Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The core symbolic essence of forget-me-nots, hinted at in their name, centers on honoring memories of precious moments spent with dear ones. Potently associated with true, everlasting affection, the blooms epitomize enduring bonds between lovers and old friends. Their tender petals evoke treasured memories and everlasting bonds within the depths of the heart. 

✿❀

San is by no means a morning person, but there are certain parts of the early hours in a day that he treasures like little else in his daily routine.

When he walks the few bus stops to the bakery after his morning shower, sipping his first coffee of the day, he relishes in the quiet of dawn before the city awakens and comes bustling to life. When the sunlight creeps in late in winter, San watches it dip the streets of Seoul into varying shades of black and blue. When the birds sing their first songs in summer, he can find the same melody in the skip of his steps. They are the little things that keep him from fumbling for the snooze button on his phone and rolling over for another half hour of sleep.

By the time he reaches the bakery, the remnants of sleep that have been clinging to his body give way to a fit of diligence and anticipation for what the day will hold. He has around two hours before the shop’s official opening time that he spends preparing pastries, emptying the dishwasher and making sure everything is clean and set for the work day. On most days, Wooyoung will arrive just after San to help him get the shop running. But on days like today, when his co-manager lends his parents a helping hand by picking up his younger brother and dropping him off at school, San has another peaceful two hours to himself, until Wooyoung comes rushing in just around opening time, unkempt and out of breath.

With the pastries in the oven and everything squeaky clean, San has another forty-five minutes to spare before the first wave of customers begins trickling in. They’re a colorful bunch; a wild mix of shift workers returning home from work, business people rushing to their first meeting of the day, university students steeling themselves for the earliest morning class and people faring much of the same fate as San—working an odd hour job. Most of them come in for an early caffeine kick. Some of them stay to chat, relishing in pleasant conversation, a sweet breakfast treat and a slow start to the day. One of them makes San’s heart flutter with delight.

Before he becomes part of someone else’s morning routine, however, San utilizes the time he has to work on his most recent creation for the little potion shop he runs on the side. A sort of magical counterpart to the bakery, San had decided to put his skilled hand at brewing together magic and a sophisticated network of suppliers to good use and earn a little extra back when he moved away from his hometown and money was short. Business runs well and San loves expanding his skill set, learning more intricate potions that are tricky to brew and even more difficult to obtain on the market.

Today’s menu is an order placed by a man not much older than San’s own parents, hoping to rekindle memories of a long-lost love, if San had understood correctly. He had been working on it for a few days, and on today’s pick-up day all that is left to do is adding the key ingredient to the otherwise ready concotion. He watches the tinily crumpled petals fall from the mortar and swim on the surface, tinting the silvery liquid into deep blue, before dissolving into the depth of the cup. The sizzling rings out in the empty kitchen and San knows that it’s worked.

With time left to tackle some of the more ordinary tasks—the ones he prefers to avoid for as long as possible, until the paperwork reaches close to a deadline or the store’s inventory thins out, San hangs his apron by the kitchen door and buckles to his responsibilities.

The forget-me-not potion sits on the counter in an inconspicuous to-go mug, ready for pick-up. San is in the back of the bakery, fiddling with the dishwasher yet again acting up against its original purpose.

The bell at the front of the store rings. San whisks his fingers across the buttons that refuse to do their designated work, bestowing a quick fixing-spell on the mechanism. It’s not the first time modern technology has failed him and magic rules superior. 

“Be there in a second!” San calls, nudging the door to the dishwasher shut with his hip. He never bothers relocking the door after arriving at the shop, but he wonders who could be coming in so early, when not even the ‘closed’ sign at the front door has been turned over to signal the open hours of the bakery, and Wooyoung should still be another fifteen minutes out.

San laces up the strings of his apron on his way from the kitchen. He reaches the front of the store, his usual chirp of a greeting on his lips, when his eyes fall on his first customer of the day and his heartbeat picks up in pace.

Yunho is there, leaning against the counter, dressed in his usual work attire. No one should look this unfairly good in orange of all colors, San thinks, and yet the sight of Yunho in his uniform makes San’s stomach churn with something akin to elation. His eyes wander up from the heart-eyes inducing fit, expecting to find the gummy smile that Yunho always sports, no matter how sleep-deprived he is, and pauses. There is a small quirk to the corner of Yunho’s lips, but the lack of laugh lines tells San that something is off. Yunho looks a little disoriented as his gaze wanders around the empty shop, eyes uncharacteristically misty. He seems to be resting most of his weight against the counter, San notices, arm perched atop of it, almost like he isn’t entirely stable on his own feet. San frowns.

“Yunho?”

When he meets Yunho’s eyes, they are hazy with confusion. His pretty eyebrows are pulled into a frown and San finds himself wanting to reach out and smooth out the wrinkles in his forehead until Yunho’s usual sunshine smile is back. San watches a melange of emotions flicker across Yunho’s face before his bemused gaze focuses on San and, finally, all emotional turmoil makes way for that wide grin.

