Chapter Text
the department of mysteries rests on the highest level of the south korean ministry of magic, level 10. while anyone can get access to it, via fire-smoke transportation, only unspeakables—wizards and witches who work there—know how to make their way around that complicated maze. inside the department, there’s a long hallway, and over thirty black doors placed symmetrically one next to the other. on each door, there’s a rustic metal plaque with the wizard’s surname.
on the door to your right, the plaque reads park.
park jisung is inside, scribbling down the correct information regarding the mysterious awakening of a famous quidditch player. those kinds of cases would generally be given to the department of magical law enforcement, either to aurors or the wizards in the improper use of magic office. but the odd circumstances surrounding it caused it to end in his department. one might even call it a mystery—but jisung won’t, because he’s not in the mood for little jokes.
the internship isn’t nearly as interesting as he had expected. all he does all day is ponder and keep quiet, forbidden from speaking to other wizards that aren’t unspeakables of what he’s been looking at. it’s incredibly frustrating, you know. at least he has jeno, who understands the pain of having to keep quiet when you’re a friend of one and only lee donghyuck.
“what are you writing now?” speaking of the devil, donghyuck puts his head inside his office, with a small smile, knowing damn well that question gets on his nerves.
“i can’t tell you,” jisung frowns, closing his files. “there’s a reason why i’m an unspeakable, hyung. we need to keep everything confidential,”
donghyuck rolls his eyes, walking in. “that’s so... infuriating. no wonder everyone thinks you guys fool around all day,” he says, promptly sitting down at his desk, crossing his legs.
like usual, he tries to take a look at what jisung’s been working on, but he moves it out of his line of sight, afraid of the punishment that would follow if donghyuck ends up reading something.
donghyuck’s dressed in a grey cloak that fits him well, making his recently dyed red hair stand out. now, he wears glasses, submitting to “looking like a nerd” (his words, not jisung’s) after he returned from another trip to the united states. jisung believes mark must’ve said something to him, but when he asked about it, donghyuck threatened to hex him, so he’s been quietly taking notes of any new sudden changes.
“that’s basically what i do,” mutters jisung, resting his face on his hand, jutting his bottom lip out. he needs some of that excitement, being confined in his office all day would slowly drive him crazy – he can already feel the effects taking over his mind. “how’s your work? i think of changing departments every day... maybe become an auror, that would surely be more exciting,”
“and you wouldn’t have any ulterior motives for that, huh,” muses donghyuck, giving him a worried side-eye.
jisung stills, tired eyes resting on his friend’s expression, “what do you mean?”
“chenle told me that you were there last week,” explains donghyuck, looking away. he sounds like he’s judging him, and jisung knows exactly why. “that you bothered baekhyun-hyung to tell you what they knew about that na kid, the white cloak that attacked you in mahoutokoro,”
jisung freezes. “i didn’t...”
“sungie,” mutters donghyuck, and they fall silent.
it’s true. he can’t lie.
he went after byun baekhyun, head of the auror department, looking for any new information on na jaemin’s location. it’s part of his routine, at this point, wondering if they’ve gotten closer to finding him; if they had a new lead; something; anything. his curiosity riles him up and jisung cannot help himself. he tells himself he’s only so curious because things in his life are predictably boring, but he knows his reasons go much deeper than that. much, much deeper.
he understands how worrisome it may look from an outside view to those who don’t understand their complicated relationship. he still remembers the way auror byun glanced at him, silently questioning if he’s okay in the head. (and the answer is no—he’s not okay. he seriously doubts he’ll ever be okay if doesn’t hear for jaemin soon). it’s understandable... to most of them, jaemin’s a wanted criminal, that performed one of the unforgivable curses on jisung, who bravely attempted to stop him from running away, and earning his rightful place on the auror’s watch list. to most of them, jisung’s traumatized, and he hates na jaemin with a burning passion.
they don’t understand – not at all. donghyuck’s one of them.
despite being his closest friend, jisung cannot allow himself to tell him the truth – the truth about what had happened during their last year in mahoutokoro, how he met jaemin one day and never let go. not when he knows how donghyuck will react. and that’s the problem here: donghyuck doesn’t know jisung is grossly, obsessively in love na jaemin.
so, to him, jisung’s crazy.
(well, he wouldn’t be wrong. jisung is crazy – but for other reasons).
“i need to know,” says jisung, but there’s truth hidden in his words.
“you need to let him go, sungie,” donghyuck shakes his head. “he’s probably dead by now, or fuck knows where,”
jisung tenses up.
he hates that.
he hates it so much.
even after a year and a half, not once he did allow himself to imagine jaemin being dead. that’s worse than thinking of him enjoying his life somewhere, with another person falling for his charms, like the way he uses his wand to follow his reading, pointing to each word slowly, so focused; or how he paces around the wrong, practicing by himself; or how he’d hold jisung’s face gently, only to press the nastiest, most disgusting kiss on his lips. it’s way worse.
“what?” donghyuck frowns, when he notices the way jisung’s eyes get red. “hey, are you alright?”
“yeah...” he wheezes, pushing his chair back as he gets up. “i...” jisung covers his face as the tears become too much for him to hide. “i just need to go to the bathroom,”
and he rushes out of his office, stumbling down the hallway.
his heart sets loose in his chest, buckling under the fear, the anxiety, and all the crushing feelings that spread inside him. jisung hiccups inside of the bathroom (it hurts his throat, everything hurts, fuck, it hurts), slamming the door shut behind him, casting a spell to lock it, so no one would dare to enter while he’s still there. he knows donghyuck would try to follow him.
jaemin must be out there, exploring, living, and happy.
if he’d died, the aurors would have told him – jisung would be the second one to know, after jaemin’s parents. he’s happy and alive, jisung tells himself, holding himself up by leaning against the marble sink. his heart squeezes and dances, but it doesn’t feel better. jaemin’s alive. jaemin’s alive. he repeats over, and over, and over, and over again until his heart is numb to the comfort.
the damage inside him is so noticeable when he stares at his reflection.
park jisung’s grown.
