Chapter Text
another shell is dropped inside the jar.
it’s half filled.
sleepy eyes stare outside the window, to the crashing waves. the skies are a mourning grey, and it’s cold, too cold for him to function. jisung wants to stay inside all day, wrapped around his blanket, and do absolutely nothing. maybe work on a potion later on, or explode the forest when the fireflies appear. or spend time together with his... roommate. well, he doubts jaemin will agree. he’ll most likely stay in his office, studying or working, as usual. that’s all he does.
but it’s worth trying.
jisung’s curious eyes land on jaemin’s figure.
jaemin is sitting at their small breakfast table by the wall, finishing his morning tea, as he reads the newspaper, a frown on his face. not good news, hm. what a surprise. it’s been almost a month since they disappeared – since jaemin and jisung escaped their punishments to be together, somewhere no one would be able to find them.
aurors haven’t given up on finding him. him. na jaemin. not them–him, only him. they only want to find jaemin. they don’t care about jisung anymore. it’s like he’s disappeared, faded from wizarding history after his sentence. to those who knew him, apart from jeno, donghyuck, chenle and soojin, he’s wandering among muggles, with no memory of his time as a wizard.
they don’t know he’s here, in sungwan beach, with one of their most wanted criminals, waking up by his side, feeling the way jaemin’s hand hesitates to leave his waist, when he thinks jisung’s still asleep. they don’t know anything about them.
“what are your plans for today, hyung?” asks jisung, taking a sip of his tea, resting his lower half against the sink, eyes searching for something around their kitchen.
“work,” mutters jaemin, placing his mug down. “what about you?”
jaemin’s eyes turn to him. they’re soft, interested and gentle. jisung has to look away, because it’s too much for him to handle sometimes. part of him craves for his shyness to go away, so he can have jaemin again like he used to – to feel his skin against his palm, and kiss him good morning after waking up. but the other part... a quiet voice in his heart, tells him he’s scared. scared that if he tries to get close like that again, jaemin will escape. to never be found this time around.
“oh, i don’t know,” jisung shrugs. “i guess i’ll just... read. or play wizard chess... by... myself,” he winces at how awkward and needy he sounds when he says that. jisung downs his tea, flushing red.
“right,” jaemin chuckles lightly, before looking away again. he runs his fingers through his hair, struggling. his voice is small when he purrs, “can i join you after i’m done?”
jisung’s eyes widen and he cannot help the dramatic reaction, snapping his head in jaemin’s reaction, expecting to wake up from that dream. he stutters, “oh, you... y-you want to play with me?”
jaemin flushes, gnawing at his bottom lip. he struggles with his words, like he’s never spoken to jisung before in his entire life, “if you don’t mind, of course. i, i can always give you some space, you –”
“i don’t,” jisung interrupts, voice going a bit high-pitched.
jaemin looks confused. “what?”
“space,” jisung continues, mugs trembling in his hands. “i... i don’t want anymore space between us... so. um, feel free to come... play with me, whenever you’re...” jisung gesticulates too much, frantic heart hammering inside his chest. he finishes, lame, “– done,”
a smile crosses jaemin’s face, and that sigh... that sigh reveals just how nervous and unsure he is too. he chirps, equally as lame and soft, “really?”
“no, yeah,” jisung chuckles. “i’d like... that. to, um, play with you,”
“me too,” jaemin smiles.
relief spreads over jisung’s heart, and he feels like he could fly right now. this is good. this is very good. he remembers the last letter jeno wrote him, how his friend told him to be careful and take his time. you’re both healing. whenever you feel stupid, or scared, or like you want something, voice it out, because jaemin’s most likely feeling the same as you, jeno had said. jisung can see that now. that he isn’t the only one wanting this – them.
he finishes his tea, pushing himself off the counter, “good. i’ll... see you, then,”
i’ll see you. that’s so dumb. jisung thinks, biting down at the inside of his cheek. before shame and embarrassment claws at him, for even thinking of phrasing it like that – like it’s a business meeting between them, he hears jaemin’s light chuckle as he gets up, bumping at their breakfast table, moving to his office.
“yeah,” jaemin says. “i’ll see you,”
turns out, they get both very competitive when playing wizard chess. jisung had been half-asleep on the couch, when jaemin squirmed out of his office, swaying back and forth, unsure of whether to wake him up or not. jisung snapped his head at the other’s direction, a lazy smile making its way onto his face.
“do you... still wanna play?” jaemin had asked, scratching the back of his neck. under the candle lights, he looked cuter. “i apologize for taking so long. i had to restart a potion from the beginning, so,”
“it’s alright,” jisung had whispered, getting up. “ready to get your ass kicked?”
“oh, fighting words,” jaemin laughed, trying to bring back their old banter. they weren’t as smooth as before, but they’re trying – and that’s what matters to jisung. “we’ll see about that, jisung-ah,”
jaemin’s nightmares are constant.
they attack his fragile mind every other night. he shakes and his body tenses up, hands closing in fists. jisung stirs awake, almost instinctively, turning in bed to stare at him. in the darkness of their bedroom, he sees the way jaemin knits his eyebrows together, breathing heavily, like the whole weight of the world rests on top of him.
“hyung,” he whispers, reaching out to hold his face. “hyung, i’m here,”
“jisung...” jaemin whispers, deep in his nightmares. His name is laced with fear, with longing, like jaemin’s afraid to let him go. “please. i’m so sorry,”
“hyung, it’s okay. we’re safe, we’re together...” jisung chokes on his words.
“jisung...”
it takes a while for jaemin to wake up at times. jisung needs to wrap his arms around him, massaging his back when he begins to cry softly. it breaks his heart in half, but he continues whispering that he’s here, that he loves him, and that he’ll never leave.
once jaemin wakes up, they stay like this – holding onto each other like their lives depend on it. he feels his hyung’s heavy breathing, and every so often, jisung can distinguish his soft mumbling.
jaemin tells him he loves him too, that he misses him.
and jisung doesn’t let go.
“i’m going to sleep,” announces jisung, pushing the door to jaemin’s office open.
jaemin’s office is a disorganized mess, unlike what one would expect from him. it’s poorly illuminated, with a flickering lamp on top of them. there are unlabeled ingredients all around the counters and tables, open books on the floor, with scribbled notes flying around, offering tips and information on what combinations to use. it smells like burnt candles and honey, because jaemin likes eating honey-candies as he works. (“it helps me focus,” he said, on time back in mahoutokoro.)
he spots jaemin’s back. he mixes different ingredients inside a medium-sized cauldron. he wears a light blue cloak that falls to floor. jaemin’s been there all day again. he didn’t even come out for breakfast, which hurt (a lot). and jisung was left to walk around and do nothing again. (it hurt even more.)
jisung enters, a bit scared, not wanting to disrupt him. he whispers, “hyung. you should come too,”
jaemin nods, dropping a blue liquid inside the cauldron, waiting a full second before mixing it. he mutters, “i’m almost done, baby,”
jisung’s breath hitches. it’s the first time jaemin has called him that in so long. he doesn’t let it stop him, though. knowing jaemin, he knows he’ll finish this potion, start a new one, and spend the whole night awake.
“please,” he presses, approaching, placing his hand over his back.
jaemin freezes, looking at him over his shoulder, “jisung, i really need to finish this,”
“but i... i need you by my side,” confesses jisung, hand grabbing onto his cloak, tugging him lightly. those words do a number on both of them. jaemin’s nostrils flare up as he sighs. jisung continues, “i spent the whole day alone. please. please, come sleep, hyung,”
“5 more minutes...” he whispers, weak, like he cannot say no. “i’ll finish this. if i don’t, i’ll have to do it all over again tomorrow,”
jisung rests his forehead on jaemin’s back. it’s uncomfortable, since he’s taller, but he pretends not to mind it. “please. i’ll help you with it tomorrow... just... come to bed. you’re tired. i know it,”
“i am...” jaemin stays quiet for a second, before closing the cauldron, running his hands over his face. “alright, let’s go to bed, jisung,”
“i’m bored,” states jisung at dinner, playing with his food.
his face rests on his hand, and he juts his lips out. it’s hard to keep yourself interested when every day is the same. he interacts – or tries to – with jaemin every morning now, but as soon as the other locks himself as his office, all there’s left for jisung to do is walk around the beach or explore the forest.
jisung aches for adventure. nothing crazy, of course, but something new. there’s only so much he can do on the beach. he thought of leaving the premises, maybe apparate to center of seoul, but he’s afraid of the repercussions of that sudden idea. as much as he craves for something fun, he doesn’t want to put them in danger by being reckless. hopefully, donghyuck and jeno will be able to visit him soon.
“i’m bored,” he repeats.
jaemin cleans the corner of his lips, “do you want me to summon more books for you?”
“i’m tired of reading,” jisung shrugs. “i want to do things,”
“what things?” jaemin’s lips pull up in an endeared smile.
“i said i’d help you with that potion yesterday,” jisung comments, staring down at his hands. “will you let me help you?”
jaemin winces, “if... if you want,”
“i need a bit of agrippa,” says jaemin, extending his hand.
they’re inside jaemin’s messy office – jaemin stands in front of the large cauldron, and the potions looks a dark shade of orange, while jisung paces around, tripping over the books and ingredients on the floor every now and again. things are simple: jaemin brews. jisung assists him, bringing everything he asks. if it goes well, he’ll let jisung brew the next potion. it’s not the most fun activity, admittedly. but it’s miles better than sitting on the living room, making up impossible, romantic scenarios in his head.
however, the big problem is: jisung doesn’t remember what those ingredients are. he’s never made a gardening potion before, so he doesn’t know what to bring when jaemin said those weird names. it doesn’t help that jaemin’s messy and all his ingredients look similar.
“you should label these ingredients. it’s making this harder than it needs to be,” he scratches his head in frustration.
some of the items he recognizes – like bat fangs and ashwinder eggs.
“agrippa...” jisung mutters, taking something he thinks looks like an agrippa, whatever that is.
it’s a curvy pepper-like vegetable, but it’s a bright shade of yellow. it looks toxic.
he shows it off to jaemin. “it’s this, right?”
jaemin turns. panic takes over him and he snatches the fake-agrippa from jisung’s grip. he says, “don’t touch that,” he tosses it as far away from them as possible, cleaning his hands on his cloak, “that’s arnica. it’s poisonous,”
jisung cleans his hands too, “you definitely should label them, you moron. why would you lay that here?”
“that’s why i work by myself, you know,” jaemin rolls his eyes, embarrassed. “so no one questions my methods,”
jisung sticks his tongue out at him, “what even is the agrippa?”
jaemin points with his chin, “purple liquid,”
he points to jisung’s right. jisung turns, and his expressions changes to one of horror. he stands in front of a tall display made of dark-wood, with over a 100 different vials of potions. his eyes analyzes it all, until he stops at the final six rows... where all the vials were purple. in different tones.
“you’re messing with me,” jisung deadpans, glaring at jaemin.
but the other was busy dropping pieces of bitter root inside the cauldron, watching as he potion slowly goes to a dark shade of brown. jaemin brings his eyes up, and points to the display again.
“the purple one,” he says, very helpful.
jisung gestures to the display, “they’re all purple to me,”
the cauldron trembles and jaemin has to catch a root that threatened to fall inside it. he shakes his head, “merlin’s beard, jisung!”
“i don’t know, hyung!” jisung stomps the floor, whining.
“the third one on the sixth row,” jaemin sighs, running his fingers through his hair, tapping the cauldron with his wand, cooling it down to the necessary temperature to be able to add the agrippa. “but please, be careful–”
jisung grabs it. terrible idea. he jerks back, palm turning red, pain shooting up his arm, “ah, ah, ah!”
jaemin winces at the reaction, containing a smile, “it’s hot,”
jisung glares at him.
for the following week, they brew potions together.
it’s an incredibly stressful and exciting experience. at first jaemin is very patience, only teasing jisung when they have to scrap a full healing potion when he mistakenly put a full bloomslang, instead of only its skins. when he plays around too much, jaemin drags him out of his office, and says he’ll only be allowed in after bringing a new list of ingredients. jeno says it’s good to see they’re back to being themselves, but jisung still has some doubts if they’re fully on track, or not.
they bumped into each other once, pressed bodies together like that one time in the broom closet, and they still hesitated. jisung stared at jaemin, and his entire burned – skin aching to feel him close like this. he parted his lips, and thought of asking for it – kiss me, touch me, have me, please, please, but before he could get a word out, jaemin moved back, bowing as he apologized.
he locked himself in his office again.
they pretend it never happened, but jisung wanted to talk about it.
communication is key, jeno had said in his letters, encouraging him to be brave, to look at jaemin right in the face and let him know how he felt. do it now, or you’ll be stuck in this awkward place for the rest of your lives.
jeno and donghyuck visit a few days later.
they stay for the weekend, free from their responsibilities in the south korean ministry of magic. they have a good time at the beach. the weather is a lot better now. it’s awkward for them to approach jaemin at first, but the former white wizard makes an effort to properly befriend them. it makes jisung happy to see them interact, to see donghyuck get on jaemin’s nerves, touching all of their belongings out of spite.
excitement floods his veins, and there’s so much to do.
life turns into a utopia for those 48 hours.
he has his favorite people with him. he’s genuinely the happiest he had ever been.
of course, he misses his parents, but there’s nothing he can do about that. They think jisung’s okay, somewhere in the muggle world – working, living his boring little life. they would never understand his choices, and they’d butt heads, so it’s better to keep a distance. donghyuck tells him about his mother, and it’s enough for jisung not to go insane.
when donghyuck and jeno leave sunday night, it’s jisung and jaemin again. just the two of them, in their small cabin, having breakfast together, and trying not to brush against each other on accident, because they’d both lose their minds over it.
jisung is afraid to finally confront him about his feelings.
he had used those two days to postpone it. but there’s no use anymore.
he had to do it.
now or never.
“there’s an owl outside,” says jaemin, when there are three new shells in jisung’s collection – they’re sparkly, and gleam when it’s dark. he thinks jaemin must have charmed them, to make them special for him.
jisung gets up, rushing to open the window, letting the black owl in, “oh, it must be from jeno,”
“it’s the third one this month. that’s dangerous for him, you know. he should only write once a month,” says jaemin, darting his eyes back to his book, like he doesn’t care.
“are you keeping track of my correspondence? that’s a bit possessive and weird, you know,” he teases.
jaemin tenses up, ears turning red, “no... i just... noticed,”
“i’m kidding, hyung. i wouldn’t mind it if you did,”
jisung takes the letter from the owl’s beak, opening it to find almost three pages of writing from jeno. and donghyuck, he recognizes his handwriting. jisung sits on their counter, humming to himself as he reads all about jeno’s day, as he complains about his newest assignment in the department of mysteries.
jaemin’s voice returns, “what does it say?”
“none of your business,” jisung jokes, making jaemin purse his lips. he laughs, swinging his legs. the owl chirps before flying away, returning to its owner. “don’t make that face, hyung. he’s only telling me about the ministry. jeno has to conduct interviews now,”
“that sounds like a bore,” jaemin shudders at the thought of interviewing people. “i’d think interviews would suit donghyuck much better,”
“i agree,” jisung says, “look at you. you know them so well, already,”
“of course,” jaemin scoffs. “i have to make an effort. i can’t be friendless forever,”
“you’re not friendless,” jisung crosses his arms, shrugging. “you have me,”
jaemin gets up, putting their plates on the sink, brushing his shoulder against jisung’s in the process. it’s more than enough to make the two of them hold their breaths.
jaemin whispers, at last, “you’re not my friend,”
jisung looks away, acting cool, acting like he’s not losing his mind over wanting to feel more of jaemin than just that, “oh, right, we’re roommates,”
the soft laughter that escapes jaemin lips is mocking, like he hates that little joke. jisung stares at him from the corner of his eyes, fidgeting with the letter in his hands, to distract himself.
“no,” jaemin says. “you’re more than that,”
his shoulders are tense, and jaemin stays still, fighting the urge to take matters in his own hands, as well. jisung recognizes it – the hesitation and want, because he sees it in himself every day.
however, he knows jaemin.
he knows he has a lot less self-control than jisung when it came to this – when it came to them. no matter how strong and brave he thought he was, jisung remains a scared little boy deep down. na jaemin, on the other hand, he has to calm down his own urges, because he’s too strong, too brave.
and right now, all he needs is a push.
jisung is more than willing to do just that.
“am i?” he asks, like he doesn’t believe that.
jaemin darts his head in his direction, “you are and you know it,”
“i don’t know anything,” jisung shrugs, playing dirty, because it’ll get under jaemin’s skin. “we... we’re just roommates. you know, we share the same bed, but it’s... platonic,”
“it’s not,” jaemin moves.
he moves closer, taking the bait. he’s not stupid. he knows what jisung’s doing. but it’s okay for them to play like they don’t, like they don’t know what’s coming.
jisung bites his bottom lip, and whispers, “you’re like my best friend, hyung,”
that does it for him.
he invades jisung’s bubble, positioning himself between his legs, not touching yet. but the proximity is damaging – it wrecks them both as they stare deep at each other’s eyes; darkness blending together with want, love, and frustration.
“best friend? i’m your best friend? don’t even joke about that,” jaemin scoffs.
he grabs his face – grabs it, hard, pulling him close, bumping their noses together. jisung cannot breathe, losing himself in his touch, in the way his eyes turn dark, at the way his lips pull in a dark smirk, so seductive, so destructive, and so jaemin it breaks jisung a little.
jaemin whispers, brushing their lips together, and it’s tempting, it’s irrational, and it makes jisung whine, “you’re mine. and i’m yours. i’m more than your best friend. i’m your lover. i’m your little suicide mission. i’m your walking nightmare and dream personified. aren’t i?”
jisung’s eyes flutter closed, “you are. you are, hyung,”
jaemin’s breath hitches, but he continues, he fights through the fear of breaking them again, of giving too much and desecrating the perfection they molded together. “and you... fuck, jisung, you’re my everything. you’re my passive resistance, my lover, my little honeydew, and i want you. i love you, and i love you, and i love you so fucking much,”
his bottled feelings grow and expand in his chest.
jaemin smashes their lips together and jisung cries, whining against his lips, finally–finally. fucking finally. they devour each other, and it’s all kiss, spit, and it hurts. but it feels so good. pleasure makes jisung dizzy, as he grabs jaemin’s hand, yanking him closer, keeping him here.
here. with him. in their private little place, where no one will ever interrupt them.
they’re full of possession, obsession, love and desperation, it’s suffocating to even describe. but it’s so them, and it fits their sick little needs for each other.
jisung holds him closer, bruising him, biting him, marking him all over, taking, taking, taking. and giving, giving, and giving, moaning as jaemin sucks on his tongue, exploring every part of him. jaemin is as present as he remembered. he grabs jisung’s thighs, jisung’s neck, jisung’s wrists, pining him under him on their bed, dragging his lips all over his skin, setting jisung on fire so easily.
“i love you,” jaemin adds every time, swollen lips containing the romantic words they only ever wanted to whisper to one another, perfect confessions as they strip each other of clothes.
trembling hands explore each other, they discover what feels right and what doesn’t, craving more and more. skins pressed together, burning up and up. their words get lost in their bedroom, accompanied by jisung’s whiny gasps, and pleas for more, and how jaemin litters praises all over his skin.
tears roll down jisung’s face, and he savors every bit of jaemin he gets that day, dying and being reborn at every snap of the other’s hips. they drive each other mad, and it’s lovely. jaemin buries himself deep in him, spreading him open, and it’s delicious. jisung’s pressed against the mattress just right, screaming and begging for more, gasping, quivering for more.
they don’t stop. jisung’s teary eyes watching the sun appearing, reflecting at his window, as jaemin moves deeper inside him, fucking him just right. they are never satisfied, so they take, and take, and take from each other. they border on unhealthy that night, kissing, marking and fucking each other. the things they say border on unstable – love and pain are mixed together when it comes to them, after all.
they collapse, at last, cuddling together, purple marks covering their skins, with love and affection, branding each other as their own. jaemin pulls him closer, half-awake.
“was it special?” he whispers, fingers playing with jisung’s hair.
jisung whispers, “it’s always special with you,”
jaemin leans down to press a kiss on his forehead. “i love you, you know,”
“you already said that today. over 60 times, actually,” teases jisung, snuggling closer to him.
“well, i adore you, then,” jaemin corrects himself.
jisung wants to cry again, “i adore you too,”
the morning wind brushes against his face, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. (he should get a haircut, he notes.) park jisung plays with sand, watching as it escapes his grip. every now and again, the waves get closer, threatening to get him wet.
he looks older, stronger, wiser – defined features and dark circles under his eyes, black hair reaching over his shoulder, all messy. he wears a rose cloak with a bright white knot over where his heart is, stylized to look like a hanbok.
jisung doesn’t think it suits him, but soojin said it’s tradition.
jisung’s 22 now. it was his birthday a week ago, actually.
it’s been three years since he disappeared. since he became a white cloak. since the ministry broke his wand. since he ran away with the love of his life. so much has changed.
steps approach him from behind.
jisung doesn’t need to look back to know who it is.
“chenle said i’m good to go,” announces jaemin, sitting down next to him. he looks different too–hair parted in the middle, traits rougher. it suits him. he also wears a rose cloak, but his knot is black. “what do you think?”
“these cloaks are ugly,” jisung says.
“i think so too,” jaemin laughs. “but–”
“it’s tradition,” jisung completes for him. “soojin showed me the photos of her wedding. they look better on girls,”
“i think you look beautiful,” jaemin shrugs.
“that’s because you don’t know anything about fashion,” jisung rests his head on his shoulder, holding his hand, staring at the horizons, questions bubbling inside him.
“i guess you’re right,” jaemin agrees, intertwining their fingers.
they stay silent for a long second, listening to the sound of waves. it’s comfortable. it’s precious. because it’s them, and they understand each other better than anyone else in the world.
jaemin whispers, “are you having second thoughts?”
“no,” jisung whispers back immediately. “we’re basically married. this is just making it official,” jisung shows him the engagement ring he had conjured on his own. yes, he had been the one to ask. “i want to do it,”
“i’d hope so,” jaemin says, bringing his hand up to kiss his knuckles. “you were the one who asked to marry you, after all,”
jisung chuckles. he moves back, getting up, brushing the sand off his cloak, turning to his fiance. he says, “i am ready. more than ready,”
jaemin smiles and gets up too, standing right in front of him. their height difference has gotten bigger over the years, and it never fails to bring a smile to jisung’s face.
“then let’s go. i don’t want to be late for my own wedding,” jaemin says, tugging him closer, hands still clasped together.
together forever.