Chapter Text
jisung watches as the stone donghyuck tossed skips five times before disappearing underwater. it doesn’t take more than five seconds fore the stone to be spat back at them. donghyuck grabs it and tosses it again—the cycle continues.
the school’s stands in a small island, overflowing with magical life, and every year, thousands of boats pick up students by the hidden entrance in the muggle’s port. jisung’s hand touches the sand. it slip between his fingers. he doesn’t like watching it fall, because it feels like he’s losing it—forever unable to hold on to something he still doesn’t know how to describe or explain why he wants it.
“what are you planning to do after exams are over?” asks donghyuck after tossing the stone for the tenth time.
“i don’t know. father talked about traveling by portals again,” says jisung. “makes me dizzy,”
donghyuck hums, “what doesn’t make you dizzy? i remember you almost passed out first time you rode a broom,”
“yah...” jisung blushes, resting his chin on his knees. “that was different. i was excited,”
“to the point of passing out,”
“i feel things very deeply,” explains jisung and donghyuck laughs.
“i know,” donghyuck says, bumping their shoulders together. his gaze falls onto the horizon, lips curling upwards. “i’m probably visiting ilvermorny, you know. mark invited me, so i think it’d be nice,”
“do you like him?” the question slips right through his lips. “i mean... you, you mentioned him so many times, so i thought... uhm,”
“he’s only a friend,” donghyuck darts his eyes away. looks like he’s trying to convince himself. “plus, he’s mark, you know. he’s lame, like, he’s an actual loser. he scribbles haha on his letters, instead of saying he laughed, or something. who does that? i have half a piece of parchment with his hahas written on it. he’s ridiculous. why would i have feelings for him, you know? if i did, he should be very thankful,”
jisung laughs. “yeah, he should,”
“but what about you and chenle?” donghyuck wiggles his eyebrows.
“i don’t know...” he mutters. “but i think i’m moving on... there’s no point in hurting myself over and over when it’s clear as day that he’s never going to like me back. he’s happy with soojin and i’ll be happy as his friend,”
donghyuck fakes tears, “you’ve grown, jisungie. i’m so proud of you. you’re a man now,”
jisung pushes him lightly. “s-shut up,”
week five and six move at an astoundingly slow pace.
every day, jisung sits next to the damned white cloak and studies for his upcoming exams. though he tries to be quiet, pretend he’s non-existent, so he doesn’t bother the constantly moody and unpredictable force of nature known as na jaemin, after a while, he feels a growing itch in his stomach.
it’s annoying. so annoying. the way it makes his stomach burn, and he’s unable to keep his eyes from darting back to the other boy every once in a while, like he’s been put under a spell. a quiet voice in the back of his head tells him he knows exactly what the issue is, but jisung prefers to ignore it.
the itch remains.
jaemin is not that bad, he reluctantly realizes. when he speaks, there’s no more coldness or hostility. at times, jisung wonders if there’s even fondness behind the way he calls jisung kid, before hiding his books again. weeks ago, he’d have described the white cloak as the quiet before the storm, but now, jisung sees jaemin as strangely normal. the horrifying things he learns are part of his routine. dementors are no longer that scary. jaemin is no longer scary. he’s become used to it all.
and the thought makes his heart beat fast and the itch grow.
the following days are worse. jisung’s exhausted, drained from a three-hour long written astronomy exam. he’s always hated astronomy with a fervent passion, and it didn’t help that their professor insisted on a 200-word minimum answer to every question. even though he spent all week studying, he didn’t remember most of what he wrote down, and could only pray for a decent result. there was only so much one could talk about stars and the movements of planets. still, losing his golden cloak wasn’t on his plans.
oh, the disappointment on his mother’s face if he got less than 98 points.
lately, classes pass by and jisung snaps back into reality, mind drifting into thoughts about dementors, and breaking the rules, and what exactly na jaemin has done. his professors are worried (professor lee insisted on speaking to him after class, teary-eyed that her favorite student wasn’t writing down every word she said, wondering if something had happen to make him lose his passion for transfiguration overnight. it took him over thirty minutes to convince the woman he was simply tired—that’s all).
they had never seen him like that before, but jisung cannot tell them his stupid brain is trying to come up with things to excuse jaemin’s past behavior—blame it on curiosity, blame it on anyone else, but his nature. right? jaemin wasn’t that scary. he doesn’t want to do bad things or hurt others. innocently enough, he thinks that, in the case that he does, that jaemin is and wants all the previously mentioned, that jisung can change his mind—somehow.
see, that’s the problem. whenever he tries to study or focus, his brain goes back to na jaemin. it doesn’t help that the culprit of his issues is seated right next to him most of the time, eyes scanning the cover of a book on portals and traveling beyond this realm. and jisung cannot stop staring.
jaemin’s hands are long and scarred, small and deep cuts mark his pale skin. how did he get those? jisung stares at his fingers, to his wrist, up his arm, eyes traveling over the other’s frame with interest. does he have other scars, as well? new ones? did he get those when he turned a white cloak? did someone do that to him?
“what?” snaps jaemin.
damn it. jisung bits his bottom lip and turns back to his parchment. “nothing,”
jaemin clicks his tongue, dissatisfied. “you gotta stop doing that—staring at me like that,”
he didn’t mean to stare for so long, but he couldn’t help himself. sorry, sorry, thinks jisung, embarrassed. he restrains himself from speaking and losing—losing a challenge he made up in his brain to keep his sanity intact for today. talking to jaemin would only make him overthink his every word later on, replaying their conversation late at night, when he should be asleep.
unfortunately for him, jaemin approaches, eyes darting to his parchment. he lowers himself to analyze his answers, pressing his lips together in a thin line.
oh.
jisung breathes out—it’s pathetically similar to a wheeze, the way it hurts his chest.
he looks over his shoulder to the white cloak, and he cannot help the way his eyes dart all over his face—from his serious eyes, to his nose to his rosy lips right under it. the itch grows in his chest and jisung understands he’s in the deep trouble now.