his black hair doesn’t fall over his eyes like a messy teenager anymore, pushed to the side to show his forehead. it gives him a more mature look, so he doesn’t look like a lost little boy in the middle of the adults. his eyes are wide and sad, with dark circles under them, from the sleepless nights he spends tossing and turning in bed, hoping to find a good position. he’s a bit taller. his shoulders are broader. he’s sadly lost some weight because he’s lost his appetite, and only remembers to eat when donghyuck sends him dinner. he’s dressed in a dark cloak, similar to his father.
he’s so grown now.
it’s only been a year.
jisung wonders if jaemin would still find him handsome; or cute; or if he’d be worried for him, for his bad habits, and for just how much jisung still thinks of him. he wonders if jaemin has grown, too; if he’s changed too much in that year; has he dyed his hair? has he lost his spark, too? has he lost weight? has he been thinking of jisung, too?
everything came back to na jaemin.
it’s not his fault for falling so sweetly for him. for centering his entire self around that boy. jaemin had been his everything, and the way things had ended between them still left a bitter taste in jisung’s mouth.
he’s annoyed, just as much as he’s depressed.
he’s not innocent enough to think he’ll ever have jaemin back as his lover, but jisung sure wants one last conversation; to see him and hold him one last time, to be able to say all the things he’s thought of during this time. he’ll make the other hear him, he’s sure of it.
jaemin’s not dead.
he can’t be.
jisung won’t let him be.
weeks pass, and there’s no more snow.
just like that, he doesn’t feel the freezing cold nearly as present in his heart as it’s been. he enjoys spring. he allows himself to think fondly of all the good times they shared as the sprouts were growing. he’s once described jaemin as summer, but perhaps he’s his spring too – youthful, hopeful, and magical; a first love so strong and beautiful that haunts his heart even now.
after work, he goes out with soojin and chenle more often, and they have dinner together at least once a week. they drink and talk and laugh, and it’s almost like the pain is nonexistent. that is until jisung has to go back to his empty house. however, even in moments like this, he feels like a piece of him is missing, somewhere out of his reach.
a while back, jisung had the courage to tell both of them about his feelings. what he hadn’t expected was for the couple to giggle and tell him they already knew – that he isn’t exactly the most subtle man. he felt embarrassed, but now it’s something they laugh about.
soojin and chenle accompany him home, and she kisses his cheeks and wishes him a good night, to which jisung jokingly tells them to use protection before rushing inside, laughter dying on his lips. his dark place remains cold and lonely, shadows creeping and silence so present it suffocates him a little. he’s thought of getting a roommate (it was jeno’s idea, really), but he really doesn’t want anyone else to see his true self.
another week flies by. but things aren’t as predictable as he’s expected.
all throughout this week, jisung cannot ignore the feeling of being watched.
it starts on monday, as he’s brewing coffee in his muggle coffee machine – soojin taught him how to use it, and he’s been feeling a lot more energetic since. when the machine beeps and jisung pours coffee for himself, he stops. he snaps his head back... but all he sees is the door to his backyard. there’s no one there.
on tuesday, the same thing happens twice. in the morning, jisung cannot stop looking at a specific corner of his kitchen, glaring at it like he can make out a ghost that stands there. there’s nothing there. really. there’s... literally nothing there, but it creeps him out still. then, it’s late, around 11 pm, when jisung steps out of the bathroom, running his fingers through his wet hair. he swears he hears something – a click, a gasp, or a tap, he doesn’t know what , but it’s something. he stands, towel firmly wrapped around his hips. however, he doesn’t hear it again. he cannot sleep properly that night.
on wednesday, he’s trying to focus on his work, but jisung promises there’s someone walking behind him all day. when he stops, the steps also stop, and it’s driving him up the walls. he almost sends jeno flying in the air, after the other pops out of nowhere to greet him. he profusely apologizes, and jeno laughs.
“it’s alright, sungie,” he giggled, eyes turning up the way it does. “feeling tense, huh?”
“yeah... you can say that,” mutters jisung. right after that, the feeling is gone for the day.
when he’s flying to the ministry on thursday, he feels it again, but the second jisung looks around, all he finds is a group of aurors rushing to work, trash-talking their boss.
donghyuck calls him crazy when jisung cannot stop looking over his shoulder on friday. “who are you even looking for?” he snaps, grabbing jisung’s face to restrain him from doing it again. “sungie, there’s... no one there. no one. trust me, i’m right in front of you. if someone shows up, i’ll see them,”
“sorry...” jisung runs his hands over his face. “i think i’m losing my mind,”
“yeah, i can tell,” donghyuck shakes his head.
on saturday, jisung doesn’t leave his house. and it certainly doesn’t help the growing suspicion that he’s not alone. he wakes up in an awful mood, after a troubling nightmare. it should be his break, but he has so much to do, that he doesn’t give himself the time to be lazy. he’s so annoyed – at himself, at his boss, at his ridiculous job that when he sees something move in the corner of his eyes, all he does is scoff and ignore it. jisung works all day, nose deep in his files, dipping his quill in ink as he scribbles things as fast as possible, uncaring how his handwriting. at around three in the morning, he wakes up in his bed. which is... weird... cause he vividly remembers taking a nap on his couch.
on sunday, jeno invites him for barbecue and jisung flies to his house. he stays there most of the day, and funnily enough, the feeling doesn’t bother him once.
it’s monday again.
jisung rushes inside the south korean ministry of magic, organizing the files that float around him, reading and trying to identify his own handwriting – what the hell did he even try to write there? he flicks his wrist, papers changing orders, as he tries to put each file in the correct order of events. it’s so confusing. some of them aren’t even in korean!
he’d forgotten to do this earlier, and now everything’s a mess, and he cannot understand most of what he wrote down. his boss would be furious if he didn’t have things done before lunchtime, and he still had other files to transcribe in his office. merlin, he hates this internship.
he stumbles and almost falls, cursing under his breath at his untied shoelaces. what’s up with him today? papers fall around him, and jisung runs his fingers through his hair, sending them all flying straight to his office with a simple wand movement, spell silent. he’ll deal with it later. he needs a cup of coffee! soojin has a coffee machine in her office.
jisung makes his way to the golden lifts to his right, not following the usual path he takes ahead of the central fountain. he hopes soojin’s arrived already because he’ll die if he’s unable to sit down and relax over a mug of coffee with her.
he stops.
golden doors push open and a figure enters the lift.
green—that’s the first thing jisung notices.
a long green cloak touching the floor.