“Oh. Good morning, Sannie.”

San’s heart squeezes tight with affection at the nickname, the joy on Yunho’s face upon seeing him, the pretty way his smile curls up his lips.

Yunho is superficially beautiful, and while San doesn’t suffer from bad eyesight, the fact that Yunho is so easy on the eye makes up the smallest part of his infatuation with the man. Once nothing more than a handsome stranger and frequent visitor to their café, the cute paramedic had caught San’s eye the moment he stepped up to the counter for the first time. San probably would have left it at that—admiring Yunho from a distance for the time being, possibly striking up a bit of small talk over his frequent visits with passing time—but Wooyoung had other plans.

The social butterfly that he is, Wooyoung had given him approximately two weeks and five coffees before dropping one witty line on an unsuspecting Yunho sometime into the third week of him popping in for a caffeinated drink and a donut at irregular but frequent intervals. It was all it took to start an entire elaborate conversation with Yunho, who—as it turned out—was no less eager to meet new people and make friends. San will never forget the smug grin that had been etched to his face, after Wooyoung had almost in passing mentioned San’s name and dragged him straight into the conversation. When Yunho eventually bid them goodbye, with freebie cookies and a steaming cup of caramel macchiato in hand, it was with the promise to return.

“You’re welcome.” Wooyoung had torn San out of his thoughts, and his gaze away from the orange-clad back disappearing behind the glass door of the bakery.

“For what?” San had asked, only to be met with the same smug expression written across Wooyoung’s face, and left without an answer. Yunho had returned two days later with a different coffee order, a craving for sugary pastries, and San’s name on his tongue for a friendly greeting—and that was that.

Yunho has been frequenting the bakery for the better part of a year now, has tried out their entire menu before landing on a favorite coffee order (hazelnut latte), a decaf alternative to follow his night shifts (raspberry smoothie) and a pastry to match his sweet tooth (cream bread), and San had been forced to admit the perks of having an extrovert best friend to rope him into friendships, no matter how much it bridled at him to stroke Wooyoung’s ego.

Much has changed since the first time the doorbell chimed behind Yunho and announced his arrival to San’s life: San always makes sure to have fresh batches of cream bread ready on the days he knows Yunho will show up (Tuesdays and Saturdays). More often than not, Yunho texts him during the day—with information on his own whereabouts, or a funny cat meme that he says reminds him of San, it doesn’t matter. Their social gatherings have long migrated from chance encounters at the bakery to prolonged outings at the library, one of their favorite bars, or food places.

One time, Yunho had come to the bakery looking particularly deflated, because his best friend had opted out of watching the new horror movie Yunho had been so eager to see. Two hours later, San had found himself seated next to Yunho in the theater, desperately swallowing down his own crippling fear of horror and the hysterical cries welling up in his throat. Even then, he found it worth the suffering when they later exited the theater together and Yunho’s enthusiastic review of the movie was accompanied by a fond smile directed at San and the promise to walk him home, so he wouldn’t have to suffer his way through the dark alone.

Throughout everything, one thing that hasn’t changed is the way San still struggles to take his eyes off Yunho, whenever he is in close proximity.

Today he is so entranced, in fact, that though San’s attention has been fixed on Yunho for a hot second, he has entirely missed the paper cup Yunho is cradling in one hand.

He blinks.

His eyes wander along the counter, and when he finds it empty, the penny finally drops. His eyes scan the counter a second time and a third, increasingly frantic, but it doesn’t change the reality that’s crashing down on San, the consequences of his own reckless actions that Yunho unwittingly stumbled into.

The potion is gone and Yunho is holding a cup that isn’t his usual coffee order.

“Where—” San’s voice cracks on the first word and he needs to clear his throat twice in order to be able to get out the question he fears the answer to. “Where did you get that?”

“The coffee? Oh, it was standing right here on the counter. I really don’t know how you make the time to finish up my coffee orders early. I texted you not even ten minutes ago when you must have been busy setting up.” San reaches for the pocket of his apron, feeling for his phone that rests there in silent mode, out of sight out of mind.

Because I’m head over heels for you, San wants to scream.

His mouth runs dry as he thinks back to the dozens of times he has gone out of his way to have Yunho’s coffee order readily waiting for him on the counter by the time he arrived. It had become a sort of silent promise to Yunho, to save him some time before his morning shift and—selfishly—to be on the receiving end of one of Yunho’s smaller, more private smiles, to become part of the reason for Yunho’s happiness.

Yunho’s smile doesn’t cease but San’s stomach churns uncomfortably. He’s spent enough time sneaking glances at Yunho and learning to read his different shades of happiness that he can tell something is off. His smile today sits wide on his lips, almost unnaturally so. San chances a glance into Yunho’s cup and to his relief finds it mostly full, though it is evident that there are a couple of sips missing to the rim. The azure blue liquid reflects the sunlight that has begun filtering into the salesroom and San wonders how the hell Yunho had gotten the potion mixed up with his usual order.

“Can I have a cinnamon roll, too?” Yunho asks nonchalantly, his eyes still trained on San, his teeth flashing more so than usual. The panic in San’s chest flares.

“Sure.” He jumps at the opportunity to spin around and escape Yunho’s watchful eyes. He can feel the shame burning behind his eyelids, threatening to spill over as he plugs a cinnamon roll from the display and carefully wraps it in a napkin. Yunho has never come in this early before and San had become careless, violating the first rule of magic in a world where witches are better off living an inconspicuous civic life and not draw unwanted attention: Hide away any and all traces of magic from the public eye to prevent fatal mishaps from happening. And now the one person he had been trying to protect from his supernatural abilities had stumbled over one of his potions, and San’s blood runs cold, so deeply appalled by what he’s done. 

He turns around to find Yunho’s eyes still fixed on him, goofy smile in place, seemingly oblivious to San’s inner hysteria, and hands him the pastry.

“Can you give me that?” He motions to the cup in Yunho’s hand. “I promise I’ll make you a new one. I was trying out something new and was planning to taste it myself before it would hit the taste buds of a customer.”

“Sure.” Yunho shrugs and holds out the cup, purposefully bumping his knuckles into San’s. “Are you working to improve your hazelnut latte? Because I assure you that’s a waste of time, when it’s already impeccable.”

“Something like that.” His own voice echoes hollow in his ears as Yunho chuckles at his own joke, raw and empty, but no matter how hard San tries, he can’t quite swallow down the terror of what happened.

He hasn’t exactly poisoned Yunho. With the few sips he’s taken the potion should only marginally tamper with his brain chemistry but the implications are the same. Not only had he been keeping his magical little secret from Yunho and gone behind his back, he had been reckless enough to let him fall into the trap of consuming one of his enchanted concoctions.

The bell rings a second time this morning just as Yunho’s fingers brush against San’s. They linger for a second longer than usual, and when San lifts his gaze, a pretty pink color dusts Yunho’s cheeks. The potion has stopped steaming, but it’s still warm when San plugs it from Yunho’s fingers.

“Good morning!” Wooyoung’s voice sounds from the entrance. San quickly retracts his hand and places the to-go cup down behind the counter, out of Yunho’s sight and reach.

“What’s up, you guys?” Wooyoung asks. San waits for his best friend to join him by the counter so he can nudge him towards Yunho before moving aside to get the coffee machine running. He can feel Wooyoung’s confused stare on him as he casually tries to bring distance between him and Yunho, and he can’t really blame him. Usually, San would be ever so eager to jump at the chance to hang around Yunho a little longer and capitalize on the minutes Yunho is willing to take out of his morning to spend at their bakery.

Luckily, Yunho seems less perceptive than Wooyoung. While his eyes follow him behind the counter, his mind appears to be elsewhere, so that he doesn’t notice how San’s breath ends up stuck somewhere between his ribcage and throat, or how he works on autopilot as he froths milk and pours coffee into another to-go cup.

Yunho’s eyes flicker down as San hands him the coffee, careful to offer him the cup sleeve to grab and avoid getting Yunho’s fingers burned. “Thanks, Sannie.”

Yunho stumbles over the first word a little, so eager to get it out that it nearly ends up stuck in his throat. His lips form a little ‘o’ as he blows into his coffee, but he doesn’t avert his gaze, round orbs watching San over the rim. Like this, San can see the widening of Yunho’s pupils as they flicker between his eyes. Instead of the unwavering gaze he had trained on San before, his eyes now stray from San’s, wandering over his face and down his front in a less than subtle manner.

Wooyoung clears his throat.

“Well,” he says, bestowing a gaze on San that’s heavy with meaning, wide-eyed and quizzical as he walks out from behind the counter. San is beginning to feel scrutinized under the twofold attention of his friends. “I’m opening up the shop, we’re late already.”

San realizes Wooyoung is right as he watches him turn over the ‘welcome, we’re open’ sign on the inside of the glass door and it barely takes half a minute before it swings open and the bell heralds the business day with its third chime of the morning. He lets Wooyoung take charge of their morning rush, listening to him give cheerful greetings, make witty jokes and repeat coffee orders so all San has to do is keep the coffee machine running next to him and listen out for any individual requests—two extra shots of espresso here, almond milk there, an extra pump of syrup for the girl in her high school uniform, decaf for the middle-aged man in the boilersuit.

It helps take the mind off the potion incident a little, but only so long as there’s the first gap in the line of customers. Being allowed a breather, San’s eyes stray towards the side of their counter. Yunho’s still standing there, coffee forgotten on the counter, eyes trained on San. The knot in his throat that’s begun to ease over the past half an hour threatens to choke him.

“Hey, Yunho-yah?” San asks softly, waiting for Yunho to drag his eyes from the lower half of his face upwards, and trying to ignore the implication of where they’d been caught. “Isn’t your shift starting soon?”

Yunho taps his phone screen and needs a moment too long to process the minutes blinking back from his display, before jerking into hectic motion, eyes wide.

“Oh shit, you’re right.” He snags his backpack and the cup of coffee that’s bound to have cooled down to lukewarm by now. He glances back at them—at San, who has frozen midway into topping up their grinder with coffee beans, then at Wooyoung, who is still side-eyeing them, even as he holds out the card reader to a group of young men, and back at San. The second time Yunho’s eyes land on him, San can spot the hesitation in Yunho’s movements. He sees the uncharacteristic blush in his cheeks and in the way he speaks, shyly, like he doesn’t dare voice his next words.

“I don’t think I’ll have time to drop by tonight, but I—I’d like to call you, if that’s okay? Just to catch up, I mean.”

San wishes the spark of excitement away that lights up his chest and settles in his heart. He tries to remind himself that this is the potion speaking, that the Yunho he knows isn’t nearly as timid to voice out his wishes or to simply reach out to him, if something is up. In true gen z fashion, San isn’t particularly fond of making phone calls, but he’s never had a problem talking to his friends over the phone—certainly not with Yunho, who he generally can’t quite get enough of in the bounds of their friendship.

“Sure.” San swallows, abandoning his spot in front of the coffee maker to take a few steps towards Yunho. From the corners of his eye he can see Wooyoung move away from Yunho and him, taking over the coffee machine. San mentally thanks him for his blind understanding and thoughtful empathy. “Just call me when you’re done with your shift and want to talk.”

“Awesome.” The pink in Yunho’s cheeks makes way for a bright smile that lights up the store more than the morning sun does as he nods and gives a final wave.

“Talk to you later, Sannie.”

He offers a wave and spins around, backpack jumping on his shoulders with the force.

“Good to see you, too, Yunho,” Wooyoung says dryly from next to San, handing out coffee orders and still somehow managing to multi-task and catch the weird vibe hovering between them.

“Oh—Bye, Wooyoung. Sorry about that.” Yunho offers San’s best friend one last toothy grin before he’s out of the door, disappearing into a blurry patch of orange through the glass. Wooyoung huffs.

“Okay, what the hell was that?” he asks as San slowly unfreezes from where he’s standing by the pastries and walks over to retake his original position in front of the portafilter. His eyes catch onto the forgotten cup that stands by the sink. He reaches over and dumps the damned potion down the drain.

The line before Wooyoung has ceased, so he turns to face San with crossed arms, his eyebrows drawn together. “San?”

San hands out the last two coffee orders before looking at Wooyoung. He pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger, trying to fight the headache creeping into his temples and threatening to make a full-blown entrance.

“I was working on a new order,” he begins without daring to look at his best friend and see the way realization slowly creeps up on him. “I left it out on the counter while I was fixing the stupid dishwasher, and—god—I didn’t know Yunho would come in today. Or that he’d mistake the potion for his coffee order, but by the time I got here, it was too late. He must have drank at least a third of it.”

San’s voice wears thin as he concludes the retelling of his gruesome morning. He drops his hand, fully expecting the dreadful eyes of his best friend. Wooyoung’s hip rests against the counter, arms crossed as he directs the exact judgemental stare at San that he had anticipated.

“Oh, geez, you poisoned Yunho.” Wooyoung gasps. “It was a love potion, wasn’t it? That’s why he’s been ogling you with that dreamy smile of his all morning. And forgotten everything else in the meantime.”

“Not exactly.” San groans just as a boy comes up to the counter to hand back his emptied plate.

He puts on his most convincing smile and waves the boy off with his usual cheerful greeting—a thanks for coming and the reminder to return soon. He stacks the plate onto a tray and waits until the boy is out of earshot before continuing.

“It was a forget-me-not potion.”

Wooyoung lets out a long-suffering sigh, grabbing the damp cloth from the sink to wipe down the counter.

“Well, I think it’s good that you’re the first person he’s seen after swallowing that. At least this way we kind of know what to expect.” Wooyoung shrugs.

“What do you mean?” asks San, fiddling with the milk foamer to whip up lattes for both Wooyoung and him. He’ll need the extra caffeine today more so than usual.

“Come on, San.” Wooyoung huffs. “We both know he’d never resent you. At least this way, the flowers are only going to enhance positive emotions and happy thoughts, I imagine those are easier to deal with. Boy is going to be infatuated for a while.”

“What do I do?” San’s voice sounds pitiful to his own ears as he desperately grasps for something—a last straw of hope that everything will turn out okay.

“I don’t know San, I doubt there’s much you can do for the time being. I don’t know anything of an antidote and with the little he’s had, it shouldn’t take longer than a week, but you may have to indulge him a little until the effects wear off. Talk to him, be kind while he’s not fully in control of his senses. Though I doubt you’ll have a problem with the little bit of extra attention Yunho’s going to pay you.”

Wooyoung’s smile isn’t unkind or teasing, but the color rises to San’s cheeks all the same.

“Shut up,” he says, knowing full-well that Wooyoung is right. He’s pretty sure he prefers this outcome over Yunho picking a fight with someone he resents or growing abruptly attached to someone that isn’t San and doesn’t fully understand what is happening to Yunho.

Wooyoung rings up the next customer and San scoops a handful of ice cubes into a glass tumbler, pushing it across the counter towards Wooyoung. He expects the conversation to be over and to return to their natural banter and coffee-related exchanges. Instead, when Wooyoung speaks up again, his voice is softer.

“I know this sucks and that you’re worried. That this isn’t how—that you have your reasons for not telling him. But I think Yunho will understand, Sannie. You didn’t do it maliciously and he won’t resent you for that.”

San’s stomach plummets with something that feels a lot like bittersweet hope and painful dread.

He is ripped from the confusing blend of emotions when Wooyoung waves him over for a customer in line that’s waiting to pick up his customized order.

San is only relieved he made enough of the potion for three servings, so he doesn’t need to deal with the complaints of an angry customer on top of the entire predicament of an enchanted Yunho.

❀✿

Forget-me-not-potions: They are not a love potion per se—thank fuck, San thinks—, but they can call forth symptoms similar to those of any common aphrodisiac. Primarily a driving force for the tightening of interpersonal bonds, the forget-me-not potion can evoke hostile reactions as much as it can cause fond longing. Brewed from the flower’s stem and petals, it works to reinforce preexisting emotions and cement them in the target person. For better or worse, the person’s thoughts stick with the first individual they lay eyes on after so much as moistening their lips with the mixture. The components collaborate impeccably—rosemary to unveil forgotten memories, the dust of a mneme butterfly to reinforce the importance of shared recollection, muscimol to evoke a state of delirium between wishful thinking, confusion and hallucination in those who drink it, forget-me-nots to spark new feelings of sentimentality and melancholy, and a kingfisher’s feather to induce targeted memory loss—and make the perfect elixir for a faux memorable bond.

Between restoring the memories of a lost loved one, riling up a rival, rekindling childhood friendships or fostering new love, forget-me-not potions hold many side effects, the most paradoxical of which lies as such: Though impossible to forget the target person after first laying eyes on them, or for the faintest shared memory to fade away, artificial remembrances blur the perceived truth until reality and joyous illusion are left indistinguishable.

✿❀

“We had a three-party car crash come in today when the streets were packed and god, one of the injuries was severe. I almost thought we wouldn’t make it to the hospital in time. I checked in on her before leaving tonight and thank god, she’s stable.”

A small smile curls up San’s lips.

Even if a little morbid, San always enjoys listening to Yunho ramble on about his job. He gets the feeling that Yunho enjoys having someone to vent his stress of the day to, as well, and San will gladly lend an ear to hear Yunho talk so passionately of his job and the people he gets in contact with on a daily basis, no matter how strenuous his shifts are.

Like always, the conversation between them flows easily. San has never had a long phone call like this with Yunho before, where they talk about everything and nothing alike, hearing out each other’s stories and basking in quiet company in between bits of conversation, as San lies in bed and listens to Yunho rummage around his kitchen to whip up a late dinner. Now that he does, San thinks he could get used to it.

“What are you making?” San asks after a few minutes of peaceful silence.

Yunho laughs.

“I’m trying to make japchae, but I’m a little distracted.“ Yunho’s voice sounds nice through the mic of his earbuds, low and friendly. “We’ll see how it goes.”

“Distracted?” asks San.

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“Well, yeah,” San concedes, rolling over so he’s facing the ceiling, one arm hooked beneath his head. “But I don’t mean to keep you from having a real meal. You’ve had a long day already and a busy one at that.”

“I’m the one who called you,” Yunho reminds him. The sound of water running from the sink adds to the feeling of calm comfort that’s threatening to lull San to sleep. “And you’re definitely not the reason for my existing lack of culinary skills.”

“True.” His eyes slip shut as they follow the uneven pattern in his ceiling, exhaustion settling in his bones from an early day at the shop and the major hiccup of feeding his crush magic. It feels a little less drastic now that he’s worn down from sleep, but the concern still rests somewhere in the back corner of his conscience, the knowledge that this conversation wouldn’t happen, had he been more careful.

It irks him how nice this is; the current effects of the forget-me-not potion. He knows he doesn’t deserve enjoying the attention, but at least this way he can keep the symptoms in check, he tells himself.

A wave of self-doubt crashes over San. In all his precautionary efforts to keep Yunho away from the magical world, it’s almost suspicious how rash he’d become in his actions. Had his subconscious made the selfish decision to risk it all? To leave a potion out in the open even though San knew fully well that Yunho coming in early was not an unlikely possibility? Maybe this was his subconscious’ way of telling him to get it over with—stop hiding from his friends, from Yunho, specifically, and hope that none of them would be weirded out enough to drop their friendship.

But he didn’t know, San tells himself. He may have been rash and negligent but he hadn’t acted deliberately. He had been fine keeping secrets—this particular secret—from Yunho, and even if he subconsciously hadn’t, he would have never risked Yunho’s health for that to change.

“Hey,” Yunho interrupts his train of thought, pulling him out of the downward spiral of his brain. “Have you seen the photo Mingi sent to the group chat?”

San taps on his phone, wipes away Yunho’s contact photo—a selfie he had sent to San with one of  his coffee creations and a wide smile that San had saved immediately—and the timer of their call beneath it to open his messenger app. He snorts at the sight of a sulky Mingi staring back at him, photo taken from an awkward angle above his head so that it’s easy to make out the red streak on his leg, the ice pack that is pressed to his skin.

“I’m telling you, if one day finds Mingi ending up in my ambulance, I won’t be the least bit surprised.” Yunho’s voice rings through his phone speaker, deep and smooth. San can’t hold in a snort, even if the implication is rather uncomely. The mental image of Mingi getting picked up by Yunho in his full uniform after one of his many clumsy encounters with his own shopping bags that he keeps forgetting in the doorway and stumbling over, however, is simply comical.

Yunho quiets down as he turns his attention back to his food, struggling to multitask and keep up the conversation. It’s oddly calming, listening to the muted sounds of Yunho chopping vegetables and the bubbling of boiling water in the background and San soon finds himself falling back into a state of semi-consciousness, between wanting to speak with Yunho and succumbing to weariness.

By the time Yunho begins digging into his overcooked noodles, San is fast asleep.

❀✿

San is undecided whether it’s fate or karma meddling with his life when the day after the enchantment he runs into Yunho at the nearby campus library.

On a mission to research possible antidotes or other ulterior correctives to the potion’s ingredients, San had left the bakery early—not without triple-checking with Wooyoung that he was okay to do so. Eventually, fed-up with his overbearing concern and Yunho-induced scaremongering, Wooyoung had taken it upon himself to kick San out of his own shop, telling him to skip the moping and go proactively work to fix the mess he’s made.

It’s an odd form of deja-vu he experiences now, knowing that he could have expected running into Yunho at the library, where he spends the occasional evening in his search for books or games to borrow. It has been a while since San himself had come here, stressing over lists of condiments, their effects, and ways of preparation that he’d had to memorize in order to get his shop fully licensed. It had been him, who fed Yunho the information on where to get his weekly fix of literature, relaying to him the library’s reputation and vast range of genres.

San, for his part, particularly likes this library not because of the highly praised selection of fiction books and other media that it holds, but more so due to the hidden gems stacked between alchemy and astrology textbooks or buried in the medieval medicine section on the far back corner of the upper floor. They are his easiest form of access to confidential sources of magic that have yet to be digitized. 

He has just plugged a book from the botanical section and spotted an empty booth in the also well-liked, spacious study space, when his eyes skim across the faces of burned-out students and catch onto a pair that’s staring right back at him. He doesn’t need long to recognize that it’s Yunho, who’s gaping at him from one of the pristine common reading corners, waving him over with an enthusiasm that even for Yunho is exaggerated.

“Sannie!” Yunho whisper-yells, forgetting to lower his voice for the first half of San’s name before he remembers their whereabouts, clasping a palm over his mouth to muffle a snort. “What are you doing here, San-ah? I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah me neither, I—uh,” he gestures towards the plant science book in his hand, catching Yunho’s curious arch of perfect brows as he angles his head to read the title, “I’m just here to pick up a book for my parents to help with the garden. They don’t have it at the library back home, so…” 

“Ah,” Yunho affirms just as his gaze flicks from San’s book to the empty chair next to him. He pulls the chair back with one hectic motion, lacking the same cool elegance that dominates his movements whenever he isn’t put under a spell. “Come sit with me?”

Yunho looks a mixture between hopeful and bashful. It’s not like San would have declined his offer in the first place, but the wide look of expectancy does the rest to make him slump in the chair next to Yunho, offering a tight-lipped smile. For as much as the sweet devotion in Yunho’s features makes his heart ache wishfully and reminds him of what things could be like, if San wasn’t a coward and his feelings were distributed mutually, none of it is real.

“What gems have you picked up?” asks San to divert Yunho’s attention from his lack of reciprocal enthusiasm and motions towards the book Yunho has been reading from, flipped open to cover an entire pile of books before him.

“Oh.” Yunho blinks down at the books for a few long seconds, almost like he sees the gathered pile for the first time. When he finally meets San’s eyes again, he is sporting the same bashful blush in the apples of his cheeks from the day before.

“I remembered how you told me about your favorite books the other day and I—I figured I should give them a go. I’m excited to understand what you like. I want to feel closer to you, San-ah.”

San stares at Yunho.

They must have had this conversation back when San first recommended the library to Yunho, so far in the past that San doesn’t even remember, and yet when he peers down to take a closer look at Yunho’s books he indeed recognizes the titles–Please Look After Mom, The Boy Who Escaped Paradise, The Good Son.

“Oh.” It’s San’s turn to hide a nonplussed smile at Yunho’s confession. A dreadful feeling of excitement settles in his chest, quickly sacked by the lingering shame that hasn’t left since the morning prior, readily following up every little spark of elation when he—for a split second—forgets the circumstances of Yunho’s blunt straightforwardness, toeing the line of flirting.

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” he assures, when his initial moment of hesitation and inner conflict drags on and Yunho begins looking a little self-conscious. “Thank you for taking such interest in me, Yunho-yah.”

Yunho visibly perks up at the compliment, returning to one of his puppy-coded smiles. He looks so happy that San is almost certain he’d be wagging his tail, if he wasn’t actually a six-feet-tall man. Real or not, San never wants to be the reason for one of those smiles to vanish.

“I was thinking of taking this book home with me and grabbing some dinner on the way. Would you like to join me?” he asks.

“Definitely! I’m starving.” Yunho’s voice rises in pitch in his excitement, but San is too busy watching him scramble for his books to send the surrounding people apologetic smiles.

“Calm down, calm down, we’re in no rush.” He chuckles at the sight of Yunho hectically stuffing the books in his library basket, placing a hand on his elbow. The touch seems to calm Yunho from his frenzy. It relaxes his shoulders and has Yunho take a deep breath that San only now notices he’s been holding.

Yunho’s smile is a tad more muted as San leads him to the check out, arms linked together, baskets swinging by their sides.

He is a little surprised when Yunho, instead of insisting on grabbing meat, like he usually would in the warm weather, goes ahead with San’s suggestion for budae-jjigae. He hopes that it will serve as a bit of comfort food to Yunho’s fraught appearance, even if the summerly temperatures don’t provide the ideal setting for a steaming hot meal. It seems to help a little.

”It’s been a while since we’ve had army stew.” Yunho says through a mouthful of hot soup. His impatience and eagerness to eat have burned the tip of his tongue, so that he’s turned to blowing on small spoonfuls of the stew, swallowing down carefully. “Remember the first time we came here? It was the first time we hung out outside of the bakery.”

San does remember. His heart clenches with the knowledge that Yunho may cherish the same memory that San is still holding so dearly. It had taken San hours at the library to work up the courage and ask Yunho to have dinner with him on a freezing winter night, only for Yunho to drag him to this place and pay for two servings of the budae-jjigae that spread into the cold tips of their fingers.

“You said this was one of your favorite food places after coming to Seoul,” San recalls, wistfully taking a sip of water. “That it reminds you of home. I get that now.”

San searches Yunho’s face for any trace of the hyperbolic symptoms of the potion. He looks serious when he says,

“It reminds me of home more than ever when I’m here with you.”

✿❀

yunho: lord, why are all the books you read so gruesome

yunho: i’m not sure i can sleep tonight :(

yunho: but hey tomorrow’s my day off heh

yunho: i’ll swing by the bakery in the morning for a visit

yunho: good nighty night sannie!

san: …

san: you dragged me to watch the fucking conjuring with you

yunho: THAT WAS DIFFERENT

san: i–

san: i’m sorry??

san: good night yun

san: please catch some sleep

san: i promise i’ll fix you up with free coffee tomorrow

yunho: choi san, the man of my dreams

yunho: 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

San very nearly tosses his phone at the wall.

Chapter Text

❀✿

“What the hell is that?”

Wooyoung’s eyebrows shoot up higher than his voice as Yunho stumbles into the bakery, half-covered by a giant plushie that he struggles to fit through the front door.

It’s almost noon now, that quiet space between morning rush and afternoon bustle, so there’s no line at the counter when the chime of the bell and Wooyoung’s high-pitched voice announce Yunho’s arrival.

San, who had been wiping down the corner tables, perks up with interest.

It takes little effort for him to figure out the source of Wooyoung’s bafflement: Yunho is cradling a giant stuffed Shiba Inu, one that looks awfully similar to the plush toy San used to carry everywhere for four full months after first meeting Yunho—except this one is about twenty times the size.

San can practically feel the heat rush to his face as the customers scattered around the tables turn their attention towards the fuss surrounding the giant plush dog, and Yunho’s eyes fix on San, shining with joy.

“I got something for Sannie!”

Wooyoung sends him a pitiful glance.

“For me?” asks San, entirely caught off guard by the act of kindness. There is a lump forming in his throat, nerves spiking under the unwanted attention of everyone currently seated around the shop.

He is very grateful for his best friend, who doesn’t waste time convincing Yunho to sit down at a table for two, the humongous Shiba Inu in the opposite chair. The commotion starts to win down and San can finally breathe again, heart rate settling after his anxiety had cranked up under the spotlight.

“Are you okay?” Wooyoung asks quietly once Yunho is out of earshot, and San’s ears feel a little less like they’re on fire.

“Yeah,” San replies, finding that he means it for the most part. His skin is still crawling from the remnants of discomfort, but he can’t bring himself to be upset now that the crisis has been averted. “He didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know. But it’s making you uncomfortable and that’s valid, too.”

“It’s my fault,” San whispers, his voice choked with embarrassment. He’s ashamed that he’s the one feeling anxious over a little bit of excessive attention when, really, Yunho is the one caught in the middle of it all. Sure, the onslaught of Yunho’s affection is a little overbearing, but it’s nothing San can’t handle—and, first and foremost, it’s something he only has himself to blame for.

Yunho knows that San doesn’t like being the center of attention or the subject of grand public gestures, that the scrutiny of others feeds his anxiety, and he has always respected that, without fail. The fact that he seems to have entirely forgotten about it now speaks for itself.

Maybe San deserves this much, having relied on Yunho’s kindness and taking it for granted, while keeping secrets in exchange.

Wooyoung sighs. He gives San’s hip a quick squeeze and ruffles a hand through his best friend’s hair. “A fault that will be fixed with time. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

San swallows and turns to Wooyoung, offering the faintest smile—a quiet thank-you for the comfort Wooyoung always knows how to give best. He only hopes his best friend is right about this, too.

The two of them are interrupted by the coffee machine rumbling to life, demanding San to refill the water tank and clean out the milk pipes. By the time the machine is back in business, Wooyoung has made his way over to Yunho’s table. Business is slow enough that they can afford to offer their friend a bit of special treatment by catering to the table. It’s the least they–he–can do, San thinks.

Yunho orders his latte and munches on the freshly baked craffle that San adds to his drink order for free. Every now and then, he abandons his seat by the window to venture over to the cash register, where he leans over the counter to watch San prepare coffees and place pastries, or follows him to a table when he cleans up empty plates that customers have forgotten to return. The things he chats about are mostly mundane—his favorite soccer team’s recent loss, his neighbor’s cat that ran into him on its attempt to escape this morning, the elongated holes in the newly grown leaves of his Swiss cheese plant—but none of them feel dull to San. Yunho’s avid storytelling fills the quiet moments between customers and brings life to his cleaning duties.

As San returns from the back room with a broom and begins sweeping the floor near Yunho’s table for crumbs, Yunho catches his hand, tugging on his fingers for attention.

“Sorry.”

Yunho smiles at him but makes no move to withdraw his hand. San is certain his heart would have melted under any other circumstance when Yunho locks their fingers together, but now, with the unease that follows the brief spark of delight in his chest whenever Yunho acts a little too forward—like an unwelcome reminder of his wrongdoings—the elated excitement is muted by a heavy layer of remorse.

Still, San squeezes Yunho’s fingers and reciprocates the smile, pretending like it’s no big deal that Yunho has never held his hand before, and yet it feels pleasantly natural to slip his fingers in the spaces between Yunho’s.

Yunho continues to linger around the bakery for most of the afternoon, unbothered by the crowd filing in to pick up their after-work fix of caffeine and sugar. It’s when most of the tables are occupied by study groups and friends chattering over coffee that Yunho approaches San and Wooyoung at the counter.

“Are you two still up for Saturday?”

San can’t remember what’s happening on Saturday, but apparently Wooyoung does, because he steps in before San has a chance to ask.

“Sure,” he says. “Worry not, I’ll drag him there if I have to.”

He slings an arm around San’s waist.

“Oh, okay.” Yunho looks between them, brows pulled together tightly. “Cool.”

The word hangs in the air between them, filling it with a tension that San doesn’t know how to read. Yunho’s eyes remain fixed on Wooyoung’s hand that is resting over San’s hip. He looks more and more like he has just been asked to down an entire cup of vinegar.

“You haven’t finished your snack.”

Wooyoung breaks the silence between them, eyes glued to the pastry still sitting in a napkin on the tray in Yunho’s hands. It’s not like Yunho to forgo his usually so solid appetite and miss out on one of their home-baked snacks, but now the treat lies untouched and forgotten on the empty coaster. San wonders where Yunho’s mind has been over the past few hours.

“Was this all you had for lunch?” Wooyoung decides to dig deeper.

“I guess I wasn’t hungry,” answers Yunho without bothering to look at Wooyoung, or his tray, gaze unmoving where it is fixed on San and the hand Wooyoung still keeps around his side. Wooyoung’s jab at his eating habits doesn’t seem to register with Yunho, who merely blinks his eyes before breezing past the question.

“Well, I think I’ll head out. But I–I’ll see you guys tomorrow?”

The minute he tears his eyes away from the spot where Wooyoung’s fingers crinkle the hem of San’s shirt, