Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jimin’s spent his entire life falling.

Falling from his favorite tree when he was seven as he was reaching up towards the tallest branch.

Falling in love with that cute boy who sat next to him in class and then broke his heart six months later.

Falling from the grief that weighed him down after his parents passed away in a car accident — a loss that never got easier, no matter how much time passed.

Falling into the river that he was chased into by classmates that grew up on the darker side of mean, feeling afraid and never more alone.

And now, again, Jimin falls.

Jimin loses his footing in the forest on a path he’s walked down hundreds of times, and stumbles into a dark, gaping hole.

He falls and falls and falls until he falls unconscious.

Yoongi feels a strange unknown land in his forest.

He blinks awake.

☽

When Jimin woke, he found himself staring into the ocean.

Dazed, sleep still clinging to him like wet gauze, he gazed into a blue deeper than any blue he’s ever seen  — before the ocean blinked back at him.

It was only then that he realized the ocean was a set of eyes.

Letting out a strained shout, Jimin scrambled up from the floor and fell back, trying to scamper away from the being that had been laying so close to him.

“Who are you?”

The other person sat up, blinking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

He spoke with an accent that Jimin couldn’t place — though his words made sense, it sounded like he was choosing them carefully, as if he was out of practice with the language.

Jimin didn’t answer, heart pounding in his chest. Looking around, he realized that he didn’t recognize much of anything. He didn’t recognize these trees. Didn’t recognize the strange looking flowers sprouting from the ground — had never seen flowers like them in his life. Some were huge, bigger than Jimin’s torso, with vibrant, large petals that spanned across every texture and shape and size. He saw a funny purple flower the size of his fist that suddenly turned orange when a drop of water from the tree canopy met the surface of its petals. Another flower to his left was big and red and fuzzy and looked like it shed as much as a house cat.

When the flower turned to look at Jimin as if it heard his inner thoughts, Jimin jumped and scooted away from it, mildly terrified.

The stranger laughed.

“Are you humans always this jumpy? It’s kinda cute,” he said, laughing. Moving to pet the red fuzzy flower like one pets a dog, the stranger cooed at it before turning to Jimin again. “Don’t worry. It just wanted some pets, that’s all. It would never hurt you.”

“Where am I?” Jimin whispered, so quietly that he was surprised the stranger heard him at all.

“You’re in Yoongi’s forest,” the stranger responded.

There were so many things that Jimin didn’t understand, and he was beginning to grow frustrated. “Who’s Yoongi? And—I didn’t know people could…own entire forests. Am I still in Korea? I’ve never seen flowers like this in my life. I—”

“Hey,” the blue-eyed stranger interrupted, reaching a hand out and placed three fingers against the inside of Jimin’s wrist. “If you keep going like that you’re going to make yourself panic. Take a deep breath for me.”

Strangely, Jimin did feel calmer after a few breaths. The touch on his wrist was grounding, and Jimin focused on that warmth.

“Before—you called me a human.” Jimin began.

The stranger nodded. “Aren’t you? Have I guessed wrong?”

“…Of course I am. Aren’t you?”

Ocean eyes sparkled with delight.

“Of course I’m not,” the stranger laughed. “Nobody in this realm is.”

Somehow, the way the stranger said it was so truthful and convincing that Jimin’s stomach flipped nervously.

“Sure,” Jimin whispered. “Okay.”

He was not sure, and he was not okay.

A brush of fingers against his wrist again before panic could even begin to take over, and —

Jimin yanked away from the stranger’s hands.

He backed up a few steps, mistrusting.

Whoever this stranger was — there was something about him that did scream otherworldly. With his vibrant eyes and low, soothing voice and calming touch.

“Yoongi’s family is the most powerful family of witches in this realm,” the man continued to explain. “After a Min dies, the forest is passed down to their child. The forest has been Yoongi’s for a few years now.”

“Witches?” Jimin’s voice was strained, and he took a few steps back, then half-laughed. “Okay. That’s…not very funny, but I’ll admit you’re a good actor. Can you seriously tell me where we are now?”

The man blinked. “I’ve told you. You’re in Yoongi’s Forest.”

“Okay, but where is Yoongi’s Forest? Are we still in South Korea?”

“No,” the man said slowly. “You’re not in your realm anymore, human.”

Suddenly, the stranger’s brows crinkled together. “Wait. Don’t tell me…is your realm one of the few that hasn’t discovered hopping yet?”

“Hopping?” Jimin stressed. “We know how to jump, thanks.”

“No—” the man let out a small laugh. “I mean realm hopping. You’re not…you’ve never left your realm before?”

“The very idea of there being multiple ‘realms’ is…it’s stuff for storybooks,” Jimin said.

The man stared at Jimin, wide-eyed. “Fascinating,” he breathed out, as if he weren’t the one standing there claiming to be a witch. “This really is your first time in a new realm.”

A flower to the right of them stiffened and unfurled its petals, letting out a sound akin to an owl’s hoot.

Jimin jumped and stared at it in horror.

“No wonder you’re so scared,” the stranger sympathized. “I’m sorry for teasing you. I didn’t know you were so new to this.”

“How did I get here?” Jimin asked. “If…if ‘realm hopping’ is real, but my realm hasn’t discovered it yet, then how did I get here?”

The stranger shrugged. “Maybe it was magic.”

The way the man said it had Jimin thinking he meant it as more than just an expression.

“Do you know how to send me back?” Jimin asked. He looked around, and the more he studied his surroundings, the more the man’s implausible explanation seemed almost…possible. Jimin knew there were no flowers like that on earth, not even in some obscure rainforest that he’d never heard of before. He watched nature documentaries. He would know.

The man who found him had eyes more vividly colored than was natural, and they didn’t seem to be colored contacts.

The stranger hesitated. “Usually, we learn from childhood how to hop between realms. But we can’t make someone else hop — it’s easy on yourself because your magic understands your body chemistry. But using magic on another person…I don’t really know how that would work.”

“I don’t have magic, though,” Jimin panicked. “I can’t send myself back. I need someone else to do it for me.”

“Hey, don’t work yourself up again,” the man soothed. “It’s getting dark soon. We can go back to my cottage, eat some dinner, and then try to figure some things out. Does that sound good?”

Jimin fidgeted, uncomfortable.

He didn’t want to go into the stranger’s house alone, but at the same time, he didn’t want to be left here with the freaky flowers either.

And looking around — there was nothing in sight but trees and little unrecognizable animals scuttling around. Looking up, Jimin could barely even see the sky, the foliage was so thick. Would the sky even look the same? Was it still the endless expanse of blue Jimin had grown up knowing, or was even that different, too?

Letting out a shudder, the desire for company, no matter how suspicious, eventually won out.

“I don’t even know your name,” Jimin finally said.

The man smiled, boxy and bright.

“My name is Taehyung,” he introduced himself. “C’mon. I make a mean hazelnut soup.”

“Okay,” Jimin said hesitantly.

Taehyung perked up even more.

“Great! I’ll show you my home, and introduce you to all the plants — don’t worry, the mean ones only come out at night.”

He reached over the grabbed Jimin’s hand, holding it in his as he began marching through the forest.

Jimin looked around, lost, but with nowhere else to go and nobody else to guide him, he let Taehyung lead him through a forest that shouldn’t have existed.

At least, not to Jimin.

☽

Yoongi fell upon them the same way autumn falls upon the earth, some years.

With a start, a silent surprise.

Like walking to your car one day and suddenly discovering that you should have brought a jacket, the windshield dewed over and a chill in the trees.

They had barely settled inside Taehyung’s cottage before he had told Jimin that he’d be right back — he wanted to go out a bit deeper into the forest to gather some herbs for the soup. A fine mist was still hovering over the forest floor, brushing against the tips of clovers and roaming silently along the ground like sentient clouds.

Jimin finished chopping some of the vegetables that Taehyung had set out — some strange purple root and a stock that looked a lot like green onion — and washed his hands in the sink.

His mind was still racing, and part of him wanted to laugh.

In a way, it felt so…normal. Standing in a kitchen and preparing dinner as if he hadn’t somehow been transported to a completely new realm, where witches and magic and talking flowers were the norm.

Jimin shook his head and looked out the window as he dried his hands off — locked eyes with a stranger, shrouded head to toe in an ornate, forest green cloak.

Jimin gasped loudly, jerking away from the window in shock.

He stared for long moments, the still-running water the only noise save for the pounding of his own heart.

When the stranger didn’t move, simply stood there on the edge of Taehyung’s cottage watching Jimin, Jimin reached out slowly and shut off the sink.

He moved away from the window, heart in his throat.

He was alone in Taehyung’s cottage, alone in this strange, fantastical world, and now — now there was some stranger peering at him.

Did they make that a habit, in this realm? Was staring some type of foreign greeting Jimin wasn’t aware of?

Jimin let out a silent, panicked laugh, moving to the front door and looking out the peephole.

The stranger was still standing there.

Hands shaking, Jimin debated going up the stairs and locking himself in one of the bathrooms.

But—but Taehyung would be back soon.

And to be able to come back in, he’d have to pass by the stranger — what if he tried to harm Taehyung?

Though they had only met an hour prior, the thought of the blue-eyed witch in danger had Jimin’s stomach churning in protest.

He didn’t want Taehyung to get hurt.

And this stranger looked powerful, in a silent and lethal way that had Jimin’s skin crawling.

Jimin reached for the front door and slowly wrapped his hand around the cold doorknob.

He twisted it, and it fell open with a quiet creak.

If the stranger had any reaction to Jimin opening the door to him, he didn’t show it.

He simply kept looking at Jimin, almost with a perplexed expression on his face, as if he were something worth studying.

He was still standing a considerable distance from Jimin, who held himself just outside of the doorframe of the cottage.

“Do you need something?” Jimin asked, trying to put on a brave face.

The stranger blinked at him, cocking his head to the side.

“Where is Taehyung?” his voice was deep, and Jimin noticed he had the same accent that Taehyung did.

When he spoke, the leaves on the surrounding trees physically shifted to face him.

Jimin shivered — somehow, deep in his bones, he knew that this man was powerful.

He bit his lip, considering. Should he admit that he was all alone, here? Would that put him in a more vulnerable position? Should he lie and say Taehyung was inside?

What if the man was here to see Taehyung?

Maybe he was one of Taehyung’s friends?

But judging from the way he wasn’t stepping foot on Taehyung’s ground, Jimin highly doubted it.

“He…he’s out right now, gathering herbs,” Jimin said eventually. “He’s coming right back. Did you…need something from him?”

“He’s gathering herbs,” the man repeated in a strange tone, not bothering to answer Jimin’s question. “I see.”

Jimin shifted uncomfortably.

“What is your name?” the man asked.

There was something almost hypnotic about him. The aura of power, the sheer presence he had — despite not physically being any larger than Jimin, the stranger felt like an entire universe bundled up tight in that shimmering cloak.

“Jimin,” he answered. “And yours?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I suppose…in your language, the closest name to my true name would be Yoongi.”

“Yoongi,” Jimin mouthed, testing the name on his tongue.

“Jimin-ah,” the man called, already using familiar speech. Jimin startled at the warmth that flowed through him at Yoongi’s voice saying his name like that.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi repeated, slower this time, sweeter. “Won’t you come over here? Won’t you keep me company until Taehyung gets back?”

Jimin’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

Why didn’t Yoongi just come to him?

And why, why did Jimin feel such a strong desire to do what the other was asking?

Hesitantly, he stepped out onto the porch.

“You won’t hurt me?” Jimin blurted, feeling stupid right after he said it.

If Yoongi did want to hurt him, he wouldn’t admit to it. He also probably would have done it already.

Right?

Almost in a trance, Jimin’s feet moved towards Yoongi, and the closer he got to the man, the more clearly he could see him.

And it felt like chasing a sunrise and actually having it wait for you, envelop you, swallow you whole.

Because Yoongi was beautiful.

Otherworldly in a way that was ethereal, with lavender eyes and hair the color of moonlight.

He had lips that curled up delicately like a peony petal, and a strong jaw that clenched the closer Jimin got.

“Aren’t you pretty?” Yoongi murmured. He lifted an arm as if he wanted to trace Jimin’s cheek, but quickly lowered it again.

Jimin stood a foot away from him, and he couldn’t stop looking back and forth between Yoongi’s eyes.

They were enrapturing.

Like someone had pressed violets into the layers of his irises and kissed them sweet.

“Come, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi said, voice a croon. “I’m your hyung, yes? I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

He held his hand out for Jimin to take.

Jimin took a deep breath.

Yes.

He should go with Yoongi.

Yoongi was beautiful and he promised safety and the trees gravitated towards him like planets to the sun.

He lifted his hand.

“Jimin, no!” Taehyung’s voice shocked him from his reverie, and Jimin gasped, blinking hard.

He took a step back, flinching when Yoongi bit out a curse in a language he couldn’t understand and whirled towards Taehyung, who was sprinting towards them from the forest.

“Get away from him, Yoongi,” Taehyung shoved at the man’s chest before moving towards Jimin, frantically checking him over.

Jimin only barely felt Taehyung’s hands running over his cheeks and arms, still blinking rapidly, head feeling light.

“Did you compel him?” Taehyung sounded livid.

Jimin felt as if a fog was lifted from his mind — a fog that he hadn’t even realized had crept in.

And now that his head was clearing, he sucked in a breath.

Yoongi.

He looked towards the lavender-eyed man. Yoongi’s Forest.

“You should have brought him to me immediately, Taehyung,” Yoongi snapped, dropping his sweet façade. “He isn’t meant to be here. He’s a danger to us.”

Taehyung let out an incredulous laugh. “He’s not a danger! He’s just lost! I didn’t bring him to you because I knew you’d be like this.”

“How do you know he’s not a threat?” Yoongi asked heatedly. “You trust this stranger over your own cousin? He could be anyone! He could be here to harm us. He doesn’t belong in this realm.”

Cousin.

Jimin blinked.

Yoongi was Taehyung’s family.

Confused and overwhelmed, Jimin had to lock his knees to stay upright.

Who could he trust, here?

For the millionth time, the same question ran through his mind: why was he here?

“Don’t harm him,” Taehyung was shaking his head. “Please. His realm hasn’t even discovered realm hopping yet. He—he’s good. My magic can feel it. I felt it the moment he appeared here.”

Yoongi stared at Taehyung, eyes fixed on his cousin’s face.

“He can’t stay here,” Yoongi said.

Taehyung nodded. “Of course. He has to go home.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw. “It would be so much easier to just—”

“Don’t,” Taehyung snapped. “Don’t you dare say it.”

“I’m trying to keep you safe, Taehyung,” Yoongi snapped back. “Why are you trying so hard to protect a human?”

“I’ve told you already,” Taehyung said, brows furrowed into an angry glower. “He’s good. I won’t let you hurt him.”

The two stared at each other, in a stand-off.

“Fine,” Yoongi said. “If it means so much to you, we will try to figure out a way to send him back.”

Taehyung relaxed.

“But,” Yoongi continued. “He will be staying with me and the others.”

Taehyung bristled again. “No.”

“That is non-negotiable,” Yoongi said, stone-faced.

“Fine,” Taehyung bit back. “Then I’m coming with him.”

Yoongi seemed to stutter in surprise. “You’ve refused to step foot in my home for years, and now you’re willing to temporarily move in?”

Taehyung squared his shoulders. “I need to make sure Jimin comes to no harm. I’m not allowing you to or the others to try sending him home until my magic feels that you’re sure it will work.”

Yoongi’s eyes were intense on Taehyung’s face, scrutinizing. “You really believe he’s not a threat to us.”

It wasn’t a question, but Taehyung nodded anyway.

Then, something almost fond ran over Yoongi’s stoic face. “I see your heart is as infinite as ever, cousin.”

Taehyung didn’t respond, just stepped back towards Jimin, eyes concerned.

“Are you okay?” he said, arms reaching up to squeeze Jimin’s shoulders again.

And Jimin was — not.

He was confused, and trying desperately to pick up on context clues and piece this strange world together, and nothing felt right.

Nothing was familiar.

Jimin had never felt more lost in his entire life, not even when he came home one day only to find out that his parents weren’t.

“He…did something strange to my head. My thoughts. Didn’t he?” Jimin asked.

Taehyung huffed out a sigh. “Yes. Everybody’s magic here specializes in something different. Mine has the ability to read people, to read emotions. Yoongi’s has the ability to compel people, to a certain extent. He can be very…alluring. Convincing.”

Breathtaking.

Dangerous.

Those words laid out in the air unspoken.

“I only compelled you because I thought you were a threat,” Yoongi spoke up.

He still hadn’t stepped a foot forward towards them, and that was when Jimin realized that he couldn’t.

Something was holding him back from crossing over onto Taehyung’s ground — a protective ward, perhaps?

“I won’t do it again, not unless Taehyung has read you incorrectly and you are here to harm us,” Yoongi said.

“I’m not…!” Jimin spluttered, taken aback at the subtle accusation. “I don’t even know how I got here. I had no idea different realms even existed until I landed here. I don’t—I’m not here to hurt anybody. I just want to go home.”

“We know,” Taehyung soothed. “We’ll find a way to send you home.”

Jimin turned pleading eyes toward Taehyung.

“I thought that..I thought you’d be able to do it. Can’t we just stay here?”

Taehyung softened, eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry, Jimin. Yoongi hyung is a powerful witch in this realm. The most powerful. There are some things I cannot fight him about. Besides, he and the rest of the clan are helpful. They have resources. With their help, we’ll be able to send you home faster, I’m sure of it.”

Jimin blinked at Taehyung, considering.

He didn’t know what to make of Taehyung’s sudden and unfounded protectiveness over him. They had only met an hour ago, and yet Taehyung was trying his best to make sure Jimin stayed safe.

Jimin always knew he was too quick to trust people, but with Taehyung, it had happened so quickly he was doubting his own emotions.

Did Taehyung desire something from him that he wasn’t letting on? Was that why he was so determined to keep him close? Or was the other really just…this kind?

Letting out a deep breath, Jimin nodded, realizing that he had no other choice but to go along with what they said.

Taehyung was tentative pocket of safety he had found in this big, strange realm, and he was going to hold onto that for as long as he could.

They began walking, Taehyung and Jimin’s soup forgotten in the cottage. Jimin found it strange that Taehyung hadn’t even bothered to pack a bag, but when he looked back towards the cottage the smoke rising from the chimney was gone, and the front door that Jimin had left ajar was firmly shut.

And Jimin was once again reminded that this was a fantastical, magical world.

A world in which practicalities were probably smoothed out by magic.

A world that he did not belong in.

They walked in silence, Yoongi leading the way, Taehyung reaching out to pet flowers and vines that curled towards them along the way.

Jimin froze when they encountered a sizable river.

Yoongi crossed it with no problem, feet sure and steady over the slippery rocks that lined a precarious path across the flowing water.

Jimin clenched his fists, squeezing his eyes shut briefly to try and dispel his discomfort around moving water.

Fingers on his wrist, concerned ocean eyes.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung asked, hushed.

Yoongi turned to see what was taking them so long, eyes impatient.

“Yes,” Jimin choked out.

Taehyung sensed his fear, though, and made sure to cross the river with Jimin, grabbing onto one of his hands and telling the human to follow his feet.

Once Jimin was on dry land again, he slumped in relief, and ignored the curious eyes Yoongi sent him in favor of continuing to walk.

Yoongi set a quick pace, trying to beat the darkness home, and his shoulders seemed to slump in relief when they made it to a large clearing.

In the middle of it was the largest cottage Jimin had ever seen —  much larger than Taehyung’s. There were flowering vines that made their way around the outsides of the house, laid in a way that reminded Jimin of castles in Disney movies. There was a bright blue smoke curling its way out of the chimney, meandering towards the sky like a lazy cat.

And — the sky.

The sky.

Jimin could finally see it here, in the clearing, better than he could underneath the dense canopy of the forest.

He tipped his head back, partly in awe and partly in shock.

Because the sky was a pale lilac, like the undersides of lavender plants, like watercolor spread thin, like the exact color of Yoongi’s eyes.

And it was then that it really, truly hit Jimin.

It crashed into him all at once, the sudden acceptance that he was in a different realm, one in which witches and magic and hooting flowers were real, and—and—

“Jimin?” Taehyung said, concerned.

“The sky is purple,” Jimin choked out, unable to take his eyes away from the sight. The clouds were a mixture of deeper and lighter violets, looking a little more solid than the clouds back home did.

“Jimin…?” Yoongi spoke up.

There was a new softness in his voice, then, one that he hadn’t used before.

Not even when he was compelling Jimin to come closer.

And it was this newfound softness that broke him down.

Jimin crouched down right there in the meadow, underneath that horrible purple sky, and finally let himself cry.

☽

A kind hand rubbed his back the entire time he fell apart.

Jimin was too embarrassed to look up, instead opting to smush his face in-between his knees and try his best to stop, to breathe evenly again.

A new voice was suddenly right above Jimin’s head, asking a question in a strange language, and Jimin had to fight jumping back in shock.

