment and things got out of hand.” He takes a deep, trembling breath and looks at Renjun. “So you see, I know a thing about people feeling like things are their fault when they aren’t.” There it is, underneath the magic, the thump that is his own heartbeat. Still there, still pumping his blood, still feeling, still marching on. “I’m sure Donghyuck doesn’t blame you.”
Renjun smiles weakly. “He blames himself,” he replies. “But that isn’t right either.”
Taeil can feel himself starting to fade. “I didn’t get to drink my tea,” he says with some disappointment.
“I’ll make some for you,” Renjun says, “when we meet.” Taeil likes the sound of that. As the dream dissipates around him like smoke in sunlight, he hears Renjun whisper, “Please tell him that we miss him very much.”
Meeting Lee Donghyuck is a little like being swept up in a tornado. He’s charming and elegant and sharp as a rapier, and so powerful that even Taeil can feel it. Something brewing under the skin like electricity in a bottle. “Wow,” Donghyuck says, looking at Taeil. “There’s something in you, alright.”
“They — my friends — said you might be able to help me get it out,” Taeil replies, a little dazed by the honey light slatting across Donghyuck’s skin.
Donghyuck nods solemnly. “Here to help. Trust me.”
And Taeil, inexplicably, does. Donghyuck asks him to lie on his warm kitchen floor and meditate, to walk along the coastline to let the natural elements at him, to drink herbal teas that are always quite pleasant. They read together — Taeil, for work and Donghyuck, for research — and take breaks for meals together, and evening walks as the sunset paints the entire sky, so many colours that Taeil feels like he might drown in it.
They talk, sometimes, about books and movies and childhood stories. Donghyuck is bright and cheerful one day, quick and impatient the next. It’s a bit, Taeil tells Doyoung, like being friends with a wild animal.
“Don’t let him bite you, hyung,” Doyoung says with a sparkle in his eye.
Taeil doesn’t figure out what the sparkle is for until one day, Donghyuck is sitting at his kitchen island, scribbling notes intently into a book as Tchaikovsky is thundering through the house and Taeil is cooking eggs for breakfast and Donghyuck has just dyed his hair a rich rosewood brown. “Ah, fuck me,” Taeil sighs and ignores the itch under his skin that tells him to smooth Donghyuck’s hair or touch his face or take his hand. “Eggs,” Taeil decides instead and pushes the feeling away for another day.
Today, Donghyuck’s house is a brownstone that looks ridiculously out of place in the countryside. Nobody answers the door when Taeil knocks, so he pushes the door open and steps inside. “Donghyuck-ah,” he calls. Nobody answers. Either Donghyuck is out, or he’s in the garden. Given that his phone is plugged in on the coffee table, Taeil would bet on the latter. He puts the kettle on while he waits and scans the papers on the table. There are the standard notes, all organised in Donghyuck’s neat penmanship, and several tomes stacked on the table.
Just beside the glass centerpiece, there are several envelopes, and a half-scrawled letter. Taeil tilts his head to catch the writing —…fix what can’t be fixed. I know you’d say you warned me, and I’d hate it, but I wish you were here to tell me what to do, hyung. It would make me feel better to ignore your advice, but I still want to hear…—
The rest of the writing disappears under the bowl, but Taeil can see who the envelope is addressed to — M.
“Hyung?” comes Donghyuck’s voice, and Taeil jumps.
“Oh, Donghyuck, you scared me.”
Donghyuck’s gaze moves from Taeil to the letter on the table and back. “What are you doing in here?”
Taeil, for all his hesitance, is done fishing. “Is this a member of your coven?” he asks bluntly, pointing to the envelope. “Are you ever going to send this letter?”
It’s alarming to see how Donghyuck’s face shutters. Goes blank like a canvas. “That’s none of your business, hyung.”
“I met one of your coven members,” Taeil interrupts before he’s done. “Last night.”
Donghyuck goes white. “Wha — they’re here?”
“No,” Taeil says, and sees the painful mixture of relief, defiance and disappointment that crosses Donghyuck’s face. “Huang Renjun came to see me in a dream.”
