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“The bond is a symbiotic relationship,” Seokjin had explained to him once, when Jeongguk was nothing more than a collection of small bones and a bright blue flame. They were in a cave in a forest just outside of Busan, some fifty years after the city’s great fire had birthed Jeongguk into existence. “Even in our true form, our power is too strong for our bodies to handle. It deafens us to the world around us, keeping us from feeling anything. A witch acts as a conduit for this power, channeling it back into the universe where it belongs. Only once a demon has found a partner can they truly experience life the way it was meant to be lived.”
Seokjin often visited him like this, sitting cross-legged on the floor of Jeongguk’s cave and telling him stories. He always had his witch with him, a scholar named Namjoon, as a demon would go nowhere that their partner couldn’t follow. He would often come to tell Jeongguk stories of the world, patting Jeongguk’s head as he did so, or at least the head Jeongguk had claimed, the skull of a small boy that had been the first to perish in Jeongguk’s birthing fire.
“I can’t wait for you to meet your witch, Jeongguk,” Seokjin often said. “You have to come and find us as soon as the contract is sealed. I can’t wait to watch you try everything for the first time.”
Jeongguk couldn’t wait either. He was so excited to see all the things Seokjin and Namjoon had described to him, to taste and touch for the first time and travel with his bonded instead of staring at the mouth of his cave as days and seasons passed by. Despite his impatience, it would be nearly two hundred years before his little garden witch showed up at his door, practically drowning in his too-big overalls with a large bag slung over his shoulder and a determined look on his face.
Jeongguk had grown up on stories of Namjoon’s and Seokjin’s first days together, how the scholar had made his sacrifice by slaughtering a chicken for Seokjin and offering him a bottle of rich wine. When Jimin had entered the cave, however, and looked up, up, up at Jeongguk’s true form that now reached the tips of the stalactites that hung from the ceiling, he had held in his hands a bag of seaweed chips and a bottle of banana milk.
Jeongguk had been instantly endeared and had consumed the sacrifice without hesitation. When he’d reached out one long finger bone Jimin had taken it without fear, and the brand that seared into his palm had established their temporary contract.
In a human body for the first time ever, Jeongguk spent the next two days following Jimin around Busan. The little witch had taken him everywhere, to the beach, a ballet, a record store and a flower shop. They ate street food and went to a ramen bar and a real bar, where Jeongguk got to watch Jimin’s cheeks flush with alcohol as he practically tipped over into the demon’s arms every time he laughed. On their second day Jimin took him to a park, and when no one was watching Jimin channeled Jeongguk’s power into making the wildflowers grow. They then sat on the grass while Jimin taught Jeongguk how to weave a flower crown.
Jeongguk knew even before their two days were up that he wanted to bond with Jimin, with the sweet little witch that had shown him music and flowers and whose laugh sounded like the sun coming up each morning. On their second night together, he told this to Jimin and the witch was more than happy to push Jeongguk onto the little bed they shared in their hotel room and strip them both of their clothes. The night before Jimin had shown Jeongguk what kissing felt like, and that night he went even further. He showed Jeongguk what it was like to touch and be touched, to give pleasure and how to take. That night he took Jeongguk into his own body, and as they came together they both cried out as the bond settled between them, Jeongguk’s name burning itself onto Jimin’s ribs, permanently claiming the little witch.
They woke up the next morning sticky and aching and tangled together in ways that could never again be unraveled. Jeongguk could feel his energy flowing through Jimin, feeding life and power into his little witch. In return, Jeongguk could feel everything, the coarseness of the cheap sheets against his skin, the warmth of Jimin’s breath against his neck. He could smell sweat, cum, and fabric softener and could hear the pass of cars outside and Jimin’s soft snoring. The world had opened up to him, just like Seokjin had said.
It took a few days for Jeongguk to actually contact the demon, as he first needed to settle in at Jimin’s home. The witch lived with his grandmother, a woman who had formed a contract a bit later in life and, appearance-wise, looked not a day over forty-five. She and her own demon, Byulyi, lived in a cabin outside Busan where they had raised Jimin since his mother died. Jeongguk was not used to sharing his living space with another demon, but Byulyi was the nurturing sort, and she and Jimin’s grandmother were vital in helping him and Jimin strengthen their connection in the early days of their bond.
When Jeongguk had finally been able to send word of his bond to Seokjin and Namjoon, the pair had hurried back to Busan, eager to finally witness Jeongguk’s human form, to hug him and pat his head in ways that he could finally feel. They stayed in Busan for nearly a year, and even once they left, they would still return to visit for months at a time.
Jeongguk’s bonded life was wonderful, and it remained happily that way for nearly two decades, even when Jimin’s grandmother sent them into the forest to collect herbs.
“Why is it she can’t just grow mint in her garden again?” Jeongguk asked as he pulled one of the fresh leaves from the stalks in Jimin’s handbasket. He rubbed it between his fingers, releasing the plant’s sharp aroma into the air.
“Because it’s a parasite,” Jimin patiently explained. “It takes over and chokes out everything else, and once it’s in your flower bed it’s basically impossible to get rid of.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing your grandmother has us to run her errands for her.” Jeongguk rolled his eyes. Despite his complaining, it was a nice day in the forest, the overcast sky keeping the air cool as they strolled along familiar dirt paths.
Jimin pouted, plump lips pushing forward in a way Jeongguk couldn’t resist. “Are you saying you don’t enjoy our walks together?”
Jeongguk melted. He took Jimin’s basket from his hands so he could rest the other man’s small fingers in the crook of his elbow. “You know I love our walks, dear heart. Sorry if I made it seem like I didn’t.”
Jimin cuddled in close, forcing Jeongguk to slow his pace to keep their legs from tangling together, but he didn’t mind.
“Namjoon and Seokjin should be arriving later today,” Jeongguk said. In the branches above their heads, a raven cackled.
“Our dinner plans are for tomorrow night, right?” Jimin asked. Their cabin was in view now, a small wooden house with a light blue door and shutters, ivy climbing across the walls and flower beds overflowing with growth.
Jeongguk nodded. “Yeah, some new hot pot place that Seokjin wants to try.”
Both witch and demon stopped walking at the same time, arms still linked as their easy stroll ended a few yards from the porch. The front door was hanging open on a single hinge, Jimin’s carefully crafted wreath of hyacinths lying trampled on the steps.
Before either of them could say anything a scream tore through the stillness of the forest, pushing them both into action. They ran for the door as one, but as they clambered onto the porch Jeongguk pushed Jimin behind him, keeping his little witch hidden behind his larger frame.
Jeongguk could feel Jimin desperately clutching the fabric at the back of his shirt, but when he crossed the broken threshold of their home, he did so with a cautious slowness. Their front door opened into the living room, which looked in even worse shape than Jeongguk had feared. Hanging plants had been knocked down from their hooks, pots shattered with soil and leaves scattered across the floor. The coffee table was overturned and the sofa was leaking stuffing from a long gash in its cushions. Even worse, Jeongguk could smell the metallic tang of blood. It was in dark red puddles on the hardwood floor, starting small and getting bigger as they trailed off into the kitchen.
When another scream came, Jimin pulled at his shirt, trying to move him in the direction of the kitchen. “That’s Byulyi,” Jimin whispered, barely audible over the heavy pounding of his heart.
Jeongguk kept a secure arm around his witch as he let Jimin pull them into the next room, his whole body tensed to jump in front of Jimin the moment danger presented itself. Before they even entered the kitchen, Jeongguk could tell that whatever violence had occurred had terminated here, among the white cabinets that were kicked in, paint peeled off in scratches, and the grotesque pools of blood that had gathered among the yellow tile floor. At the center of the reddish-brown puddles lay Jimin’s grandmother, her light blue shirt turned black from the wound in her stomach, her brown hair matted to her head in clumps from the fracture in her skull. Byulyi knelt over her companion’s broken body and let out another wail.
Jeongguk had hoped to spare Jimin the sight of his grandmother, but by the time he was drawing his little witch into his embrace, tucking Jimin’s head into his neck, he knew it was already too late. Jimin had gone completely still, barely even breathing in Jeongguk’s hold. One of his hands came up to cover his mouth while the other twisted in the black fabric of Jeongguk’s shirt. “Oh gods,” he choked, voice wavering and small. Jeongguk held him close, trying to offer some comfort, but it couldn’t stop the way Jimin began to shake. “Is she-”
“I’m so sorry,” Jeongguk said, pressing his lips against Jimin’s temple and just holding them there.
“Wh-what happened?” Jimin asked. He tried to turn toward his grandmother’s demon, though Jeongguk’s grip had little give to it. “Byulyi-” he started, but the demon gave no indication that she could hear over her screams of grief.
“It’s no use,” Jeongguk said, tucking Jimin’s head back under his chin. “She’s lost to us. She can’t hear you anymore.”
“What do we do?” Jimin pleaded. “How can we help her?”
Jeongguk swallowed. Ending the life of a demon was a tricky thing. They were not susceptible to the dangers of humanity, nor were their fellow demons considered a threat. Their only weakness was their companion, the one thing that tethered them to the earth. After the loss of a witch, a demon was at their most vulnerable. Newly deafened to the earth around them, the flow of their energy suddenly cut off, it rioted in their temporary bodies as it began to build into more than their human form could handle. They would be at their weakest during the moments when they most wanted to die. In this way, there was only one thing that Jeongguk could do for the kind demon that had accepted him into her home.
Jeongguk did his best to shuffle the two of them into the kitchen without letting go of Jimin or stepping in any puddles of blood. With only a few steps though, he was close enough to reach a hand out to rest on top of Byulyi’s head. The other demon had no reaction to the touch, but when Jeongguk began to pull at her energy her screams and sobs finally quieted. Instead, she simply let out a sigh of relief as her human body began to disintegrate, falling away into ash. When the last of her power slipped away into Jeongguk’s hands, all that was left was the skull of a doe, the first victim of the forest fire that had brought her to life. The bone clattered against the yellow tile as it fell to the floor.
Jeongguk took a steadying breath. Though he’d known what to do for his friend, he hadn’t realized the effect it would have on him. The house was now silent, but Jeongguk could hear the chatter of the squirrels outside, could smell the mint that Jimin had dropped on the porch. Where his fingers touched Jimin’s skin, he could feel the rhythmic thrum of life in his little witch. Jimin shuddered as a new wave of energy washed through him, but otherwise had no reaction to the influx of power that flowed through their bond.
“Kkyu,” Jimin whispered in the new stillness of the house, “what happened? What could do something like this?”
There was only one thing that Jeongguk could think of. “A witch hunter,” he responded just as softly. “They’re gone for now though.” This he could say with confidence. His newly enhanced senses could pick up no other living thing besides the two of them in and around the house. “Let’s get things settled here, then we can talk about where we’ll go. We need to get away for a while.”
Jimin murmured his agreement but stayed put in Jeongguk’s arms. The demon rubbed a hand up and down his back in small comfort.
When it became clear that Jimin would not move without instruction, Jeongguk said to him, “Dear heart, can you go to your grandmother’s room for me? We need fabric for her funeral dressings. Why don’t you pick out something pretty for her?”
With great reluctance, Jimin slowly detached himself from Jeongguk’s side, and, with unwilling arms, the demon let him go. He pressed a final kiss to Jimin’s forehead before giving him a gentle push toward the other end of the house.
Once his little garden witch was out of sight, Jeongguk turned toward the mess in the kitchen. He picked up Byulyi’s skull and delicately placed it on Jimin’s grandmother’s chest before taking both of them into his arms. They would have to be buried in the garden, behind the house in the small space that was void of trees, where the ground was soft and not filled with roots. Jeongguk gently laid the bodies on the grass in the backyard near where he would dig their grave before going to fetch a shovel.
As he dug through the slight resistance of grass and topsoil, he tried to think of anyone they needed to call, anyone who would want to witness whatever meager funeral they could give. There were a few businesses in town where Jimin’s grandmother sold her perfumes and herbal remedies, but Jeongguk couldn’t recall any friends that they had paid visits to, no family that had flown in for the holidays. There was always just Jimin and Jeongguk, and now it would be just the two of them alone.
By the time Jeongguk was done carving out an appropriately sized hole in the grass, more than enough time had passed for Jimin to have found the fabric he needed, yet his little witch still hadn’t reappeared. Jeongguk drove his shovel into the dirt and left it standing there as he ventured back toward the house, and even before he crossed the threshold he could hear the faint sound of muffled cries. After that it was easy to locate Jimin, the little witch kneeling on his grandmother’s bedroom floor, her dresser drawer open and her green shawl pressed to Jimin’s face as he sobbed into the fabric.
“Oh, heart,” Jeongguk cooed as he knelt next to his partner, scooping Jimin up into his arms. Jimin kept his head down, still desperately clutching the cloth even as Jeongguk shushed him and rubbed his back as he rocked them back and forth.
“It’s alright,” Jeongguk murmured, “just let it out. The shock is finally kicking in. Breathe for me, darling.”
Jimin blubbered out a half-choked apology, but Jeongguk wouldn’t hear of it.
“You’re going through something terrible, dear heart. Just cry until you feel better.”
And so time passed as such, with a witch and his demon clinging to each other on the floor, soft noises and slow rocking and warm tears. When Jimin finally quieted, Jeongguk just held him in place, letting him catch his breath before he had to stand up.
“Did you want to put that shawl on her?” Jeongguk finally asked, gentle and slow.
Jimin nodded against Jeongguk’s neck. “I thought… to cover up the blood. But… but I’ve ruined it now.”
“Your grandmother’s never minded a few tears,” Jeongguk said. “I doubt she’ll care now.” He helped Jimin to stand, keeping one hand on the small of his back. “Have you picked out the fabric you want to use yet?”
Jimin nodded again as he rubbed at his eyes. “The sheets in the cupboard, the ones with sunflowers on them. They should be big enough.”
Jeongguk took the sheets down for Jimin and carried them into the backyard for him, placing them in a neat stack next to his grandmother. Jimin had left his side to retrieve a pair of scissors, and when he joined Jeongguk outside he sat down in the grass and began cutting the fabric into long strips. Jeongguk picked up his shovel and resumed his digging. Every now and then he would hear a sniffle from Jimin or the call of a bird in the distance, but otherwise, it was silent as the two of them worked.
Once Jimin was done cutting up the fabric he carefully dressed his grandmother in her shawl, arranging it just so where the blood drying on her shirt was hardly visible. He made to run a soothing hand through her hair but stopped with a sound of distress.
“What’s wrong?” Jeongguk asked. The hole was now deep enough that he was standing about a foot below ground level.
“Her hair,” Jimin whimpered. “It’s a mess.” His grandmother’s hair was always clean and combed and smelled of soft jasmine oil. She never would have let it become so matted as it was now with dried blood.
“You should wash it for her,” Jeongguk gently suggested. “Make her look pretty.”
Jimin nodded and stood on wobbly legs, making his way back into the house. When he emerged a while later he had a pitcher of water and a small comb. He knelt next to his grandmother’s head and painstakingly went through each section of her hair, rinsing away the blood and combing out any stubborn knots with the utmost care. When that was done, he began wrapping her body in cloth, starting at her feet and working his way up. Jeongguk wished he could help Jimin with this process, to make this ritual of grief easier on him. He couldn’t stop digging though. The burial couldn’t wait. They needed to be out of the house and far away by nightfall. As much as Jeongguk wanted to give Jimin time to perform the death rituals and process his grief, it was too dangerous to linger around here any longer. He would not risk his witch’s safety.
Jeongguk climbed out of the hole he had made once he was finished, joining Jimin just as his witch was delicately wrapping the last of the cloth around his grandmother’s head. They lifted her together, Jimin’s hands at her ankles and Jeongguk taking the brunt of the weight under her arms. They lowered her into the grave as slowly as they could, and, afterward, Jeongguk placed Byulyi’s skull on top of her chest. Jimin fetched another shovel from the shed, and they worked as one to refill the grave.
Once they had placed all the freshly turned dirt back where it came from, Jimin knelt next to the grave. Jeongguk stood over him, guarding him in his moment of vulnerability. When Jimin reached for his hand he gave it freely, lending his little witch his power. Jimin placed his other hand atop the soil and immediately little green sprouts began pushing their way up from the dirt. Jimin and Jeongguk watched as the grave was transformed into a flower bed thick with life.
“Rosemary, for remembrance,” Jimin said as fresh stalks reached for the sun, leaves and petals blooming outward. “Aloe, for grief. Periwinkle, for tender recollections. Zinnias, I mourn your absence. And asphodels.”
“My regrets follow you to the grave,” Jeongguk finished for him as white, star-shaped flowers unfurled. Jeongguk gave Jimin’s hand a squeeze, and tear-filled brown eyes looked up at him. His mate’s shoulders were slumped, the knees of his overalls covered in dirt, and Jeongguk’s heart broke for his little witch. “Take a walk with me, dear heart.”
They took one of the random paths branching out from the backyard. They knew this forest well, would be able to find their way back home in the dead of night on a new moon. As it was, the sun was just passing over its zenith, leaving the air warm and the forest floor dappled with light. Jimin held on to Jeongguk’s arm with both hands as they walked, close enough to trip over one another were they not so attuned to each other’s bodies. Their pace was slow, Jeongguk giving Jimin time to breathe and process and feel in a place that was free of the stench of blood.
“What do we do now?” Jimin finally asked, voice so low he could barely be heard over the trill of birds in the trees.
“We need to go away for a while,” Jeongguk said. “A witch hunter knows where we live. It’s not safe anymore. We’ll need to pack a bag as soon as we get back. We won’t be spending the night here.”
“Where will we go?”
Jeongguk placed a hand over Jimin’s, trying to soothe the death grip the witch had on his arm. “I’m not sure yet. We’ll start by going to Seokjin and Namjoon’s place. I’m sure they’ll let us stay with them for a few days. From there it’s up to you.”
Jimin hummed, brow furrowed as he thought it over. “We could go visit Yoongi and Hoseok too. We’ve been talking about going to Daegu for forever but something always seems to come up.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Jeongguk agreed. “We shou-” He stopped suddenly, freezing in place, and Jimin reflexively stilled as well.
“What is it?” Jimin whispered, but Jeongguk held up his free hand, asking for silence.
There was something behind them in the trees, something that shouldn’t be there. Jeongguk had first been alerted to it by the heavy snap of a twig, a weight being applied that was much heavier than any of the forest-dwelling creatures. He was acutely aware of it now though, of the rustle of moving fabric, the harsh breaths of a human with an elevated heartbeat.
He gently pulled Jimin’s hands off his arm. “Run,” he murmured, just loud enough for Jimin to hear.
“What?” Jimin asked, and Jeongguk could hear his heartbeat pick up, could smell his fear.
“Go. Now !” He gave Jimin a push on his back, and with one more wide-eyed look Jimin took off running into the forest. Jeongguk stayed close behind him, urging him on as he covered his witch’s back. They stepped confidently through the underbrush, over roots and under branches. They knew this forest well, but they had no idea where they were going. Jeongguk didn’t care. There was a hunter in the trees, and he needed to get his little witch as far away from them as possible.
“Faster,” Jeongguk urged when he could hear Jimin’s steps slow. “I’m right behind you.”
They thundered through the forest, Jimin gasping for breath, Jeongguk scanning the trees. They were being hunted. Jimin was being hunted. The house wasn’t safe, the forest wasn’t safe, Jimin wasn’t-
Jeongguk heard the release of the bow before he saw the arrow, the slight twang of a plucked metal string hanging in the air. He didn’t know where it was coming from, couldn’t tell until the metal arrow ripped through Jimin’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Jimin fell backward into Jeongguk’s arms, gasping and clawing at his shoulder where the wooden rod protruded from his flesh.
Jeongguk quickly lowered them both to the ground, holding Jimin in his lap. The witch’s eyes were wide and frantic, scanning the forest around them in fear, but Jeongguk knew exactly where the danger was. He could hear them now, their breathing, their heartbeat, up in a tree a few yards away.
In his arms, Jimin whimpered in pain, and Jeongguk knew he was pouring so much energy into his little witch that it was leaking out of him, out of both of them. He could feel it in the way the shadows around him lengthened, bending and twisting. Around them, birds shrieked as the forest darkened, and the hunter moved in the tree, trying to get down, trying to get away. All this power, and what were demons good for if they couldn’t protect their witch? Byulyi couldn’t protect her witch, and now Jimin’s grandmother was dead. Jeongguk would not be like her, he had consumed her, and now he would defend his mate.
The shadows of the forest thrashed and writhed. They spread over the trees, covering leaves and branches, birds and squirrels, covering the hunter. They screamed as they were consumed, but Jeongguk couldn’t hear them, could only hear Jimin’s harsh breaths, his racing heart. The hunter fell from the tree, their body lifeless by the time they reached the ground. There was a chorus of breaking bodies as everything that once lived nearby fell to their deaths until there was nothing in the forest but Jimin and Jeongguk.
When the shadows retreated back to their rightful places Jimin choked out his name.
“It’s alright. Everything’s going to be okay.” Jeongguk soothed his witch, meanwhile his hands shook as he assessed the arrow in Jimin’s shoulder. The rod had buried itself in the soft space between Jimin’s collarbone and his armpit. Were Jeongguk to try and move Jimin the pointed arrowhead was likely to cause more damage as it shifted inside of him. It would have to come out.
Jeongguk shoved the meaty part of his hand just below the thumb into Jimin’s mouth, giving him something to bite down on to keep from hurting himself as he wrapped his other hand around the arrow’s shaft. He softly coached Jimin through a deep breath before he quickly pulled the arrow out of his shoulder.
Jimin screamed. He flinched back into Jeongguk’s arms as if to hide from the pain. Jeongguk took his lightly bitten hand out of Jimin’s mouth to stroke through his hair.
“It’s okay, it’s over now,” he soothed. “We’ll take you back to the house and get you patched up and-”
“Jeongguk,” Jimin rasped as he grabbed a fistful of Jeongguk’s shirt, “it burns.”
“I know it hurts, my heart,” Jeongguk continued to ramble, “we’re going to-”
“No, Jeongguk ,” Jimin pressed, pulling at his shirt, and the demon’s mouth snapped shut. “It burns .”
Jeongguk’s eyes flicked back and forth between Jimin’s drawn expression and the growing blood stain on his soft yellow shirt. Finally, he pushed aside the strap of Jimin’s overalls and took the collar of his shirt in his hands, ripping it along the seam of his shoulder. He pulled away the wet fabric to reveal a bloody hole where the arrowhead had torn in and out of Jimin’s flesh. Around the mess, Jeongguk could see Jimin’s veins spidering out from his wound, a dark black even through his skin.
The arrowhead had been poisoned. It looked to be spreading quickly, assisted by Jimin’s elevated heartbeat. Jimin twitched in Jeongguk’s arms as the poison burned under his skin.