He didn’t look up towards the voice, but scowled as his tears began to dry.

“This is the Unknown I felt, yes,” Yoongi answered back in Korean. “He’s a human, and he speaks Korean. Taehyung says he’s not a threat, and I believe him.”

“How did he realm hop here without your permission first?” the new voice switched to the same, accented Korean.

“Isn’t that the question of the day,” Yoongi sighed. “He’s from a realm that hasn’t even discovered hopping yet, Seokjin hyung. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“…Oh.”

Then, a big gentle hand was carding through Jimin’s hair. “Oh, you must be so frightened, poor thing.”

When Jimin looked up, he was met with a tall man (witch? Taehyung had said nobody was human, in this realm) who looked down at him with kind eyes.

Seokjin held out his hand, then, and Jimin only hesitated for a moment before he allowed himself to be helped up.

Looking towards Taehyung with curious eyes, Seokjin quirked a brow. “Taehyung. I never would have thought I’d see you here willingly.”

“He’s making sure I don’t do anything bad to Jimin,” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Somehow went and got himself attached to the human.”

Taehyung scowled, but didn’t say anything, just stepped closer to Jimin.

“Alright,” Seokjin sighed. “Let’s get the three of you inside, then. Hoseok’s working on dinner.”

They followed him across the clearing and towards the front porch, and the front door immediately swung open with a lazy wave of Jin’s hand. It was then that Jimin noticed that Yoongi and Jin were dressed in similar garb — tunics and tight pants overlayed with long, gauzy, flowing robes threaded through with what looked like spun starlight. The robes floated just above the floor in a way that looked…magical, and Jimin stared at the material as they walked. Couldn’t decide if his eyes were deceiving him or if the cloaks were enchanted to keep themselves off the floor and out of the way of the witches’ striding legs.

When they stepped through the front door, Jimin felt as if he fell into a new world for the second time.

Because even inside, everything was so — alive.

Jimin watched in awe as the coat rack grew hands that twisted each of them out of their outerwear. It delicately plucked the robes from Yoongi, Seokjin and Taehyung’s shoulders, then moved on to Jimin and prodded at him in confusion when all it felt was his knit sweater tucked into black jeans.

“Leave him be,” Seokjin said fondly, stroking a hand down the spine of the rack as its arms receded into place, robes dangling cleanly on the hooks.

Jimin turned his attention towards Yoongi when the witch raised his arm and effortlessly flipped his wrist, a conductor to an enchanted symphony. The fallboard of a grand piano sitting in the middle of the living room opened and an invisible pianist suddenly filled the cottage with music.

“Woah,” Jimin said under his breath, eyes wide.

He fully knew that he was gaping, eyes still red-rimmed and watery but now filled with a childish sense of wonder as his gaze danced towards the next interesting thing that caught his eye.

It was clear to see that the inhabitants of this household were wealthy and well travelled  — there were trinkets and riches from what seemed to be hundreds upon hundreds of different realms. Even though Jimin had never travelled to different realms, he saw so many differing colors and materials and art styles that they had to have been from opposite, foreign worlds. Strings of what seemed to be liquid gold hung from the ceiling like waxed starlight. There was a framed painting with colors Jimin had never seen before. Paintings that moved.

A hand suddenly shot out towards Jimin's face and Jimin didn’t even have time to flinch before a warm palm was cupping his cheek and tilting his head suddenly to the side split seconds before a heavy, leather-bound book came flying through the air where his head had just been.

“Namjoon!” Yoongi snapped, hand lowering from Jimin’s cheek. “How many times do we have to tell you to watch your magic’s path?”

Jimin glanced over to find a tall man with slicked hair and glasses perched on his nose perusing through four different books at a time, eyes scanning as they all floated in the air in front of him, pages flipping themselves quickly.

“Were you not the one who sent a message to tell me to find a way to send the human back ‘as soon as fucking possible’?” Namjoon said without looking up from his books. “I’m simply doing what you’ve asked of me.”

“You almost knocked the human out before we even had a chance to send him back,” Yoongi sighed.

Namjoon was kind enough to send a sheepish look Jimin’s way, and when the side of his lips quirked up in an apologetic smile, huge dimples cratered his cheeks.

“Can you all read that quickly?” Jimin asked, staring as Namjoon sent and retrieved new books with practiced movements, starting and finishing them within seconds.

“Gods, no,” Seokjin said. “That’s just part of Namjoon’s magic. It soaks up knowledge much more easily than ours.”

Jimin hummed in thought, fascination momentarily wiping away his fear.

Noticing that Taehyung had been silent for a long time, he glanced towards his newfound friend and was shocked to see an expression of pure disdain on his face. His lips were pinched thin and he glanced around the cottage with angry eyes.

Jimin grew confused once again, catching Taehyung’s gaze and sending him a questioning one back.

Taehyung just shook his head once, and let out a harsh exhale.

“Supper,” a voice called out, and Jimin jumped because it sounded as if someone were whispering right in his ear.

When he looked over, nobody was there.

The others all seemed to hear it too, as they all began moving towards the kitchen, Namjoon even calling out a, “Coming, Hobi.”

They seemed unfazed by the closeness and quality of the call, except for Taehyung, whose scowl seemed to deepen.

The kitchen was dim when they stepped in. When Jimin looked up, he noticed that the ceiling above the kitchen table was a glass skylight.

With a wave of Seokjin’s hand, the skylight filled with artificial light and the kitchen brightened.

“This is…amazing,” Jimin said in awe. “This entire house is so—”

“Ostentatious,” Taehyung cut in. “And unnecessary.”

Jimin shut his mouth, sensing a long-lived tension that he was previously unaware of.

He saw Yoongi roll his eyes.

“Here we go again,” he muttered.

Taehyung tensed, seemingly ready to pounce on the underhanded remark, when a voice interrupted.

“The food’s ready, let’s sit,” the man with the voice that had seemingly whispered into Jimin’s ear had a kind face, and he waved them towards the table.

When he made eye contact with Jimin, he smiled.

“I’m sure our guest is hungry, especially after Yoongi tried his whole intimidation routine on him. I’m glad to hear that you’re not here to harm us, Jimin.”

Jimin blinked at the witch’s bluntness. “I—me too?”

The witch threw his head back and laughed. “We’ll get you home, okay? Don’t worry.”

With a slight motion, all of the chairs pulled themselves out from the table.

Then Hobi reached out, and ruffled Taehyung’s hair.

“And I’m glad to see you here, Tae,” the witch whispered.

Taehyung just moved away from the touch and sat, pulling Jimin into the chair next to him.

Taehyung seemed subdued now, having given up on his previous outburst of anger.

The food served itself — everybody got heaping, generous portions of everything.

Though it all smelled delicious, nothing was familiar to Jimin.

There were indescribable meats and vegetables and what looked like a combination of pasta and bread soaked in a savory sauce.

The four witches that resided in Yoongi’s cottage talked amongst themselves with fond familiarity.

Jimin watched as they laughed and teased each other, watched as Yoongi relaxed in a way that was so different to how he presented himself at Taehyung’s cottage.

He also watched as Taehyung ate stiffly, so different to the personality he had shown Jimin before when they were alone.

Jimin’s brow crinkled.

He wondered why Taehyung offered to come and stay with him if being in this house bothered him so much.

And he wondered why Taehyung seemed so unhappy here, amongst other witches who he seemed to have a deep history with.

The food was delicious and Jimin’s appetite was sated, but he felt himself growing tired.

Still, he was too uncomfortable to ask for anything or call any attention to himself, so he continued to take tiny bites of his food while waiting for the others to finish.

“Jimin is tired,” Taehyung spoke up for the first time since they sat down. “Can you show us which rooms we’ll be sleeping in?”

“Of course,” Seokjin rose.

Jimin stood when Taehyung did, eyes fluttering awkwardly over his plate.

He debated offering to help clean up, manners getting the best of him even when exhaustion ate at his bones.

As if he could read his mind, Hoseok grinned at him and waved them off.

“Go to bed. In the morning, everything will be a little less scary. And we can all talk, then.”

Jimin nodded, and thanked them for the meal.

For some reason, before he turned to follow Seokjin and Taehyung out of the kitchen, he looked towards Yoongi.

The witch was already looking at him, and Jimin’s breath hitched at the heavy gaze.

With a tiny nod, Jimin whirled and made his way up the stairs.

He got the room next to Taehyung’s, and he noticed that dangling above his bed were dozens of enchanted mobiles — strings with colorful glass twirling and swirling from the ends of them, causing little colorful light bubbles to dance around the walls of the room in a slow, calming waltz.

Jimin barely had time to shed his sweater and jeans before he was climbing into the softest bed he’s ever felt and falling into an exhausted, deep sleep.

☽

The next day was a bit strained.

Jimin knew that Taehyung and the rest of the witches had a deep history that he was unaware of, but it was still a surprise to see the tension between them all.

Taehyung mostly only spoke to Jimin, and whether he realized it or not, he angled his body away from Yoongi, barely even looking him in the eye.

They spent the daylight hours scouring through old, dusty books with cracked spines and paper that was softer than Jimin was used to. He was told to keep an eye out for anything about realm-hopping for another person, but most of the books were in a language he couldn’t recognize, let alone understand.

Seokjin had explained to him earlier that, with the help of magic, they were fluent in almost every realm’s languages, which was how they were able to talk so easily with Jimin. Jimin wished that he could speak and read their language, too.

When he voiced this frustration, Namjoon walked over and ran a glowing palm over the book set in front of Jimin.

When his broad hand lifted, the indiscernible letters were suddenly a very recognizable hangul.

Jimin’s mouth parted in awe. “That was…magical.”

Namjoon let out a little laugh, dimples little dollar coins indented deep in his cheeks. “Welcome to our realm, Jimin-ah.”

Something in Jimin warmed.

That evening, they all gathered at the table again for dinner.

The food was just as delicious and foreign to Jimin as the first night. They spent the meal talking about what they had found in terms of sending Jimin home, which was — next to nothing.

Jimin’s shoulders deflated, and Hoseok reached out to squeeze his arm reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, Jimin,” he said. “We will find a way. It’s only been one day of looking. Things will progress.”

“We did have prior plans to go to Verfell at the new moon…” Namjoon brought up hesitantly, looking at Yoongi. “Should we call that off?”

Yoongi paused, contemplating. “We’ve been planning to go for a long time now. And their azolla is in season. I don’t know if we’d be able to give up that profit.” he said. “It should be a short trip, though, Jimin. Don’t worry.”

Jimin felt Taehyung bristle next to him.

“Are you serious? You’re still going to realm hop, even when Jimin is stuck here? He needs our help!”

Yoongi exhaled slowly, as if expecting Taehyung’s outburst.

“Azolla trading makes up a large percentage of our realm’s income this season, Taehyung. Please understand.”

“We don’t need anymore profit! We’re fine as is! We aren’t lacking anything!”

“This isn’t one of your storybooks that you used to read when you were younger, Taehyung,” Yoongi snapped. “Not everything will always work out without any hard work. I am making sure that this realm is secure. Do you want to see it die out like the other realms that didn’t have enough money to afford medicine for a new epidemic? Like the other realms that could not afford to feed their people? I am doing this for you, for all of us.”

“You think you’re so high and mighty now then, do you?” Taehyung finally said back, angry now. “You think that just because this forest was passed down to you that you’re all-knowing? All-powerful? Well let me tell you something, Min Yoongi. This forest is dying. It’s dying and so much of it is your fault. Your family’s fault. And it is nothing that your money or so-called security can fix!”

“I know how to take care of my forest,” Yoongi exploded, standing and slamming his palms down flat on the table. “Don’t try to imply otherwise.”

“You know how to take from it,” Taehyung shouted. “All you do is take. And for what? To gain magic to realm hop and trade?”

“What we do is for the good of our realm, Taehyung,” Yoongi said, his hands curling into angry fists. “Do you think we run solely on magic? The realms are evolving, and we must evolve with them. And that means that we need to learn business, commerce—”

“We don’t!” Taehyung screamed. “We don’t need any of this!”

He flung his arms out at the room around them, the walls covered in fineries, golden picture frames and metallic art pieces.

“This,” Taehyung said, voice shaking. “This is just greed, hyung. It takes so much from the forest for us to realm hop. And you do it too often, and don’t take the time to give back. The forest is dying, and it is screaming for you to help, and you continuously turn away.”

The air rung silent after those words, Taehyung and Yoongi breathing heavily, gazes locked.

A new hour struck, and a beam of purple light flooded in from the skylight, making Yoongi’s eyes glow brighter than they usually did.

The rest of the witches were silent around them, and Jimin watched as Taehyung looked around at each of them.

When nobody else spoke or moved, Taehyung let out a watery scoff and moved around the table, shouldering past Yoongi and going out of the house, the door slamming behind him.

The house seemed quieter after that, the clicking of the moving artwork and clocks now silent.

When Jin silently began cleaning up dinner, Jimin moved to help him, and it didn’t escape his attention when Yoongi turned on his heel and disappeared upstairs.

Thirty minutes later, Jimin found Taehyung outside, still within the vicinity of the cottage but staring out towards the forest.

He silently made his way to the witch and sat down next to him.

“What are you doing?” Jimin asked after a while.

Taehyung had been rhythmically moving his hand back and forth, his palm just barely grazing the tips of the blades of grass.

When Jimin looked closer, he noticed that there was a faint glow coming from the veins of the witch’s palm, and a tiny flower bloomed underneath.

“Giving back to the forest,” Taehyung answered. “It’s what I was talking about, earlier. It’s important that we do this. It keeps our realm balanced. It’s all cyclical, you know? The forest gives us everything. It’s the root of all our magic. We’re supposed to give back.”

“Is this not something everyone else does? Is that what you were arguing about?”

“Yea,” Taehyung answered. “The more recent witches…they think giving back is unnecessary. Lore that parents tell children to scare them. Our ancestors had done such a good job of giving back to the forest that…once a few generations stopped…the forest was fine. Still flourishing.”

After a few minutes, Taehyung spoke again. “But I’m not making it up. The forest is dying.”

Jimin turned his head toward the witch.

He felt out of place and trapped in a strange position. He didn’t know enough to have a sure answer for Taehyung, didn’t know whether Taehyung was right or wrong.

“Yoongi is connected to the forest, isn’t he? Wouldn’t he be able to feel it if it were dying?”

Taehyung scoffed. “Min Yoongi is in complete and utter denial. Any and all evidence he’s been exposed to that even hinted towards his forest dying, he’s turned a blind eye to. He doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to put in the effort of thinking of anything other than wealth, and material. His parents were the same way. I guess it’s just the way he was raised.”

Jimin bit his lip. “How do you know? How are you so sure that it’s dying?”

“Do you remember I told you earlier? About witches specializing in a specific type of magic as we grow older? Yoongi being able to compel, Namjoon absorbing information at a much faster rate?”

Jimin nodded.

“My magic has always just…felt. Sometimes I feel like my emotions and magic are one entity. It’s hard to separate it all, sometimes. What I’m feeling and what others are feeling. That’s how I found you yesterday. And it’s rare, Jimin,” Taehyung’s voice ached in a way that reminded Jimin of walks home alone and silent, still apartments. “Magic of the heart is rare. But I can feel the forest’s pain, every day, all day, inside my chest, and it makes it hard to breathe, it’s so painful. It’s suffering, and it’s angry, and it’s so damn sad and no matter how much I give back, it’s never enough. No matter how much I scream or yell or kick up a fuss, nobody listens to me.”

And the way Taehyung looked out at the forest, with eyes filled with hopeless yearning, with the look of a man gazing at something he knew he would someday lose…Jimin believed him.

“We can make them listen,” Jimin said.

“What?”

“While we’re staying here, trying to figure out a way to send me back home. We can try to make them listen to reason, show them proof that there’s something wrong…”

Taehyung ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve tried, countless times. Yoongi hyung never listens to me. And everybody else in that cottage only listens to Yoongi. And walking into their home…I can see, and even feel how much of their happiness relies in materialism. All they really care about is…is things. When there are other witches and trees and living, breathing beings that you could pour your love into, they’re so blinded by…”

Taehyung cut himself off, and the night turned quiet once more.

Jimin watched the sky and blinked as a star that was once sedentary suddenly shot across the sky, burning brighter as it gained distance, before it crossed the horizon and disappeared.

“Why?” Jimin asked after a few minutes.

Taehyung looked over at him, half his face buried into his crossed arms laying on his curled up knees.

“Why what?”

“Why…have you been so kind to me? Why have you tried so hard to protect somebody you don’t even know?”

A long pause.

“My magic…it was drawn to you since the moment you landed in our realm, I think,” Taehyung said.

“That’s how you found me,” Jimin repeated.

Taehyung nodded. “I woke up and immediately started walking, pulled by the most intense feeling of pure love. The kindest, most generous love I’ve ever felt. I was crying as I walked through the forest. And that feeling lead me to you.”

Jimin stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Why?”

Taehyung laughed, reaching over to ruffle Jimin’s hair.

“I know this has all been scary for you, Jimin. But for my entire life, my magic has been able to understand every soul and every feeling of each person it comes across. With you…” Taehyung shrugged. “All I feel is light. So maybe you were sent here for a reason. Maybe you’ll be our little miracle.”

Jimin was overwhelmed, then, throat closing up in a way that had him swallowing thickly.

Unable to find the right words to express himself, he scooted a bit closer to Taehyung and laid his head on his shoulder.

And for the first time since he could remember, Jimin thought that maybe being just Jimin was enough.

☽

“Honey, wake up.”

“Mama?”

“Happy Autus, baby. Come, rouse now, your father and grandmother are waiting for us downstairs.”

“The sun’s just set?”

“It’s said its goodbyes and dipped below the horizon, baby. Come on.”

A little hand was held lovingly in a larger one, and two pairs of feet made their way down a set of wooden, creaky stairs.

“Can I fill my lantern myself this year?”

“We’ll see if you can,” an indulgent laugh echoed. “If you can’t, then me or your father can help you.”

“I can! I’ve been practicing ever since last year!”

Another laugh. “Of course, honey. Here, get your cloak on…”

“Mama?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Will Yoongi’s family be coming this year? He promised he’d try to come…”

“Oh, love. I don’t think his parents will want him to come this year, either.”

A shaky sigh.

“They never do.”

☽

“I think this one might work?” Namjoon was squinting at a dusty book, jaw clenched in concentration. “I mean…it looks about right. Right?”

He looked over at Yoongi for confirmation, and the shorter witch squinted at the book as well, finger running across the page as he read.

“I think so, too,” Yoongi nodded.

“Should we try it tonight, then?” Namjoon began. “I’d have to—”

“No,” Taehyung glowered at all of them from the couch, eyes dark underneath his furrowed brows. “We’re not trying anything tonight. We’re not trying anything until we’re all completely sure that the spell won’t harm Jimin.”

Yoongi sighed. “How will we know if there’s no trial and error? No experimentation? This spell is perfectly safe, Taehyung, you just—”

“I said no,” Taehyung snapped. “He’s not like us. We don’t know how his body reacts to magic. And I can sense the hesitation in both you and Namjoon right now. We’re not trying this one.”

Jimin fidgeted next to Taehyung, partly uncomfortable with how vehemently Taehyung was talking to the others, but at the same time grateful that he had someone looking out for him here.

It allowed his shoulders to relax, at least a little bit, knowing that there was somebody on his side through all of this.

“Fine,” Namjoon sighed. “Taehyung’s right. We don’t want to risk anything. We’ll keep looking.”

Yoongi and Taehyung held eye contact for long seconds, glowering.

Yoongi was the first to break his gaze, sitting down heavily on his chair and pulling out a new book from the shelf across the room with an angry wave of his hand.

“We’ll keep looking,” he confirmed.

☽

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi appeared in the doorway of Jimin’s room.

Jimin looked up from a book he was reading — or more like flipping through. It was an encyclopedia of all the plants within Yoongi’s realm, and it was handwritten in Floran, which Jimin learned was the name of this realm’s language.

“Yes?”

“Jin hyung wanted me to go out and gather some honeyweed for dinner. Would you…like to come along? I can show you more of the forest.”

Jimin blinked in shock at the offer.

“Okay,” he said, placing the encyclopedia face-down on the bed to mark his place.

They made their way out the back door and into the forest, the silence was awkward and stilted.

“I just wanted to apologize,” Yoongi suddenly blurted, eyes downcast. “For using my magic to compel you your first day here. I really thought you were here with bad intentions, and I…”

Jimin didn’t know what to say.

It was strange, trying to reconcile this Yoongi to the Yoongi that had tried to compel him. They almost seemed like two different people.

“It’s alright,” Jimin said. “You were doing what you had to do to protect your realm.”

“I’ll never do it again,” Yoongi promised.

“Okay,” Jimin agreed.

“Have things been alright?” Yoongi asked after a few minutes of silence. “In the cottage, I mean. Is there…anything you need?”
“No,” Jimin shook his head, lacing his hands together behind his back and keeping a respectable distance between their shoulders as they walked. “No, everything’s been lovely.”