“you wrote it wrong,” says jaemin, at last.
“what?” bumbles jisung.
“the transfiguration spell...” jaemin points to somewhere in his parchment, but jisung isn’t looking—he doesn’t care about transfiguration now. “it’s amato animo animato animagus. you wrote it in the wrong order,”
then jaemin moves back. and jisung can breathe again.
“fix it,” says the other.
“ah—,” lets out jisung, half disappointed.
he stops. slaps his forehead. he’s not disappointed! jaemin should keep his distance! he’s being ridiculous, for clinging to the older student’s attention because he knows he can’t have chenle’s. that must be it, correct? the reason for his itch, for wanting jaemin closer? it’s all because he couldn’t have chenle, right?
“stupid, stupid, stupid...” he mutters.
jaemin stares, “are you alright? it’s just a small mistake,”
“i know i... i just...” stops jisung, jutting his bottom lip out.
his eyes are glued to jaemin’s expression. the itch grows and grows and grows—justaskforhishelp! it’s not that hard, and he doubts jaemin will refuse. before another word can leave his lips, he turns back to his parchment.
“—thank you,”
“do you need help with anything else?” jaemin asks, moving closer. there’s kindness in his eyes, like he can read through jisung’s thoughts, knowing exactly what he wants. and he’s willing to give it to him.
“yes—” breathes out jisung. “yes, please,”
jaemin loves magic. it’s so clear to see—the way his face soothes, the way he smiles as he spends hours of his day talking to jisung about every spell he has troubles with. he’s a very patient boy, he makes sure jisung takes in every bit of information he spills. he’d be an amazing professor, if not for the white cloak.
even when he knows full well the pronunciation, history, incantation and wand movement of a spell, jisung plays dumb, only so he can get to hear jaemin talking more and more. he knows jaemin knows he’s pretending, but the older wizard never says anything about it.
they never practice spells, nor does jaemin ever speak of the curses and hexes he’s learned over the years, but it’s more than enough to stop the ever-growing itch from bothering jisung whenever they’re together. at least for a while.
adrenaline shoots through his veins, and jisung can feel his heart beating against his throat after almost two hours of flying around his broom. the sun burns on top of their heads, and his uniform clings to his sweaty frame—kind of disgusting. the students are on the floor now, drinking water and talking.
he sits down, pushing his sweaty bangs out of his eyes.
after his care of magical creatures exam thursday, the school will come together for the final game of the season. unlike other magical schools, with teams divided by houses, mahoutokoro decided to have 6 teams of students instead, so there wasn’t animosity between them. jisung’s team has been doing well. there’s a high chance of them winning. the thought of it makes him beam. he’s never been competitive, but, merlin, he does like winning.
“great job, jisung,” smiles renjun, the team captain, giving him a high-five.
“thanks,” he mutters, still out of breath. “let’s do our best to win,”
ever since his first game, chenle and donghyuck are there to cheer for him—always. whenever he loses, they go out and walk around the beach, or wait until nighttime to play around the forest with the magical creatures there. and whenever he wins, they celebrate together with the rest of the team at a small party, watched by the professors. the thought of chenle bringing soojin to the game stings, but not nearly as much as it did before.
afterward, he goes to class. he plays wizard chess against jeno and donghyuck, and wins, which is a confidence boost. he studies with jaemin that evening again—the older wizard teaches him all about the patronus charm. jisung wonders what the other’s patronus might look like, if he can even conjure one. he pays attention to most of what he says, but has to bite down the urge to ask him one simple question:
do you want to come to see me play on thursday, jaemin-ah?
it’s a struggle.
on sunday, jisung tries to ask, but the words are stuck in his throat. so when jaemin shoots him a confused look—after he had interrupted his very important lecture on the importance of wand care—all he can do is shake his head profusely, and mutter: nothing, nothing, it was stupid anyway, before hiding behind some old book on magical plants, feeling his cheeks burn under jaemin’s suspicious gaze.
he barely sees jaemin around and he doesn’t show up in the library on monday, which is both disappointing and frustrating, because he had spent all morning rehearsing with donghyuck to make sure he could ask him, whilst being prepared for the high chance of rejection.
tuesday comes. jaemin’s so clearly not in a good mood—he keeps cursing under his breath and sets a book on fire, before tossing another one to the other side of the library, dissatisfied with something. he has a new bruise on his left wrist and jisung doesn’t know if he caused it himself, or if something had happened during his crazy experiments. all he knows is that he doesn’t want to risk getting the other angry at him, so he remains quiet, nodding and listening as jaemin vents all about his problems.
“jaemin-ssi, what are you doing tomorrow?”
it’s wednesday.
jisung had finished his last practical potions exam. the game is tomorrow. it’s now or never. he either grows a spine, or he’ll regret it. part of him tells him to shut up and accept jaemin wasn’t going to watch him play, while the other screams at him to do it already, so their suffering can come to an end.
the white wizard brings his eyes up, frowning. “jaemin-ssi?”
“uhm...” jisung slips, face burning. “i thought it was appropriate, since, uhm, since we’re familiar with one another—you know, like, we’re—we’re no longer... acquaintances,”
there’s a long pause.
jaemin hums, eyes falling back to his parchment. “i guess you’re right,”
the sigh that escapes him is both ridiculous and humiliating. jisung nods, looking down, then up, then down again. he plays with his hair, then adjusts his cuffs, dragging his feet on the floor to keep himself grounded.
“why?” jaemin’s voice returns.
“w—what?”
“... you asked if i was doing something tomorrow. why do you want to know?” the corner of jaemin’s lips pull up.
“are you?”
“why do you want to know?” pressed jaemin, tilting his head.
jisung has spent enough time with him to know he’s playing with him; the squinting, the restrained smile; the way jaemin forgets all about his book like he couldn’t even think of giving something else but jisung his undivided attention. it’s so, so, so obvious. (and suffocating).
he breathes out, looking up at the ceiling. “the game is tomorrow,”
“so?”