he’s wearing green.
not white.
with a punch, all air in his lungs disappears.
jisung freezes at the sight of him.
it is him—he’d never forget the way he looks, or confuse him for someone else. na jaemin is right there, in the lift. and it’s like all the seconds he spent preparing himself for this exact moment have been in vain, because jisung doesn’t know what to do about it.
he’s right there.
right. there.
he looks good. not healthy, but better than what jisung had imagined. his hair is still black, and it’s longer, curling around his neck with a mullet. his skin is pale like he hasn’t seen the sun in so long. his lips are thin, rosy, pretty, and so fucking kissable it’s devastating. jaemin looks taller, broader, definitely stronger than jisung, the cloak looks tight around his chest. fuck.
when he brings his eyes up, jisung swears he’s about to die.
he sucks in some breath like it’ll give him a few more minutes to survive.
their eyes meet.
the dark of his eyes are still the same; his eyes are still candid and mathematically sharp, and they hold so much panic that jisung can’t tell which of their hearts will burst first.
jaemin freezes, too, recognizing him in a split second.
“h... hyung,” the word leave his parted lips as nothing more than a plea.
jisung notices it all. the way na jaemin’s shoulders go up, only slightly; the way his bottom lip trembles and his eyes widen, daring to pop out of his fucking gorgeous face; the way he grips his wand; the way he shakes, and shakes, and shakes. there’s more, but the tears that come to his eyes stop him from noticing more, from taking in more, from seeing, with his own two eyes, that jaemin’s alive. jaemin’s alive. and he’s right there. he’s so close, so close.
tears roll down his face, warm, like the time he was swimming closer to him.
his sobs sound distant to his own ears. the half-healed wound burns deep in his heart like jaemin set his body on fire. jisung won’t be okay. he won’t be able to focus, he won’t be able to work, he won’t do anything – not when his entire self revolves around that man.
he rubs his hands over his face, cleaning any sign of tears (because he wants to be grown, he wants to be mature, and strong, and show his hyung how much stronger he is; how he wants him), na jaemin isn’t there anymore.
jaemin’s gone again, like an apparition, a ghost, a mere reflection of jisung’s deepest, darkest wishes. like he’s never been there in the first place. he gasps, and chaos sets loose in his heart. the golden doors close, even though there’s no one inside the damn lift, and he watches as it goes down.
people come and go. the ministry is bustling with life, as per usual. wizards walk in and go to their offices, to work, chatting excitedly. it’s all white noise to him, everything’s a distraction, a sick little joke to make him half-heal again.
it’s been ten minutes.
jisung’s still there.
he hasn’t moved an inch, but he has stopped crying, and has stopped shaking. he just... stays put, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, never dragging his eyes away from the elevator – waiting, waiting for the damn second na jaemin will appear again. because he will.
he knows it.
jisung knows it.
it might not be today, it might not be tomorrow, but he will return – one day.
and jisung will be right here.
he’ll... he’ll... jump in his arms and stop jaemin from leaving ever again, from ever leaving him again. he’ll return, he tells himself, squeezing his hands in fists, legs trembling as anxiety and doubt grow louder inside him.
“jisung?” jeno’s voice comes close. soon, he appears, standing right next to him. jeno stares at the elevator, then back at jisung, lost. “jisungie, what are you doing here? mr. kim has been looking for you. he said you have these really important files,” jisung nods. jeno notices how pale he is, and tilts his head, placing his hands on his shoulders. “dude... are you alright?”
“i saw him,” breathes out jisung, lips curling up in a crazy smile.
“what?” it makes jeno even more worried because he has no clue of who he’s talking about. jeno looks around, “jisung, what happened? were you crying?”
“yeah...” laughs jisung, moving back to run his hands over his face again. he laughs once more, disbelief taking over his body. “i saw jaemin, jeno,”
it’s after work, around 7 pm. the night falls nicely, and little by little, stars take over. jeno was kind enough to help jisung with his files, after dragging him out of the atrium. they spent all day together, and jeno didn’t take his eyes off him once. despite being overwhelmed, jisung isn’t stupid enough to tell jeno why he’s so overjoyed today, and the other doesn’t insist on it. well. he does, but in his own way.
“what does the department of mysteries have on visions?” asks jeno, like he doesn’t mean anything by it. he’s transcribing files. even with both of them working on jisung’s pile alone, they still have over 30 files left.
jisung finishes another one, tilting his head, “like, prophecies?”
“no, like...” jeno winces. “seeing things,”
“oh,” jisung lets out. “i... i don’t know, why? do you need it?”
he knows what the other means. jeno doesn’t believe him, he doesn’t think na jaemin was inside the walls of the ministry of magic – or still is, right now, jisung doesn’t know for sure. what does he want here? could he be he was merely looking for jisung? why did he run away? what is he up to? he’s not mad at the other for not believing him. if jisung hadn’t seen him with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it either.
“no,” says jeno. “i just... think, maybe we could check it together, you know,”
jisung opens a brand new file, darting his eyes up to his hyung momentarily. “you don’t believe me,”
jeno sighs, “it... sounds weird to me, sungie. why would he come here? better yet, how come the aurors haven’t see anything?”
“i don’t know...” whispers jisung, itching his palm, where jaemin had cast a transportation spell and made him taste his own blood. “you think i’m going crazy, then?”
“no!” says jeno, desperate, reaching for his hands, forever gentle and sweet. “i just, i just you’re very stressed out. look at how much you’re forced to do every day. jaemin must be a very sensitive topic to you, right? he... attacked you out of nowhere and disappeared. you’re a very guarded person, sungie, so i think... the lack of answers maybe, maybe... had you, uhm,”
“hallucinating?” tries jisung.
jeno winces, “if that’s the word you want to use,”
“i know what i saw,” argues jisung. “he’s here, or was, i don’t know,”
“why does it sound like you want him to be here?” jeno stops writing, tilting his head.
“i don’t,” jisung gets defensive. he needs to lie. jeno doesn’t know. nobody knows. “well, if he’s here, there’s a chance the aurors might catch him, you know,”
“right,” jeno clicks his tongue. “um, you know, the ministry offers free... therapy to everyone here,”
“hyung–,” he tries.