“That’s good,” Yoongi hummed. “If there’s ever anything you need…”

“I’ll let you know,” Jimin confirmed.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

They continued walking until they reached a patch of weeds that had long, thick, sticky stems.

Yoongi placed his basket beside them and kneeled down.

He wrapped his hand around the base of one of the stocks, but instead of pulling it up from the ground, his palm was alight with magic before the honeyweed’s roots simply crawled up from the dirt themselves.

Yoongi continued this until the basket was full of the plants.

They were walking back soon enough, and though the air between them was still a bit stiff, Jimin was glad that Yoongi had asked him to come along, glad that Yoongi apologized.

He was curious about all the plants, so to fill the silence Jimin asked about all of them, and Yoongi humored him.

Despite their rough beginning and his tumultuous relationship with Taehyung, Jimin began to realize that Yoongi wasn’t a bad person.

The opposite, actually — he was careful, in the way he handled things.

From Namjoon’s old books to Seokjin’s plants to the room he had set up for Jimin.

Everything he did seemed to have deep, attentive thought behind it, and Jimin thought there was something beautiful in the way Yoongi was so heedful.

Suddenly, Yoongi stopped in his tracks.

Jimin stopped, too, looking over to see what had caused the pause.

Yoongi was looking up, then plucking a withered flower off his cheek that had just fallen there.

He inspected it in silence, twirling it around and around in front of his face.

“What is it?” Jimin asked once the silence stretched on for too long.

“…This flower. It just…looks off.”

“How?”

“It looks like it’s…decaying,” Yoongi said, voice unsure.

“Don’t you think it’s what Taehyung was talking about?” Jimin probed, thinking back on his conversation with Taehyung the other night.

The forest is dying.

The forest is dying and nobody cares.

Yoongi kept his silence, but tucked the flower away into a pocket sewn on the inside of his cloak.

“Hyung? What if Taehyung’s right?” Jimin asked, pushing, the thought of Taehyung’s watery eyes pressed against the forefront of his mind.

“Come on,” Yoongi urged quietly, ignoring the question entirely. “The sun’s starting to set.”

They walked in ruminative silence for the rest of the way back, and when they reached the back door again, Yoongi turned to look at Jimin with a little smile on his face, despite the worried pinch between his brows.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

Jimin smiled back, suddenly shy.

“If Jin hyung ever sends you out on errands again, I’d love to come.”

Yoongi smiled wider at that, and he nodded once. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two of them entered the house, Seokjin hurrying over with a chirruped thanks to pull the honeyweeds from the basket as a pot on the stovetop whistled high and bright.

When they all ate dinner that night, Jimin couldn’t help but notice Yoongi chose the seat right next to his.

☽

Their walks became a daily occurrence.

Jimin didn’t know if Seokjin always had so many little errands for Yoongi to run, or if he was doing this on purpose knowing that he and Jimin go together, but still — it was nice.

The air between them settled down into something more calm, more comfortable.

Jimin found himself memorizing pieces of Yoongi that he found lovely, such as the way he sucked in air between his teeth when he was thinking, and the way he placed a hovering hand above the small of Jimin’s back whenever they walked down a path that was even mildly rocky, and the way Yoongi laughed low and deep in his throat.

Jimin stopped in his tracks one day and yelped when he saw a bright red sphere plummeting towards his head.

Yoongi yanked him into his side, and Jimin’s face was suddenly pressed up against Yoongi’s neck, the edges of Yoongi’s cloak brushing against the skin of Jimin's arms.

“Be careful!” Yoongi scolded, voice all but a deep vibration from how close Jimin was pressed against him.

Jimin pulled back, incredulous, thinking that the witch was scolding him, but instead violet eyes were trained up on the tree above them, a scowl and a little pout formed on Yoongi’s face.

“You could have hurt him,” Yoongi continued.

Jimin let out a tiny laugh when he realized that Yoongi was talking to the tree.

The tree seemed to deflate a little, and one of its branches came down and did a little shimmy, scattering a few leaves over Jimin and Yoongi’s hair in what seemed like regretful apology.

“It wanted to give you this,” Yoongi pulled back and extended a hand that had caught the red fruit. It was around the same size and weight as a pomegranate, but there were deep lines that were etched in chevrons across the fruit’s skin. “As a ‘hello’. It means it likes you.”

Jimin took the fruit with reverence, cupping it between both hands.

He beamed up at the tree, warmth flooding through him. “Thank you!”

The tree did a full-body shimmy back, more leaves raining down on them and the forest floor, and Jimin let out a laugh of delight.

When he looked towards Yoongi, Yoongi was already looking at him.

“Your forest is amazing,” Jimin sighed out. “I wish plants were like this back home.”

Yoongi eyed him carefully, and nudged him gently to continue walking down the path.

“Tell me about your realm?”

And strangely, that innocent question seemed like the beginning of something larger.

So Jimin did.

☽

Witches, Jimin learned, liked to let loose in a way that was similar to humans.

On a cold evening, Taehyung dragged him to the living room where Hoseok was pouring some type of liquid into ornate, crystal glasses.

“Only have a little,” Hoseok said to Jimin as he handed a glass.

The liquid looked similar to champagne — except every time the bubbles in the drink rose to the surface, they popped with a tiny spark.

And it seemed to have the same effect as alcohol, too. Jimin felt the room relaxing as the six of them lounged around the living room, sipping their drinks and talking quietly. It was odd, seeing them like this.

Like people.

It was a startling change from how they were during the daytime, always running around on odd jobs, flitting in and out of the house, or buried behind massive books looking for a way to send Jimin home.

“Do you remember when we were younger?” Namjoon seemed to be the most gone — his smile was easy and wide and his eyes a little unfocused. “When Tae would follow Yoongi hyung around like a little duckling. And one day Yoongi walked so deep into the forest with Taehyung following that they both got lost, and sent all our parents into a frenzy.”

Jimin tensed, glancing between Yoongi and Taehyung.

The air was still not clear between them, and though there was no outright animosity since the night of the fight, there was still a sullen disconnect.

Instead of bristling or growing uncomfortable, however, Yoongi smiled a smile that looked almost — sad.

“Tae wouldn’t let go of my cloak that entire night. He kept asking if I knew where we were, and I kept saying yes, even though I didn’t.”

“You told me we were going on an adventure,” Taehyung chimed in, voice wistful. “And I wasn’t afraid, because I trusted you.”

“You weren’t scared for that entire time?” Seokjin asked. “You two were missing in the dark for hours.”

Taehyung looked at Yoongi.

“Back then…I was convinced Yoongi hyung had me.”

The two locked eyes for long moments, and it wasn’t until Hoseok cursed after accidentally knocking over his glass that Taehyung looked away, jaw clenching.

Jimin reached over and squeezed his hand, a silent question.

Are you okay?

Taehyung squeezed back and downed the rest of his drink in answer.

☽

“Wait here, okay? The crystal leeks are only around the bend, but the forest gets pretty steep. I have to use my magic to climb the hill, so it’d be easier for you to stay here.”

Jimin hummed in agreement. It was a pretty day today, and Jimin was in a surprisingly good mood. Settling into routine here for a bit was almost too easy.

These walks with Yoongi.

Meals with everyone else.

Staying up late to chat with Taehyung or Namjoon or both.

And though the regularity of his life here was partly frightening, it mostly brought him comfort.

So he smiled and nodded and waved Yoongi off, and the witch made sure he was settled against a tree before he was off and out of sight.

Jimin hummed quietly to himself, looking around and admiring the way some of the trees were shifting color, leaves fading from pink to purple, green to orange, blue to white.

He wondered if they had defined seasons here.

He made a mental note to ask Yoongi once he was back before an unfamiliar voice startled him.

“Are you lost?”

With all the strange and magical things that happened in this forest, Jimin almost didn’t flinch when the voice materialized right behind him when he knew that there hadn’t been anyone there prior.

Jimin turned, and found himself looking at a boy surrounded by darkness.

He was dressed head to toe in black, and the jewelry adorning every inch of his ears made tiny clinks as they swung with the movements of his head. His hair was long enough to fall into his eyes, but through the parted wavy strands Jimin saw that the boy’s irises were completely black, as well.

“No," Jimin answered.

The stranger tilted his head, eyes never wavering from Jimin’s.

“I think you are.”

“I know the way back to where I’m staying just fine,” Jimin snapped, annoyed.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then why ask if you already seem to know the answer?” Jimin huffed.

He was tired of everybody in this realm assuming things about him before he even had a chance to speak.

He was tired of feeling like a hopeless burden, one that everybody had to constantly take care of.

But, as frustrating as it was, Jimin was helpless in this world.

This world where trees had feelings and magic was as real as rainfall and everybody held power deep in their veins.

Everybody except Jimin.

Jimin had never felt so completely inadequate and out of his element than he did in this realm. Watching Namjoon scour through books to try and find a way to send Jimin back home, lifting his mug of tea to his lips and sipping while both his hands were occupied turning pages. Seokjin materializing in front of Jimin mere moments before he tripped, reaching out to steady the human, knowing that it had been coming all along. Taehyung’s warm hands pulling his fears out of him the way coins were pulled from the backs of children’s ears.

“Don’t be angry, human,” the stranger said. “I’m simply stating truths.”

“What are you talking about?” Jimin asked. He turned and began steadily walking away from the witch, annoyed at his vague sentences and eerily calm demeanor.

In his haste and frustration, his foot caught on a particularly touchy tree root that slithered up and around his ankle and he fell to the ground.

“God,” Jimin bit his tongue to keep from cursing aloud, catching himself on his hands and knees.

Mortification burned deep in his cheeks, but then the witch was there, pressed so close that Jimin could count the number of sparkling piercings in his ears.

“You’re hurt,” the witch stated in his matter-of-fact way, then without prompting placed his hand on Jimin’s scraped knees.

By the time Jimin moved his knees out from under the stranger’s hands, his small wounds were completely gone.

“Oh,” Jimin breathed out, a little bit awestruck.

He wondered, in the back of his mind, if he were stuck here for the rest of his life, would he ever get used to how…magical everything was?

To how much more everyone and everything seemed to be.

If he did have to live out the rest of his life here, Jimin wondered if he would ever stop feeling small.

He wondered if he would ever stop feeling human.

“Oh, no,” Jimin looked up to the black-haired witch who began fretting suddenly. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry.”

Jimin crinkled his eyebrows, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I…your aura,” the witch whispered, staring at Jimin so desperately Jimin almost wanted to reach out and soothe. “It just dimmed.”

“What does that mean? You can—you can see my aura? Can everybody see it?”

The witch shook his head. “Only me,” he breathed out, still staring at Jimin with the most concerned expression.

“I think…I think the magic of our realm is slowly killing you.”

“Jimin,” a voice called.

Jimin looked over to see Yoongi standing a few feet away, eyes trained on the two of them.

“It’s getting dark,” Yoongi said after a few beats of silence. “We should head back.”

The black-haired witch stood then held out a hand, and Jimin hesitantly took it, allowing him to help him back onto his feet.

“He needs to be sent back,” the witch addressed Yoongi, eyes grave and serious.

Jimin, still trying to process what he’d just been told, walked to Yoongi almost blindly.

“I know that, Jeongguk,” Yoongi sighed. “I’m trying. We’ve all been trying.”

“The sooner the better,” Jeongguk said.

“This isn’t your business to meddle in,” Yoongi said harshly.

Jimin was tense, wary of the strange tension between the two witches.

There were so many unspoken rules and things that Jimin didn’t know about the people of this realm. But mostly, it felt as if it was hard for any of them to get along.

First Yoongi and Taehyung hashing it out, now Yoongi and this intriguing, frightening witch Jeongguk.

Jimin could hardly wrap his head about the politics of it all and found that maybe he didn’t want to.

“Jimin,” Jeongguk called once Jimin and Yoongi were a few feet away.

Jimin looked back and found those haunting eyes on him again.

“If you ever need me, just call. I’ll be around.”

Yoongi scowled at that, and Jimin watched as Jeongguk disappeared like the marine layer burning away with the afternoon sun. He thinned and thinned until all around them was just trees once more.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi put his hands on Jimin’s shoulders and squeezed briefly, searching. “Did he do anything strange to you? Say anything?”

The magic of our realm is slowly killing you.

Killing you.

Swallowing thickly, Jimin shook his head slowly.

“No,” Jimin answered. “No, he didn’t.”

Yoongi seemed to deflate at that, and he moved so that they could begin walking back to his cottage again.

“Who was he? It doesn’t seem like you like him very much.”

“He’s a Jeon. His family…dark magic runs through their veins. They’re known to be dangerous. Very powerful, but dangerous.”

Jimin hummed in acknowledgment, feeling like he didn’t understand enough about the realm to have anything to say.

“Maybe…it would be best if I stopped leaving you alone out here. Just in case,” Yoongi said.

“I’m not an invalid,” Jimin frowned, frustration rising to the surface. “I can take care of myself.”

“I never said that you couldn’t,” Yoongi said, voice uncomfortable. “Just. Please be careful.”

This was a situation that none of them had prepared for, and Yoongi and the others were helping him without expecting anything in return. Jimin sagged, feeling guilty and tired.

“I’ll be careful,” Jimin said.

For a brief moment, he wondered if he should tell Yoongi what Jeongguk said.

But when he looked over, the witch was already frowning, seemingly deep in thought, and Jimin kept his mouth shut.

☽

The research continued on.

And on.

And on.

It was tiresome, flipping through so many books and pamphlets.

Jimin felt as if they were all being lead around in a circle, some clues adding up, others not, some dots connecting only for others to dispel the answer they thought they were finding.

Jimin felt bad whenever he saw Namjoon rub his eyes, whenever Seokjin had to sit up and crack his neck from being still for so long while reading, whenever Taehyung got antsy and took his books outside to read while walking in small laps around the cottage.

But none of them complained, and none of them even once looked at Jimin like the burden he was.

One day, Hoseok seemed especially drained, and when he slipped upstairs in the middle of the day Jimin followed a few minutes after to check up on him.

Music was coming from one of the rooms that Jimin had never been inside before.

As he got closer, Jimin grew mesmerized.

Playing from one of the speakers was music that was so different to human music — it was beautiful in a hypnotic, rhythmic way. The notes were long and drawn out and seemed to melt into each other. The song had no words, just a heavy, pronounced beat — one that Hoseok was dancing to.

Looking around, Jimin realized that the room he was in was a dance studio.

A mirror on one wall, the wall to the right side of it glass, overlooking the garden and the forest.

Hoseok’s dancing was unlike anything from the human realm, as well.

It was fluid one moment then powerful the next, a combination of grace and fine lines and strength, intensity.

Jimin’s heart swelled with yearning, with love.

He hadn’t danced in a long time, but it was something that he would always cherish. That he would always need.

When Hoseok caught his eye, the witch beamed at him, inviting.

So Jimin didn’t hesitate when he stepped inside the room. “Will you teach me?”

Hours later, Yoongi came up the stairs looking for the two.

It was almost dinner time, and Hoseok and Jimin had been missing for the majority of the day.

Following the sound of music, he peeked his head into Hoseok’s studio, the one he hid away in when his magic needed replenishing.

The room was awash with light as the two danced in sync, bare feet gliding over the floor boards, hair soaked with sweat, lips stretched into wide smiles.

Yoongi stared in awe.

Because Jimin was breathtaking, like this.

Free and relaxed and happy.

Learning a dance that was so particular to their realm.

Understanding it down to the very root of his body, out to the tips of his fingers as he glided through the air, lead by Hoseok’s instruction and the beat of the music.

Jimin was breathtaking, like this.

Looking for all the world like he was home.

☽

It happened on a stormy day.

Lightning was a deep red in this realm, and Jimin couldn’t stop looking out the window every time a flash of light caught his gaze, only to jump every single time the monstrous thunder followed.

The storm was violent and loud and terrible, and it made Jimin’s heart ache. He huddled in on himself and Yoongi noticed his bad mood, doing little things throughout the day to soothe Jimin, coming up to him with warm tea, draping a knit blanket around his shoulders and walking away before Jimin could raise wide eyes to look at him. Taehyung kept by him, too, sensing his discomfort, brushing his fingers against Jimin’s wrists and reassuring him that the cottage had protection charms not even ten of these storms could get through.

Despite all this, he noticed that everybody kept on glancing out the windows when they thought Jimin wasn’t looking, brows furrowed.

Everybody was tense that day, and even the trinkets and artwork on the walls were less playful. When Jimin walked past the painting that usually blew raspberries at him, all it did was let out a tiny questioning noise at the somber look on Jimin’s face.

It was a little after lunchtime when Taehyung suddenly stood abruptly from his chair. They had been sitting around the kitchen table flipping through books in silence, the room occasionally illuminated by the red lightning, flashes of bloody watercolor over their skin.

“Taehyung?” Jimin asked.

Taehyung was trembling, eyes distant and unseeing, a hand brought up to clutch at his chest.

“What’s the matter?” Namjoon, who was on the other side of Taehyung, reached out to place a calming hand on his arm.

Before he could touch him, however, Taehyung was turning and sprinting for the front door.

“Taehyung!” they shouted, standing and rushing after him.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asked as he watched Taehyung grapple with the doorknob.

It seemed as if one of the other witches were holding the door shut with their magic as panic filled the entire cottage like an inflating balloon.

“Let me out!” Taehyung screamed so loudly the crystal vase to the left of him completely shattered.

“Your magic, Taehyung, it’s out of control,” Yoongi tried to reason. “You’re panicking, you need to—”

Taehyung let out a wordless scream, and red flashed through the room, the thunder so loud Jimin felt the floor vibrate under his feet.

But past that — they heard something else.

An echo.

Or rather, Taehyung was the echo.

Because the real scream, the real panic, the real fear — it was coming from a place deep within the forest.

With that realization, the front door flew open and they ran.

The rain was electric — every drop felt like tiny zaps to Jimin’s skin.

And Jimin hated it — hated it, hated being surrounded by so much water, hated the raindrops crawling into his ears and down the back of his shirt and into his mouth, but Taehyung was sobbing, sprinting, and Jimin and the others had no choice but to follow.

“Something’s wrong,” Taehyung kept saying. “Something’s wrong, something’s wrong!”

He ran, pulled by a huge, painful unknown, and the rest kept pace with him.

The storm didn’t relent, and when Jimin slipped through a particularly muddy patch he barely had time to look up before Yoongi was pulling him up by the arm, and they continued running.

In the corner of his vision, Jimin noticed that the trees and the flowers seemed to be curling into themselves, protecting themselves from the storm and the horrible wailing that was beginning to make itself known past the noise of the storm as they grew closer to its source.

When they were close enough, Jimin heard Yoongi inhale sharply, seeming to suddenly realize where they were headed.

“No,” his voice was ragged and barely audible, and he began running faster, suddenly overtaking Taehyung and sprinting ahead.

As they grew closer, Jimin could feel the power and the magic of the presence they were running towards.

He felt the same way he did as when he visited temples in the human realm.

There was just a deeper sense of being there, of a power that was ancient and all-knowing and respected.

The wailing was deafening now, and Jimin had to resist pressing his palms against his ears to block out the sound.

That terrible, painful sound.

The way people fall into bad news differs.

Sometimes it is a kiddie pool, one that they can wade their way through without getting much more than their feet wet.

Other times, it is an ocean.

It is a blood-red storm.

It is stumbling into the forest and coming face to face with death.

It is your heart beating out of your chest and your breath left half a mile behind you and your knees going weak.

The way the tree died was nothing like the way trees died in the human realm.

This was disastrous, and painful, the leaves and the bark peeling and crumbling away, the heart of the tree caving in on itself, giving out loud and mournful wails that echoed throughout the entire forest.

Yoongi let out his own cry, clutching his hand to his chest, unable to take his eyes off of the tree.

His tree.

His forest, his life source, the edges and dips of his soul. 

And he hadn’t believed it before — for his whole life, he hadn’t believed it.

But now, he was forced to face the reality that his forest was dying, it was dying right before his very eyes.

Jimin’s heart was pounding in his ears, wanting to look away yet unable to tear his eyes off the massive tree that was slowly turning to dust.

Not even a full minute had passed, and now, after lifetimes and lifetimes of standing and providing and loving, the tree gave in.

The rest of the witches’ knees gave in, as well.

Their shins hit the forest floor, and Jimin watched as Yoongi’s eyes filled with hot tears. A sob so loud it sounded like a shout escaped his lips, and Yoongi’s hands immediately flew to his mouth to try to muffle them, eyes still devastatingly wide, unable to look away from the crumbling tree.

Jimin’s own eyes filled with tears at the scene in front of him, his heart aching.

Aching for the forest, and for Yoongi, for all of them, who just watched a part of their world literally crumble away in front of their very eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Yoongi sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

His voice cracked as he repeated the sentiment over and over, dipping down into a formal bow in front of the remains of the tree, pressing his forehead and palms to the ground and keeping them there, eyes squeezed shut.