It’s hard to track the emotions now but Taeil knows how it feels to be apart from family. “What did he want?” Donghyuck asks hoarsely.
“For you to come home,” Taeil says softly. “And to say that he misses you.” Donghyuck covers his mouth with a shaking hand and turns away. “Hey,” Taeil says but doesn’t move any closer. “It’s ok.”
“It’s not,” Donghyuck says wetly. “Hyung, I fucked up so bad.”
Taeil takes a step forward. “That’s not what Renjun thinks. He said that he’s the one who’s responsible. Him and someone else.”
“He’s an idiot,” Donghyuck says, wiping his cheeks. Taeil steps closer again; so close that he can see the tears clinging to Donghyuck’s eyelashes. “God, this is — I figured it out.”
“Figured what out?” Taeil asks gently. Don’t let him bite you, Doyoung warns.
“How to get the dark magic out of you,” Donghyuck says with a horrible, grating laugh. “And here I am, crying all over you instead.”
Taeil personally wouldn’t mind if Donghyuck cried all over him, but he keeps his mouth shut about that. Instead, he says, “We have time. We’ll fix it all.”
Donghyuck looks at Taeil, eyes big and dark like moons. “We will,” he whispers, and then he’s leaning in and kissing him.
Of the accident itself, Taeil remembers very little. He doesn’t usually attend the experiments but they’d all been so excited. Dark magic isn’t something well-understood yet, Taeyong’s told him. This experiment could be a big break-through. Taeil, Johnny and Doyoung are all behind the glass when it happens.
First, Yuta’s eyes go wide and he shoves Jaehyun backwards, who crashes into a table full of beakers and tubes. Jungwoo is thrown backwards by some invisible force against a wall and Taeyong is only one left standing. Magic breeds magic — that’s something Yuta always says. And in that moment, Taeil knows that if the dark magic enters Taeyong, it will grow until nothing of Taeyong is left. From the way Doyoung is screaming next to him, he knows it too.
Taeil acts without thinking; all feeling. He rips the door open, pulling away from Johnny’s restraining hand and knocks Taeyong to the floor.
The next thing he knows, he’s waking up in a hospital bed, once again on the other side of the glass.
Doyoung and Johnny sit next to his bed while he recovers, even though he feels absolutely fine. It’s the others who don’t — Jaehyun tries to take Taeil’s hand and it burns him so badly that he gets blisters. “Alright,” Taeil says, staring at Jaehyun’s hand. “Is it going to kill me?”
There’s a real fear in Yuta’s voice as he says, “I don’t know.”
They get sicker and sicker the longer that they spend with him, and finally, Taeil knows it can’t go on. “We did it to you,” Taeyong says, eyes hollow. “We deserve it.”
Taeil points at Doyoung. “Hit him over the head for me,” he instructs, which makes everyone laugh.
Months later, when Donghyuck asks him if anything about having dark magic inside of him is frightening, Taeil says honestly, “Hurting them.” He shakes his head. “It hurt me.”
Donghyuck looks soft all over today; eyes, cheekbones, floppy fringe. “That’s very like you, hyung.”
Taeil shakes his head. “They couldn’t touch me any more. I was scared they never would again.” He looks down at his hands; Jaehyun’s burns rising in his memory. “I still am.”
In response, Donghyuck places his cup down onto Taeil’s kitchen island and takes both of his hands instead.
“He was a neighbour,” Donghyuck says. They’re out on a bench by the edge of the cliff, watching the tide come in. “He wasn’t as powerful as me, but he had ideas, big ones. I was young.”
“You were in love with him,” Taeil says, winding their fingers together.
Donghyuck grimaces. “Mark-hyung didn’t like him.” Mark, thinks Taeil. M. “Neither did the others, but I wouldn’t listen.”
Taeil snorts. “Renjun mentioned.”
Donghyuck throws a grin his way. “He’s one to talk.” He shakes his head. “Renjun helped me when nobody else would. He loves us, maybe too much.” Taeil squeezes his hand; Donghyuck squeezes back. “My…neighbour wanted me to share some of my magic with him, so I did.”