“i’m serious, jisung,” jeno closes the files and stares him hard in the face. jisung tenses up, grip around his quill growing tighter. “it’s very serious. you were under one of the unforgivable curses, and no one knows what happened before that, since they didn’t get hold of na’s wand. he might have messed with your head really bad,” he sighs. “i think you should go to one session. once. see if it works for you. so you can let go. so you can forget all about this freak,”
jisung knows jeno has his heart in the right place; he knows that he’s only trying to be a good friend; he’s trying to help jisung, who he thinks is still suffering the trauma of being under the imperius curse. however, the way he dares speak of jaemin. like he’s some kind of monster. it wakes up the rage creatures resting inside of jisung. he taps the floor anxious, irritated because he’s the only one that knows the truth; because he wouldn’t be in this situation if jaemin had allowed him to go with him.
he hates hearing those things, people who didn’t know anything speaking of jaemin. speaking of him like he had put jisung under intense torture, then killed thousands, before making his leave. it bothers him. it irks him. his jaemin isn’t a monster. his jaemin also has his heart in the right place. he has a good heart, a good soul, and a good reason to do the things he does. they don’t understand him. they don’t. at least, not to the extent jisung does. and he doesn’t hear another word about him.
the words leave his mouth before jisung can think about them, reckless routed in his heart. “i’m in love with him, hyung,”
his office falls to complete silence. jisung remains impassive, furious (and teary) eyes glued to jeno’s face, as if daring the other to speak ill of jaemin again. jeno stares back, and unlike the other times, there’s no embarrassment or confusion in his features, no – there’s only annoyance. annoyance directed right at jisung. jeno opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, unsure of what to say to that.
“what?!” jeno cries, years of frustration laced in that one word.
jisung explains.
he explains it all; from their first meeting to how he felt when he saw him in the elevator today. he doesn’t spare jeno of the personal details of their relationship, finally allowed to speak about the good, the bad, the ugly, and the beyond beautiful. one thing about jeno is: he’s an amazing listener. even when it’s clear that he’s irritated or disgusted (he didn’t find jaemin calling jisung a good boy all that heartwarming as the younger did), he doesn’t stop jisung, nor does he interrupt him.
he merely nods and allows the younger to continue – to continue his endless rambles about how much they had loved each other, about how much it had hurt, about how much he wants him back. night arrives and they forget all about those files. they can wait a little more. jisung cries at some points, and jeno comforts him with a tight hug. when he gets to the night they broke up, jisung chokes so much in his words that jeno cries a little too.
at some point, he stops shaking, able to taste relief and freedom on his tongue. jisung’s words come to an end.
panic floods his systems and he grabs jeno’s hands. he forgot about one thing, so he cries, “please, you can’t tell anyone, hyung. not even donghyuck, please, please,”
jeno places his hands over his, caressing his skin. a small smile crosses his face, but the quickly frowns, “i won’t. but jisung...”
“what?” jisung trembles.
“you’re going to therapy,” jeno smiles. “and i’m going with you,”
great.
jisung pushes his door open, jumping in place as he takes off his shoes, forgetting them by the entrance. it’s almost midnight and he forgot to turn on the heater so the entrance hall is freezing, making jisung shiver under his thin cloak.
his house is a small place. it’s a one-floor house with one bathroom, and two rooms (not counting the storage room that he could very well decorate into an office if he wasn’t so lazy). everything’s crammed together, but it works just fine for him. not necessarily the one he envisioned growing up, but a lot of things in life end up different than how we hoped for as children, so he’s learned to deal with it.
he makes dinner and eats quietly in the kitchen. it’s a depressing sight, really, but he pretends not to care about it all that much. he sends his parents a letter, then takes a quick shower. his shirt is too big for him, but he likes feeling small sometimes. humming to himself, he brushes his teeth, taking his time as he stares at his bored reflection.
merlin, he looks tired.
jisung stops by the door to his bedroom.
there’s that figure again.
jisung recognizes the back of his mullet, the line of his shoulders, his waist, and the green of his cloak.
jaemin. jaemin. jaemin.
na jaemin stands in his bedroom, close to his desk.
his heart jumps in excitement, but he controls himself. jisung covers his mouth to stop any sounds from coming out as na jaemin moves inside jisung’s bedroom like he’s been there before. it’s not a vision. it’s clearly not. he’s very much real. and palpable.
merlin, jisung wishes to hold him again.
jaemin stays still for a second, before walking around. he brushes his fingers over his bed, over his fake cactus, over his glass (which makes jaemin chuckle, and jisung wants to cry). he stares at the portraits on the wall, the moving pictures. jaemin stands with his hands behind his back, warm eyes as he analyzes each of them.
he takes his time with jisung’s graduation photo – the one where he’s jumping in place, with donghyuck, chenle, soojin, and jeno by his side, before they all hug each other. he remembers that day because he had hoped to see jaemin’s face in the crowd, or at least from afar, watching him in the shadows. obviously, he wasn’t there.
but now, jisung can see the second regret paints jaemin’s dark eyes, as the same thought crosses his mind. it’s so easy to read him now, to know what he’s thinking. he loves him. he loves him so much.
jisung takes a step back when the urge to tackle him to the ground rises in his chest. instead, he stays put, not finding it in him to do something about it. his emotions are a mess – love, anger, frustration, and sadness competing to see which one would overtake his heart for the night.
sadness wins.
“you... you’re doing well, jisungie,”
it’s all jaemin says before he disappears again.
jisung doesn’t sleep that night.
the therapy session doesn’t go as jeno anticipated. and jisung feels bad.
he comes to realize he sucks at talking about his feeling to other people, especially those he doesn’t know all that well. the doctor tries his best to seem trustworthy, and jisung knows the man legally cannot tell people whatever he tells him, but the unspeakable doesn’t feel comfortable enough with sharing.
so, he barely mentions na jaemin at all (which, as he’d come to realize, is a very difficult thing for him to do), avoiding the topic altogether, choosing to rant about his family and friends instead. even though that’s hard. jisung’s careful with his words, so he doesn’t seem as whiny as he sounds in his head. the doctor gives him some input, and genuinely helps him with some of his struggles, but they leave it at all.
one hour goes by in the blink of an eye.
“see you again next week, mr. park?” tries the doctor, tilting his head. “i’m sure i can find some space in my schedule for us to meet again,”
“uh,” lets out jisung, with a pained smiled. “i’ll send you a letter. we’ll see,”
once the session is over, jeno’s right outside, waiting to take him out for dinner. jisung follows, head hanging low. he might feel worse now, because he doesn’t want to disappoint his hyung, especially when jeno smiles at him, holding so many expectations in his eyes. he wants to help, but. it’s. so. hard to get help like this.
“so, how was it?” asks jeno for the third time, tired of letting jisung avoid it, when they’re eating kimchi close to the other’s house. “you had this blank look on your face when you left, so i’m assuming it didn’t go well,”
“it’s fine...!” jisung rushes to say. he darts his eyes to his food, playing with his, before shrugging. “but i’m not doing that ever again, hyung,”
“well,” jeno sighs, cleaning the corner of his mouth. “you know you can always come to me, right? when you need to vent. i’m still going to judge you, because i think you’re stupid for falling for a white cloak, but i’ll still support you,”
jisung giggles, “thank you. that means a lot, hyung,”
jeno shakes his head, like he cannot believe the situation he’s in. his smile fades when he adds, “be careful, though... please,”
“always,” jisung rolls his eyes.
he’s, in fact, not careful. at all.
the aurors’ office can be found on the fourth floor of the ministry of magic, right next to donghyuck’s department. it’s a large room, with smaller cubicles for each auror. a bit cramped, considering it’s one of the largest departments, so jisung can understand why the aurors are constantly throwing fits and complaining about wanting more space. anyway. against his better judgment, jisung decides to make his way there after lunch.
the lack of answers gets on his nerves. their incompetence is baffling. unless it’s jaemin’s doing, he doesn’t understand how a group of qualified specialists aren’t able to find a 21-year-old white wizard, who had supposedly last used one of the unforgivable curses. jisung’s given them a year and a half, and until now, nothing – radio silence, as the muggles would say. of course, he understands they might have to deal with more pressing matters, but if they aren’t doing anything, they should, at least, close jaemin’s case once and for all.
the aurors are far too busy to care for the unspeakable entering their department. one thing good about working in the department of mysteries is that most, other than donghyuck, don’t really care about what he’s up to; he’s assumed to be weird by nature and is left to do whatever it is he has to. today, it’s not work-related, not at all. he’s here to satisfy his own curiosity, but nobody needs to know that.
“i would like na jaemin’s files,” he asks at the entrance, flashing his unspeakable card. “he’s a white wizard, and is in a wanted list if i’m not mistaken,”
the secretary is a young girl with long bubblegum pink hair, wearing a grey cloak. she stares at him, nervously, then at the pile of papers she has on her desk. she’s an intern, like him.
“um, i’m not sure if i can give out personal files like that, sir,” she says, looking around, lost.
“i need it,” jisung adds, pleading tone to convince her. “i am an unspeakable, and if i can’t get my hands on this file today, my boss will be furious with me. can you please help me out?”
the poor girl presses her lips together. it’s clear his words had convinced her, but she still looks uncertain. one more push. jisung leans over the counter, jutting his bottom lip out, using his looks to his advantage.
“please, this internship is tiring me out,” jisung tries again.
she seems to relate, because the girl nods, looking around one more time, before diving into the files she had with her. the last one on the pile (another sign that the department had completely forgotten about him), she pulls out jaemin’s surprisingly full folder and hands it to him.
“i need you to bring it back before my shift ends,” the girl whispers. “i can’t get in trouble,”
“i’ll be quick,” jisung smiles, keeping the folder close to his chest, so no one would dare take a look at it. “thank you so much,”
she blushes, “you’re welcome,”
he rushes straight to the bathroom, locking the door behind him, and entering a stall, to have some privacy. he has twenty more minutes before his break ends, and he cannot risk taking the files with him to the department of mysteries, even under a hiding spell. the walls of his department are enchanted to reveal the truth at all costs, so everyone would know what he’s reading about.
jisung opens jaemin’s files, scanning through it.
most of the first page is basic information he already knows: when and where jaemin was born, his parents’ names, his wand information, nothing that important that he still memorizes. what catches jisung’s attention is his previous school reports, eyes widening at the sight of perfect marks in every subject he’s ever learned, even the ones jaemin’s been vocal about despising with a burning passion. he’s never had a mark lower than 99, which is ridiculously impressive. it brings back the thought that if jaemin hadn’t been turned into a white cloak, he’d be the best student in mahoutokoro’s history.
jisung goes to the other page and stops breathing. it’s a list of dark spells jaemin will be charged for using, when (if) he’s found. it’s long... it’s so long that it can earn him a ticket straight to azkaban. or worse.
it goes as followed: body-transport curse (on a mirror), the babbling curse (on jeon heejin), blasting curse (on lee taeyong), portrait-curse (on jung jaehyun), body-transport curse (on school broom), defindo spell (on hajun), full body-bind curse (on na minhee), body-transport curse (on park jisung), imperius curse (on park jisung).
he reads every detailed testimony for each usage of those spells, all of them accusing jaemin of inappropriately using the smells. jisung’s confused at first, because, from what he knew, the babbling curse and full body-bind curse were mostly harmless.
“the usage of the babbling curse occurred during an argument between jaemin and i,” explains heejin in her text. “i saw him stealing from the headmaster’s office and from the restricted area. i tried to stop him, but he cursed me to be unable to speak for an entire week,” jisung frowns. that doesn’t sound like something jaemin would do.
“jaemin attacked me when i was wandless,” explains taeyong. “he said he did it for his own amusement, and even after i got burnt, he didn’t allow me to go to the hospital wing,” jisung stops... that’s not true. jaemin would never do that.
“jaemin’s my only child,” is what na minhee, jaemin’s own mother says in her testimony. “he hit me with the petrificus totalus curse when i told him he’d be turned into a white cloak, after what he did to his grandfather. he got unreasonably angry and ran away soon after. the cure was broken by my husband, and i haven’t spoken to him since,”
the following testimonies are of the school staff reprimanding jaemin on his improper use of dark curses on school property, more specifically their school brooms and books found in the restricted area. there are two sentences written under the spells jaemin used on jisung. under the body-transport curse, it says: it’s absolutely forbidden to curse someone as your personal portal, and the blood binding goes against clause 5 of wizarding transport laws . right under the imperius curse, it says usage of one of the three unforgivable curses.
jisung gets to the last page. “merlin...” he lets out.
na jaemin is a dangerous young man , s ays na haejun, headmaster of mahoutokoro and... jaemin’s grandfather. he’s an uncontrollable force with improper beliefs set in stone. i was attacked by my own grandson in august, 2018 , after informing him that he’d be forced to stay in mahoutokoro under my supervision, given the sinister subjects he’s gotten interested in . i had previously tried convincing him in giving up his research, reassuring he wouldn’t be turned into a white cloak if he agreed and publicly apologized. however, jaemin wasn’t thrilled by my suggestion. he cast the defindo spell when i had my back turned to him, permanently injuring my spine to a point, not even magic can make it go back to how it used to be. i am restrained to an enchanted wheelchair and unable for move from my neck down . it’s a shame to see such a bright young boy succumb to the dark side, but i believe it’s for the best if he’s kept here, close to his family.
jisung cannot read anymore.
his heart weighs in sadness and disappointment for everything he’s read. a sigh escapes his parted lips, and he closes the folder. jisung stays inside the stall for a second, in complete silence, taking in all of... that. an eternity ago, jaemin had told him he hadn’t done anything. and that all he did was ask questions. now... jisung knows he lied.
jaemin lied to him.
he has hurt people. he hurt his own family, because of his sick obsession with dark magic. jisung cannot wrap his head around it – it feels like an entirely different person, like the na jaemin these people are talking about isn’t the one he knows. this isn’t his jaemin. or... is it?
had jisung been this blinded by his sweetness and love that he let himself be fooled by his lies? had this been the real na jaemin all along, and the one he fell in love with was nothing but a specter, an illusion?
is he... honestly... the monster everyone’s been warning him about?
it can’t be. it can’t be.
jisung returns those files, head hanging low, hiding his identity from the aurors around him. he goes back to work like nothing’s wrong, focused on his files instead of those damned words. when donghyuck asks what happened, all he does is fake a smile, and rant about how much he hates his internship, which gets a laugh out of his hyung.
and that’s enough for now.
frustration rises inside him by the second, and he knows exactly what’s he going to do the second he gets home. he knows the other will be there. he knows jaemin too much. as if he’d leave after following him around for a week, after appearing at the ministry just like that.
there’s no way he’s letting jaemin escape now. not when he’s this angry at him.
he’s going to explain himself. he’s going to apologize. he’s going to look at jisung in the face, like a man, and they’re going to talk like adults.
no kisses and no i love you’s for now.
no more running away.
no more tears.
no more lies.
and certainly, no more excuses.
“i know you’re here,” says jisung, crossing his arms, standing in the middle of his living room.
he’s furious, and he makes sure to let the other know.
there’s no way out of this; no easy way.
as much as it’ll hurt, he has to do it.
everything was quiet when he got home from work, but he knows better. and he knows he’s right because he saw the empty mug in the kitchen – a different mug to the one he used this morning. someone slipped.
jisung says again, impatience in his tone, “i know you’re here, jaemin,”
silence. typical.
he’s going to play dumb, then. act like he isn’t there. like jisung’s too stupid to have noticed. too naive. and he’s the evil, corrupted monster who must stay away from the perfect little prince. that crap got old the second jaemin went away, and jisung won’t let it happen again.
“i read your files, you know,” jisung paces around his living room, hands behind his back. “is that why you went to the ministry the other day? so you could get them yourself? or were you visiting someone?”
he’s never talked to jaemin like this before, but it’s necessary. if he won’t come out out of love, out of his own volition, then jisung will make him. he will drag him to the light and they will have this conversation, whether he likes it or not.
“hm? nothing?” he mocks, clicking his tongue. “alright. i can talk by myself. that way you’ll hear what i have to say... i know you don’t like that,” jisung hates being mean to him, but he has to. there’s no other way. “i know what you did to your grandfather, jaemin,”
there’s a shuffling noise. it’s working. he’s here and he’s listening.
“i know you cursed other people, and i know what that spell was. you know, the one put on me,” jisung shows his hand to the supposedly empty living room. “body-transport curse. you’re fucking crazy...” he laughs, bitter. “you did all that and you still left me, huh,”
silence. silence. silence. almost like jaemin agrees with him.
it’s infuriating and depressing like jisung isn’t sure if he wants to hex or hug his hyung. he needs to go harder or jaemin won’t appear. he’s a delicate soul, he knows, even with everything that happened. it’s heartbreaking, though. saying all of those things when he doesn’t truly mean them.
jisung stops walking, then says, “you lied to me. all you did was lie to me, actually. you made me think of you as a saint, a good soul that would never do anything wrong... but you did. you fucked up! you fucked me up,”
silence.
hatred boils his stomach, and jisung knows he’ll regret the next few words the second they leave his mouth. the thing is: he doesn’t know how jaemin will react to them. if he’ll speak, if he’ll leave, or if he’ll break too. but jisung has to say it. this is his last chance.
jisung trembles and looks down, pressing his lips together before snapping, “you never loved me,”
“don’t say that–,”
jaemin’s voice comes from his left, closer than what jisung anticipated. it sounds so broken and small, like he couldn’t help himself after hearing it. he looks to the side, knitting his eyebrows. jisung can almost imagine jaemin there... in front of him, so close.
“show yourself,” he demands.
silence.
“show yourself!” jisung’s voice borders on hysterical. he cleans the tears threatening to fall, and scoffs, “i was right. all you do is play with my emotions. is that all i am to you, hyung? a little plaything?”
“jisung, please–,”
jaemin appears in his line of sight.
jisung points his wand right at his face. “go on. explain yourself,”
jaemin hesitates. oh, he definitely looks stronger now, broader, more manly. the mullet fits him. he looks hurt by jisung’s words. jisung can see it in his eyes, how jaemin clearly doesn’t want to be doing this right now.
well, he gave jisung no other choice.
if he had appeared earlier, none of this would have happened.
“go on,” presses jisung. “don’t make me cast the truth spell,”
“that doesn’t exist,” corrects jaemin. “i think you mean the truth potion, which takes a month to prepare,”
“jaemin,” jisung squints.
“jisung,” he repeats.
silence follows, but jisung presses the tip of his wand right under jaemin’s neck and raises his eyebrows, urging him to speak before he loses his patience. jisung knows he won’t hurt him. he doubts he’d ever be able to do something to him, but the other doesn’t need to know that. he should see jisung as a possible threat; he should see talking and trusting him as his only option, at least for now, until they fixed things.
jaemin weighs his options before sighing.
“i couldn’t tell you the truth, jisung,” he says, at last. “i couldn’t. you wouldn’t understand. they had you, baby. they still do. there’s a greater power in this world than magic, jisung, and i couldn’t do that to you. not when i knew your life would be over if i did,”
those words annoy him. he’s still speaking in code like he still doesn’t want jisung to know everything.
he presses his wand harder, “i was willing to listen to you, but you chose to lie,”
“i did it to protect you,” jaemin argues, frustrated. “why can’t you get it through your head?”
“what?! i don’t need your protection,” jisung shoots back. “i need your truth. all of it,”
jaemin rolls his eyes, “jisung–”
“incarcerous!,” says jisung, doing a circular movement with his wrists.
thick ropes are conjured out of thin air, quick to wrap themselves around jaemin’s torso and legs, tight, stopping him from moving. his expression closes and he stares at jisung.
“now, why did you do that?” jaemin deadpans.
“you’re not leaving again,” jisung crosses his arms. “now tell me, what’s this greater power you’re talking about? and why have you been wandering around my house, around the ministry like i wouldn’t notice, jaemin? do you really think i’m this stupid?”
“jisung–,” jaemin closes his eyes. he looks tired. when was the last time he slept? “i can’t stay here. not with you,”
that stings.
jisung clicks his tongue, “you’re. not. leaving,”
“we cannot be together, jisung,” jaemin glares at him. “get it through your head. you said it yourself, you read my files. you know how bad i am. why do you insist on wanting to know more? you already know everything!”
i don’t believe it. i don’t believe it because i know you, and i love you. thinks jisung, pathetically. i don’t want to believe it. i want your truth, as long as it’s the truth i want. that you love me, that you want me, and that you’re good even despite it all.
“i want to hear your truth,” argues jisung, and he hates the way his heart squeezes and tears come to his eyes. “hyung, i know you’re good, and... if you’re not, i want to hear it from you. not these quick excuses to try and run away from me. tell me everything,”
“stop,” jaemin demands.
the ropes jisung conjured fall to the floor, and turn into dust, disappearing right before his eyes. jisung watches it happen, lowering his wand, feeling stupid, feeling weak. he didn’t even hear jaemin casting a spell – is this the extent of his research? is he able to cast spells without the incantation? is jaemin that much stronger than him?
jisung points his want at him. i have to stop him. i have to stop him.
jaemin looks at him. his eyes are devastating, they hold so much power over him, that jisung will fall to his knees if jaemin continues looking at him like that. his voice is sweet as honey, delicate like jisung is his precious boy, and he doesn’t ever want to break him in thousands of pieces again.
he says, “if there’s still hope left for me in your heart, please... let me go, babyboy,”
jisung’s grip on his wand grows soft. he has hope. that’s all he has left. hope, love, and all the good feelings he’s been trying to ignore for far too long.
their eyes linger for a second too long, before jisung says, “petrificus totalus !”
“protego!” jaemin immediately responds, one simply wand movement stopping jisung’s spell. betrayal crosses jaemin’s face, and he bites at him, “don’t do this, jisung. i don’t want to hurt you,”
jisung smiles, fighting through his fear, “well, i guess you’ll have to hurt me if you want to leave,”
jaemin breathes in, “please,”
“rictumsempra!” calls jisung, a flash of orange leaving his wand.
“protego!”
“locomotor mortis!”
“protego!” jaemin dodges. “expelliarmus!”
“p-protego totalum!”
spells ricochet inside his house. flashes of red, yellow, and blue explode in his living room. if he lived in a muggle neighborhood, they would think jisung’s throwing the most epic party in his history, not that he’s dueling his first love. jaemin dodges all the offensive spells he casts with ease, never once attacking him back.
it’s frustrating.
blood rushes through his ears and his heart hammers inside his chest. jisung knows he’ll lose, but he can at least buy some time – or convince him to stay.
“tarantallegra!”
“protego!”
“expelliarmus!”
“stupefy!” tries jisung, never having mastered that spell.
“impedimenta!” jaemin stumbles. “bombarda!”
a miscalculated exploding charm from jaemin’s part cause one of his ceramic vases to explode in thousands of pieces. jisung stumbles, covering his face. pieces cut his wrist and leg, and he winces, deep cut spilling blood over his carpet.
jaemin freezes. he has to stop himself from approaching to check if jisung’s alright.
“oppugno!” cries jisung, summoning hundreds of tiny shards of glass to fly in jaemin’s direction. he keeps bleeding.
“reducto!” jaemin makes them explode in glitter.
“fuck,” whines jisung, pressing his wrist against his leg. “you bastard. get it in your head. i don’t want you to leave,” he trembles, but doesn’t stop pointing his wand at jaemin’s direction. “please, stay,”
jaemin breathes in. a familiar expression takes over his face, “impe–”
“d-don’t you dare,” cries jisung, stumbling forward, despite the blood loss. “don’t you dare put me through that again!”
he falls to his knees, head spinning. jisung stares at his blood on the floor, using the rest of his strength to not faint. his body burns and his vision darkens a little. jisung groans, pressing his wound, but it’s too deep, and he cannot remember a single healing spell.
jaemin stops.
he breathes heavily, panicking.
“oh, i’m sorry, baby. i’m so sorry, jisung,” jaemin approaches, falling to his knees right in front of him. he holds jisung’s face so dearly, and the younger think he’s delirious. that must be why he sees jaemin so close.
“hyung,” he laughs.
“shh, shh, don’t talk,” jaemin pulls him into his lap, wrapping his hands around jisung’s blood. “look at me, stay with me,” jisung tries his damn hardest to obey. “it’s alright. i’ll call donghyuck. you’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, yeah?”
and jisung swears he’s delirious because he won’t remember saying this later on, but here’s what happened: he snuggles closer to jaemin, his bloody hand reaching to touch his hyung’s face. his smile is fragile and pure and so jisung that jaemin’s heart grows in size.
“i love you, hyung,” he confesses. “why don’t you love me back? why must you push me away? i don’t care if you’re bad, as long as you love me right”
and jaemin kisses the top of his head, cuddling closer. he whispers, like a promise, “oh, jisungie. i love you so much too. that’s why i want you to have a good life away from me, but i can’t do that if you’re too obsessed with me,”
“i can’t help it,” jisung babbles.
“i know, i know,” whispers jaemin, to keep him awake, to keep him focused. “keep talking to me, yeah? talk to me about something you like, hm. let’s catch up,”
“let’s catch up,” agrees jisung, giggling, childlike. he looks pale, empty gaze glued to jaemin’s face, as he tries so hard to think.
and as park jisung babbles about how much he missed him, words not even making sense anymore, jaemin pulls out his wand. he closes his eyes, and points to the empty space of the living room. he thinks of a good memory, the best one.
“expecto patronum!”
jisung’s half-closed eyes catch the glimpse of a silver hamster being conjured. then he passes out.
the first time park jisung flutters his eyes open, chaos erupts around him. he hears donghyuck’s familiar voice as he calls his name. he hears his mother as she moves close enough he can make out her shape.
then, he passes out again.
the second time, he makes out the blur of the nurses. ah. i’m in the hospital, he thinks bitterly. one of them is actively talking to him, but jisung passes out before he can truly understand whatever it is that she’s saying.
“jaemin contacted you?” it’s jeno. jisung cannot see him, because there’s a wet cloth placed over his eyes, but he hears his friend’s hushed tone as he talks to someone. “through a patronus?... i didn’t think he’d be able to cast one,”
“yeah, me neither,” donghyuck adds to the conversation, sounding annoyed. “he rushed me to come to see jisung. i thought... i though it was a threat, like he was about to do something to him, and was waiting for me to get there... but, no,”
“what happened?” jeno whispers to him. jisung wants to know too. based on the way they’re talking, he assumes it’s late and they don’t want the other patients to hear.
donghyuck takes a second.
“hyuck?” tries jeno. “are you alright?”
“yeah, man, i am. i’m just... fucking confused. jaemin was there... with jisung in his arms. there was blood everywhere. the living room was wrecked, so they must have dueled,” whispered donghyuck, in a clearly annoyed tone. “and he...”
he stops.
“what?” asks jeno.
“he was crying,”
“crying?”
“yeah. he apologized for hurting jisung, and i didn’t know what to do, i just, i just called the aurors,” rushes donghyuck. “i thought jisung was dead. i didn’t know that... that...”
“jisung liked him,” completes jeno. “yeah, i was shocked when i found too,”
panic floods jisung’s system. his head hurts, and he wants to explain himself to his friends, but before he can, or before donghyuck can continue to tell jeno (and jisung) what had happened, the nurses walk in and tell them to leave.
it’s a wednesday when jisung wakes up again, fully recovered.
nurse min helps him have breakfast, and he has a minute to prepare himself before his parents barge into his private room. it’s a quiet morning and he’s thankful for their gentleness, thankful for the way his mother babies him and showers him with love. mother talks about their family, and how most of their relatives traveled to see how he’s doing, which warms jisung’s heart.
he’s glad they’re there, because he’s never been fond of hospitals before, and being alone would surely ruin his already not-so-great mood. it’s clear they don’t know about jaemin and jisung’s romantic past, given the way they talk about him.
jisung tries ignoring it at first, but it becomes impossible after a while. part of his memory is foggy, and he hates how everyone knows things he doesn’t. sure, he’s heard donghyuck talking about it, but he wants to know it all.
“what really happened, mom? after i passed out...” he asks, at last, after taking a sip of water. jisung makes his best lost-puppy face, acting like he’s truly innocent, and jaemin’s the bad guy – the version of the story his parents are familiar with. “donghyuck talked to jeno, but i barely heard everything,” jisung looks down at his hands. “did... the guy run away again?”
“no,” says his father, sitting next to him on his bed. he places his hand on jisung’s shoulder, comforting him. his father looks satisfied, and that’s enough to let jisung know something bad happened. “donghyuck called for the aurors, who quickly arrived and apprehended jaemin,”
“wait... how so?” he pretends his heart isn’t trying to eat itself alive in his chest.
“he’s locked away with the aurors now,” adds his mother, smiling happily. “he’ll be sent to court for all the things he’s done over the years and will be punished for it. some say he might be given a dementor’s kiss,”
a dementor’s kiss. that’s the worst punishment a wizard can get. jisung is going to die. that had to be a joke. that had to be a joke. the image of jaemin being nothing more than lifeless corpse, wandering around with no real thoughts cross his mind and it makes him sick.
he cannot let that happen.
“you have nothing to worry about, jisung,” says his father, running his hands through jisung’s hair, like he did when he was younger. “that maniac will pay for everything he did to you, and you’re going to be okay. the nurses say you’re in really good shape already,”
“great...” jisung chirps, but he cannot hear himself.
all he hears is white noise.
the door to his bedroom is pushed open. jisung’s eyes land on lee donghyuck. quickly, his friend notices his horrified expression, and the realization hits him too. no words are needed for them to understand each other. jisung’s eyes ask: is it true? is he going to court? even though his parents would never lie to him like that. donghyuck looks down, guilt taking over him, avoiding jisung’s direction, and that’s the gut-wrenching confirmation he fears.
“ah, it’s donghyuck’s turn now, dear,” says his mother, before kissing the top of jisung’s head. “we’ll be back after lunch, sungie,”
his parents are gone. and it’s just the two of them.
donghyuck approaches and sits down on his bed.
“jisung,” he tries.
“i’m not letting that happen,” jisung cuts him. he reaches for donghyuck’s hand, squeezing it so he knows he’s serious. “hyung, you have to help me. we cannot let that happen to him,”
donghyuck is silent, terrified, and guilty gaze resting on jisung’s face. he looks down, uncertain, nibbling on his bottom lip. he wants to shake his friend. they don’t have time to ponder, they have to be quick. he doesn’t know when the trial will take place, or if it’s taking place right now. all he knows is that jaemin is going to die if they don’t do anything about it.
“please,” jisung presses.
donghyuck sighs, “... alright. what do you want to do?”
“we’re gonna save him,” that’s all jisung has to say.