The rest followed suit, shoulders trembling.

A deep sense of loss hovered in the air — the forest was darkened by it.

Jimin shivered as the wind became colder, and when he looked up he could have sworn some of the leaves turned away from them.

The pile of rotten bark and leaves that remained from the tree suddenly shifted, stealing Jimin’s attention.

He thought he was just imagining it until — it happened again.

And again.

By then, Yoongi was sitting up, enraptured, staring at what was in front of him.

“What…?” Seokjin breathed out.

For a split second, Jimin’s heart soared.

Was the tree somehow coming back?

Before any of them could fully comprehend what was going on, a huge, gasping, vengeful spirit raised from the tree’s ashes and used a powerful hand to knock Yoongi up into the air and crash into a tree fifteen feet away.

“Hyung!” Namjoon screamed.

Jimin felt Hoseok grab his arm and pull him back.

“Run,” he shouted. “Run!”

“What is that?’ Jimin screamed as they all sprinted for Yoongi, who was already back on his feet and clutching his side in pain, staring at the creature in silent horror.

“I’ve never seen that before, what the fuck—”

“Yoongi, your wound…!”

They all turned to the witch, who had a hand clamped tightly against his torso where the spirit had struck him.

His wound was sizzling, hot and open and almost violent on him, his skin peeled back and his blood burning in a way that Jimin knew was not natural, realm differences or not.

“What did it…?”

Yoongi was holding back his scream of pain, breaths coming out in heavy pants, little whimpers building in the back of his throat as he gritted his teeth and stared down at his wound, hand pressing tighter against it.

They all huddled around Yoongi, eyes terrified and wide as they took in the sight of his unnatural wound.

“We have to go,” Seokjin said, moving to support Yoongi. “We—”

Jimin, standing on the edge of the group, looked to the side just in time to see the spirit coming straight for him.

He let out a gasp, and without knowing what else to do, squeezed his eyes shut.

He wouldn’t be able to outrun or overpower this violent, angry being.

“Jimin!” Taehyung screamed.

It was the most panicked Jimin’s ever heard the blue-eyed witch sound.

He felt the impact against his left arm, and it felt like someone had taken a baseball bat and swung against him with all their might.

Letting out a scream of pain, Jimin opened his eyes and scrambled to his knees after realizing he had been knocked to the side, just like Yoongi had.

He could still hear calls of his name, but when he looked over it seemed as if Namjoon was restraining them all from running to him, his arms outstretched and his back to Jimin, hunched over in exertion, a transparent shield cast over the group of witches that was only visible on the edges, where rain was pelting off like tiny bullets.

The spirit was colliding with it madly, letting out its monstrous, ear-piercing wail, but it couldn’t touch them.

Heart calming a bit now that the spirit’s attention was diverted, and the others seemingly safe, Jimin braced himself and looked down, expecting to see the same type of festering wound on himself that Yoongi had.

But — all he had was a deep, throbbing bruise.

Confused, Jimin poked at it, wincing at the tenderness, but it was — fine. Compared to Yoongi, he was fine.

Suddenly, Taehyung was there, frantically trying to pull him up and away, and Jimin noticed Hoseok and Seokjin half-dragging Yoongi back towards the direction of the cottage while Namjoon disappeared then reappeared while trying to avoid the spirit, aggravating it even more.

“Tae,” Jimin panted, getting to his feet. “What do we do?”

“You are going,” Taehyung demanded. “Go to the house, Jimin, now!”

A terrifying swirl of nebulous magic began forming at the base of Taehyung’s palm as he turned towards the spirit, and Jimin couldn’t recognize the dark look on Taehyung’s face.

Violent.

With intent to harm.

“Wait,” Jimin said, even though he knew, deep down, that there was no other solution.

Not now, at least.

Not now, when Yoongi was injured and the flowers around them were shrieking in fear.

Not now, when Taehyung’s hands were shaking so, so badly.

But Taehyung didn’t listen — his eyes were abysses now, the blue so deep they looked almost black, and Jimin screamed along with the fallen tree’s spirit as it was hit with a huge burst of Taehyung’s magic, dark and threatening and terrifying.

The spirit didn’t crumble like the tree did, loud and proud in its pain and devastation and heartache.

It vanished silently, almost like it was giving in.

Feeling out of breath and suddenly weak as the adrenaline left his body, Jimin wobbled and crouched down towards the ground to catch his breath, placing a hand out on the ground in front of him so he didn’t tip over.

Things were silent, now, almost deafeningly so.

His ears rung with the echoes of the spirit’s murderous screams.

Then Namjoon was there, and he was tugging both him and Taehyung towards the cottage, and nobody said a word.

Taehyung cried the entire way there, big, broken sobs that seemed to rip out of his body like flowers being yanked out from the earth.

“I killed it,” Taehyung muttered, his breath coming fast. “I killed it.”

“Tae,” Jimin whispered, wishing he could reach out and take his friend’s hand.

But Namjoon had them walking too fast, all three of them stumbling over themselves, the older witch constantly checking over his shoulder to make sure the danger was gone. There was something wild and desperate in Namjoon’s eyes, and it seemed as if his one sole purpose was to get the three of them back home, towards safety.

His grip was tight over Jimin’s wrist, but he didn’t complain.

He just followed and tried not to cry along with Taehyung, who relented to Namjoon’s firm guidance as he pressed his free hand to his eyes, his mouth, trying to muffle his own sorrow.

The moment they were on the porch the door burst open and the other three were there, pulling them in, eyes wild.

And they all collapsed to their knees in the foyer, shock and panic bleeding from their systems like poison draining from an open wound.

“Where did it touch you, Jimin?” Yoongi asked desperately. “Where are you hurt?”

Jimin just shook his head, mind racing.

It hadn’t hurt him.

It had tried to, but — it couldn’t.

Not in the way it hurt Yoongi.

Yoongi looked even more concerned at his lack of response, and settled more firmly in front of him. Jimin tried not to think too hard about the way Yoongi’s knees bracketed his own in their strange little squat, the way Yoongi was pressing his warm hands into Jimin’s hair and down his spine and along the fragile skin of his neck and stomach to check for injuries.

“Jimin-ah, can you hear me? I need you to tell me where you’re hurt,” Yoongi said again urgently. “You’re not part of this realm, I don’t know if our medicine will work on you, fuck, you shouldn’t have been out there with us, you could have died—”

“I’m not,” Jimin finally got out.

“You’re not?”

“I’m not hurt,” Jimin said.

Yoongi stared at him, hands pausing in their frantic searching.

His expression was one of disbelief.

“I saw it, Jimin. It came straight towards you. It knocked you over. It was—I think you’re in shock.”

“No,” Jimin shook his head. “I’m just bruised. I’m not hurt — not like you. We should be worrying about you.”

The severity of Yoongi’s expression didn’t lessen.

“I’m okay, Jimin. Let me see where it touched you.”

Huffing out in frustration that he wasn’t really being listened to, he rolled his sleeve up and showed his bruised arm.

They all sucked in a confused breath when they saw that it was just a regular bruise.

“Why…?”

When Jimin finally got Yoongi to relax enough to look at the witch’s wound, he noticed that there was a huge, bandage-like leaf pasted over it. The leaf’s veins were pulsing black, and when Jimin looked hard enough he realized that the leaf seemed to be moving on its own in little suction motions.

“Magic poisoning,” Seokjin explained when he saw Jimin’s confused gaze. “It’s when you’re hit with way too much magic, all at once. If it’s not treated soon, you die from it. It’s one of the only things that can kill us, in this realm. And that spirit…it was filled to the brim with magic. Generations’ worth.”

“The leaf, it’s…?”

“Sucking out all the excess magic that’s doing damage,” Jin said. “Passing an entire bush full of these and staying near them is dangerous, too — they could quite literally drain you of all your magic if they latched onto you. But they’re the only cure for magic poisoning.”

Jimin lit up with interest. “That’s amazing. Do you always heal through naturopathy?”

Jin cocked his head to the side. “Naturopathy?”

“Yea,” Jimin nodded. “Like, through plants. And other natural remedies.”

Jin blinked. “Of course. What else would we use to heal ourselves? The earth is where all of our magic and life comes from, so of course it’d make sense to go back to it when we are injured.”

“Then wouldn’t it make sense to give back to it, too?” Taehyung interjected.

His voice sounded wrecked, and Jimin jerked towards him, worry flooding back.

“Tae…”

“I had to kill it,” Taehyung said, voice shaking. “One of our oldest trees died and somehow — it came back like that, and — and can you blame it? I would be angry too! I would be vengeful too! I killed its spirit, but it was all of you who killed its physical body! Because you couldn’t look past your greed and your fanciful whims to see that our realm is on the verge of death!”

He was screaming now, face bright red, the six of them huddled on the floor together, clothes tattered and hands shaking and eyes drowning in guilt and grief.

“We believe you now,” Yoongi whispered, his voice anguished. “We believe you now.”

Silence rung heavy in the cottage, and not even the paintings moved. None of the little trinkets that usually danced and spun happily in the air were in motion.

Everything was just — still.

“I’m scared it’s too late now,” Taehyung whispered back, voice hollow.

☽

It was in somber silence that they filed out to the back of the house together that evening, and sat facing each other, their knees touching, pressing into each other for comfort.

“There’s nothing much to it,” Taehyung said quietly, almost gently. He was calmer now, speaking with a resigned voice. “Just…do what feels right. Give back what the forest has spent our entire lives giving us, even if only for a moment.”

A moment of silence spread around them, and Jimin watched as the witches closed their eyes and pressed their palms against the grass underneath them.

Nothing happened.

“This is stupid,” Hoseok muttered after a few moments.

“It’s not stupid,” Taehyung snapped. “It works. Don’t get frustrated just because you can’t seem to do it yet.”

Hoseok huffed out an audible sigh, but closed his eyes to concentrate again.

For long minutes, Taehyung’s palms were the only ones glowing, his magic making the tree over them rustle with happiness and a nearby flower grow a few new sprouts.

“I can’t,” Namjoon finally said, opening his eyes with an expression that was a little scared, a little hopeless. “I can’t do it.”

“There’s nothing else you can give us, Taehyung?” Seokjin pressed. “No words to say, no formula?”

“It’s not…a formula. I think it’s different for everybody, the process of giving back. All I know is that it only works if you feel it. If you want to be doing it, if your magic goes willingly back into the forest.”

“That doesn’t explain anything, though, can’t you—”

“There’s nothing else to explain, it just happens—”

“That’s bullshit and—”

“Think of how you felt when we found that tree,” Jimin interrupted the squabble, placing his palms flat on the floor as well, even though he had no magic to give back. “If you need to feel in order for it to work…then make yourself feel. Think of that ancient, giving tree collapsing in on itself and being so devastated and terrified that it came back as that angry spirit.”

“Think of the first time you wielded magic,” Taehyung continued on for him. “Not the baby spells you do mindlessly as a toddler, but the first real, practiced time you worked towards a spell and really did it. How happy you were. How accomplished you felt. Do you remember?”

All at once, Hoseok’s palms became effervescent.

He let out a cry of elation.“Oh,” Hoseok breathed. “Oh.”

Taehyung and him locked eyes, and they grinned at each other, a sudden mutual understanding formed.

“It feels good, doesn’t it? Giving back?” Taehyung whispered. “It feels right.”

Hoseok let out a breathy laugh and then ducked his head.

His tears were bright and shiny, like moonlight, shoulders silently shaking.

Then, Namjoon’s magic gave in, and Seokjin’s a split second after, and once the initial barrier was broken through it was easy.

It was easy, to give pieces of yourself to a great big something that had protected and provided for them for their entire lives, and for their parents, and their parents’ parents.

Next to Jimin, Yoongi grew more and more agitated as time went on and his magic wouldn’t flow.

“Yoongi…” Jimin said, wanting to soothe the witch as every line of his body tensed with frustration, face ducked down towards the earth, gaze trained on his hands that were digging into the dirt, now.

“I can’t,” Yoongi’s voice was wrecked, deep and desperate and despairing. “I fucking…can’t.”

“Just give it some more time,” Jimin soothed. “You’re injured, and you’re trying, and that’s all that—”

Yoongi stood fluidly in the middle of Jimin’s sentence and stormed towards the house.

Jimin’s mouth snapped closed and he deflated.

Taehyung’s eyes were hard as he stared after the path Yoongi had took, but Seokjin bumped Jimin gently on the shoulder with his own.

“He’s not frustrated with you,” he explained. “He’s mad at himself. For all of this. For everything. Yoongi just needs to…re-evaluate some things. I think we all do.”

☽

The following day, Yoongi pulled Jimin aside for their daily walk earlier than usual.

“I want to show you something,” Yoongi had smiled at him, and it filled Jimin with warmth, and relief that the witch seemed to be faring better than the night before.

They trekked along a trail they’d never walked through before, and Jimin couldn’t stop turning his head this way and that, excited at all the new plants and animals he was seeing.

Yoongi humored him, stopping patiently every time Jimin squatted to pet at a new flower, or humming out comforting words when Jimin startled at a new animal popping out at them from the bushes.

“They’re harmless, Jimin, don’t worry,” Yoongi laughed as he pulled a bewildered Jimin past an animal that looked like a jaguar with leathery skin.

The overgrown cat simply blinked its eyes at them and yawned, and Jimin skirted closer to Yoongi when he spotted a gleaming set of fangs within its mouth.

“If you stay long enough, you might even befriend them,” Yoongi mused. “They’re nice creatures, as long as you don’t step on their tails. They’re very protective of them.”

Jimin gulped and nodded, not taking his eyes off the animal until a large tree blocked his line of sight.

Then — he looked forward and was met with gold.

A towering, ancient, vividly golden tree, with a trunk that rocketed high into the sky and loose-limbed, drooping branches that were five times the length of Jimin’s body falling towards the ground.

“This is the oldest tree in our realm,” Yoongi said, sweeping aside the long, swaying branches that reminded Jimin of willow trees, or wisterias, but with bright yellow petals instead of leaves. “Our Weeping Day.”

Jimin stepped within the tremendous cavern that the tree made, and sucked in a breath at what the long, drooping branches had been covering.

Protecting.

A large cliff face, overrun by a waterfall.

The light reflected off the particles of water just so, casting rainbows across the water.

Underneath the waterfall was a small pool surrounded by smooth rocks.

And despite his discomfort around moving water, Jimin walked forward, breathless.

“Yoongi,” he breathed out. “This is…beautiful.”

Within the small, clear pool there were yellow petals floating, having fallen from the massive tree. The waterfall was steady but not big enough to be destructive, and sunlight managed to sneak its way in through the gaps of the Weeping Day’s canopy and slot directly on the pool of water.

A heavenly violet spotlight.

“This is one of my favorite places in the realm,” Yoongi said, pulling Jimin forward so that they were standing right at the lip of the pool.

Jimin looked down to their shimmering reflections, and even within the water Yoongi looked wistful, guilty, loving.

“The thought of this place being taken away…the thought of my entire forest withering, and dying—” Yoongi’s breath caught in his throat. “It hurts.”

Jimin reached out and squeezed Yoongi’s hand.

“You’re doing everything you can to prevent that, now. This forest isn’t going to die. We’ll figure out a way to stop it.”

“I’ve cancelled all of our trips to other realms for the next few months. Realized we really need to focus our attention to our realm. Our home.”

Jimin’s heart soared in relief, and with something that felt strangely akin to pride. “I’m really glad, hyung.”

Yoongi smiled at him, and the way the witch kept looking at him had Jimin wanting to live in that gaze for a long, long time.

“You keep surprising me, Min Yoongi,” Jimin mused, eyes following the way the Weeping Day’s petals fell and wove themselves into Yoongi’s silver hair.

“How so? Am I that different to the asshole you met when you first came?” Yoongi half-joked.

Jimin laughed. “You’re a good person. I know that now. And I think…you always try to do the right thing. Even if you’re misguided…your intentions are always bright.”

Yoongi’s face grew serious.

“Taehyung will never trust me again. I don’t know if I can every trust myself again. I feel like I blinked and suddenly everything is — different. I blinked, and suddenly everything is slipping away.”

“Give him time,” Jimin soothed. “You know Taehyung better than I do. He’ll forgive you, I’m sure of it.”

Yoongi smiled, looking small yet infinite at the same time.

“Do you want to dip your feet?”

A familiar sense of discomfort filled Jimin. He fidgeted in place, wiggling his toes at the very edge of the water.

Yoongi’s voice was gentle when he asked, “What happened to make you hate water so much?”

Jimin sighed, not surprised that Yoongi had noticed.

He sat, folding his legs underneath him so that they wouldn’t dangle into the pool.

Yoongi followed, eyes trained on him, attentive.

“My parents passed when I was very young,” Jimin said, eyes lowered. “It was…hard. Jumping from foster home to foster home. I was lonely for a lot of my life.”

Yoongi placed his hand atop Jimin’s, centering him.

“What happened wasn’t a very big deal, I suppose, but…the moment stuck with me, for so long. It was early high school. I was living in a town that was run through by a small stream, only that stream grew larger every time it rained. And it rained often there, especially in the winter and early spring.”

Jimin took a deep breath, tipping his head back and gazing at the waterfall.

Strange, how even though there was a deep inherent part of himself that feared the water, there was a part of him that found it beautiful, as well.

“Kids are mean. I’m sure that’s true in every realm. Especially towards other kids who have no family, no support system. So one rainy day after school a group of boys chased me off campus and towards the stream. They probably didn’t mean for me to fall in, but I was just so focused on getting away from them that I stumbled and fell. They were afraid of getting in trouble, so they ran and left me in there, and it was raining so hard, and the stream was…”

Yoongi’s grip had tightened significantly since the beginning of the story, and when Jimin looked towards him the witch looked angry.

“Jimin,” he choked out.

Jimin shrugged. “Somebody pulled me out eventually. I was screaming for help as I was dragged downstream, the water choking me and getting into my eyes, and I remember all I could think about was that if I died…I’d get to see my parents again.”

Yoongi tugged him close, then, shifting so that he could press his lips against Jimin’s forehead.

Jimin froze at the sudden affection, but after a few moments he melted into the comfort.

“Jimin,” Yoongi repeated, breath warm against Jimin’s skin. “I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve…”

He trailed off, knowing that there would have been nothing he could have done.

Not back then, when Jimin didn’t even know different realms existed.

“It’s okay,” Jimin shook his head slightly. “I’m okay. It just…I don’t think it would have stuck with me, for so long, if I still had my parents. If I could have gone home to people who loved me, and coddled me just for a bit. I guess water just…reminds me of loneliness, now.”

Yoongi pulled back and looked at him, eyes intense, as if memorizing every inch of Jimin’s face.

“I never want you to feel lonely,” Yoongi whispered.

“I haven’t felt lonely here,” Jimin smiled around the truth. “Hard to, when Taehyung latches onto me every time we’re in the same room.”

The two of them laughed, eyes locked together, closer in their shared secret.

Sometimes it felt like a weight he hadn’t known he was carrying lifted off his soul, this realm. The way Jimin had seemed to fit into their little group so seamlessly, despite their differences and conflicts. The way they had, past everything, accepted Jimin so easily.

Just for being Jimin.

And when Yoongi leaned forward slowly, giving Jimin time to back away, Jimin closed the distance and kissed the witch.

It was small, sweet pecks at first, close-mouthed and short, and it wasn’t until Jimin parted his lips for breath that Yoongi leaned forward, guiding Jimin onto his back, a hand supporting himself on the rock as his tongue glided against Jimin’s.

The waterfall covered any sounds either of them made, but Jimin could feel Yoongi’s breaths against his lips, could feel his heart pounding underneath the hand he laid against the witch’s chest, could feel the strength of the arm Yoongi had wrapped around his waist.

They kissed like that for a long time, Jimin pulling Yoongi closer so that the ache in his heart was brushed aside by Yoongi’s large hands, by the rock flat against his back, by the weight of Yoongi’s body pressed on top of his.

Eventually Yoongi pulled back, the thickness of his lashes making the purple of his eyes stand out so much more. His lips were swollen from the kissing, silver hair messy, cheeks tinged a berry red. Jimin smiled up at him.

Yoongi was beautiful, and Jimin never wanted to look away.

Seeming to shy away from the look Jimin was giving him, Yoongi dipped to kiss his forehead, then pulled him closer, hugged him tight, and Jimin melted into the warmth of his body. Relished in the feeling of the witch’s broad chest pressed against his, squeezing his eyes shut tight, allowing himself that little pocket of safety within Yoongi’s arms.

That little pocket where he never, ever felt lonely.

After some time, Jimin braced himself and shucked off his shoes.

Yoongi watched with wide eyes as he scooted forward and plunged his feet into the water without a word.

It was warm, and past the few moments of discomfort when he first felt the water envelop his feet, Jimin began to enjoy the feeling of the water rushing in between his toes.

The water felt nice, with Yoongi by his side.

Jimin wondered briefly if everything would feel nice with Yoongi there with him.

“Tell me about your parents,” Jimin requested. “How you and Tae and the others grew up.”

Yoongi had taken his shoes off, too, and scooched forward so that they were sitting with their arms pressed together, feet swaying back and forth within the pool.

“I loved my parents,” Yoongi began.

The now-setting sun painted his skin like a watercolor projection, and Jimin couldn’t take his eyes off the witch.

“They were good to me. Spoiled me, probably a bit too much,” Yoongi laughed. “But they were always out realm-hopping, so I didn’t see much of them. They always brought me back a gift, though. Tried to make up for their absence through presents. I had rooms filled with trinkets and toys.”

“They weren’t home much?” Jimin asked, hearing the little lilt of pain Yoongi tried valiantly to hide.

Yoongi shrugged. “They were busy. And I had nannies. I never lacked love.”

“I’m glad,” Jimin said gently. “But still, you must have missed them. You must…you must still miss them.”

Yoongi leaned to the side a bit, nudged his shoulder against Jimin’s. “Taehyung told you, huh?”

Jimin flushed. “I was curious, so I asked him. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Yoongi said. “It’s…the entire realm knows. It’s common knowledge, really, what happened to them.”

“He didn’t tell me the details.”

“They passed away in another realm, along with Seokjin hyung, Hoseok and Namjoon’s parents. They were all doing business together there until they all contracted some disease…one that was unique to that realm. That realm is off-limits to us now because of it, but back then…they hadn’t known. Their immune systems weren’t familiar with that realm’s illnesses, and it just…happened so fast. One moment I was waiting for them to come home, and the next…”

“You realize that they’ll never be back. And sometimes it feels like you’re still waiting, even though you know they’re gone,” Jimin finished for him.

Yoongi looked at him, shoulders sagging. “Yea. That’s…exactly it.”

They shared a look of understanding, of empathy.

“They were very fixated on money,” Yoongi continued. “They wanted the best of everything. The best opportunities for our realm. The best for our forest. The best for me, for themselves. And they just thought that…that money was what would give us the best. Realm hopping takes quite a bit of magic, magic that comes directly from the forest. But they never once thought about the consequences of taking too much from the forest. Of neglecting it.”

Jimin nodded in understanding. “Things would have been different, if they had known. That the forest was truly dying.”

Yoongi swallowed thickly. “Yea. Things would have been different.”

They walked back to the cottage hand in hand that evening, and Seokjin squinted at them from the porch but didn’t say anything.

When Jimin was more doting than usual at the dinner table, placing all of Yoongi’s favorites onto the witch’s plate for him, Namjoon stared between them questioningly but, like Seokjin, didn’t say anything.

It was only before bed, when Jimin sat up from the couch and stretched, saying he was going to turn in, and Yoongi rose and pecked him on the lips in goodnight when they all gaped at the pair.

“Okay,” Taehyung nodded, so stunned that he relaxed from his near-constant bad mood that he had within Yoongi’s company. “Yes. Okay. That just happened. I’m not seeing things. Am I seeing things?”

“Nope, that definitely just. They just kissed,” Hoseok nodded along. “This is fine. Great. Wow.”

Yoongi caught the eyes of one of the paintings on the wall, looking at it as if asking for mercy.

The painting, however, looked just as surprised as the rest of the witches, and simply sent back a teasing, suggestive wink.

“Ummm,” Namjoon began. “Should we talk about this? Is this something that needs to be talked about?”

“There’s not really anything to talk about,” Jimin said, fidgeting. “We…kissed?”

“And will continue to…kiss.” Seokjin finished.

Jimin grimaced. “…Yes.”

“Just go to bed, Jimin,” Yoongi leaned forward to peck him again for good measure, ignoring the eyes of everyone else.

“Good night,” Jimin called out, cheeks flaming, then turning and practically running up the stairs.

The moment he was out of earshot, the witches ribbed and teased Yoongi for a long time, and Yoongi put up with it, glad that Jimin wasn’t there so that he wouldn’t have to sit through the embarrassment, as well.

“Whatever makes you happy makes us happy,” Seokjin said during a break in their teasing, suddenly serious. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” Yoongi said.

“Just…be careful,” Namjoon said.

Yoongi met his eyes and nodded, the room suddenly solemn.

Be careful, Yoongi.

You might end up breaking Jimin’s heart.

You might end up breaking your own.

☽

Jimin woke violently, sat up straight in bed, then leaned to the side and emptied his stomach of the dinner he’d eaten mere hours ago.

His eyes and nose burned with tears and his stomach twisted painfully.

When he stopped retching, he supported himself with trembling arms, panting, blinking the tears from his eyes.

Yoongi came in right when another bout of nausea hit, the cottage alerting him, and Jimin’s cheeks were aflame with embarrassment as Yoongi watched him get sick again.

“Jimin?” instead of leaving the room to give him privacy like Jimin wanted, Yoongi was striding over towards him.

With a wave of his hand, the vomit was cleaned up, but Jimin was still shaking and sweating.

When he moved to sit up, his head spun and a cramp twisted at his stomach and he couldn’t suppress his whimper of pain.

“You’re ill,” Yoongi fretted, running a hand through Jimin’s sweaty fringe, magic weaving through Jimin’s body to try and help, but Yoongi’s magic wasn’t the best at healing.

None of the magic in the house was.

“It’s probably just the flu,” Jimin whispered, voice barely audible. “It happens, sometimes.”

“What’s the flu?” Yoongi moved closer, eyes pinched in concern.

“A sickness,” Jimin replied, pressing a hand against another cramp.

“Is it fatal? How do you get better?”

“There’s medicine for it,” Jimin said weakly, eyes shutting and slumping against the pillow as the room continued to spin.

“What medicine? I’ll get it,” Yoongi demanded.

Jimin shook his head, half-unconscious again.

“Don’t need,” he whispered. “It’d be a hassle. I’ll just sleep…”

“Jimin,” Yoongi urged, pressing a hand to his clammy cheek. “It’s not a hassle, you’re not—”

Yoongi cut himself off with a curse when he realized Jimin was passed out.

Pressing his palm to Jimin’s forehead, he noted that it was much hotter than what it was supposed to be.

Yoongi’s magic pulled a heavy, ornate chair from across the room and he sat it beside the bed, needing to make sure Jimin would be alright.

When Jimin woke an hour later, retching once more, Yoongi steeled himself to what he knew he had to do.

He whispered lowly under his breath, then pulled the words from his own mouth, tucked up snug in a green leaf he had conjured from his magic.

The window of the room opened just enough for the leaf to flit out, shutting immediately so as not to let the cold air in, and Yoongi’s words were only released once they found the place in which they were sent.

Jeon Jeongguk startled awake from a whisper in his ear.

Jimin’s sick.

He needs your magic. Please help.

Jeongguk stumbled out of bed and his front door swung shut not even a full minute later.

“—min. Jimin. Jimin, can you hear me?”

“Mmm,” he grumbled.

The more the person bothered him, the more awake Jimin felt, but with that consciousness came another bout of nausea.

He leaned over, and was half-conscious of a bowl being held underneath him.

A pathetic whine left his lips once he was finished, and he weakly laid back on the bed, vision blurry.

“Can’t you just fix him?” a familiar voice snapped.

“It’s better if he’s awake for it,” another voice replied, sounding much calmer than the first voice. “I need to watch his face to see how he reacts to my magic. Especially since he’s human…I’ve never treated anybody but other witches before.”

“‘M awake,” Jimin slurred out, if only to get them to stop bickering.

“Can you sit up for me, Jimin?” the voice gentled, and suddenly hands were under his elbows, along his back, guiding him to sit up.

“Tell me if what I do feels good or bad, alright?”

“You don’t know?”

“I’m going to heal him the way I’d heal another witch, but — I don’t know how his body will react to the magic.”

“The second he says something doesn’t feel right, you’ll stop.”

“Of course I will,” the voice sounded almost affronted.

Warm palms were flat against his warm cheeks, then, and Jimin groggily forced his eyes to open. 

“Jimin,” Jeongguk’s face was inches away from his. “Stay awake for a little longer, okay?”

“Mmm,” Jimin felt his eyelids flutter but forced them open anyway, driven by the urgency barely concealed behind Jeongguk’s gaze. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“I need you to tell me if you begin feeling even a tiny bit of pain, okay?”

“Mmm,” Jimin said again.

Jeongguk’s brows crinkled together, then a hand left his cheek and then Jimin’s hand was being picked up and placed in another, warm and rough and comforting.

“Actually, squeeze Yoongi’s hand if you feel pain, Jimin. Can you do that for me? I don’t know if he’s aware enough to form words right now…” the last sentence was said off-handedly towards someone else, and it was then that Jimin vaguely realized Yoongi was there, too.

“…ngi,” Jimin slurred out, eyes slipping shut again.

“Yea,” Yoongi’s voice was there, and for some strange reason Jimin felt as if he had known this voice in all his past lifetimes and would know it for the following ones as well. “Jimin, I’m here.”

Jimin’s world faded for a few moments, until a sharp twisting of something had him gasping out in shock, squeezing Yoongi’s hand out of pure instinct.

“Jeon!” Yoongi snapped, harsh and loud, his hand squeezing Jimin’s back. His voice sounded closer now, and Jimin wanted to find cover in it, where the nausea and the pain and the confusion would go away, wrap the deep intricacies of everything that was Yoongi around him like a blanket so he could have just a few moments of peace.

“Sorry,” Jeongguk’s voice sounded strained, as if he was speaking through gritted teeth. The pain eased, and Jimin relaxed. It was only then that he noticed Jeongguk’s hands on his bare abdomen, his shirt rucked up, the witch pressing down firmly.

Through his blurry vision he noticed that the minuscule space between the witch’s palms and Jimin’s stomach was glowing.

“How is healing him any different than one of us?” Yoongi asked.

“Our magic is typically is the main factor that heals us,” Jeongguk said. “Usually I just have to find that source of healing magic within the witch and lend it some of my own magic. But with a human, I have to find the source of the ailment first, and then try to dispel it completely. But I—”

Jeongguk cut himself off, then made a noise in the back of his throat.

Jimin opened his eyes briefly to see Jeongguk up on the bed with him, holding himself up on his knees above Jimin.

Sweat was damp along his temples and sliding down to his jaw, his eyes clenched shut.

“Breathe in, Jimin,” Jeongguk instructed in a calm voice, and when Jimin breathed in Jeongguk sucked in a breath with him.

“Now out,” Jeongguk said, and they exhaled together.

The nausea lifted, and the pounding in Jimin’s head alleviated a bit.

Jimin must have visibly relaxed, because Yoongi squeezed his hand once again, this time in relief.

“Once more,” Jeongguk instructed.

The next time they exhaled together, Jimin felt an overwhelming sense of fatigue, but he felt better.

“There,” Jeongguk said, climbing off the bed and running a brisk hand over Jimin’s forehead, then the insides of his wrists. “He should be fine, for now. One of you needs to go to his realm to get some human medicine for him. It’s what his body is most used to, so that’s what has the highest guarantee of healing him completely.”

Yoongi nodded, leaning back and heaving out a sigh of relief.

Jeongguk began gathering his cloak and shoes, and was just about to slip from the room before Yoongi stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“Jeongguk…thank you,” Yoongi said quietly.

“I’ll be back in the morning to check on him,” Jeongguk said. “I’m…surprised you called me.”

Yoongi’s eyes turned sad in a way the younger witch had never seen.

“I’m realizing a lot of things lately, Jeongguk. The most important one being…the way I’m looking at things might not be right. The way I’ve been living might not be…good. Or what’s best for our realm.”

Jeongguk stared at him, surprise in his obsidian eyes.

“My family was cruel to yours, because of the dark magic that runs in your veins,” Yoongi whispered. “I was cruel to you.”

“Dark magic isn’t inherently evil,” Jeongguk said quietly, haltingly. As if he was waiting for Yoongi to interrupt, to contradict. “It can be, yes. But…can’t all other magic become evil, as well? It’s who wields the magic, not the magic itself.”

Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re right.”

Jeongguk reached out, placed a forgiving squeeze on one of Yoongi’s hands. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Yoongi squeezed back.

Felt like he had been given something he didn’t deserve.

“Thank you.”

☽

Yoongi didn’t want to wake anybody else up.

The paintings murmured at him in concern as he made his way through the dark downstairs, packing a small bag and tightening his cloak around his shoulders.

“Yoongi hyung?”

Yoongi whirled to find Taehyung at the foot of the stairs, face still puffy from sleep, hair sticking on end.

His cousin looked so young, fresh from sleep like this.

It had Yoongi’s heart clenching.

He missed Taehyung, more often than not.

Missed how close they were as children.

“Go back to sleep, Tae,” Yoongi said quietly.

Taehyung’s eyes wandered from Yoongi’s face to the backpack slung over his shoulders.

“Are you…are you hopping?” he asked, incredulous.

Yoongi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between tired fingers.

“Please, I’ll explain everything in the morning. Go back to sleep, okay?”

“No!” Taehyung kept his voice hushed, still, but walked right over to Yoongi. “Is it really that important, hyung? After what happened with that tree? Whatever you’re going for…why can’t our realm be enough for you? Why can’t you just focus on our realm for now?”

“I’m not going to trade anything, or to make more money,” Yoongi explained, frustrated. “I understand now, okay? I understand that you have every right to be mad at me. To hate me. Because you and your family have been right all along about the forest, and I’ve just been…ignoring everything. All the signs. But I need to go right now—”

“For what?” Taehyung demanded. “What’s so important? You say you understand now but you’re doing the same thing—”

“Jimin’s sick, Tae,” Yoongi said. “He’s sick, and I need to go to his realm to find him medicine, and I even called Jeongguk over and I’m worried.”

He ran a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut, the stress of everything so much, too much.

His head was pounding from staying up all night looking after Jimin and the wound from his magic poisoning still ached, and Yoongi just…wanted to lay down.

A soft hand was brushed against his cheek, then, and when he opened his eyes it was to a face of understanding.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung whispered. “It’s important. You’re right.”

Yoongi deflated. “Jimin was…he was really sick.”

“Not just about this,” Taehyung continued. “Establishing communication between other realms…gaining from their resources. It is important. The thought of Jimin becoming even more ill because we didn’t have the ability to get the right medicine…”

Taehyung blew out a breath. “Perhaps you’re not the only one who’s been narrow-minded.”

Yoongi huffed out a laugh. “You are too good, Taehyung.”

Before he could think better of it, he reached out and pulled Taehyung into a long, crushing hug.

Lanky arms wrapped around his middle and he breathed the scent of his cousin in, remembering all their ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ hugs they’d shared as children.

“I’ll go,” Taehyung said. “You look dead on your feet.”

“What?”

“I’ll go to Jimin’s realm and get the medicine. You should get some rest.”

“But you hate realm hopping.”

Taehyung eased the bag from Yoongi’s shoulder and then moved to grab his cloak.

“Get some sleep, Yoongi hyung. I’ll be back soon.”

☽

Jimin’s lucidity passed by like a meandering cat, seeming to come and go as it pleased.

He was coaxed in and out of consciousness through fleeting touches — fingers in his hair, his blankets being removed only to be quickly replaced by fresh ones, a hot cup being held against his lips and the taste of foreign herbal brews warm on his tongue, soft presses against the top of his head, his flushed cheeks, the back of his hands.

It’s a full two days later that he is able to wake up and stay conscious for longer than five minutes, and by that time he feels like he’s been soaked in sweat and wrung out a hundred times over.

Swallowing dryly, he moved his head to the side and found Yoongi.

Something in him warmed.

Yoongi wasn’t looking at him yet — he was focused on the bottle in his hands, eyes squinting as he held the bottle at the right distance so he could read the label on the back. Upon closer inspection, Jimin realized that it was a bottle of Tylenol. It was so strange seeing something from his old world in this one that for a moment he thought he was having a fever dream.

Yoongi grumbled something underneath his breath, and brought the bottle closer to his face, squinting even further.

Jimin let out a hoarse giggle. “All this magic in your realm and you guys don’t have glasses?”

Yoongi’s spine straightened and his gaze shot up towards Jimin’s face.

“Jimin! You’re awake.”

“I’m sweaty,” Jimin blurted out, wriggling in discomfort. The shirt — not his shirt, he noted — was clinging to his back.

Yoongi placed the Tylenol down on the bedside table and checked Jimin’s forehead.

“You’re a lot less warm,” Yoongi breathed out in relief.

“‘M sweaty,” Jimin grumped again, and — okay. Maybe he wasn’t completely better yet. His mother had always fondly admonished him for getting so petulant when he was sick, but he couldn’t help it.

There was little else in the world he hated more than feeling under the weather.

Yoongi, though, took it in stride and just laughed.

“I’ll draw you a bath,” he said, voice gentle.

His hands were still in Jimin’s hair, and his eyes were still on Jimin's face, careful and coaxing and slow, and it was then that Jimin noticed the frown lines that had seemed to indent into Yoongi’s face, tiny marks of worry that Jimin realized were for him.

Jimin turned onto his side, huffing at how much energy that small act took out of him already.

He watched Yoongi walk out of his room, and then from somewhere down the hall he heard the muted sound of water running.

A low, soothing rumble.

His eyes glazed out and he let himself lay for a while, the Tylenol bottle sitting a few inches from his face.

It was sweet.

Yoongi was sweet.

The witch came back into the room, and before Jimin could even move to sit  he was scooped up, duvet and all, and he barely had time to blush before he was brought into an ornate bathroom.

He hadn’t been inside this one before — unsurprising with how many doors this place had, not to mention the fact that they shifted and disappeared on whim more often than not.

The clawfoot tub was the centerpiece of the room, standing huge and shiny over marble floors. There was a skylight right above it, and the steam that coiled out from the full bath was painted a rich purple from the sun pouring in from the glass. The steam moved languidly around the room, almost like tufts of clouds, and when Yoongi placed Jimin on his wobbly feet by the tub he saw that the water was purple too, dried lavender floating serenely in the water.

It smelled heavenly, and the steam was already warm on his skin, and despite his discomfort around water Jimin found himself wanting to go in.

“There are healing herbs in the water,” Yoongi said, hands sure and steady as he took the duvet from Jimin’s shoulders and used a little burst of magic to push it outside into the hall. “They’re Jeongguk’s — he brought them over this morning from his home. They should help.”

A beat of silence in which the two stared at each other.

“I’ll just go—”

“No,” Jimin was sure that his cheeks were flaming, but he blamed it on the lingering fever. He hated seeming weak, but he didn’t want Yoongi to leave.

Despite the warmth of the room, despite the caring effort Yoongi put into making the space comfortable for him, Jimin didn’t want to close his eyes and remember the icy river he was chased into, didn’t want to remember the taunting laughter and blind panic. He didn’t know if he could sit in the tub alone. “Can you…will you stay?”

“Okay,” Yoongi nodded, almost too quickly.

When he didn’t make a move to look away, Jimin peeked at him shyly.

He moved to peel the sweat-soaked sweater off his torso, and he couldn’t help the rush of satisfaction that flooded through him when he saw Yoongi’s jaw visibly clench.

Under Yoongi’s gaze, Jimin felt — good.

Calm, and bright, like a lavender sunrise. Sweet and rare like summer’s sweetest plum, laying soft inside Yoongi’s grip.

Easily bruised, but Jimin knew Yoongi would handle him carefully.

Gently.

And within Yoongi’s grasp Jimin felt like fine lines and delicacy, flower petal curves and liquid honey.

Yoongi turned around when Jimin’s hands moved towards his pants, and it wasn’t until he heard the water rippling around Jimin’s form did he turn back again, eyes dark with an intent that Jimin was keen to grow familiar with.

To get rid of the warmth that was beginning to build in his gut, Jimin looked away and instead inspected the room. He felt as if it was moving in slow motion — the steam thickening, the light almost holy, the lavender smell soothing.

The water he sat in was warm, just the right temperature, and he sunk into it with an almost breathless relief.

Water in this realm felt almost a touch heavier than water did in the human realm, and it intrigued Jimin. He glided his arm back and forth lazily underneath the water and paid attention to how it gave more resistance than he was used to.

“I’ll wash your hair,” Yoongi said, moving to kneel by the tub.

“You’ll get all wet,” Jimin murmured, eyes half-shut, limbs completely limp in the water.

He was just so, so comfortable.

When was the last time he was so comfortable around water?

What kind of herbs did Jeongguk put in here?

He would have to ask if he could take some back to the human realm.

“Don’t fall asleep, Jimin, not in the tub,” Yoongi said as he brought up a hand and lifted Jimin’s chin, which had began to dip into the water.

“Mmm,” he murmured, eyes shutting completely.

“Hey,” Yoongi sighed. “Maybe a bath wasn’t a good idea just yet.”

“No!” Jimin’s eyes shot open, and he frowned fiercely. “Feels so good in here. I never wanna leave.”

Yoongi laughed. “You’ll prune up.”

“I don’t care.”

“I mean it though, Jimin,” Yoongi said, voice serious. “Don’t fall asleep in there. I won’t be able to hold you up from out here.”

A rush of bravery, a meaningful look from underneath damp lashes.

“Come in with me then,” Jimin whispered.

Yoongi froze for a beat of time, and for a moment Jimin could swear the sun pouring in from the ceiling above him pulsed brighter for a split second.

“You’re feverish, petal,” Yoongi said. “Another time.”

Yoongi said it like a promise, and usually that would have been enough for Jimin, but he wanted — more.

The term of endearment spurred him on, and he widened his eyes, pouting his bottom lip out in a way that drew Yoongi’s attention.

“The tub is big,” Jimin wheedled. “C’mon. The water feels nice. I’ll even close my eyes.”

He clamped his eyes shut comically, ears straining to listen for the sound of Yoongi’s clothes hitting the floor.

He didn’t hear anything, though, and after a minute he opened his eyes with a huff of disappointment.

Only to find Yoongi in the middle of sitting down in front of him, legs brushing and settling down around Jimin’s.

“You’re a brat, did you know that?” Yoongi said with no conviction, reaching over to grab something that resembled a loofah and flower petal encased soap.

Jimin grinned, wriggling happily, reaching into the water to poke his fingers between Yoongi’s toes.

“Hey!” Yoongi yelped.

Jimin let out a boisterous laugh at the look on Yoongi’s face, leaving his toes alone to wrap a hand around the witch’s delicate ankle.

Softening, Yoongi huffed and reached out, running the loofah down over Jimin’s shoulders, careful and tender, gliding the suds over his arms, against the fragile insides of his elbows, in-between each finger, along his neck.

Then it was bubbly hands washing Jimin’s hair, putting just the right amount of pressure on his scalp, and Jimin felt as if his entire body was humming with satisfaction.

He was more tired than he thought, because the next thing he knew Yoongi was pulling him gently in the water so that he could lean his back against his chest.

Yoongi’s arms were secure around Jimin’s waist, and the human allowed his head to fall back onto the witch’s broad shoulder, letting out a sigh of contentment.

Here, wrapped up in this purple room, in the heavy steam and warm water and Yoongi’s careful, gentle arms, Jimin felt a sudden rush of home.

Jimin realized, with a terrible, mournful start, that he did not want to leave.

He did not want to leave this magical world full of golden trees and flowers that sniffed curiously at his ankles and witches that fought and worried and made mistakes but, even more so, glowed and tried and loved.

He did not want to leave Yoongi, who was a lavender soul wrapped up in moonlight skin, who lived a life filled with mistakes but was unafraid of putting in hard work to fix them, who did not shy away from admitting he was wrong, who tried so hard to just be good.

Jimin wanted to stay.

He wanted to stay and hear all of Seokjin’s jokes and dance with Hoseok and read with Namjoon and race Taehyung to the nearest three-stemmed flower.

He wanted to stay and make sure Yoongi knew that he was enough.

That he was, perhaps, everything.

But Jimin couldn’t.

He wasn’t meant to be here. He was human.

The magic he had grown to love so much, the magic living within the witches that he had grown so fond of, was killing him.

They were killing him.

Tears filled Jimin’s eyes, devastating and unstoppable.

A choked sob poured out of him, and Yoongi’s arms tightened in alarm.

“Jimin?” his voice was panicked, worried. “Do you feel sick again? Should we get out?”

Shaking his head, Jimin turned a bit so he could shove his face into the damp skin of Yoongi’s neck.

“I don’t wanna leave,” Jimin answered, referring to so much more than just the bath.

“Then you can stay,” Yoongi pressed a kiss to the side of Jimin’s head. “You can stay.”

So they settled in, Yoongi holding him through his sadness, occasionally dropping kisses onto the back of Jimin’s neck, his ear, the sharp angle of his jaw.

This newfound closeness between the two of them shattered Jimin into even tinier pieces and he allowed himself to close his eyes, pretending that for once, he had found a love he’d be able to keep.

☽

The next time Jimin woke, he could tell it was morning.

Jimin stared at the mobile above his head, all delicate wire with fragile and colorful glass swinging from its ends and corners, the entire thing swaying in a soothing, rhythmic circle above him. Colors reflected around the room from the glass pieces, and Jimin’s eyes followed their slow paths.

The dancing colors reminded Jimin of faded streetlights reflecting off skin on rainy nights as you drove underneath them, and for a moment Jimin could almost pretend he was in the human realm.

He ignored how much that thought devastated him.

“Jimin,” a voice called gently.

Jimin blinked in surprise, and turned to find Jeongguk sitting beside him.

He briefly remembered flashes of Jeongguk’s face, along with Yoongi’s, cutting through his pained and ill memories.

Jeongguk looked younger in the daytime, without the shroud of darkness to cast shadows on top of his already dark attire.

He had big eyes, and nails that looked like he had a habit of biting them, and long hair that, if mussed a certain way, looked more childlike than intimidating.

“How do you feel?”

“Much better. Thanks to you, I’m guessing?” Jimin responded.

Jeongguk smiled softly in response.

“Jimin, listen,” Jeongguk scooted a bit closer on the chair that had been set beside the bed. “When I healed you that night…it helped cure your ‘flu’, as you call it in your human realm. Now, it’s all the medicine doing its work. My magic helped make you better, and it helped ease your pain and nausea, at least for that night, but in the long run…I think forcing so much of my magic into you made you even weaker, Jimin. I’m so sorry.”

Jeongguk looked so worried, so distraught, that Jimin sat up in an attempt to comfort him, to show him that he was okay.

“I feel fine, Jeongguk,” Jimin said. “I’m fine.”

“No,” Jeongguk shook his head, brows furrowed. “I can see that taking that much magic into your body all at once weakened you significantly. Your time here is limited, Jimin, and I’ve just made it even shorter.”

“Oh,” Jimin said. “I don’t feel any weaker, though.”

“I don’t think it’s something you can feel, at least not now,” Jeongguk said. “You need to leave our realm, Jimin. The sooner the better. If you stay for too long, you’ll…”

They locked eyes, the unspoken word lingering between them.

The mobile above them flashed blood red over Jeongguk’s face.

“Die,” Jimin finally finished for him.

The corners of Jeongguk’s eyes tightened in displeasure.

“Have you told Yoongi hyung?”

“No,” Jimin said.
“Let’s tell him now,” Jeongguk began to stand, but Jimin’s arm shot out, halting him.

“No!” Jimin exclaimed. “I don’t want to tell him. Or any of the others. Not…not yet.”

“Why?” Jeongguk demanded. “Jimin, this is important. I’m not joking around, your life is really—”

“I understand, Jeongguk,” Jimin said. “I just…they’re already trying as hard as they can to be able to find a safe way to send me back, okay? And that ancient tree…it just died. I don’t want to put them under any more stress than they already are.”

“…Okay,” Jeongguk relented, voice unhappy. “But once it’s getting too close for comfort, you’re telling them. And if you don’t, I will. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jimin agreed, looking down at his hands in his lap.

Jeongguk bit his lip, then sighed. “I’m staying here, then. To help them find a way to send you back.”

Jimin sent him a small smile. “You have to ask Yoongi. It’s his house.”

Jeongguk set his jaw stubbornly. Jimin stifled a smile.

“I’m staying,” Jeongguk huffed. “Yoongi hyung owes me after that night.”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” Jimin said. “You really helped. I felt awful.”

Shaking his head, Jeongguk opened his mouth, but was cut off by the door opening.

“Jimin, you’re awake!”

Suddenly, Taehyung was there, wriggling his way up onto the bed with Jimin and nuzzling their noses together. “I was worried.”

“I’m fine, Tae,” Jimin laughed. “Jeongguk fixed me right up.”

Jeongguk’s face flamed with embarrassment. “Taehyung was the one who realm hopped to get your medicine.”

Jimin turned to his friend, surprised. “Really?”

Taehyung waved him away, as if it was nothing.

“That was nothing. It was all Gukkie doing most of the hard work. He’s the best healer in this forest,” Taehyung said.

Blushing, Jeongguk shook his head, earrings swinging erratically with his harsh movements.

“Is he really?” Jimin asked.

“The Jeon family is known first for their dark magic, and second for their healing. Sometimes their magic feels like magic even to us,” Taehyung said.

Belatedly noticing the use of nickname, Jimin asked, “Are you two close?”

Taehyung grinned and reached out to poke at Jeongguk’s arm with his foot.

“You could say that,” Taehyung explained. “He’s been neglecting me recently, though, too into his apprenticeship to spend time with me.”

Jeongguk rolled his eyes, but seemed apologetic anyway.

Jimin smiled, watching the two of them.

Despite their banter, they grinned at each other fondly even as they teased each other.

Jimin hadn’t seen Taehyung look as carefree with any of the other witches, and it made him happy, seeing his friend so comfortable with another person.

A knock sounded on the door, then Yoongi stepped in.

He smiled at them, and Jimin was shocked to see Taehyung grin back.

When Jimin sent him a questioning look, Taehyung sent one back, an I’ll explain later.

“Are you going to stay for breakfast, Jeongguk?”

Jeongguk shared a look with Jimin, then squared his shoulders.

“I’d like to stay here, if that’s alright.”

Yoongi blinked in surprise. “Stay here? Is Jimin not better yet?”

“He is,” Jeongguk soothed, half lying. “But…I heard that the forest was dying, and that you’ve all been trying to figure out a way to rectify it. Also that you were looking for ways to send Jimin hyung back to his own realm. I want to help.”

Yoongi blinked. “You want to help us? Just…just because?” 

Jeongguk nodded, determined.

Yoongi blew out an exasperated breath, and if Jimin didn’t know any better, he would have sworn it was fond.

“Alright, then. I’ll have a room set up for you.”

Jeongguk beamed at the older witch, then, and Yoongi couldn’t help but smile back.

It felt like the realm was repairing itself — in more ways than one.

☽

The second time it happened, they were a little more prepared.

When Taehyung gasped and his eyes glazed out, they were all surrounding him in an instant.

And when Taehyung got up, opened the front door, and began running into the storm, they all followed, no questions asked.

In the back of his mind, Jimin didn’t know why they were running so desperately towards the dying tree.

Didn’t know why even he felt the irresistible urge to go to it.

Were they going just to watch it die?

There was something pulling him, all of them, towards it, and through Jimin’s gasping breaths and aching legs all he could think was that if they didn’t get to the tree in time, it wouldn’t be good.

Their shared feeling of dread spurred them on and they ran as one into the heart of the forest once again.

The wailing was familiar, now, loud and cacophonous and inescapable.

They arrived just in time to watch as the tree spent its last moments at its grand height only to begin crumbling, and within seconds it was only half its original length.

Falling, decayed leaves fell around them like heavy snow, blurring their vision and catching in their hair and collecting in the hoods of the witches’ robes.

But where the rest of them stopped a few feet away from the tree, Yoongi ran right up to it.

He collapsed to his knees and placed his palms down on the roots of the tree as bark and leaves and branches fell around him.

After a few moments, Jimin realized that he was trying to give back.

Trying to lend the tree his magic, trying to reverse its death, trying to do what he had neglected to do for too long.

But still, he couldn’t do it.

Something was holding him back, just like that night they had all tried at the cottage.

“Please,” Yoongi screamed, sweat beginning to bead down his temples with how hard he was exerting himself. “Please!”

“It’s not going to work,” Taehyung shouted, at Yoongi’s side now, trying to pull him away. “Hyung, it’s too late!”

“I have to try, we have to at least…!”

“There’s nothing we can do,” Taehyung’s voice was wretched, dripping at the edges with despair and heartbreak and loss. “We can’t be this close when it passes, Yoongi, we have to get away.”

“When will this end?” Yoongi cried out. “How do we stop it?”

“Hyung!” Taehyung screamed, getting to his feet and pulling at Yoongi’s arm with urgency. “Come on!”

The storm was picking up, now, as if the wailing tree and the thunder were feeding off of each other, and Jimin could barely breathe past the cold rain pelting his face and clinging to his clothes and hair.

With a final, terrible noise, one of despair and surrender and loss, the tree crumbled.

“Wait!” Jimin screamed, reflex making his feet move and run towards the witches.

They were too close, too close—

Something deep and instinctive roared to life within Jimin.

As he ran, the wind seemed to be pushing him along, making his steps lighter, allowing him to almost fly over the forest floor.

And his vision was a kaleidoscope of blood red storm, a crumbling, ancient ruin of a tree falling apart, all mercury rain and angry skies and the surrounding forest tilting against the wind’s gusty exhales.

Jimin made it to Yoongi and Taehyung right as the tree fell into itself from the inside out and hit the ground, Taehyung yanking Jimin in close the moment he was within arm’s distance and burying him tight in the space between his and Yoongi’s chests.

Everything was so loud that it was a constant, deafening roar in their ears, and Jimin shut his eyes and squeezed his arms around Yoongi and Taehyung tight, the three of them a tight ball of tangled limbs. Jimin could feel Yoongi’s head right above his, and Taehyung’s hand was still wrapped tight around his arm.

When Jimin looked up, he realized that one of them used their magic to shield them from the flying debris of the tree’s death.

“What were you thinking,” Taehyung roared.

Jimin looked towards him to realize that the witch was trembling.

“What were either of you thinking? We could have died, never do that again!” he screamed past the storm.

But Jimin wasn't paying him much attention, because right in front of them the tree’s spirit was emerging again, and it looked — murderous.

Closer up, now, Jimin could see that it was more than just a shapeless, black mass. It was looming, massive.

Though there was no distinct face on it, Jimin could feel its gaze on them.

As terrifying as it looked, for some reason, Jimin felt the need to move closer.

When he began breaking out from in-between Yoongi and Taehyung’s bodies that had shielded him from the debris, they both began protesting.

But their words were carried away by the storm’s wind and Jimin stumbled forward, yanking his arms out of the witches’ grips.

Scenes from the last fallen tree flashed through his mind — the vengeful spirit that emerged from its body, the way it had set its wounded, angry gaze on him, reaching out to swipe at him, and injuring him, but not in the way that it injured Yoongi.

In a way, Jimin held an advantage in this situation.

And Jimin was going to use it to help.

Jimin ran forward, and before he could think about it, reached out and wrapped himself around the spirit.

It let out a low, unrestrained wail, matching the ones that the witches let out behind him.

“Jimin, stop!” Yoongi shouted, voice only half-carried away by the violent storm. “What are you doing?”

Jimin held on tighter, spurred on by pure instinct.

The spirit felt dry and brittle underneath his hands, exactly the way tree bark felt, so unlike the spirit’s almost water-like appearance.

It paused in shock at Jimin’s grasp, and for a moment it felt as if the entire realm held its breath in that one moment, the storm sucking in a breath and stilling, the near-constant lightning pausing for that split second.

That second felt like a lifetime packed on top of ten more until red lightning cracked it open once again and the spirit lifted a long limb and swiped Jimin’s legs out from under him.

Pain seared in a sharp line across his right calf from the brunt force of it, and he cried out before he could bite the pained noise back.

He heard another shout of his name — or maybe it was the deafening thunder making him hear things — or maybe it was both.

But Jimin got back to his feet and lunged towards the spirit once more, wrapping around it and squeezing it so tight that his face was pressed right up against it.

Turning so his mouth was free, he shouted, “Do something! Do something, now!”

His leg throbbed and he leaned his weight heavily on the other one, and the spirit knocked him off his feet after its initial shock wore off again.

Cursing loud yet still inaudible under his breath, Jimin got back up on shaking arms and latched on again.

“Tae!” he screamed, red lighting flashing as a near-constant in the sky. “Yoongi, one of you, please! I think you need to give back! Give back!”

But they couldn’t hear him past the storm.

He could hardly see them past the storm.

He squeezed tight, and the spirit was flailing, used to his strange touch now, trying to fling him off.

He felt a surge of motion, a lurch in his stomach, almost as if he had stepped forward off of a cliff. Jimin realized belatedly that it was the spirit lurching back, and him following with it, and when he looked up he noticed part of it was injured.

One of the witches was attacking.

While his eyes were still up, the spirit lurched again, pushed back by a huge force of what Jimin recognized as Yoongi’s magic.

The spirit was wailing even louder now, and despite stumbling back it didn’t seem any weaker.

“It’s not working!” Jimin screamed at them, tightening his grip as the spirit buckled. “Harming it won’t work!”

His voice wasn’t carrying in the storm, and the inside of his throat felt raw from how desperately he was screaming, but he had to try.

They had to try.

So Jimin squeezed his eyes shut and held on, and in the darkness behind his lids, past the fear and the adrenaline, all he could see was gorgeous purple skies.

Gorgeous purple eyes.

There weren’t many moments in Yoongi’s life where he could truly say he was terrified.

He was coddled as a younger witch — always attached to the back of his mother’s skirt, to his father’s hip, to his many nannies’ legs.

Of course he had stumbles through the forest and endured scrapes here and there, and there were often conflicts within foreign realms that got his blood pumping.

But this — this was pure, unadulterated terror.

So strong and so overwhelming that he had to continuously remind himself to breathe through it, to keep his head on straight, because Jimin was latched onto the malicious spirit and he was not letting go.

And Yoongi had to do something about it.

He had to get Jimin away from here.

Letting out a roar of frustration echoed by a huge clap of thunder, Yoongi tried one last time to aggressively shove the spirit back with his magic. His magic, violent and angry, engulfed the spirit and reached down towards Jimin, trying to pry his arms off from the spirit.

But things were happening too fast for Yoongi to be able to do it without hurting Jimin as well, so he retreated once again, panting, sweat dripping down his temples.

“This isn’t working,” Seokjin pressed his lips against Yoongi’s ear to be able to be heard above the storm. “We have to think of something else!”

“I’m just going to run in there and grab him,” Taehyung said, eyes wildly tracking the spirit and Jimin as it flailed around in the circle they had created. “He’s going to die. It’s going to kill him.”

“Do not,” Namjoon screamed. “If you run in there, it could kill you too. Right now, it looks as if it can’t do much about Jimin latching onto it. But if it touches you, you’ll get magic poisoning. Especially from a spirit this strong and angry.”

“Then what do we do?” Jeongguk shouted. “We’re running out of time.”

Yoongi looked at his friends — his family.

Looked at Taehyung, who he had such a rocky relationship with. A relationship he was just beginning to mend.

Looked at Jeongguk, who he was just now beginning to trust. Who he had judged so harshly because of the prejudices that his parents had passed down onto him.

Looked at Hoseok, Seokjin, Namjoon — practically his brothers.

They had grown up together.

Lost together, thrived together, traveled together, lived together.

Loved together.

They had given each other so much throughout their lives.

Yoongi didn’t consider himself the most selfless witch, but — he would do anything for these people, he realized.

He’d give anything to them.

He’d give anything.

Then — it felt as it the storm within Yoongi which had been raging as violently as the one around them — settled down.

Yoongi tore his eyes from his loved ones’ faces and looked towards Jimin.

Looked towards the spirit.

The spirit, who wasn’t evil — just hurt. And angry.

Because it gave and gave and nobody ever gave back.

Before he could really think it through, Yoongi’s magic hummed warm and sweet underneath his skin.

His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, still staring up at the spirit.

He placed both of his palms down flat, feeling the damp dirt, the soggy leaves, the fallen petals, the earth that he was born in and the earth that he would die in, the forest that was his to protect and cherish.

And for the first time, Yoongi gave.

Pulled by an instinct that was rooted deep within him, he gave back — the way his ancestors did, for generations and generations before him.

The way he was meant to give back for his entire life.

The storm lessened, the spirit quieted — Yoongi’s forest fell hush as he opened his magic to it and let it flow through the realm, a flower unfurling to spring.

Wilting, the spirit ceased in its struggle and Yoongi watched with relief as Jimin was able to relinquish his grip on it.

Jimin ran back to the rest of them, and Yoongi’s eyes checked over the skin of Jimin’s arms, face and neck, searching for injury.

Jimin backed up towards Yoongi, limbs shaking from exertion, eyes lifted upwards in awe as the spirit calmed and shrank.

There was no more wailing, no more rain — it was silent.

Not even the other trees dared move.

It was in this hush that the once vengeful spirit crumpled into itself and dissolved into the wet floor.

Yoongi blinked, taking his palms off of the damp dirt, mud sticky between his fingers, body humming from calling forth so much magic.

He sat back, shoulder brushing Jimin’s.

The human reached out, and uncaring of the grime that covered Yoongi’s hands, laced their fingers together, squeezing once.

A bruised storm cloud parted, and the sun was an effervescent spot light, warming a patch on the forest floor.

In the place of the fallen tree, grew a tiny, perfect sprout.

☽

As more and more days passed, Yoongi grew more and more fond of Jimin.

He had always been drawn to Jimin — ever since the very beginning. The moment he had stepped out from Taehyung’s cottage, body language afraid but eyes so piercing, so determined — Yoongi couldn’t look away.

Not even back then, when he had believed that Jimin was a danger to their realm. When he looked at Jimin as an invader, something not meant to be there.

And maybe that was still the case.

Maybe Jimin wasn't meant to be there.

But now, instead of yearning to get rid of the foreign human in his realm…Yoongi could hardly imagine the realm without him.

He didn’t want to live without their daily walks to the Weeping Day, their banter, their shared baths, their outings to the forest’s edge with the others to give back every night after dinner.

He didn’t want to live without Jimin.

It was huge, scary thoughts like this that Yoongi didn't allow to get into his head too often.

He didn’t like to think about it.

How attached he had grown to Jimin.

How attached they’d all gotten.

Like the vines that clung to stone and wall, filling in every crack and crevice available to them, unwilling to fall away.

And now, after that stormy day in which Jimin had so bravely held onto the ancient spirit, in time for Yoongi to truly give back to it and appease its soul, only for the spirit to reincarnate as that sprout…

Even though Jimin was the only human in this realm, to Yoongi, what he did was magical.

What he had done for their realm with nothing but his heart and presence was magical in its own way.

He and Jimin were strolling around the pool of water underneath the Weeping Day, and it almost felt as if the forest was responding to Yoongi’s awe, because more vines and branches and flowers were reaching out for Jimin, poking and prodding at him like curious little children.

“Stop it,” Yoongi scolded out loud when a flower had temporarily uprooted itself just to ram into Jimin’s legs and latch onto his shoe.

The flower nuzzled into Jimin’s boot and the human simply laughed, delighted.

“Cute,” Jimin cooed, reaching down to gently pry the flower off and deposit it back in the freshly upturned soil it had just run from.

The flower seemed to swoon under Jimin’s attention, and waved a little petal at him.

Before Jimin could take another step, an overly eager vine wound its way around one of Jimin’s ankles and tugged gently, curious.

Yoongi acted on instinct, reaching out to steady Jimin by grabbing his hand, stepping close.

“Please leave him be,” Yoongi scolded the vine with little heat, giving it a stroke when it recoiled from Jimin in guilt and wound up his leg instead.
The Weeping Day rustled its branches above them, and the vine receded back to the tree after a few pets from the witch.

“Stop it now, all of you,” Yoongi spoke to the forest as a whole, frustrated. “You’re going to hurt him.”

“The forest is playful today,” Jimin mused, voice close to Yoongi’s ear.

“I think it’s excited,” Yoongi mused. “After what happened with the spirit, and how we were able to save it. The air feels…hopeful. In a way that it hasn’t been in a long, long time.”

Jimin hummed, low and contemplating.

Something about him seemed to deflate at Yoongi’s words, but before the witch could look too closely into it, yellow flowers were being rained down on Jimin’s hair, the tree above them soft and teasing.

Jimin took one last peek at Yoongi’s, eyes sparking with a sudden mischief, before he reached over and knocked Yoongi off balance, forcing the witch’s head to catch underneath the spray of the waterfall, soaking him.

When Yoongi regained his balance, a playful, competitive shout escaping his throat, Jimin was already running, laughing in delight.

☽

Jimin is back home, on earth.

Everything is normal, except — the entire world is water.

And Jimin is the only one who seems to be unable to breathe.

He looks around frantically as his lungs burn.

He sees old classmates, the ones who had shoved him into the river. He sees his parents, his grandparents, old friends that he had almost forgotten the names of.

And everybody is fine.

They’re laughing, and talking, as if this underwater world were completely normal, as if they had no need for air.

Jimin is panicking, and he tries to swim over towards them but he can’t move, and when he opens his mouth to scream for help water just floods into his throat and chokes him.

He claws at his throat and lets out a bubbly, muffled scream, hating the feeling of cold water pressing in all around him, hating the sight of all the people in his life on Earth moving on without him.

Uncaring.

Not even noticing that he was suffering.

But then — a familiar flash of violet appears in the corner of Jimin’s vision.

Yoongi is swimming towards him, looking right at him, the way nobody else ever has, and the witch swam closer and closer and reached out until their lips were pressed together, and Jimin melted into the kiss, pulling Yoongi closer as the witch breathed air into Jimin’s lungs, saved him from drowning, taking Jimin’s fear and desperation and loneliness and soothing it in an instant.

When Jimin wakes, he is frantic, and he doesn’t even think before he’s leaving his room and navigating the dark halls towards Yoongi’s.

Yoongi is awake in an instant, eyes open and alert the moment Jimin slides inside his bed.

When he asks Jimin what had happened, Jimin just shut his eyes and breathed.

Yoongi scooted close and began running a hand through Jimin’s hair, soothing him.

“I dreamt of home,” was all Jimin whispered.

The room was silent save for the slow, comforting ticking noises of the enchanted mobiles hanging all over the ceiling.

“I don’t want you to worry, petal,” Yoongi said finally, quietly capturing Jimin’s face in-between his ever-gentle, large hands. “We’re going to find a way to get you back. We’re so close. I can feel it.”

Jimin smiled weakly, nodded in assurance, eyes still shut.

He didn’t know if he could open them and find Yoongi’s eyes in the darkness of that room and not ask to stay.

Didn’t know if he could open them and be able to hold back the fact that he didn’t know if he wanted to go home, anymore.

Or rather, Jimin was beginning to wonder where ‘home’ really was.

☽

A few days passed in which Jimin felt like his insides were strung up in tight knots.

Because every time he looked at Yoongi — all he could think about was staying.

And it was eating Jimin up from the inside out.

Knowing that he couldn’t stay, and even if he could, why should he?

The realm had no need for him.

Everybody else — they were magical.

Literally.

And Jimin was just…human.

Just Jimin.

It was on the third day of Jimin being in over his head, trying to grab hold of his desires and emotions and bottle them up to a place where even he couldn’t touch them, when Yoongi turned to him.

They were once again underneath the Weeping Day, a basket filled with fuzzy mushrooms that Seokjin had wanted to use for dinner (apparently you had to shave them before cooking them) placed on the rock next to them.

“Jimin-ah. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“What?”

Yoongi’s brows crinkled together, and he blew out a short frustrated breath.

“Something’s been off, about you. You’ve been so…spaced out. And in your own head. Tell me what’s wrong, and hyung will fix it. I promise.”

Jimin bit his tongue.

He couldn’t tell Yoongi that he wanted to stay.

Not after all the time and energy they had all invested in trying to find a safe way to send him home.

Not after he knew that staying here would kill him.

So Jimin just shook his head, hoping his expression wouldn’t give off how distressed he felt.

But Yoongi saw it.

Of course he did, the witch ever-attentive, and suddenly Jimin’s gaze was filled with violet.

Soft, warm violet.

“Jimin,” Yoongi crooned, face so close to Jimin’s the human could see a tiny, almost indiscernible freckle on the top of one of his cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

Jimin shook his head again, wanting the subject to drop.

Because this hurt.

The fact that Yoongi cared so much. That he could tell when Jimin was struggling with something, not only just physically but mentally as well.

Yoongi pulled him into a tight hug, and Jimin was grateful for the excuse to hide his face, pressing closer.

“Whatever it is, I hope you’ll tell me soon,” Yoongi said fiercely. He squeezed Jimin tightly to him, warm and all-encompassing and good. “You’re…special, Jimin. To me. I hate seeing you sad like this.”

“‘M not,” Jimin whispered before he could stop himself.

“What?”

“I’m…how could you say that?”

Yoongi pulled back, eyes confused. “How could I say what?”

“You’re the one who’s special. You and Tae and everyone else. I’m just…a burden. You’re all working so hard to help me, and I can’t give anything in return. I’m just…a human.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi protested, face twisting into a fierce frown. “Do you have any idea how much you have helped this realm? How much you’ve helped my family? If you hadn’t come along…I don’t know if I’d have been able to save that tree. I don’t know if I would have gotten over my own stubborn, blind mindset in time to even see that my forest is dying.”

Jimin shook his head.

“All of it was just timing. I sped things up, by forcing you and Tae to be around each other. I know you would have began to believe it eventually, Yoongi. You’re too good, too smart to have turned a blind eye for much longer. But I’m nothing…special. Nothing powerful, or magical, like you and the others.”

Yoongi studied him for a moment, then reached out and swiped his thumb across Jimin’s chin.

Gently once, then firmly the second time when it quivered underneath his finger.

“There is magic in everything, Park Jimin. Even if it’s not plain to see. From the most powerful witches to the most mundane. Magic isn’t all healing spells and grand transformations. There’s magic in certainties, in the way the sun rises every morning, and sets every night. There’s magic in surprises, in rainfall in summertime, in winter’s first snow. It is in beauty, and in light, and in memories.”

Warm hands cupped Jimin’s cheeks, and Yoongi pressed his lips to Jimin’s, and Jimin sunk into it like it was a lavender bath.

“But Jimin,” Yoongi whispered against his lips. “Over everything else, over all the differing realms and worlds and realities…it is in love.”

☽

Hoseok and Jimin were in the dance studio laid out on the floor as they cooled down.

The door was flung open and they turned their heads to meet the excited gazes of Taehyung and Jeongguk.

“It’s raining!” Jeongguk exclaimed, cheeks stretched back in a grin so wide his little dimple was peeking out.

“It’s raining!” Taehyung repeated, smiling just as wide.

Jimin blinked, confused.

It rained all the time here, didn’t it?

“A natural rain,” Jeongguk explained when he saw Jimin’s confusion. “Not a storm brewed from a dying tree’s spirit. This is just…rain. Pure, beautiful rain.”

Taehyung let out a whoop.

“Let’s go!”

Hoseok was up on his feet and joining them in an instant, pulling Jimin along with them.

Jimin, still a bit confused, stumbled along with the witches who were so excited he could see their magic physically sparking a bit at their fingertips.

They barreled out the front door like a litter of overexcited puppies, and the heavy sound of the rain crashing onto the forest canopy was broken through by their screeches and laughs.

Namjoon and Seokjin had joined them at the door, just as excited as the rest.

Jimin couldn’t hold back his grin as he saw them run straight out into the rain with no cloak, no umbrella, no coverings.

They tipped their heads back and beamed at the sky as deep purple rain clouds released rain drops over the entire realm.

“It doesn’t rain that often here,” Yoongi explained, voice coming up from behind Jimin, arms wrapping around his waist. “It’s always a treat, when it does. Especially when it’s raining this hard.”

Jimin laughed. “They look so happy.”

Jeongguk had picked Taehyung up and was spinning in wild, dizzying circles, and they only halted when Jeongguk lost his balance and crashed into a tree that immediately lowered its branches around the two witches in worry.

Seokjin had found a particularly eerie looking flower and had gently coaxed it into his palms before beginning to chase Hoseok and Namjoon around with it, and Jimin could hear their shouts of fear even over the pounding of the rain.

“Go join them,” Jimin said gently, smiling over his shoulder at Yoongi.

Yoongi grabbed his hand and pulled him forward a step.

“Only if you do, too,” Yoongi said.

Jimin shifted, debating.

There was a part of him that he believed would always dislike water.

Part of him that would always rather stay away from it, where it was warm and dry and didn’t conjure up so many painful and lonely memories.

But there was another part of him, a bigger part of him, that wanted to replace those memories with new ones.

Wanted the fear of drowning and the ache of loneliness to be replaced with Yoongi’s hand in his, with lavender rain over his skin, with the sound of his friends’ laughter echoing throughout the clearing.

There was a boom of thunder the moment Yoongi and Jimin stepped out from under the porch awning, as if in celebration, or welcome.

The rainwater continued pouring down, immediately soaking their clothing and hair, and Jimin let out a breathless laugh as Yoongi squeezed his hand.

Everybody else had congregated together, then, yelping and holding onto each other as they tried to gain their footing on the slippery mud while also trying their hardest to avoid stomping on any of the flowers.

And it was Jimin who lead Yoongi as they ran towards the rest of the group, feet slipping in the mud, the trees offering their branches low as handholds so they didn’t fall.

Namjoon saw them first, and he smiled hard, hair dripping into his eyes, shirt askew and stained with mud, the odd flower he was previously being chased with clinging to one of his shoulders.

The water completely enveloping Jimin no longer felt terrifying, but exhilarating.

The rest of them saw them coming a split second after Namjoon, and in unison, beaming and mud-streaked and soaked through, they all held out a hand for their two friends.

And Jimin was breathless with joy.

☽

Taehyung woke up from an afternoon cat nap to Jimin sitting on the side of his bed, stroking his hair with gentle, tiny fingers.

“Jiminie?” he asked, vision blurry as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

The last remnants of sun were streaming in through the open window, settling violet over his sheets, in-between the honeyed strands of Jimin’s bangs, layered in warm patches across Taehyung’s arm.

In that moment, looking at Jimin in the light like this, Taehyung felt a sudden, intense burst of fondness for the human who had crashed his way into their world.

For the human who knew nothing of magic, of their values or traditions or cultures, but still cared so much.

Still loved so deeply, the same way Taehyung loved, the same way witches loved.

And out of all the things Taehyung had experienced in his life, of tumbling stars and falling trees and blood red storms and cognizant artwork, he thought to himself that love was the most magical thing of all.

Common ground for every realm.

A universal connector.

Jimin smiled down on him, and Taehyung’s next swallow was thick.

Jimin was love, and he was good, and a large part of him had gotten so used to the human there that he couldn’t imagine him leaving.

He’d gotten so used to Jimin being by his side that at times he forgot that Jimin had a home to return to that wasn’t this realm. 

“Taehyung-ah,” Jimin said softly. “It’s time to get up.”

“Is it time for dinner?” Taehyung stretched out, popping his back and sighing in contentment.

“Mmm,” Jimin hummed, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s hand and helping him sit up. “Something like that.”

Taehyung squinted at his friend. “What?”

Jimin unleashed his full, unbridled smile, then, and Taehyung couldn’t help but hesitantly grin back.

“C’mon, the others are waiting.”

Jimin lead him down the stairs and past the empty dining room, and Taehyung was confused at the silence.

“Where is everyone?”

There was a silent hum in the air, invisible excitement building up and hiding in the couch cushions, swinging along the stair banisters, and if the buzzing air didn’t convince Taehyung enough that something was going on, the painting of Yoongi’s great-uncle winking at him did.

Taehyung threw a confused look at the painting, who plastered on an innocent expression and shrugged at him.

“Grab your cloak,” Jimin said. He reached up and handed Taehyung’s to him, then reached again for a cloak unfamiliar to Taehyung.

Taehyung raised his eyebrows as he looked at the luxurious garment. It fit Jimin perfectly, hexed to float around his legs and never touch the floor the way all cloaks of their realm were. The material was light as gossamer, though Taehyung knew Yoongi had probably charmed it to be as warm as if it were a fur cloak. The entire material was see-through save for the flowers woven throughout, held in place by delicate, golden thread.

“Yoongi hyung must have worked hard,” Taehyung mused, tugging playfully at the hood as he donned his own cloak.

Jimin’s cheeks blazed, and he swatted Taehyung’s teasing hand away. “Shut up.”

“It’s beautiful, Jiminie,” Taehyung said sincerely. “It truly suits you.”

It makes it even harder to remember that you’re eventually going to leave.

They went around to the back of the house, Jimin still holding onto his hand, and something warmed in Taehyung’s heart at the realization that he recognized their individual cloaks, now, even with the hoods pulled up over their heads.

He could practically see Jeongguk’s overly long, wavy hair bouncing underneath his black cloak, seemingly plain in the day, but speckled through with captured starlight once the sun went down.

He saw Namjoon’s deep blue cloak tangled together with Hoseok’s golden one as they squabbled side-by-side in the grass, kneeling over something that Taehyung couldn’t see.

Taehyung smiled, eyes roving over the group of people that he loved, and he was so happy to love them, wanting to keep moments like this with him forever.

Taehyung wanted this, forever.

“Taehyungie,” Yoongi smiled once he saw them approaching. “You’re finally up.”

“What’s happening?” Taehyung asked. “What’s the occasion?”

Yoongi came up to him, then, eyes gentle, mouth set in a small upcurl.

“Taehyung-ah,” he said. “Happy Autus.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “It…?”

“It’s today,” Seokjin was there, then, face equally as fond as Yoongi’s. “We thought it’d be nice if we celebrated.”

“We—I—our realm hasn’t celebrated Autus in…”

“In years, I know,” Yoongi said. “And that’s because of my family. But this is important, right? One of the most important days of the year. For giving back. For being present, and grateful.”

Taehyung was only aware of the tears streaking down his cheeks when Jeongguk was there, thumbing them away, grinning at him with starlight eyes.

“Let’s say we start up the tradition again, yea?” Yoongi asked.

Taehyung sniffled, nodding fervently. “Yea.”

With that, they stepped back to reveal what their cloaked bodies had previously been hiding.

Gorgeous gossamer lanterns, one for each of them.

They looked fragile, but when Taehyung reached out to touch one in awe, it was sturdy underneath his fingers.

“How…?”

“Namjoon stayed up for the past two nights scouring through old books, teaching us the spell on how to make these,” Seokjin smiled. “It’s not that difficult, once you get the hang of it. And once the sun rises at dawn, the framework of the lanterns will dissolve and go back into the earth.”

“Wow,” Taehyung breathed. “They look just like…”

Just like the ones my mother used to make.

“Do the honors?” Hoseok gestured towards one of the lanterns, looking at Taehyung.

Taehyung grinned, and stepped forward.

Crouching down, he placed his hand over the opening on top of one of the lanterns. He thought of this moment, right then, surrounded by his family who loved and cried and tried and made mistakes and made up for them, too — he let all of the emotion coiled tight inside his chest build and then released.

His magic flowed into the lantern and stayed there like a koi fish, swimming within the gossamer confines contentedly.

The rest followed his lead, and one by one their faces were illuminated by their own magic, lanterns cradled close to their chests.

Yoongi reached over and placed his hand over Jimin’s lantern, as well, and Jimin grinned in delight as he watched the delicate lantern in his hand light up with the witch’s magic.

They walked in a line, as tradition called for, into the heart of the forest, passing by the Weeping Day and walking to the barren space where the very first tree had fallen.

They fell into a circle around the grave, faces illuminated by the lanterns they held gently in their hands.

“Arath sunem vix cen lein, nik lein sunem raivem cen krea,”  Taehyung murmured.

Floran, the witches’ original language — the one that the rest of the realm spoke, the one that they spoke when Jimin wasn’t there.

I give myself to you, as you give yourself to me.

The others repeated it, then lifted their lanterns into the air with both hands, gently, the way you lift a butterfly toward the sky.

The lanterns floated upwards, buoyed by a shimmering wind, and the trees around them rustled happily.

Jimin watched in awe as new sprouts and clovers began forming on the ground around them, the stars in the sky moving in such swift circles that it looked like they were spinning in joy.

The sky burst with light — the magic from their lanterns coming together and then suddenly zipping away, spreading throughout the forest.

Like all of them running towards each other for tight hug before turning and dispersing.

Flowers began crooning, nighttime ballads that had Jimin’s feet itching to dance along, and the trees around them grew taller.

The six witches grinned at each other, then sunk to the ground and instantly fell into a deep sleep.

Yoongi had warned Jimin of this before — one of the main reasons why his ancestors had gotten rid of Autus.

It made them vulnerable, casting out so much of their magic like that. It fatigued them and left them in a deep, almost comatose-like state for the rest of the night and well into the next morning.

But Jimin was here, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Not tonight.

He watched over their sleeping bodies as Yoongi’s forest sang, and whistled, and received in delight.

Jimin stayed up all night, watched in pure joy as the flowers swayed side to side, as the stars dashed back and forth in the sky, as the trees dipped down to rain leaves and flowers over their slumbering bodies. He watched as his friends breathed in sync, as the sky lightened and melted into a lilac sunrise, as Autus ended and a new dawn began.

Yoongi was the first to wake, and because Jimin was already looking, he couldn’t help but notice that the first thing Yoongi sought out when he opened his eyes was him.

☽

Yoongi and Jimin were making their way back towards the cottage, Yoongi contentedly listening to Jimin hum under his breath as leaves crunched under their boots and the sky streaked above them in hues of purples and orange.

They had spent the entire day flipping through books for Jimin’s return, and Namjoon could swear that they were close.

After being cooped up all day, it was nice to go outside and walk.

One of the trees residing beside their path extended a branch towards them.

When the two of them stopped, it shook its branch once, twice, and on instinct, Jimin held out his hands.

Three fruits were shaken from the branch and fell into his outstretched palms.

Jimin let out a laugh, delighted.

Holding the multicolored fruit cupped in his hands, Jimin swiveled to the side to look for Yoongi.

“Hyung, look! It gave me fruit!” he marveled once he caught the witch’s eye.

And Yoongi couldn’t look away.

He couldn’t look away from the boy bathed in sunlight, smiling so big and pretty that it made pieces of Yoongi ache.

Looking at Jimin smile like this felt like springtime in-between his ribs.