“Jeongguk,” Jimin murmured, and the demon looked into his witch’s eyes, into his grieving, regretful brown eyes and did not like what he saw there. Jimin would barely make it back to the house, let alone all the way into town where they could seek help. He was trying to say good-bye. Jeongguk would not let him. He had to at least try.
Jeongguk gathered Jimin into his arms. He felt unmoored, the only thing holding him to the earth being the trembling witch who curled into his embrace. The shadows around him writhed and thrashed, reacting to the frazzled panic inside of him. He had to try. He had to get Jimin help. He stood, and the shadows consumed them.
When the darkness cleared, Jeongguk could see that their surroundings had changed. The bright forest had been replaced with the warmth of Seokjin and Namjoon’s living room in their Busan apartment. A dish shattered against the floor, and Jeongguk looked over to find Seokjin standing in the entrance to the kitchen, a broken mug at his feet. His eyes were wide and frightened as he took in the blood spilling down Jimin’s chest, and Jeongguk could only choke out, “Help him. Please .”
Seokjin took a step closer and Jeongguk held out the bloody arrow still clutched in his hand. “It was poison,” Jeongguk explained. “I don’t know which kind.”
Seokjin carefully took the arrow from him before licking the blood covered tip, his nose wrinkling in recognition. “Take him into the guest room,” he instructed, voice deceptively calm. “Lay him on the bed and take off his shirt. We need to flush out the wound.”
Jeongguk quickly turned on his heel to do as he was told, and he heard Seokjin yell for Namjoon behind him.
Jimin and Jeongguk had spent many nights in their friend’s guest room before, after dinner and drinks, long talks and card games that had left them too tired to return home. When Jeongguk laid Jimin down it was on soft, familiar blankets, a quilt at their feet that was likely older than the two of them combined. Jimin whimpered as Jeongguk set him down, trying to cling to his mate, but Jeongguk shushed him as he carefully removed Jimin’s death grip on his arms. He unbuckled the other strap of Jimin’s overalls, and despite his care in taking off Jimin’s shirt the witch still cried out in pain as his wound was jostled. Jeongguk murmured apologies and reassurances in timely repetition, though whether they were more for himself or for Jimin, Jeongguk couldn’t tell.
Once the shirt was off Jeongguk was desperate to do something to be helpful, to fetch a wet towel so he could clean Jimin’s wound or wipe his brow, but he was loath to leave his mate’s side. Jimin was panting and feverish, his face flush and his eyes glazed over. Jimin reached for his hand, holding it tight as he trembled, and Jeongguk couldn’t bear to let go.
He kneeled down beside the bed, doing his best to run a soothing hand over Jimin’s brow, brushing his hair back. Jimin whimpered, and Jeongguk felt like he was going to come apart at the seams.
“Kkyu,” Jimin gasped, doing his best to pull Jeongguk closer by the hand, “I want you to promise me something,”
Jeongguk grit his teeth. Jimin was trying to say goodbye again. “No,” he shook his head, “don’t even start.”
“Please,” Jimin begged, tears filling his eyes, “please, promise me that you won’t give up. That you’ll try to find someone else.”
“Jimin,” Jeongguk rasped, his own eyes filling even as he continued to vehemently shake his head.
“ Please, Kkyu,” Jimin pressed. “I just- I can’t bear the thought of a world without you in it.”
Jeongguk dropped his head, pressing his face into the sheets to hide the first teardrops that fell. Didn’t Jimin know that it was the same for him as well? That there was no point to a life without his mate by his side.
He lifted his head to press a kiss to the back of Jimin’s hand. “What world? You are my world, my heart.”
“No,” Jimin protested with a sob. “You can’t give up, you can’t-”
Seokjin’s footsteps could be heard from down the hall, and he was giving Jeongguk instructions before he even entered the room. “Get behind Jimin on the bed. I need you to hold him still for me.”
Jeongguk stood from his kneeling position, hand still clutched in Jimin’s as his witch refused to let go. “What?”
“I’ll need you to hold him down so I can flush out the wound. It’s going to hurt, and if he moves it won’t be as effective.” In his hands Seokjin carried a small kettle, his bottom hand braced with a potholder, though steam no longer rose from the spout. He positioned himself on Jimin’s injured side, the flush covering his face and ears giving away how perturbed he was despite his calm demeanor.
Jeongguk did his best to sit Jimin up in bed despite the way he whined in pain, slipping behind him so Jimin was positioned between his thighs, leaning back against his chest.
“Really hold him down,” Seokjin warned. “You’ll need to brace his head, too.”
Jeongguk clamped down on Jimin’s legs with his own, squeezing them together. One hand gathered both of his wrists, holding them close to his middle, while the other arm wrapped around his waist. Finally, he tilted his head so that Jimin’s own head was trapped between it and his shoulder.
"No matter what, don't let go," Seokjin cautioned a final time. Jeongguk could only grunt in agreement.
Carefully, Seokjin tipped the kettle over, letting a warm, light purple liquid flow into Jimin's wound. Jimin screamed. He screamed like he was dying. Like Seokjin was killing him. His muscles tensed, jerking as he attempted to thrash about, to get away. Jeongguk held him locked in place, his tight grip ensuring that Jimin barely moved even as he howled in pain.
Jeongguk could remember what it was like to feel nothing. For centuries he was completely numb to the world. He'd experienced so much since meeting Jimin, learned so many feelings, the good and the bad, the pleasurable and the uncomfortable. But this. Nothing had ever felt like this. It was as if someone had shoved their hand into his chest and was squeezing his heart, crushing it between their fingers. Someone was choking him, not letting him breathe, wrenching tears from his eyes. It felt like torture, it felt like death, to hold his beloved as he screamed and cried and writhed in his arms.
When the potion in the kettle ran out, Jimin’s body went limp. For a moment, Jeongguk thought he might have fainted, but then he saw his eyes still moving about the room, tears still trailing down his cheeks. They were practically lying in a puddle, the potion having run through Jimin’s wound, down his chest, and all over the bed. In their rush, no one had thought to grab a towel.
“Flip him over,” Seokjin ordered. “I’ll get the second batch from Namjoon and we can treat the exit wound.”
“The what?” Jeongguk’s breath hitched. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind before, but as he pushed Jimin up into somewhat of a sitting position, he noticed that the left side of his shirt was wet and sticky.
Jeongguk's stomach churned. He hadn't realized. How much more pain had he caused Jimin when he pulled the arrow out of him?
Seokjin left them to get the next batch from Namjoon while Jeongguk took the utmost care in turning Jimin around in his arms. Jimin whimpered as he was flipped onto his stomach, but all Jeongguk could do was coo at him and press his face into the juncture of Jeongguk's neck.
“Make it stop,” Jimin said, voice so soft and fragile Jeongguk could reach out and break it. “Please, Kkyu, make it stop.”
Jeongguk’s chest heaved. He knew it wasn’t helping, that he was only agitating Jimin more by jostling him around, but he couldn’t make it stop. “I’m so sorry, my heart. It’s almost over.”
“No,” Jimin choked. “Not again. Please , Kkyu.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jeongguk said as Seokjin walked in with a fresh pot of antidote. Jeonguk braced himself again, tightening his hold on Jimin, and Seokjin began to pour without preamble.
Jimin didn’t even have the strength to scream this time. Instead, he made sharp, broken noises as his breath came out in short pants. His limbs spasmed in Jeongguk’s hold, before suddenly his whole body went limp.
Jeongguk nearly cried out, nearly lost himself to his grief, but he could still feel Jimin’s breath against his neck, could feel their bond under his skin. He’d simply fainted, his mind finally allowing him a reprieve from the pain. Jeongguk held him up while Seokjin finished pouring the potion, keeping Jimin in his arms even as Seokjin patted the area dry so Namjoon could lay bandages packed with herbs that would help to draw out any remaining poison. He kept holding Jimin as Namjoon drew the curtains, as Seokjin fetched dry clothes for them to both change into. He kept holding his mate even as Seokjin suggested they change the sheets and let Jimin rest. Jeongguk couldn’t hear them, couldn’t hear anything over the sound of Jimin’s shallow breathing. Everything inside of him had been scraped out, leaving behind only the hummingbird thrum of Jimin’s heartbeat. Jeongguk couldn’t breathe, could’t blink, could only rock Jimin back and forth in his arms as if that would bring some comfort.