“i’m on the team,”
“oh, are you?” jaemin returns to his reading. he sounds surprised, but the growing smile gives away that he already knew that. “not only are you a little genius but a quidditch player, huh,”
“yeah...” jisung continues, biting down his smile. “i asked... because i, i was wondering if you’d like to come. and watch me play, you know,”
“should i?”
“i’d like it if you did,”
“very well,” smiles jaemin.
it’s a full smile. with teeth and gum, and it’s so fucking pretty, jisung’s heart stops working for a solid minute. he parts his lips to say something, but all that comes out is a pathetic huff. jaemin seems to like it, though, because that gleam in his eyes returns.
inside their locker room, jisung’s having a mild panic attack.
he twists his uniform in hands, pacing around, breathing in and out. jaemin is somewhere outside, hidden from the other students, waiting for him, and jisung doesn’t want to perform poorly. more than anything he wants to win, so jaemin can smile like that again.
“fuck...” he breathes out, locking himself inside a stall to change clothes.
his teammates look at each other, before deciding it’s better to leave him alone.
he only relaxes when he flying, and everyone’s too blurry for him to see. 30 minutes into the game—his team is winning by over 40 points. jisung defends the goal with all his might, sending the quaffle flying across the field to his renjun’s hands, so he can score.
the players lose themselves, trying to steal the quaffle from the opponent’s hands or to find the snitch, and jisung has a second to stare at the bleachers—his desperate eyes search for a familiar white cloak. surprisingly, he spots jaemin in the middle, in an empty space all to himself, because most students have moved as far away from him as possible.
jisung’s smile is contagious, his eyes turn into half-moons. it’s the extra motivation he needed to allow himself to enter his competitive mode; the need to show jaemin what he could do; to show how cool he was; how talented he was; the need to make jaemin proud of him.
every time he stops a score, his eyes find jaemin’s figure. he can’t control himself.
the groups grow more and more violent as time progresses. a student with a weird scar on his face aims the bludger at his face, which promptly gets him out of the game. jisung almost falls off his broom trying to stop the quaffle, twisting his left wrist later on. the game goes on for one more hour, but no matter how much they try, jisung doesn’t let anyone score, and their team comes victorious after taking the snitch.
he changes back to his normal clothes, and decides to skip the party altogether, leaving everyone confused. (“i’m tired,” he tells donghyuck, earning a long stare in return). it’s late; the skies are painted dark purple, with countless stars sparkling, matching the shooting spells the winners cast every once in a while, red sparks spelling every player’s names. people are celebrating in their dorms.
jisung follows after the field, verging on the entrance to the forest, when he spots the familiar shape of na jaemin, waiting for him, with his arms crossed, leaning on a tree.
“you did great out there,” says jaemin. “i didn’t know you were a keeper. you’d be a chaser or something,”
“thanks. i got... really competitive,” jisung waddles closer to him, but not enough to enter his personal bubble. “did people complain that you were there?”
jaemin shrugs, “yeah, but i don’t care about what they have to say. the professors didn’t let me come in, but i apparated there,”
“really?” jisung’s shoulders go up out of embarrassment. “and that won’t get you in trouble?”
“if it does, it was worth it, don’t you think?” jaemin throws the question at him.
jisung hugs himself, moving to the side, biting down his smile. “i don’t know—you tell me,”
jaemin goes to tell him how interesting the game has been. for someone so focused on his studying, he does enjoy quidditch too. they sit down and talk for hours, discussing their favorite team and their bets for the upcoming quidditch world cup. only when it’s way past curfew that jisung needs to go. he thanks jaemin again for coming to support him, which cracks another one of those beautiful smiles from the older wizard, and walks away—feeling invincible.
week eight, jisung asks, biting his nails, “should i call you hyung? like, jaemin-hyung?”
jaemin purses his lips and shrugs, but the way his ears turn red don’t go unnoticed by the younger’s observant eyes, “i don’t see why not,”
“do you like it better than jaemin-ssi?”
“call me whatever you want, jisung,”
week nine, jaemin asks for jisung’s help with a spell.
any other student would’ve denied the offer in less than a second, and possibly ran away before jaemin could try to convince them, or perform the spell anyway. jisung, however, who had been studying the different types of wand core and what they usually represented, merely turns to glance at the white wizard, tilting his head.
“will it hurt?” that’s all that mattered to him.
jaemin promptly says, “no. it only hurts if i want it to,”
he sounds tense but honest. like part of him isn’t sure if jisung will believe him or not, while the other was offended by the question. he holds a steel gaze, like the idea of willingly hurting jisung bothered him. and it’s enough to mess with the younger’s heart more than any love potion ever would.
“okay...” smiles jisung. “i trust you,”
jaemin’s nostrils flare and he tenses some more, grip on his wand growing tighter. he swallows hard and looks away, muttering: “alright, alright,” under his breath, going back to his book, flipping the pages so he can read again, and again—as if he doesn’t have it memorized at this point. it’s a reaction the other never thought he’d see from him, never mind over something so small.
he has no idea what kind of spell the other wants to try on him. it could very well be one of the unforgivable curses. the killing curse, the cruciatus curse and the imperius curse—it’d be over before jisung could even say anything. there’s no known way to avoid them, to redirect them.
“can you get up please?” asks jaemin in a quiet tone.
jisung obeys, dragging the chair back to its place as he stands in front of the other, heart hammering inside his chest. jaemin fidgets in place, holding onto his wand, caressing it gently as if convincing it to behave, to not hurt him. there must be fear in his eyes, because jaemin speaks again.
“in case you’re worried, i’ve cast this spell on inanimate objects before...”
“hyung,” he tries, but jaemin keeps going.
“obviously, all attempts succeeded. you’re different than a stuffed animal, of course... you have a beating heart and... flushed cheeks, but it’s something really small, jisung. if i’m focused enough, the most you’ll feel is a sting in your hand... hopefully, you won’t feel a thing. a cut will appear in your palm, but it’ll close immediately, alright?” his voice trembles as he speaks.
“it’s okay...” laughs jisung. “i know you’re not going to hurt me, hyung,”
“i won’t...” agrees jaemin. “please, close your eyes,”
jisung willingly hands jaemin the power of torturing him, of doing whatever said spell caused, fluttering his eyes closed as his smile lingers in his face. his hyung reaches for his hands, bringing them up, and jisung lets him position him as he wishes, adoring the way jaemin’s calloused hands feel against his. the gentle caress of jaemin’s thumb has jisung’s heart preening in his chest.
he sucks in his breath when jaemin lets him know he’ll cast the spell. he hears jaemin’s soft tone when he moves his wand.
like he said, his palm burns a little; nothing too painful, nothing he couldn’t handle. his curiosity makes him flutter his eyes open, and sees the considerably deep cut in his open palm. in less than a second, the cut heals, skin magically appearing, closing the wound. his blood remains; red and thick, staining his pale skin.
jaemin sighs. he places his hand on top of jisung’s head, “it works... thank you,”
he’s very close, and he touches over jisung’s palm, fingers ghosting over his blood, smearing all across his skin. jisung’s heart dies and blooms in his heart when jaemin continues to do it, drawing little circles over his skin, amused by the way jisung doesn’t pull back.
jaemin brings his finger to his mouth. his tongue drags across his index, licking the remains of jisung’s blood off of them, his bottom lip painted red. his left thumb presses against the blood some more, and jisung cannot breathe, feeling dizzy, focused on the way he plays with his blood.
“what even is that spell?” he asks, at last, not trusting his own voice.
“i’ll tell you one day,” he smiles.
jaemin drags his thumb over jisung’s plum lips, smearing his bottom lip and chin with the younger’s blood, dark eyes watching carefully, as jisung opens his mouth to drink it for himself, tongue pressing against his thumb. jaemin’s eyes are devastating, and the way he smirks breaks jisung’s mind beyond repair.
“good boy,” jaemin whispers at last, before leaving the restricted area.
and that feels a lot like torture to poor jisung.
week ten, they no longer meet solely in the safe restrains of the restricted area, no. they meet everywhere. jisung doesn’t know if it has anything to do with the spell his hyung cast on him last week, but whenever he’s alone for more than ten minutes, jaemin appears. and he means it like that. jaemin appears out of nowhere, precisely apparating to jisung’s exact location.
the other has appeared in weird places throughout the week—inside his dormitory, by his side in the forest, in the locker room, and even inside the same bathroom stall as him. jaemin doesn’t bother explaining how and why he’s doing it. he merely strikes a conversation with jisung, like it’s normal for them to meet like that.
their muffled giggles can be heard everywhere across mahoutokoro now; in his dormitory, jaemin hides under his bed and talks to him all night, haunting stories that help jisung fall asleep. in the forest, the two compete on who can get the most kappa’s nails (and jaemin always lets him win).
in the locker room, jaemin has to cast a muffling spell so they can talk all they want without his team members noticing. he even casts a covering spell, only to fly next to jisung when he’s practicing, which is as fun as it’s distracting, causing renjun to tell him to get his head in the game over 10 times on wednesday.
jaemin only showed up inside the bathroom stall once, getting his foot stuck inside the toilet, but whenever jisung’s washing his hands, he hears a soft woosh, then jaemin is sitting in the sink by his side.
after talking to soojin and chenle during dinner time, jisung decides to go for a walk at night, when it’s way past their curfew. if a prefect were to find him, he’d be tossed in detention before his parents could even say something in his defense. mahoutokoro can be very strict at times, given the nighttime creatures lurking in its forests.
jisung’s humming a song to himself when hands rest on his shoulder.
he jumps and turns to face the surprising bright smile of one na jaemin, the forever recognizable white cloak dragging on the floor, too large for him. his heart spins pathetically.
“wh... what are you doing here, hyung? i thought you’d be studying,” laughs jisung, putting some distance between them—for his heart’s sake.
“i was, but you didn’t show up to keep me company,” accuses jaemin. he’s so nice to jisung now; so nice; so gentle; so sincere; so pretty; and so unachievable.
jisung fidgets, “you don’t need me to be by your side all the time...”
“don’t i?” he teases.
he blushes, looking down, playing with his golden cuffs. “i don’t know... do you?”
“who knows,” jaemin walks around him like a panther, analyzing him like he’s his prey. “maybe you’ve spoiled me, and now the evil wizard is obsessed with you, park jisung. and you’ll be forced to be by my side—forever,”
jisung’s reaction is borderline humiliating. those words have an intense effect on him. his stomach turns and shivers run down his spine. his mouth dries, and he lets out a heavy sigh. to have jaemin’s by his side forever sounds perfect—it sounds ideal, exactly what he wants. his obsession would be a mere bonus. they work well together; they don’t argue. jaemin’s strong. he can protect him, while jisung works for them. they can live away from everyone, in a small house by the beach—jaemin can continue his demented research for power while jisung follows his parents’ expectations and goes to the ministry. they can be each other’s secrets—each other’s loves, and obsessions, whatever they wish to call it, really. as long as it fed into the craving of his heart, as long as he can have jaemin’s attention, and his touch, and see his face every day.
avoiding the other’s direction, jisung confesses, “i wouldn’t mind it,”
jaemin stops right behind him, uncertain of what to do now. jisung doesn’t want to look back, in case he sees rejection—or worse, disgust—in the other’s eyes. before the other can answer, they hear other people approaching—two prefects, commenting about their last exams, excited about their upcoming break.
jaemin moves like a ghost. his warm hand grabs the back of jisung’s neck and drags him inside a forgotten broom cabinet. he swings the door open, pushes the brooms to the side, and, just like that, they’re pressed together in a very small, and claustrophobic place.
jisung’s heart hammers in his chest. he’s just confessed to wanting jaemin’s obsession—to wanting his devout attention, to wanting him, basically. and now they’re here: bodies together, so close he smells the other, feels the brush of his cloak—it’s driving him insane.