He couldn’t look away from the human who somehow made Yoongi feel, for the first time in his life, that he had something to fight for.

His attention was pulled back at the sound of Jimin’s laughter, the tree nuzzling into his stomach like an overly affectionate puppy.

“I don’t think it wants me to go,” Jimin giggled when he felt the vines tighten ever so slightly around him, petulant and pouting, when Taehyung called from the top of the path, just inside the house, that supper was ready.

I don’t want you to go, either.

“Jimin-ah.”

And the way Yoongi said his name, like that — like it was something to hold on to.

Like it was something he had forgotten for years and years and suddenly remembered.

“I—” Yoongi exhaled harshly through his nose.

He stepped forward, with purpose, placed a solid palm against Jimin’s cheek.

Jimin thought he would dip down and kiss him, but he didn’t. He just stood there, face still overwrought with emotion, searching Jimin’s eyes as if every answer laid inside of them.

“What is it?” Jimin whispered, not liking the pinch between Yoongi’s brows.

“Don’t you…” Yoongi’s voice was soft, unsure. “Sometimes I feel like you were sent to me for a reason.”

Jimin was stunned silent, blinking at the witch with wide eyes.

“And…everything you do. Everything we are. Gods, Jimin. It just…it just makes sense.”

“What do you mean?” Jimin asked.

“The way you brought Taehyung back to me. Back to us. Did you know I hadn’t seen him laugh since we were kids? Before you. I didn’t know what grown-up Tae sounded like when he’s happy. And the spirits — how you’re able to hold on for long enough so that we can settle them. That we can save them. And your dancing, with Hoseok — his magic hasn’t looked as happy as it does now since before our parents died. You just…fit here, Jimin.”

The back of Jimin’s nose burned, and he exhaled shakily.

Because standing there, with his face cupped between Yoongi’s large palms, with Yoongi looking at him with such intensity — it was everything Jimin wanted.

It was everything Jimin couldn’t have.

“Doesn’t it feel right to you, too?” Yoongi asked, whispering again.

His eyes trailed away from Jimin’s, brows pinched together desperately. Yoongi trailed a gentle hand down Jimin’s cheek, his throat, across the plane of his collarbones and down his arm, linking their fingers together.

Violet met brown. “Don’t we feel right to you?”

Jimin shook his head.

Because it did.

They did.

Jimin’s eyes filled as his secret hung off the precipice of his tongue.

At the sight of Jimin’s tears, and the way he shook his head no, Yoongi’s eyes flashed with hurt.

He backed up, unlinking their fingers, and Jimin had to curl his hand into a fist to keep from reaching out again.

To try and savor the warmth leftover from the witch.

Warmth he knew he’d soon never feel again.

“I can’t stay,” Jimin whispered.

“You can,” Yoongi said. “You can stay. Taehyung loves you. Namjoon, Hoseok, Seokjin, Jeongguk, the trees, the flowers, this entire realm — it loves you. I love you. I love you, Jimin.”

Jimin squeezed his eyes shut.

He couldn’t stay.

But he couldn’t bring himself to tell Yoongi the truth, either.

He knew that the witch would just beat himself up for not noticing, begin to hate the fact that Jimin was slowly killing himself by so willingly holding onto those spirits to help soothe them, knew that Yoongi would blame himself.

And Jimin — Jimin just didn’t want to taint what they had.

He wanted Yoongi to look back on their time together and see only good things, their daily walks into the forest, the lavender steam of the bath, their bodies pressed close together, their shared kisses underneath the Weeping Day.

“You don’t…” Yoongi let out a laugh that was anything but amused. “Feel the same. I was misreading…everything, this entire time.”

“No!” Jimin couldn’t help but shout. “No. Yoongi hyung. You weren’t…”

“Then why won’t you stay?” Yoongi asked, voice cracking. “If I wasn’t, then why…”

“I can’t, hyung,” Jimin said, voice pleading. “I don’t belong here. You and everyone else…you’re powerful. Beautiful. Magical. I’m—not.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Yoongi stressed, stepping forward once again to grasp Jimin’s arms in pleading hands. “It doesn’t  matter if you’re magical or not, Jimin. It doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

And Jimin ached, wishing Yoongi knew that it did matter.

It mattered too much.

“I’m so sorry,” was all he said.

And it was all he allowed himself to say, even as he stood there and watched Yoongi’s eyes shutter and grow distant in a way he’d never seen before.

Even as Yoongi stepped back and turned so Jimin could no longer see his face.

Even as the last thing he saw of Yoongi before the witch disappeared was hunched, shaking shoulders.

☽

“You can’t ask him to give up everything to stay, hyung. You’re asking him to…give up an entire world.”

“I know. I just thought…after all this time, I’d be…”

“That you’d be what?”

Enough.

“It doesn’t matter, now. He wants to go home. He wants to go.”

☽

Jimin woke up feeling burnt out.

Like he was a glass jar and someone had lit a flame within him and sucked out all of his oxygen.

He sat up in a daze, aware that the cottage seemed quieter than usual. Through the glass of the skylight above his bed, he could see that the sky was a bruised purple, dark and black around the edges.

The beginnings of a storm.

When he twisted to the side and placed his feet on the wooden flooring, he could have sworn he felt the house shudder beneath him.

Jimin trudged downstairs, following the low and familiar sounds of Jin and Hoseok speaking in the kitchen.

Jeongguk met him at the doorway of the kitchen, eyes wide as if he had known Jimin was standing there.

"Hyung?"

Jimin opened his mouth to answer, but then his vision blurred and tilted.

"Jimin hyung!"

Jeongguk's hands were under his arms, steadying him, and his eyebrows were furrowed.

He brought Jimin close to support him, and ducked down, whispering, "It's getting worse, Jimin. You have to tell them."

Jimin had his eyes shut, breathing harshly.

He didn't belong here.

And the realm knew that.

It was draining him, staying in a place that was not meant for him.

It was draining him, yearning for a place that could not be a home.

"No," Jimin weakly denied. "Not yet."

"If not now, then when?" Jeongguk hissed.

Never, Jimin wanted to say.

He never wanted them to know.

They all seemed to accept his belonging here -- it showed in the way they smiled at him during dinner, the way they spoke so freely around him now, the way their eyes softened whenever he offered to help them with their work for the day.

And Jimin didn't want that to change. He didn't want any of the witches he loved so much to realize that the realm was rejecting him, expelling him from the magical world that he longed so desperately to be part of but was not born for.

Besides, Namjoon was convinced that they were close to finding a way to send him back.

He only had to hold out until then.

"What's wrong?"

Yoongi's voice was close now, and he looked to the side to see the split moment of hesitation when Yoongi reached for him but then thought better of it, retracting his hands.

Still, the witch's eyes were dark and concerned, gaze flitting between Jeongguk and Jimin's faces.

"Are you sick again? Is it the flu?” he asked Jimin.

"No, just tired," Jimin rasped out.

Jeongguk was glaring at him, but he ignored the healer's gaze stubbornly. "Help me sit down, Guk."

Jaw clenched, Jeongguk stayed silent but lead Jimin to a kitchen chair anyway.

"Breakfast is almost ready," Seokjin said gently, having watched the entire scene from the other corner of the kitchen. "It's soup. Maybe it will help, Jimin-ah."

The front door burst open seconds later, Taehyung and Namjoon stumbling in, sweat dripping from their hair, mouths parted with panting breaths.

Taehyung locked eyes with Yoongi, and he shook his head.

"Hyung..." his voice cracked.

Yoongi was striding towards them now, steps alarmed.

"What is it?"

"It's the Weeping Day," Namjoon breathed out.

"No," Yoongi said, voice strained. "No."

And Jimin felt as if his breath had left him, as well.

The Weeping Day — the tree that surrounded and protected the waterfall.

Their waterfall, it felt like now.

That was where he and Yoongi began.

Where he and Yoongi would always come back, every day.

To the tree with the weeping yellow vines and flowers, scattering in the wind so beautifully, flitting over Yoongi's cheeks, tangling in Jimin's hair, the sound of the waterfall low and soothing in the background.

Sometimes at night, Jimin would lay in bed and find crushed yellow petals on his pillowcase, left there from coming home with the Weeping Day's love tucked away in his hood, or his hair.

It was where he and Yoongi began to understand each other, underneath the watch of their realm's oldest tree.

The one that wrapped around their arms in lieu of hugs and occasionally scooped Jimin up with one of its thicker branches and curved underneath him like a swing, pushing him up so high he could almost taste sky as Yoongi stood below him, watching carefully.

And every time Jimin would look down, the witch's eyes were always soft, and always trained on him.

"It's dying," Namjoon said, voice shaking. A tear fell down his cheek, and Jimin watched, fixated on the drop with wide, horrorstruck eyes, as the moisture traced down Namjoon's jaw to the point of his chin. "It's dying."

Eyes fell on Jimin.

And Jimin stood.

Not because they expected him to help -- if they knew that the magic was hurting him, they would never ask him to be doing this.

To hold onto these angry spirits while the witches calmed it down.

But it’s what Jimin wanted.

He wanted to help.

He wanted to save this beautiful world that was full of beautiful people who loved him for who he was.

So he stood, and Jeongguk's eyes snapped to him.

"No," the healer snarled. “Jimin hyung, you are not doing this."

A flash of red lightning, a deafening crack of thunder.

The storm was about to begin.

The beginning of an end.

A sign they knew all too well, now.

Jimin began walking towards the door, where Jin and Hoseok had abandoned breakfast and were donning their cloaks.

"Jimin!" Jeongguk shouted, eyes flashing in a way they've never seen. "You can’t!"

He bit his lip, and Jimin knew that he was trying to hold back their secret.

At Jeongguk's anger, Yoongi seemed to unconsciously bristle, and for the first time since he and Jimin fought, Yoongi reached out for him.

"Why are you yelling at him?” Yoongi said, brows pulled together.

And Jimin's heart warmed -- even though the witch didn't know what exactly they were fighting about, he was still on Jimin's side.

Still reached out to make sure he was alright.

"We don't have time, come on, come on," Taehyung was frantic, hands shaking as he pulled Jimin closer to him and clasped the human's cloak around his shoulders for him.

"He's not going, he can't go!" Jeongguk looked scared now, eyes wide and beseeching. "Hyung, he can't--"

But no one was listening to him.

The center of all of their magic, of their parents' magic, of the entire realm's magic, was dying.

The oldest tree in Yoongi’s forest was dying, and they had to go.

They all hurried out the door, sure that they would be able to fix this.

They were going to save this tree, who had given them so much.

Jimin ran, pushing through the way his head began to feel lighter and lighter.

He ran, and ran, and when he looked back, he saw that Jeongguk had no choice but to come with them.

The healer's cheeks were wet.

The moment Jimin turned around, it began raining.

It happened in a series of snapshots, it seemed, with how out of it Jimin was.

All he knew was that he was being pushed by an intense love within him.

A love that was tinged violet. A love that was new but felt so, so familiar.

It gave him strength, that feeling that built and built inside of him.

The storm raged, but so did he.

They made it to the center of the forest and he was devastated to find the beautiful Weeping Day he knew so well look so deteriorated.

It had happened so quickly.

The last time he had seen it, it was still bright, still healthy.

And now it was concaving within itself, its ocean of yellow petals bruised and brown, spread all over the forest floor.

It hurt, seeing the tree like that.

The tree that had been so kind to Jimin.

The tree that was so vast, and ancient, and loving, and now, out of all of the lifetimes that it had overseen, all the smile lines and frown lines that had carved their way into its bark, the massive roots filled to the brim with magic buried deep underneath Yoongi’s forest — that was all dying.

Right then, right in front of their very eyes.

Jimin couldn’t stay and love Yoongi.

He couldn’t stay and be Taehyung’s best friend, couldn't stay and be Hoseok’s dance partner, couldn’t tease watch Jeongguk finish his apprenticeship to become a true healer, couldn’t wake up and hug Seokjin and Namjoon every morning.

He couldn’t stay.

But that didn’t mean he had to leave, either.

Without hesitation, Jimin walked up to the tree right as it fell into itself.

Jimin felt his knees wilt from the sheer amount of magic that hit him.

There was no physical pain, but it was too much.

Like sucking in a lungful of oxygen and then forcing yourself to take in more.

Like being surrounded by water, at all sides, deep and heavy and all-encompassing.

And he heard Jeongguk sobbing behind him, frantic words drowned out by the violent storm.

Jimin looked at the tree-turned-spirit in front of him and it looked back at him with angry eyes. A spirit that had previously loved him was now so, so angry.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around it, closed his eyes and remembered his and Yoongi’s first kiss, laid out in the warmth of the sun while yellow petals rained down on them, he remembered dancing in the rainstorm, remembered hot dinners and slow breakfasts and violet baths.

Jimin’s spent his entire life falling.

Into rivers.

Into loneliness.

Into new, fantastical realms.

Underneath this tree, pressed up against Yoongi’s solid warmth, he had even fallen in love.

And now, to save a realm that had given him everything, Jimin falls for the last time.

☽

When Jimin blinks awake, it’s to a golden sky.

For a moment, he thinks that he’s back in his realm, looking up at the sun.

But then soft tickles brush against his cheek, and he realizes that the sky is falling down on him.

A mass of tumbling, golden petals.

“Jimin?”

A familiar face came into his field of vision.

Beautiful and warm and bright.

A tear dropped onto Jimin’s cheek.

Drained, but with the knowledge that the familiar face was there to look after him, Jimin felt safe enough to let his eyes slip shut again.

☽

The storm had been the most violent one of all — the lightning blood-red and striking so close to them, the thunder deafening.

The rain was relentless, and the Weeping Day’s spirit was huge. It was monstrous. It was angry.

And Jimin looked so small against it, latched on with all his might.

“Listen to me! The realm is killing him! Do you understand me? The magic has been killing him all along!” Jeongguk had screamed, eyes frantic, trying to break out from the restraining grasp Taehyung had on him to stop him from running over to Jimin. He had been screaming the entire time, but this — this was when they all finally listened.

Their heads whipped towards the healer, eyes wide.

“What?” Yoongi breathed out.

“He’s going to die, he’s dying, please, he’s absorbing too much of the spirit’s magic!” Jeongguk lunged forward, but Taehyung kept him back.

But then it was Yoongi who began sprinting towards Jimin, breathless with fear, eyes focused only on Jimin, Jimin, Jimin, who wouldn’t stay not because he didn’t love Yoongi, but because he physically couldn’t.

But then Namjoon was there, yanking him back as Yoongi had fought to go forward.

“You can’t go there, hyung, the spirit will kill you!” Namjoon screamed.

“Let me go,” Yoongi shouted, desperate. “Joon, let me go!”

“We have to calm the spirit,” Namjoon had shouted to the rest of them, lightning flashing every few seconds. “Calm the spirit!”

They had all dropped to their knees and placed their palms to the floor, channeling as much of their magic out as possible towards what used to be the Weeping Day.

And after long, terrifying minutes, it worked.

The spirit was appeased, the storm melted away, and Jimin was laying on his side on the forest floor, not breathing.

But instead of a sprout growing in place of the Weeping Day — the world was suddenly wrapped in gold.

A strong wind swept around them all, forcing them to shut their eyes, and when everything calmed, they looked up surrounded by the tree, branches hanging low and full.

As if it had never died.

And Jimin was laid out peacefully on his back, completely surrounded by yellow petals, looking like he was cradled within his sun’s arms.

Then they were running, slipping over mud and a desperate kind of fear, and Yoongi had been shaking so hard he collapsed onto his knees right by Jimin and didn’t even register the pain.

The moment Yoongi reached out, cupped Jimin’s cheek, and called his name, Jimin’s eyes opened.

As if he had never died, either.

☽

The next time Jimin opened his eyes, it was to the enchanted mobiles again.

Small beams of light spun around the walls of his room like a lullaby, and the sight was so familiar Jimin’s throat closed up with emotion.

The cottage was quiet, but if Jimin strained his ears enough he could hear the low murmurs of Floran being spoken somewhere downstairs.

When he shifted his gaze to the side, Yoongi was already there, looking at him.

And Jimin’s heart ached with pure want.

Though his head was filled with a million questions, overriding all of them was the fact that he loved Yoongi.

Would do anything for Yoongi.

He was so overcome with this emotion that he couldn’t even speak — he just looked and looked while Yoongi looked back.

Eventually, Yoongi moved forward, carding a gentle hand through Jimin’s hair.

“You should have told me,” Yoongi whispered, voice wavering.

Whether it was in anger or sadness or something else, Jimin couldn’t tell.

All he knew was that Yoongi was truly upset, at him, and he didn’t like it.

Felt like someone was digging a pit inside his own stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispered back. “I didn’t want to worry you. And I wanted to help.”

“It wasn’t worth it, Jimin,” Yoongi hissed, his free hand clenching into a fist. “I would never have asked you to help if I had known—”

“Would you have let your realm die, then?” Jimin asked. “Would you have been okay with watching your forest die?”

“You think I would have been okay with watching you die?” Yoongi’s voice was loud in the previously silent room. “After Jeongguk explained what the two of you had been hiding — after seeing you lying there on the floor like that…I couldn’t do it, Jimin. How could you make me do that?”

Yoongi’s eyes flooded with tears, and he leaned forward to press his hands roughly into his face, eyes wide and wild and trained on Jimin like he would disappear if he so much as blinked.

“How could you make me stand there and have to imagine the rest of my life without you?”

Jimin reached out and wrapped a hand around Yoongi’s wrist, tugging so that the witch would reveal his face.

Yoongi allowed his hand to come free, laced his fingers between Jimin’s even as he ducked his head to hide his tears.

“You scared me,” Yoongi said. “You really, really scared me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jimin said earnestly. “I was being selfish. I’m sorry.”

“Never do it again,” Yoongi said, eyes up and locked on Jimin’s now, blazing. “Promise me. That we won’t keep secrets from each other.”

Jimin blinked, words catching in his throat.

“Yoongi…”

“Promise,” Yoongi demanded, hand tightening around Jimin’s.

A crease formed between Jimin’s brows. “You know I still can’t stay here, Yoongi,” Jimin said, his entire soul aching. “The magic…it’s still…”

Yoongi seemed to stutter, sitting up a bit straighter as if he had just remembered something he forgot.

Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss against their joined hands, his wet cheeks smudging against Jimin’s knuckles.

“The Weeping Day brought you back to life as a ‘thank you’, Jimin,” Yoongi said. “And Jeongguk has been nursing you back to health since then. And he said that ever since you were reborn…he doesn’t see your aura dimming, anymore. He thinks you’ve become part of this forest now. You’ve become part of my forest. The magic…it isn’t harming you anymore, petal.”

Jimin sat up in shock, heart hammering in his chest.

“What?”

“If anything, it strengthens you,” Yoongi was beaming. “I don’t think you can yield magic the same way we do, but you’re definitely not human anymore, Jimin.”

“It’s all cyclical,” Jimin whispered in awe. “You give, and the forest gives back.”

“The forest gives back,” Yoongi repeated, nodding.

“So I…so I can stay?” Jimin asked, eyes wide.

Yoongi nodded. “You can stay. If…if that’s what you want.”

Letting out a muffled scream, Jimin lunged forward to wrap his arms around Yoongi’s neck. “Yoongi.”

“Yes?”

“I want to stay. I love you. I love you.”

Yoongi wrapped strong arms around Jimin’s waist, pulling him close and kissing the side of his head, exhaling shakily.

“Then welcome home, Jimin.”

☽

Yoongi’s forest did not become healthy overnight.

There were still fallen trees.

Angry spirits.

Mourning and loss and regret.

But, eventually, things began looking up.

Yoongi fought. He held meetings with his extended family council and emphasized the importance of giving back, emphasized the importance of everybody participating in Autus, emphasized the importance of cherishing the land that gave them so much.

And it helped.

Stubborn minds are not easily swayed, but with time, and patience, and persistence, the forest began flourishing again.

Flowers sprouted in Yoongi’s footsteps.

Trees grew taller and taller and hummed lullabies every violet twilight.

Jimin’s room became a guest room once again, as he fell asleep in Yoongi’s arms every night, the rhythm of their breathing in sync underneath the moon's watch.

Birthdays were celebrated, fights were picked and then resolved, and they all grew even closer than before.

They became a family, the first one Jimin’s had in a long, long time.

When Jimin walked in on Taehyung and Jeongguk kissing in the kitchen early one morning, he turned right back around and ran up the stairs to tell Yoongi, giggling the entire way.

Realm hopping was still a semi-frequent affair, and one night just before midnight, Namjoon had let out a joyous shout so loud it startled everybody in the cottage.

“I’ve figured it out, Jimin-ah,” he had exclaimed. “I’ve found a way for you to visit your realm!”

And so he did.

With Yoongi’s hand in his, he visited his parents’ graves, he ate sweets from his favorite bakery that he had missed so much, he showed Yoongi the blue skies and golden sun. He soaked in every part of his old world that he had grown up in.

But, at the end of the day, Jimin was always glad to return home.