♠
Even before he opened his eyes, Jimin could hear Seokjin and Jeongguk arguing in the hallway. At first it was just the tone of their voices, muffled by the pain in Jimin’s body, radiating from his shoulder. As he cracked his eyes open though, fighting to adjust them to the dim lamp light in the room, he could hear their footsteps getting closer.
“-how else could you have teleported like that?” Seokjin demanded down the hall.
“I’m getting older,” Jeongguk responded. “It’s like you said, our powers increase with age.”
Shadows passed over the door, and Jimin could just make out Seokjin grabbing Jeongguk by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t bullshit me, Gguk. Something’s changed inside you, I can taste it in the air around you. It’s like…Like you’ve done the unspeakable.”
Jeongguk twisted out of Seokjin’s grip, a growl in his voice as he said, “I did what I had to do.”
The door to the guest room opened, and Jeongguk nearly dropped the glass of water in his hand when he saw that Jimin was awake. “Blessed be,” he breathed as he hurried to Jimin’s side, sitting down on the edge of the bed so he could tenderly brush Jimin’s hair off his forehead. “How do you feel?”
“Hurts,” Jimin rasped.
“I know,” Jeongguk cooed. “Seokjin,” he turned to the doorway, and the elder demon simply nodded before heading for the kitchen to make one of his medicinal teas. In the meantime, Jeongguk did his best to help Jimin sit up against the pillows so he could drink the water he brought. Once half the glass was empty he set it aside, going back to petting Jimin’s hair, stroking along his face, tracing every feature with his eyes as if Jimin might disappear at any moment.
“I’m here,” Jimin said, raising his good arm to take one of Jeongguk’s hands in his, holding it against his heart. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Jeongguk’s expression pinched. “I almost lost you.”
“But you didn’t,” Jimin said.
Jeongguk bit his bottom lip, face crumpling as his eyes filled with tears. “But I almost did.” His head dropped, forehead coming to rest against Jimin’s. “I’m so sorry, my heart. I’ve failed you.”
“No,” Jimin protested, voice soft. “You saved me.”
Jeongguk slowly shook his head, tilting Jimin’s head along with it. Jeongguk’s tears landed hot on Jimin’s cheeks. “You were hurting, and I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop any of it.”
“Oh, Kkyu.” Jimin weakly pulled at Jeongguk until the demon’s head was buried against his chest, where he could clutch at Jimin’s shirt and sob and sob until he couldn’t anymore.
When Jeongguk had worn himself out he curled into Jimin’s side, one hand still pressed to his witch’s heart as he let Seokjin force spoonfuls of awful, bitter medicine down Jimin’s throat, followed by a cup of numbing tea that would allow him to sleep again.
“You should get some rest too,” Jimin said as Jeongguk helped him scoot back down the pillows to lie flat. “If the dark circles under your eyes get any worse people will start to think someone punched you in the face. We can’t have that.”
Jeongguk pressed a kiss to his forehead, to both of his cheeks and his nose. “I’ll rest when the work is done.”
Jimin wanted to ask what he meant, what work he was referring to, but his eyes were already closing, sleep already pulling him under.
♠
Jeongguk and Seokjin were fighting, Jimin could tell that much at least. What they were fighting about, however, seemed to change by the day. Jimin knew that at the root of it was Jeongguk’s increase in power. There was only one way for a demon to have such a significant power surge, and it was a practice now looked down upon by most. It was rare for new demons to be made these days, and what Jeongguk had seen as taking pity on a broken demon, others saw as killing an already dying breed.
It didn’t help that Jeongguk wouldn’t tell anyone what he was planning. He was clearly up to something, having been in and out of countless phone conversations the past two days. He wouldn’t even tell Jimin, which was a startling first for them, only telling him not to worry, that he was handling it, and he should focus on resting and recovering.
There was only so much focusing Jimin could do. For the most part, he spent his days weak and fatigued, only allowed out of bed on his assisted walks to the bathroom. The few hours he was awake, Jeongguk would spend in bed with him, curled around him like he was the only thing keeping Jimin from falling apart. Most days it felt like the opposite.
When Seokjin and Jeongguk weren’t arguing about what was really bothering them, they argued about petty things instead. Today, they were arguing about Jimin.
“He needs the exercise, Gguk,” Seokjin scolded as he trailed after them to the living room. “He won’t get any better if you keep babying him.”
Jeongguk held him even closer in response. Jimin, at least, wasn’t upset at being carried around. He could tell how much it soothed Jeongguk to be of some use to him, to at least minimize the helpless feeling he’s been drowning in. Not to mention, Jimin barely felt like he could lift his head today and was perfectly happy giving all his weight to Jeongguk, letting himself be carried around like a rag doll.
“I’ll baby my mate all I want, thank you,” Jeongguk snapped as they approached one of the living room couches. As tenderly as he could, Jeongguk laid Jimin down among the pillows. He fussed with them for a while, arranging them so Jimin could both be sitting up, but also fall asleep in this position if he wished, before covering him with blankets. Seokjin continued to hover around them and fuss, but even he knew by now that Jeongguk wouldn’t engage with him while he was caring for Jimin.
“Do you want me to turn the TV on?” Jeongguk offered as he finished tucking blankets up under Jimin as tight as possible.
“No,” Jimin shook his head, “I’m okay right now.”
“Alright.” Jeongguk kissed Jimin on the forehead, and when he wasn’t satisfied with that he did it a few more times as well.
A knock on the door finally caused Seokjin to stop rambling, and he turned curious eyes onto Jeongguk as Namjoon finally emerged from his office at the noise. “Were you expecting someone?” Seokjin asked.
“Yes,” Jeongguk said, already halfway to the door. “It took them long enough.”
Jimin didn’t even need to ask who it was because as soon as the door opened Hoseok was already pushing his way through, demanding to know, “Where is he? Where is my Jiminie?”
“Over here,” Jimin said, raising his hand over the back of the couch to be seen.
Hoseok hurried over, dropping to his knees beside the couch like Jimin was dying all over again. “How are you? We’ve been so worried about you ever since Jeongguk told us what happened.” He took Jimin’s good hand in his own, and Jimin gave him a comforting squeeze.
“I’ve been better,” he said. “Seokjin and Namjoon have been a big help, though. We’re lucky they’re so handy with healing herbs.”
Suddenly remembering himself, Hoseok looked up at Seokjin and Namjoon, who were both still lingering in the living room. “Hi, guys. Thanks for having us.”
Seokjin smiled, and it was only slightly strained. “Let’s call it a nice surprise.”
When Hoseok turned back to Jimin his expression was solemn. “I’m so sorry to hear about your grandmother. She was one of the best witches I know.”
Jimin did his best to force a smile. “Thank you. Once I’m feeling better, I’d love for you all to come to her resting site.”
“ Of course ,” Hoseok said. “I’ve already started working on my offering. It’s a crystal grave marking. I just know she’d have loved it. How is Byulyi holding up? Did she manage to find a hiding place close by?”
There was a moment of silence, and Jimin felt his stomach drop.
“Oh? Didn’t Jeongguk tell you?” Seokjin’s voice was cold as he leaned over the back of the couch. “Byulyi is gone. He released her.”
Hoseok’s expression slowly fell as realization dawned. He looked over at Jeongguk, who was quietly conversing with Hoseok’s mate, Yoongi, by the door, and it was as if he was looking at a stranger.
Jimin almost said something, wanted to speak up in defense of his mate, that Byulyi was in irreversible pain, that she would never have been the same again, but the moment broke when Jeongguk came to crouch down by Jimin’s head. His large, warm hand brushed Jimin’s hair off his forehead, and his other hand rested just over Jimin’s heart.
“I have to leave for a bit,” he said. “I’ll be back soon.”
Jimin stopped breathing. “What?” he choked. He and Jeongguk never left each other. Not in twenty years had they ever been more than across the house from one another. Why would Jeongguk suddenly leave him?
Jimin’s breath suddenly came in short gasps, his heart rate spiking. Jeongguk was quick to lean in, to press their foreheads together as he whispered to Jimin, “shh, it’s okay. Just breathe for me. Close your eyes and feel our bond. It’s stronger than it’s ever been.”
Jeongguk was right, and Jimin didn’t have to close his eyes to know it was true. The energy that flowed from Jeongguk into Jimin had increased significantly when he’d consumed Byulyi, thickening the tether that bound them together. There was nowhere that Jeongguk could go where Jimin would not feel their connection. Still, it was a scary thought.
Jeongguk pulled back enough that Jimin could look into his eyes, those endless black depths that never lied to him. “I promise, I wouldn’t leave if it weren’t necessary. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Okay,” Jimin said, but it sounded weak even to his own ears.
Jeongguk leaned in for a parting kiss. It was soft and reverent, making it terribly hard to hold back tears.
Jimin watched Hoseok and Yoongi say good-bye as Jeongguk gathered his coat and put on his shoes. It was much simpler, likely because Hoseok had already known about the separation in advance and had time to prepare for it. Then again, these things also got easier with age. At twenty years, he and Jeongguk were still so new. Yoongi simply leaned down to kiss Hoseok’s forehead, running his fingers through his mate’s auburn hair a few times before both demons took their leave.
For a moment, the silence was unbearable. Jimin felt like he was choking on it, like his world was getting smaller and smaller the longer Jeongguk was gone and there was no more room for air. When Namjoon softly spoke the world back into existence, it nearly left Jimin gasping.
“I’ll go make us all some tea.”
Jimin looked up at his friends and saw Seokjin’s pinched expression. “I’ll help.”
Once they were alone, Hoseok finally pulled his bag off his shoulder, opening it to rummage around inside. It was a red, cross body bag this time, covered in rainbow and flower pins. “I brought my cards with me,” he said as he dug in all the way up to his elbows. “I figured we could play a bit while we wait.”
“I’d like that,” Jimin said as Hoseok pulled out his deck of tarot cards.
He and Jeongguk had first met Hoseok and Yoongi a few years ago at a Yule fair. Hoseok was a fortune witch, and had set up a booth for reading cards and casting runes. Jimin had gone in for a reading, and Hoseok had nearly fallen out of his chair laughing when he revealed Jimin’s predictions for the new year, the cards claiming that the two of them would become good friends.
That prediction had been assisted by his demon, of course, but Hoseok had been a fortune teller long enough to have created at least a few magical items. His tarot cards, for example, had been used so many times that some of Yoongi’s energy had melded with the objects, allowing them to give at least vague answers for Hoseok and Jimin to play around with.
“Will I ever grow taller?” Jimin asked as Hoseok shuffled the deck.
His friend just laughed and shook his head. “You have to stop asking that question, Min. You never like the answer.”
Hoseok fanned the cards out before him, allowing him to take his pick. Jimin took a card and flipped it over, revealing The Fool. This sent Hoseok into uproarious laughter. “Is that finally a good enough answer for you?”
After a few more rounds of this, in which the cards essentially told Jimin to stick to what he’s good at and not hurt himself on his aspirations, they dragged Namjoon into their game so he could get his feelings hurt too. Seokjin watched on fondly as Namjoon had a near opposite reading from Jimin’s, letting him know that his current studies into the healing properties of jasper were “promising” and the new archeological dig he wanted to visit on the Grecian coastline would hold “unexpected surprises.”
“I think your cards don’t like me on purpose,” Jimin whined. He was starting to feel sore and tired and Namjoon’s pleased expression was making him crabby. “This is the third time this has happened!”
“How could the cards not like you?” Hoseok asked from where he was still sitting on the floor by Jimin’s couch, having made himself comfortable there. “They’re the ones who brought us together.”
“Yeah, probably so they could keep roasting me for the rest of eternity,” Jimin grumbled.
“I think it’s time for your medicine,” Seokjin said, standing from his chair so he could go to the kitchen and prepare his tea.
“He means it’s time to put the baby down for a nap,” Jimin told Hoseok, his nose scrunched up.
“We only treat you the way you behave, munchkin,” Namjoon said, ruffling Jimin’s hair as he passed by. Jimin stuck his tongue out at the other witch in recompense.
After his medicine, Jimin could no longer fight sleep, and he quickly dropped into a dreamless nap upon the couch. It felt as if he had only just closed his eyes when he was awoken by the front door slamming open, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as Jeongguk stormed into the living room. He was growling, hands running through his hair as he let out a litany of curses.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Hoseok asked as Seokjin and Namjoon hurried into the room.
“There’s a whole fucking nest of them!” Jeongguk raved. He hadn’t stopped walking, pacing around the room in circles as he alternated between gesticulating wildly and squeezing his hands into fists. “All of them sitting right under our noses! All this time! Fuck !”
“What are you talking about? Nest of what?” Seokjin asked, his eyes following Jeongguk’s path around the room.
“Witch hunters,” Yoongi said, looking much more composed as he stood at the edge of the room, but Jimin could see the way his eyes were black with rage. “There’s a whole clan of them based out of Busan.”
“Our death has been sitting right outside our door for years and we never even noticed,” Jeongguk seethed. “We never even bothered to check.”
The afternoon had faded into night while Jimin was asleep, but as his demon furiously paced the room it seemed as if the lights dimmed, the darkness stewing among the demons sucking the brightness out of Namjoon’s decorative lamps.
“What do we do?” Namjoon asked, his voice a delicate thread plucked in a silent room.
“There’s nothing we can do,” Seokjin answered, shaking his head. “There have always been witch hunters. There will always be witch hunters. So long as darkness exists in the world humans will find some way to burn it out.”
The room fell into silence again, and Jimin could see the way Jeongguk’s jaw was clenching, could feel the torrent of emotions raging inside his mate.
“Maybe you won’t do anything about it,” Jeongguk finally said. “But I won’t have my mate live in a world where people want to kill him.”
“What are you going to do, Gguk?” Seokjin demanded. “Kill all the witch hunters in the world? That’s impossible.”
“So we just sit here and do nothing while they plot our deaths?” Yoongi asked, the low volume of his voice pulling everyones’ attention more efficiently than any of Seokjin and Jeongguk’s yelling. “If they want to end our way of life, why shouldn’t we defend ourselves?”
Seokjin huffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “So you kill all of the witch hunters in Busan, then what? What do you do once more of them come looking for revenge? Where does the cycle of violence stop?”
“Why should we be responsible for ending the violence that they started?” Jeongguk rebutted.
“Getting revenge won’t bring you the satisfaction that you think it will, Jeongguk,” Seokjin sneered. “It won’t make Jimin better, and it won’t stop him from being hunted. It won’t stop any of us from being hunted. If you do that, you’re doing it only for yourself.”
Jeongguk’s top lip pulled up, showing his teeth in some strange mix of a grin and a grimace. “And what’s so wrong with that?”
Seokjin shook his head, turning on his heel so he could march out of the room, Namjoon following close behind.
Jeongguk turned to Yoongi, who gave him a stiff nod and a, “we’ll talk tomorrow.” The demon held out his hand for his witch, beckoning him closer. “Come on, sunshine. I’m ready for bed.”
Hoseok hopped up from his seat, bidding Jeongguk and Jimin a good night as he hurried over to take his mate’s hand. “It’s not even that late,” he whined as they headed for the door. “Let’s at least get food first.”
The front door closed and suddenly they were alone. Jeongguk crouched down beside Jimin, one warm hand smoothing out his bed head. “I’m sorry. I woke you up, didn’t I?”
“Yeah,” Jimin said, “but it’s okay.”
Jeongguk shook his head. “No, it’s not. You need your rest.” As gently as possible he hooked his arms under Jimin’s legs and back, lifting him up and cradling him against his chest so he could take his mate back to their bedroom.
When he laid Jimin down on the bed the witch turned over onto his good side, allowing Jeongguk to curl up behind him. After he’d turned out the lights and shed everything but his boxers, Jeongguk did just that, wrapping an arm around Jimin’s waist and resting his palm over the witch’s heart. The steady thrum of Jimin’s heartbeat was the only thing he could fall asleep to these days.
“Are you mad at me for leaving?” Jeongguk asked softly once they had both settled in.
“I’m not mad,” Jimin answered. “At the time I was hurt, but now I understand why you did it.”
A moment of silence passed where Jeongguk nuzzled into the back of Jimin’s neck, before he asked, “will you hate me if I kill those witch hunters?”
Jimin covered the hand resting over his heart with his own, intertwining their fingers. “You are half of my soul, half of my heart. If the thought truly upset me, it would have never even crossed your mind.” Jeongguk pressed kisses to his nape, and Jimin could feel their bond hum between them. “I…” Jimin hesitated, “I’m not sure I can handle you leaving again so soon, though.”
“No,” Jeongguk promised, giving his shoulder the lightest of kisses, “not until you’re better. I won’t do that to you again.”
A part of Jimin relaxed that he hadn’t known had grown tense, finally allowing his eyelids to droop again, his body to settle. “Thank you,” he said as sleep once again pulled at his consciousness.
“Sleep well, dear heart,” Jeongguk rumbled against his back.
♠
For the next two weeks very little happened. Jimin was allowed to rest and heal while Jeongguk went back to planning, making phone calls at all hours of the day and night. Hoseok and Yoongi came over twice more, Hoseok and Jimin gossiping and playing around on the couch while Yoongi and Jeongguk spoke in hushed tones out on the terrace where no one else would hear them.
During this time it was declared that Jimin was finally free of poison, which gradually allowed his strength to return. His walks to the bathroom, the living room, and the terrance became unassisted, and eventually he could putter around the kitchen all on his own.
It was one of these mornings, when Jimin was shuffling around making toast and coffee, Jeongguk clinging to his back the whole time, that Jeongguk said, “I have to leave again today.”
Jimin froze, butter knife still held aloft in the air. “You have to?”
Jeongguk kissed along the top of his shoulder. His bedhead tickled at Jimin’s neck. “I’m supposed to. But, if you’re not ready…”
Jimin sighed, forcing himself to loosen his tight grip on the knife so he could set it down. “No, you should go. The sooner you do the sooner this will all be over with.”
Jeongguk’s arms tightened around his waist, his head buried in Jimin’s neck. “Are you angry?”
“No,” Jimin said, though his voice waned, “I’m just anxious. I want this to be done.”
“I do, too,” Jeongguk said, his breath warm against Jimin’s skin. “Once this is all over we’ll go somewhere, just the two of us. Somewhere you can finish healing in peace.”
Jimin wrapped his arms around Jeongguk’s, hugging the demon to him. “Can we go somewhere with flowers? There’s- there’s a lot of places that grandmother wanted to visit, but she couldn’t because she was so busy taking care of me.”
“Of course,” Jeongguk said, each rumble of his voice against Jimin’s back so soothing. “We’ll take plenty of pictures and hang them in her home. When her spirit visits, she’ll be able to see them. It’ll make her so happy.”
Jimin’s breath hitched, and he had to quickly blink away the moisture in his eyes. “I’d like that very much.”
The rest of the day Jimin hung from Jeongguk’s arm like a limpet, the knowledge that his mate would be leaving a constant buzz in the back of his mind. Jeongguk did his best to offer reassurance, cuddling with Jimin on the couch as he tried watching TV or reading a book, his mind unable to focus on anything for long. He couldn’t stop himself from tensing up when Yoongi and Hoseok arrived, knowing that he had only moments left. It was heart wrenching to watch Jeongguk put on his leather jacket, to slide into his boots and grab his keys. He gave Jimin a long, lingering kiss before he left, his hand on the back of Jimin’s neck the only thing grounding him before suddenly it was gone. Jimin could only watch as Jeongguk and Yoongi walked out the front door, could only make brief, non-committal noises as Hoseok tried to distract him with the story of how he and Yoongi were trying to use his crystal ball to pick up cable.
It was nearly an hour later when Seokjin and Namjoon finally emerged from their study, having spent most of the day working on an old transmutation spell Namjoon had found, trying to turn copper into nickel. Seokjin stopped short when he noticed Hoseok, causing Namjoon to run into his back. “Hoseok, I didn’t know you were coming over tonight.” He looked back and forth between the two of them. “Where are your mates?”
Hoseok shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “They went out.”
Seokjin’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know where they went?”
Hoseok shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
Seokjin stalked forward, and Jimin could feel his friend tense up next to him. “Hoseok, did you bring your crystal ball with you?”
Hoseok hesitantly nodded. “I did. But it doesn’t have enough residual magic left in it to be used properly.”
Seokjin crossed his arms. “That’s not a problem. Namjoon can act as a conduit for my energy.”
Hoseok’s brows furrowed. “I don’t know…”
“I need to know where they are,” Seokjin said, his tone allowing no room for argument. “Don’t make me ask again.”
Reluctantly, Hoseok reached for his bag, this one fluffy and covered in teddy bears. He shot Jimin an unsure glance as he dug out his crystal ball, but there was nothing Jimin could do. Seokjin was by far the oldest of all of them. If he was demanding something, it would be wise of them to listen.
It wasn’t often that Jimin watched a spell he wasn’t actively participating in, more witches made less work after all, so it was odd to sit on the couch and simply observe Hoseok, Namjoon, and Seokjin get into position. Typically when more than one witch participated in a spell they formed a circle, linking hands with their demons as they all chanted together, coalescing their power into one. This, however, was a direct energy transfer, meaning they needed to form a straight line. Hoseok sat next to the coffee table, his crystal ball on its stand in front of him. Namjoon knelt behind him, his hands on Hoseok’s shoulders, and Seokjin stood behind his witch in much the same position.
Jimin watched as Hoseok closed his eyes, his crystal ball beginning to glow as it filled with Seokjin’s energy. It was dimmer than Jimin was used to, when Hoseok would See by the power of his own demon, but it helped that Hoseok was using an already established connection between himself and his mate. Despite being a few steps removed from his current power source, the bond was familiar, and he slipped into it easily.
Jimin watched as Hoseok's eyes moved beneath his lids, tracking Yoongi's movements even from miles away. "They're in a restaurant...or maybe a pub? There's tables and a bar. There's a lot of noise. They're surrounded by people. There's flags all over the walls with crests...family crests. Yoongi is taking stock of all the weapons in the room. There's a bow on the table next to them. Three men at the bar have guns. The girl serving drinks has daggers strapped to her thighs. It...it looks like everyone there has a weapon. Jeongguk is saying something about the lights, I can't quite catch it over all the noise."
Hoseok's brows furrowed, his face pinching. "Yoongi is telling me to get out of his head. He's worried about me. He keeps looking over at Jeongguk. It's like...like the shadows around Jeongguk keep getting bigger. They're-" Hoseok gasped, his body going rigid. "Everything went dark. I can still feel him, I just-"
Hoseok shrieked, his hands flying away from the crystal ball as his eyes opened. He launched himself away from the table, nearly bowling over Namjoon as well in the process. Jimin practically threw himself off the couch to rush over to his friend. He grabbed Hoseok by the elbows, trying to pull him back up into a sitting position despite the way his body trembled. Hoseok looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes.
"What happened?" Jimin asked. "What did you see?"
Hoseok swallowed, his eyes casting about for an answer. "I didn't see anything, it was more like… a feeling. Like… every bit of heat had been sucked out of my body. Like I would never be warm again."
Jimin chanced a glance up at Seokjin, but the demon's expression had gone cold, his black eyes swirling with anger.
Jimin patted Hoseok's arm, trying to get him to stand so he could help his friend over to the couch. "Let me make you some tea, that will warm you up. Namjoon, could you go get the blankets from my room?"
Namjoon nodded and was back by the time Jimin had settled Hoseok among the soft brown cushions. Jimin headed into the kitchen to make Hoseok a cup of tea, but even from the other room, he could hear Seokjin’s interrogation.
“Is there anything else you can give me?” the demon asked. “Anything to indicate where they are?”
“Um,” Jimin could hear Hoseok shuffling the pillows and blankets about. “There was an inscription over the door in Latin. It said “put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the Devil’s schemes.” From what I saw that was the only door the place had.”
Seokjin sighed. “That doesn’t give me very much to go on.”
“I’m sorry!” Hoseok practically wailed, clearly feeling miserable. “The place had no windows! There was no way for me to tell-” Hoseok cut himself off with a gasp as the temperature in the room suddenly plummeted, the pressure rising until Jimin’s ears popped. It lasted for only a moment, and then Hoseok screamed.
Jimin ran for the living room, coming to a stop in the doorway when he saw Yoongi and Jeongguk standing there, covered in blood.
Jimin’s breath caught in his throat. It couldn’t be theirs, demons didn’t bleed, they didn’t die, not in any way a human could kill them, but it was still a jarring sight. Yoongi immediately raised his hands, trying to show Hoseok that he was okay. Jeongguk locked eyes with Jimin, the black depths filled with bloodlust and rage and a deep satisfaction.
Seokjin stood from where he had been questioning Hoseok on the couch, looking every inch of his towering height. The apartment shook with his next words. “ What have you done ?”
♠
Jimin felt fairly useless, simply continuing to make them all tea as Seokjin verbally tore into Yoongi and Jeongguk. The older demon had grabbed the two of them by the scruff and dragged them into his bedroom before slamming the door, but Jimin could still hear him yelling through the walls.
Jimin sighed as he pulled fully steeped tea bags out of three cups. Seokjin cared about what their actions did to others. It was something he had no doubt picked up from Namjoon over the years. What did it say about him and Hoseok then, that their demons had no such moral dilemmas?
Jimin brought the three cups of tea out to the living room, where he handed one off to Hoseok and Namjoon each, before curling up with his fellow witches on the couch.
“How long do you think Seokjin will stay mad at them?” Jimin asked as he rested his head on Hoseok’s shoulder.
Namjoon didn’t answer him for a long moment, giving his tea a sniff before taking a tentative sip. Finally, he set it down on the side table. “Part of the reason Seokjin is so upset is because, in a way, he agrees with them. For a demon, to protect one’s mate is the same as protecting their own life. Seokjin can’t deny that part of him, that some time ago he might have done the same thing. So, to answer your question, I don’t think he’ll stay mad at them for too long. For years and years it was just the two of us. Jeongguk and Yoongi’s friendship means too much for him to burn that bridge…Still, that doesn’t mean he can’t hold a grudge with the best of them.”
Just then the door to Seokjin’s room opened, and Jeongguk caught Jimin’s eye as he walked out and toward the hall bathroom. Jimin quickly got up to follow him, as ever pulled along by that invisible string connecting them both.
Jeongguk had already started the shower by the time Jimin closed the bathroom door behind him, the sound of water hitting tile filling the room. Jimin leaned back against the countertop as Jeongguk shed his jacket and shirt, both pieces of fabric hitting the ground with a wet smack. He gently tapped the marble counter with a fingernail, and Jeongguk’s gaze, predator-like in its sharpness, turned to him.
“I have a question,” he said.
Jeongguk prowled towards him. Where blood had soaked through his shirt, it now stuck in patches against his skin, the tan expanse of his torso not showing any damage of its own. Some blood had splattered across his face as well, arching over his nose and cheek. Once he was close enough, he took hold of Jimin’s hips, lifting him so he could sit on the counter, putting them eye to eye. He had Jeongguk’s whole, undivided attention.
“Why did you do it?” Jimin asked, voice soft in the small space between them. “Not what you tell the others, but the real reason this time.”
Jeongguk leaned forward until their foreheads were touching, until all Jimin could see were his mate’s dark eyes, slightly blurry from their proximity.
“I did it,” Jeongguk said, “because I know they wouldn’t take pity on me the way I took pity on Byulyi. Because of their morals, I would be stuck wallowing in my grief for the rest of time, unable to stop the pain, praying for a death that would never come. If I cannot follow you into the Great Beyond, then I have to ensure that you will never leave my side. Whatever that takes.”
Jimin pushed forward, slotting their lips together. Jeongguk tasted desperate and hungry, but also like other people’s blood. When Jimin pulled away he leaned to the side so he could spit into the sink. Jeongguk pressed his tea back into his hands and kissed his cheek.
“Will you be joining me?” he asked.
Jimin shook his head. “No, you go ahead.”
Jimin leaned back against the wall as Jeongguk finished stripping and stepped into the shower. He sipped his tea as he watched the blood slide off Jeongguk’s skin through the shower’s clear glass door. Most days it was hard to tell that Jeongguk was any sort of dark entity. He spent the majority of his time on his knees in Jimin’s garden, or puttering around their bright yellow kitchen, or holding Jimin’s hand as he turned plants into medicinal remedies or perfumes. He followed Jimin to the movies, to ballets, and even took him dancing. He was domestic and sweet and ordinary. Still, Jimin thought, it was impossible for a creature to deny their nature, and as Jeongguk pushed his hands through his wet hair, the water running red as it trailed down his body, perfectly sculpted, temptation and violence mixing into one, there was no denying the truth of what he was.
After Jeongguk and Yoongi had both showered and changed, Seokjin called them all to meet in the dining room. They all watched the eldest demon take his place at the head of the table, expression grave yet calculating. “Alright,” he said, “it’s time to take responsibility for your actions. I give it two days until Busan is crawling with witch hunters looking for blood. You need to call every witch you know and tell them to flee the area, to get out of Korea completely, if possible. Tell them to pass the message along to everyone they know, and I will do the same. No witch should step foot in Busan for a long time, not until this all blows over. Humans have long memories, but thankfully their lives are short. Hopefully in a generation or two the bloodlust will have worn off.”
That night, they all did as they were told, some calling friends, others writing letters to old acquaintances, all with the same message:
Leave Busan and don’t look back.
In the morning, the six of them all met at the train station, each going in separate directions. Yoongi and Hoseok would be traveling back to Daegu to pack their things before going to Japan, where they would stay with one of Hoseok’s old mentors at the Kasuga Shrine. Seokjin and Namjoon were headed north, where they would meet up with some friends in Ilsan and convince them to leave the country, before leaving themselves, heading to Greece and the dig site that was currently uncovering new Micean artifacts. Jeongguk and Jimin would get on a train to Seoul, where they would catch a plane to the Netherlands so they could see the tulip fields in bloom. After that they would travel to France to see the lavender fields and study under the farmers and witches there.
They all agreed to meet up again in a year, when witches gathered to celebrate Beltane and welcome the summer. They would meet again under the warm May sun, and hopefully they will have found peace.