“is anyone there?” the prefect asks into the empty hallway.
“i could’ve sworn i saw something,” muses the other prefect.
jisung doesn’t dare to breathe. inhaling jaemin’s scent right now might make him faint. they cannot see the prefects, but before they know it, their voices are disappearing at they continue looking for misbehaving students. silence falls between them. jisung sighs. he tries to leave but the other doesn’t move.
“jaemin-ssi…” he whispers. “you can—move back already,”
“why?” he snaps.
“but t-they’re gone…”
“i know,”
“jae—”
“i don’t want to move back, jisung,” jaemin stares at him—hard, defiant. he presses harder against jisung. “do you?”
jisung closes his eyes, face burning, “jaemin—”
“do you want me to move back?”
“n-no,” he confesses. and the other stills. time freezes around them, as jaemin allows jisung to breathe and take his time. he can hear a clock ticking in his mind, as the second fly by, waiting for him to say something—anything. jisung parts his lips and whispers, “… is this the moment where you kiss me?”
jaemin hums, deep in thought, pressed against him just right. it’s crazy how he can barely feel jaemin’s skin but it’s more than enough to make his chest ache, craving for it.
jaemin tilts his head, “do you want me to?”
“you shouldn’t—” argues jisung, pathetic, holding on to the last hope that might save him from perdition.
jaemin squints, “but do you want me to?”
does he? he does. of course, he does. these past weeks have been more than enough proof that jisung wants jaemin more than he’s ever wanted anyone, anything before in his life. it’s ridiculous—this need, but he cannot help himself. he wants him, as desperately as he needs air. he wants jaemin’s truth, his lies, his beauty and pain, everything—anything. even only one damned kiss.
“… yes,” whines jisung.
“very well,”
jaemin’s lips are bruising. warm. smashed against jisung’s, pressing them harder against the back wall of the broom cabinet—harsh, thirsty, desperate, like he’s been holding back for more than enough to drive them both insane. his hands dig in jisung’s hair, tangling around the curls, while jisung tries, tries so hard to kiss back, eyes fluttering closed.
burning, burning, burning up.
it goes straight to his dick. the frenetic pace, the heat, and the fact jaemin knew exactly what to do to turn jisung into a puddle. the golden wizard tenses up, desperate as his stomach burns with need.
jaemin yanks jisung’s hair, tilting his head, and jisung parts his lips, to let out a quiet hiss. it’s the perfect opportunity for the other to deepen the kiss—his tongue is relentless, intertwining and tangling, so, so, so much that he cannot breathe.
jisung taps his shoulder for a breather, and jaemin finally stops, dragging his teeth over the younger’s bottom lip, pulling it harshly, pressing a much softer, gentler kiss on his red lips, this time around.
“h-hyung—” chokes out jisung. the way the word leaves his mouth is mortifying. a soft, broken whine, that does something to the boy in front of him.
jaemin’s eyes darken, and he presses his lower half against jisung’s helpless body. the word has jaemin grinning against the skin of his neck, as he drags his tongue all the way up to his earlobe.
“say it again, jisung,”
and of course jisung obeys, “h-hyung—jaemin-hyung,”
“who’s ruining perfect student park jisung, huh? tell me, pretty boy,” he whispers.
“y-you, jaemin-hyung,”
“oh, that’s right,” he taunts, yanking jisung’s hair, making the other cry a little when he attacks his neck. jaemin sinks his teeth on his skin, and bruises every bit of it; tainting it purple, red, and blue. even when busy, he doesn’t shut up, “evil jaemin-hyung is the one pressing you like this, huh? making good jisung so hard, yeah?”
“h-hyung… i’m embarrassed,”
“oh, don’t be, baby,” jaemin moves back to bruise his lips some more, relentless tongue licking inside of his mouth. it’s all teeth and violence and spit. jisung cannot help but love it, finding it so endearing. “it’s only us two here, right? or do you want other people to see you being a good boy for hyung, too?”
his tone should be condescending, it should annoy him, but jisung loves it; he lives for jaemin taking care of him, teasing him, and treating him like he’s too small, too cute, and too weak to do things himself.
jisung shakes his head. “n-no… just you, hyung,”
“that’s right, baby,”
jaemin kisses his parted lips, before dragging his tongue over jisung’s mouth, holding him still, keeping him there, taking everything he wants to give to him. jisung looks a mess—flushed cheeks, hair falling over his eyes, lips shiny with spit.
jaemin smiles. “only hyung gets to see you like this, yeah?"
“yeah,” pants jisung, before kissing him again, and again, and again.
the day before break begins, jisung asks shyly, “hyung... what did you do? to get your cloak?”
(there’s a muffling spell around them, so no soul can hear them. they’re seated in the old astronomy tower, that had been shut down two years ago after a duel took place between the headmaster and a student. no one knows how it happened, but rumor has it that the headmaster still hasn’t healed from it. jaemin wears his cloak, along with jisung’s old scarf, wrapped around his neck. since he’s staying in mahoutokoro and jisung’s traveling with his parents, he wanted to leave something behind for jaemin to remember him. “as if i’d forget you overnight,” teased jaemin when jisung shyly placed it around his neck.)
“i don’t like talking about that,” says jaemin, eyes closed, resting his back against the door. there’s no reaction to the question—almost like he had expected it.
jisung pouts, “but i want to know,”
jaemin scoffs, “why?”
“it couldn’t have been that bad, right?” argues jisung, picking at a lose strand on his pants, twirling it around his finger, before letting go and repeating the cycle over and over. “you—you seem so nice, hyung. at first, i thought you must’ve done something really bad, but now, i don’t know. i don’t think you did,”
a second passes. then another.
“hyung—” he calls. but jaemin interrupts him.
“that’s because i didn’t do anything, jisung,”
“but—” jisung frowns, eyes flickering from the cloak to the other’s face.
jaemin sits up straight, too annoyed to pretend to sleep.
he runs his fingers through his hair, frustration lacing his next words, “people have the wrong idea of what the white cloak means,” he smirks, then scoffs, shaking his head, distant look to him, reliving bad memories. jisung looks down, feeling stupid for asking. “this is repression, jisung. they set ridiculous rules and expect us to follow them, turning every single one of us in identical toys. this is how they control us—i didn’t do anything wrong. i didn’t hurt anyone, i didn’t set things on fire, i didn’t start a war trying to kill muggles, i didn’t,” jaemin clicks his tongue. “all i did was pick up a book and ask questions,”
jisung’s mind cannot comprehend what the other tells him. all this, albeit reluctantly recently, he had told himself jaemin must have hurt a lot of people with his experiments. that’s how he got his cloak, but now... jaemin himself is telling him that those awful, unforgivable things he had imagined, had never happened.
“hyung—” he tries.
jaemin cuts him again, “what are the three unforgivable curses, jisung?”
“the killing curse, the imperius curse, and the cruciatus curse,” he answers in less than a second.
“and what do they do?”
“the killing curse... kills, obviously,” jisung hugs his legs, resting his chin on his knees. jaemin nods along to his answer, urging him to continue. “the imperius curse makes that you... can... control people. they basically become your puppet, and the cruciatus curse is to torture people... right?”
“yes, exactly. now tell me, what does the defindo spell do?”
“it...” jisung pauses. “cuts... things,”
“correct,” jaemin nods. “and we can use the defindo spell to cut people, can’t we?”
jisung takes a second, “i suppose so,”
jaemin hums, “so why is the defindo spell not considered an unforgivable curse, when it can cause the same pain as the cruciatus curse, or even kill someone?”
“kill?”
“i can slit anyone’s throat open with the defindo spell, if i want to, jisung,” deadpans jaemin.
“right,” jisung blushes. “uhm, it all comes down to intention, right...?”
“precisely,” he pats his head. “then following that logic, every spell can be used for harm, so why is it only those three that are unforgivable? what makes a spell evil, and another spell good? it’s the wizard, right?” jisung nods, which makes jaemin smile. “i’m curious one, i can’t help it. i want to learn every spell out there, even the ones i find absolutely disgusting, and i was punished for it. father told me i was a freak, and well, look at me now,”
“but...” jisung tries, but stops himself.
“go ahead, baby. speak your mind,” purrs jaemin, patting his shoulder.
jisung takes a second but soon asks, “... aren’t there divisions? hexes, jinxes and curses? they divided it for a reason, no?”
jaemin hums, nodding. it’s clear he’s been asked this question before, that he’s had to explain his philosophy before—to their professors, to his parents, to the court that labeled him functioning enough to stay in mahoutokoro, but he doesn’t make jisung feel stupid for it. he keeps pushing him, allowing him to come to the same end as him on his own.
“what’s the definition of a jinx then?” he asks.
“slightly frustrating, but amusing,” jisung has it memorized.
jaemin nods, and asks, “so you find the thought of someone slitting your throat open amusing?”
“no,” jisung answers quickly.
“exactly, then it shouldn’t be categorized as jinx. i know i’m too focused on the defindo spell, but that’s because i asked my father this exact question, and he didn’t have an answer...” jaemin scoffs. “he just... stared at me, like i was the problem. do you think i’m the problem, jisung?”
jisung bites down his bottom lip. he remembers all the whispering he’s heard about jaemin, the way people would judge him, and run away from him—the way he himself panicked at the sight of him. all over a simple question; a rebelling question towards the way things work. it’s not fair. jaemin’s had to suffer so long over the want to know more.
“i don’t think you are,” he whispers, and that makes jaemin smile.
“so, yeah, that’s.... that’s what made me a white cloak,”
“i’m so sorry, hyung,”
“it’s okay, baby,” smiles jaemin. “one day, i’ll find a way to break free and i’ll run away to somewhere they’ll never be able to repress me ever again,”
jisung moves closer to him, resting his head on his shoulder. “and i’ll be with you when you do,”
jaemin looks away, and lies, so sweetly, “of course, of course,”
the next morning, all students are allowed to leave the school for their break. all but one. despite the growing urge to stay at mahoutokoro to keep jaemin company, jisung doesn’t have a choice, but to travel with his parents back to south korea, where they spend time as a family—playing quidditch and celebrating traditional holidays, and relaxing—only to take a portal to england.
he’d been there before as a child, but had no recollection of anything. his parents go to the ministry of magic and to popular wizarding spots, dragging jisung with them, introducing him to everyone. he’s forced to use a translation spell, refusing to speak most of the time because his english isn’t that good. as fun as it is to learn about their government and different laws, jisung gets tired quickly. his social battery goes down with every new worker he meets, and by the time his mother jokes about getting him an internship once he finishes his final exams, he doesn’t have it in him to laugh anymore.
his mind eventually drifts to his friends and how they’re doing, hoping they’re having a better time than him. donghyuck calls him via fireplace that night, and complains about both canada and america to no end, making fun of mark, who appears and talks to him in perfect korean. chenle sends a letter a few days later, with a moving picture of him and soojin’s family, celebrating the girl’s birthday. jealousy doesn’t bite him at all, and jisung writes back, wishing her a happy birthday.
before he can go to sleep, however, he finds another letter resting on his bed. jisung sits down and opens it. there are only three words written down, in familiar handwriting that make his stomach turn: i miss you.
his routine is the same, and every day, he gets a new letter from jaemin. it’s obviously from him, despite the lack of signature. they get longer with time, as he gets more comfortable that the letters won’t be intercepted by the school’s staff.
mahoutokoro isn’t the same without you, letter 3 says.
it’s three in the morning and i’m thinking about the way you taste, jisung, says the 5th letter.
as much as i want you to write back, don’t. someone might read it and we’ll get in trouble, says the 7th letter, after jisung sent the 6th letter back with a scribbled heart.
next time, i’ll make sure to go with you. we’ll spend winter together and i can make hot chocolate for you in the morning, says the final letter.
when he returns, he spends time catching up with his friends, because jisung still has to pretend he’s not talking to a white cloak. when the night comes, jaemin is there, and sparks come from his wand, making flowers appear in the middle of the restricted area. jaemin laughs and pulls him for a breath-taking kiss, a lot gentler than the first one they shared.
the following days, they stay together, hidden, in their own little universe, where they love each other the way they wanted. jaemin appears in his dormitory all the time, and they kiss. sometimes, when they can’t control themselves, they kiss until jisung’s gasping under him; until jaemin’s tearing his shirt apart and leaving marks along his chest. sadly, despite the countless times he’s begged fore more, jaemin doesn’t touch him where he wants it. he merely laughs and pulls jisung close to his chest, hugging him all night until he falls asleep.
jisung’s always heard his father say his mother’s his first love. growing up, he’s told him about how they met, how they fell in love, and how he knew she was the tone. back then, jisung found it sweet, but impossible—something he could never find for himself. however, now, he’s come to realize how wrong he had been.
jaemin tastes like first love and summer; he’s honesty and care and love, and everything good that blossoms during spring. he can be annoying sometimes when he talks about philosophy and morality, and spells, but that only makes jisung love him more. he can be silly, and an idiot, but serious, and distant, when he’s too deep in his reading. he moves like a flame and it burns deep in jisung’s heart.
he holds him dearly, closer than anyone has ever been, and he never wants to let go.
ever.
but. that’s not up just for him to decide.
jisung’s half-asleep when jaemin appears and kisses his forehead. it’s cold outside, so it’d be nice to hug him all night long. jisung stirs in bed, and grabs onto his wrist when he notices jaemin’s about to leave.
“hyung, stay,” he mutters. “stay here and hug me tonight,”
“i can’t,” says jaemin, and it stings when he moves his hand away.
jisung pouts, sitting up straight and rubbing his eyes, “why not? we’re not going to get in trouble,”
jaemin takes a second, then another. he paces around the room. as his eye adjust to the darkness, jisung notices the thick layers of clothing he’s wearing. he also notices jaemin left his scarf by the bed, and there was a letter attached to it.
jisung frowns, “what?”
jaemin sucks in some breath and turns around. only then does he have the courage to say it, “i’m leaving tonight,”
“to the forest? let me go with you,” jisung tries to get up.
“no, you can’t come with,” jaemin cuts him. “i’m not going to the forest,”
jisung hates how his heart understands what’s happening before his brain can even catch up. it hiccups in his chest and a cold layer of anxiety rushes through him. jisung keeps his eyes focused on jaemin’s frame, afraid that if he blinks, he’ll be long gone.
“where are you going, then?”
“away,” that’s all he has to say for himself.
jisung gets up. “what the fuck do you mean by that?”
“go back to bed,”
jaemin disappears.
jisung stumbles in the shivering cold, barefoot, running across the forest to find na jaemin. snow dances around him, and the giggling creatures piss him off. it’s cold and he’ll be sick in the morning, but at least there’s a chance he’ll have jaemin with him. he’s sweaty, and desperate, tears blurring his eyes. blood rushes through his veins and he can feel the way his heart burns miserably.
he doesn’t understand.
why? why now?
weren’t they happy?
weren’t they in love?
couldn’t he wait a little more, until he graduated, so they could be together?
why?
why?
“stay!” cries jisung to the empty woods, and he hopes—god, he fucking hopes jaemin’s still around to hear him. “hyung, stay! stay please! please!”
he reaches the beach, sand against his feet and his knees collapse. the ocean is a black-pitch pool that extends in front of him, under the mist. he can make out the shape of the boat approaching quietly. and of course, the white blur of jaemin’s cloak as he stands there, so close, but so far away.
somehow, jisung has the strength to push himself up and run. he runs and grabs him.
“stay...” he sobs. that’s the only thing he can say.
jisung wraps his arms around jaemin’s figure and keeps him there. when the boat arrives, both of them stay put. the sound of the waves matches jisung’s hiccups, as he trembles and cries, clinging to jaemin for dear life. his sobs hurt his throat and his head pangs. it’s too much, and he can’t take this.
“stay...” he cries.
“you cannot ask that of me,” whispers jaemin. “i can’t stay trapped here. you know i can’t sacrifice my freedom, baby,” jisung doesn’t want this: the soft tone, being called baby. not now. it hurts too much. “aren’t you happy? haven’t i done everything for you? i moved mountains to give you a proper first love, but you must’ve known from the start it would never last,”
“i want it to last,” tries jisung. “stay,”
jaemin huffs, and his voice is heavy, sad, too, “no, jisung. i’m leaving,”
he turns around and holds jisung’s face, thumb caressing his cheeks so softly, so gently, like he’s about to kiss him again. jisung trembles and gasps, to find enough strength to speak again.
“but...” jisung’s chest hurts.
“take your time, love,” encourages jaemin.
jisung struggles but manages to say, “but... you’ll be a criminal. y-you’ll be in danger,”
“at least you’ll be safe,” jaemin smiles.
“i don’t want to be safe if it means i’m not with you!” he cries.
jisung hugs him again, hiding his face in his chest, arms firm around his waist, so jaemin would get the message, so it would get through that thick head of his: that if he’s leaving, then jisung’s going with him.
“don’t say that. you know it hurts me,” jaemin pulls back. snowflakes fall on top of his hair and it’s so unfair that he looks ridiculous handsome. “stay here, please, jisung. don’t make this hurt more,”
jisung shakes his head, “let me go with you,”
“no,”
jaemin’s tone is strict, and jisung knows what that means. he hugs himself and covers his face, sobs getting louder, pathetic and desperate like he’s being ripped apart limb by limb. the thought of waking up in a few hours without the hopes of seeing and kissing jaemin again tear him apart. he'd rather be under the cruciatus curse forever than this. anything but this.
“don’t cry. baby, don’t cry,” says jaemin, holding onto him. “you know i’m so proud of you, and every day i will smile knowing you’ll be living your life, safely, as it was intended,”
“stop,” hiccups jisung. “i know what you’re doing,”
“you’re my park jisung—you always will be, no matter the distance between us, no matter who’s holding you, who’s kissing you,” continues jaemin, and it only adds to the pain. “you’re my jisungie, and you’re not a criminal. you’re a good person,”
“you’re a good person too—you didn't do anything wrong,”
jaemin ignores him. the kindness laced in his words make it hurt more, “you’ll stay here. you’ll graduate with flying colors, and you’ll find a great job, you will accomplish incredible things that only you can. your parents will be so proud. everyone will be so proud of you. and every night, you’ll go to sleep and you won’t regret it,”
“it hurts, hyung—the thought of not seeing you ever again,” jisung feels heavy.
“i know, baby,” jaemin takes a step back, moving towards the boat. “i’m hurting too. but it’s for the best. stay,”
in that terrifying second, jisung watches jaemin enter the boat. panic floods his body and he rushes towards him, entering the cold water.
“jisung, get out of the water! it’s freezing! you’re going to get sick!”
“let me go with you!”
jisung swims closer to him. water enters his mouth and he struggles, but he cannot stop. not until they’re either both on their way to the unknown or jaemin goes back with him.
“hyung—please,”
“jisung, enough,” jaemin points his wand at him. storms break loose in his dark eyes, and even though he’s strong, the wand trembles in his grip, threatening to fall. “i. don’t. want. you. to. come,”
“hyung, i’ll find you,” jisung gasps. “i’ll go after you because i love you. i love you so so so much, and i’ll find you, and... and w-we’ll be together,”
“jisung, please,” jaemin’s voice breaks.
“no!”
jaemin’s nostrils flare up in annoyance, frustration, and the pain shattering his entire self. his grip on his wand grows tighter, and he flicks his wrist. the storm approaches and jisung still gasps for a second chance, tasting the salt water, skin burning with the cold.
the last thing he sees is the tears rolling down jaemin’s face when he whispers:
“imperio,”
when jisung wakes up, he’s inside the hospital wing and his heart is splitting in half.
because na jaemin’s nowhere to be found, and everyone in his school is talking about how the white wizard attacked poor and innocent park jisung, then ran away. his parents are there, so are chenle and donghyuck. they explain that jisung was found on the beach, passed out, with his clothes still wet, but he was surprisingly warm, under a heating spell. they explain jaemin left a message to the headmaster, his grandfather, and he’s now been searched by aurors all over asia.
they don’t understand why jisung cries so much every time, why he keeps saying jaemin’s name as if he’s trying to summon him, but they don’t try to stop him. all they do is keep him company, but the void in his chest stays the same.
months pass and it doesn’t get easier.
like that bastard had predicted, jisung graduates top of his class, and is immediately given an internship at the south korean ministry of magic, in the department of mysteries. jeno is there to work with him, so it doesn’t feel as nerve-wracking. his parent are proud. he’s assumed to be happy. he begins his new predictable life: he wakes up, he goes to work, he has lunch with donghyuck, who works in the department of international magical cooperation, then works up until it’s time to go home and sleep, only to repeat the same ridiculous routine over and over and over again.
there are days when the pain is stronger than usual, and he presses his palm in the middle of the night and hopes jaemin can feel it, feel him. there are no scars left, and he’s not sure if the spell has been broken or not. it’s a tracking and teleportation curse, which explained how jaemin could appear wherever he was. jisung tells himself jaemin hasn’t broken the spell, because he likes the minuscule possibility of jaemin appearing in his life again.
he swears someone’s watching at times but has learned to accept it’s merely wishful thinking. aurors are looking for jaemin everywhere. if he were to be next to him, there’s no way they wouldn’t have discovered his location. whenever he asks an auror about their progress, if they have anything that might lead to that “freak’s” location, they give him no answers.
there’s no lead, no nothing. na jaemin’s gone.
and he’ll only be found when he wants to be.
a year passes, but the dreams of living in a secluded house by the beach with him still haunt his mind. chenle set him up for dates, but jisung never goes. says he’s too busy. working is hard, but living in his small house alone is even harder.
he cries sometimes. when he wakes up and doesn’t feel jaemin’s arms around him. when winter comes, he cries harder, because the snow danced around them once when they said goodbye. well... they didn’t really say goodbye. perhaps that’s what hurts the most about it. jisung cannot swim anymore, either. it hurts his lungs.
it’s been almost a year and six months, and jaemin’s birthday is coming up soon when jisung wakes up to a dull morning. the grey skies greet him, matching the depression that breaks loose inside him. after drinking a large mug of coffee for breakfast, it’s time to go to work.
jisung tosses his black trench-coat over his shoulder, runs his fingers through his hair and—the fireplace spits out a letter.
he freezes.
hope bursts inside him.
it could be donghyuck, his pessimistic side argues, but he remembers donghyuck is at the ministry by now. if he wanted to speak to him, he can very well wait until jisung arrives. it could be his parents, but mother and father are working right now, and only call on the weekends.
before he can drive himself insane with the possibilities, jisung rushes to open the letter. there are only ten letters written carefully inside the ripped parchment. it’s a parchment that he once called the 6th letter, and he knew that because the same little heart he drew for jaemin was there, in the bottom right corner. the previous words jaemin wrote were gone, replaced: i love you too, jisung. i hope you’re doing alright.
and jisung cries again.