“Can you do that?” Taeil asks rhetorically.
Donghyuck shrugs. “I can do lots of things. But this was a mistake. He used it to do many things that were very, very bad.” He doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he goes on, “So I stole it back from him and Renjunnie helped me.”
“He told me that he took something from you he shouldn’t have,” Taeil remembers. “So Renjun has it? That part of your magic?”
Donghyuck chuckles. “Complicated,” he says lowly. “Moving magic like that is risky, especially when someone is looking for it, so Injunnie did what he needed to. He hid it. Inside a painting.”
“He —” Taeil’s eyes widen. “Inside a painting?”
The ocean sweeps in, creeping up the beach. The wind is picking up too, whipping around them but Taeil doesn’t feel the cold at all. “It’s something he can do. Part of his magic,” Donghyuck says. “He hid it in a painting and then sent the painting away, but in the mess of things, he wasn’t sure exactly where he sent it.”
“You’ve been looking for it,” Taeil says with a rush of understanding. With the hand not busy holding Donghyuck’s, he slaps the other’s thigh. “I can’t believe you made me believe you were an art thief!”
Donghyuck bursts out laughing, high and full and bright. “You jumped to that conclusion on your own, hyung. Don’t blame me.”
Taeil tucks their heads together, smiling. “So once you’ve found it, you’ll go home? Your coven can help you put your magic back together, right?”
Donghyuck quiets. “That’s what I thought,” he says softly. “But it isn’t so simple.”
“Rarely is,” Taeil says with a sigh.
Where their hands are joined, Donghyuck runs his thumb over the back of Taeil’s hand. “In covens, all your magic is joined in a way. You don’t quite share magic but you’re still connected. When I separated my magic the way I did, it destabilised all of them. It was dangerous for me to stay.”
Taeil’s brow creases at that. Yuta’s magic had been damaged by the accident too, and Jungwoo’s. Both of them are healing now, and it’s been a long and slow process, but they’ve done it by being together, not by being further apart. “Hyuck, I don’t think —”
“I can’t be with them,” Donghyuck says, steel in his voice. “Hyung, I won’t put them in danger. You of all people understand that.”
“It isn’t the same,” Taeil argues. “The magic in me is dangerous and harmful. Your magic is just…injured. Yuta and Jungwoo had the same, but they’re healing because they’re together with Jaehyunnie and Taeyongie. Isn’t that what being a coven is?”
Donghyuck’s head is bowed and there are tears dripping from his eyes into his lap. “Hyung, I can’t. It’s my mistake, all of it. I won’t let them be hurt by it.”
Taeil feels this like a physical ache in him, stronger than any magic. “Jagiya,” he says, and pulls Donghyuck closer into his arms. “Darling, that boy broke your heart. It’s not just witches who have covens. We heal by being together with people who love us. That’s just being alive.”
Donghyuck clings to him, fingers curled in Taeil’s shirt. “I’m going to heal you,” he whispers. “Hyung, thank you.” Taeil is the one who kisses him this time, and even though Donghyuck is crying, it’s as tender and heartfelt as anything Taeil has ever done. It’s too soon and too sudden and Donghyuck needs time to still and settle, but for a moment, Taeil lets himself not care. The heat, the magic that Donghyuck makes him feel, needs space to grow too, and Taeil lets it expand until it’s pressing on the inside of his ribcage.
Drowning out any darkness.
“Hyung,” Donghyuck whispers. “Please, please feel the same way after this.”
Against the softness of his lips, Taeil mumbles, “After what?”
There’s light shining up between them, through their intertwined fingers. Taeil pulls back, breaks away from Donghyuck to stare at it. “What —”
“It wasn’t for him,” Donghyuck says, eyes bright and feverish. “It’s for you. It was always for you.”
In a flash, Taeil sees it, the upside down Lovers, the Wheel of Fortune — Donghyuck’s found his magic, the precious part that Renjun stowed away in a painting and banished to a town beside the sea so that nobody could ever take it away again — and now, instead of taking it back for himself, he’s driving it forward into Taeil. “What are you doing,” Taeil cries out as he feels his bones and muscles lighting up with magic. “It’s yours, take it, stop it, stop —”
It’s a wondrous thing, Donghyuck’s magic. All the most joyful things in life, and sorrowful too. Old and wise and unchanging as the sea. Drifting in it, Taeil hears a voice, full and wide like the blue, blue sky.
Magic breeds magic, it whispers. Magic ends magic.
He wakes in a familiar bed, to a familiar hand on his own. “Hey,” says a familiar voice and he opens his eyes. Jaehyun is holding his hand, steady as an anchor. On his other side, Yuta’s eyes are full of tears. Taeyong, Jungwoo, Doyoung, Johnny.
“What happened?” he asks, voice rough.
“Donghyuckie fixed you,” Yuta says with a smile. “The dark magic’s gone.”
Donghyuck. Taeil tries to remember, but the last thing he can recall is Donghyuck saying he’d figured out how to extract the dark magic from him. After that, darkness, as if there’s something he should be seeing but is just too far out of the light.
There’s a strange noise in the background and after a moment, Taeil realises it’s traffic. He rubs a hand over his eyes. “Where am I?”
Johnny leans over and smiles. “You’re home.”
Three months, one week and four days later
When Taeil shows up at the house in the countryside, someone is waiting for him on the doorstep, dressed in jeans and a dark green coat. “Renjun-ah,” comes out of Taeil’s mouth before he stops to think about how he knows the young man. The memory returns slowly to him. “Renjun,” he repeats. “You’re a member of Donghyuck’s coven, isn’t that right?”
Renjun lets out a long, slow breath. “You remember.”
“Of course I remember,” Taeil says. “I’m glad to meet you, finally.” He looks across to Donghyuck’s house, which is now a warm-hued stone cottage with white-flowered vines climbing the sides. “Is that what the house really looks like?”
Renjun follows his gaze and doesn’t remark on the strangeness of the question. “It is,” he replies. “Haechannie isn’t here anymore, so there’s no magic.”
“Did he come home?” Taeil asks, unlocking the front door. The landlord has a new tenant, so Taeil is just checking that he has absolutely everything.
Renjun doesn’t follow him in. “He did,” he replies. “Someone convinced him. Told him that being with people who loved him would help him heal.”
Taeil turns around, and there’s an odd throb in his chest, as if something is trying to escape. “I’m glad he’s home. Would you like to come in?”
“No, thank you,” Renjun says politely, then holds out a card. Taeil takes it. It’s thick stock paper, creamy and soft, with a simple print on the front — Coven Dream. On the back is an address. “Please come and see us,” Renjun requests. “I owe you a tea.”
Without waiting for an answer, he turns and walks back down the front steps and away.
When he rings the doorbell, Taeil's heart starts to race. Donghyuck is his friend, he tells himself. There’s no need to be nervous. A tall young man opens the door, his hair a shock of bubblegum pink. As soon as he sees Taeil, his face creases into a smile so brilliant that his eyes turn to crescent moons. “You must be Taeil-ssi!”
“I…am,” Taeil says, a little taken aback.
“Come in!” says Bubblegum hair. “Please do. Shoes off here, I’ll get you some slippers.”
“Oh, thank you,” Taeil says, sliding his coat off and hanging it between a familiar dark green one, and a long cloak of dark red. He removes his shoes and lines them up — with a jolt, he recognises Donghyuck’s scuffed sneakers.
“Here you go,” says Bubblegum, holding some cozy-looking slippers out. “Lee Jeno,” he introduces himself, bowing low. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Don’t scare him away, Jeno,” scolds a voice, and here is yet another handsome young man with shocking hair — silver this time. “Let Haechannie do that on his own.”
Jeno scowls — a strangely adorable expression on the face of one so tall and broad. “Maybe go find him then, Jaemin. And where’s Mark-hyung?”
“I’m right here,” another voice says. Taeil peers around Jeno’s silhouette into the hallway. Mark isn’t as tall as the other two, but Taeil knows a powerful witch when he sees one. “Taeil-ssi,” says Mark, ducking his head a little shyly. “Pleasure to meet you. Thanks for coming.”
“Oh,” Taeil says, looking between the three of them. “Thanks for having me.”
“Tea,” Mark tells Jeno. “Haechannie,” he says to Jaemin, and they both vanish. “I’ll take you to the kitchen.” Taeil follows Mark through a veritable rabbit-warren of corridors until they reach a cosy gold-soaked kitchen with plants on every available surface. “It is actually very clean. We care about hygiene,” Mark laughs. “Chenle and Jisungie are just trying out some new potions, so we let them have run of the kitchen.”
“It’s very,” Taeil says, and runs out of words.
Mark laughs at that. “It is, yeah. Hey, thank you. For taking such good care of Haechannie.”
“I didn’t do much,” Taeil says, startled. “Really, I should be thanking him.”
Mark watches Taeil with a gaze somehow soft and sharp at once. “He’s home,” Mark says finally. “You did enough.”
Taeil is opening his mouth to say that he’s pretty sure that’s nothing to do with him when a crash from down the hallway sounds, and then the pounding of feet. The kitchen door flies open and Donghyuck collides with the doorframe on the way into the kitchen. “Mark-hyung!” he yells, then spots Taeil at the kitchen table. “Oh my — Taeil-hyung, what the fuck are you doing here?”
“Language,” scolds Mark, as Taeil says awkwardly — “Er, Renjun invited me?”
Donghyuck scowls. “Injunnie, I swear, I’m going to —”
“Tea, Taeil-ssi?” Mark says serenely, setting out two cups. “Renjunnie’s out on errand, but he requested that we make this tea for you specifically.” Taeil lifts the cup to his nose. His mother’s perfume, books, Johnny’s kitchen, sunflowers. It tastes just like it smells; just like home.
“Why the sunflowers, though?” he murmurs to himself, and misses the look that Mark gives Donghyuck.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Mark says, and slides out.
Donghyuck doesn’t sit. He just stands near the doorway and stares at Taeil, as if he’s afraid. “It’s your kitchen, Donghyuck-ah,” Taeil laughs. “Sit down. Sorry I haven’t visited sooner. Things have been a bit crazy, but I have questions.”
Donghyuck doesn’t move. “Questions,” he repeats.
“Yeah,” Taeil says. “There’s a whole chunk of time that I just can’t remember for the life of me. What happened? How did you fix it?”
There’s a funny expression on Donghyuck’s face, fearful and joyful at the same time. At once, he seems to come to a decision. “Let me try and remind you,” he whispers, then takes two strides forward and bends down and they’re kissing.
At first, Taeil is too shocked to react. Kissing Donghyuck, he thinks, is really quite nice. Familiar somehow, like Donghyuck is holding all the strings of the last year of his life and is tugging until they unravel. Something moves inside of his chest, flares hot like a flame, and then —
“Oh,” Taeil gasps, as if he hasn’t said that word enough today. “Hyuck, you —” The light between Donghyuck’s fingers; his magic coursing through Taeil’s body until the darkness was gone. Taeil feels tears on his cheeks that he can’t stop as magic awakens inside him.
“It’ll fade,” Donghyuck murmurs, still holding Taeil’s face tenderly. “You’re still not a witch, sorry. But my magic will always be with you.”
“You,” Taeil gasps, “you crazy boy. I told you to stop; why did you do that?”
Donghyuck grins. “I never do as I’m told, remember?”
There’s a million questions that Taeil has — what does this mean, where do they go, what does Donghyuck feel, who are they now — but they all spin out in his mind. Instead, he presses a hand to his heart where once again, magic has settled. “This belongs to you,” Taeil whispers, shaking his head. “It should be yours.”
Donghyuck’s smile is bright like the sunflowers as he pulls back. “Don’t worry, hyung,” he says, eyes glowing. “We’ll get there.”
The End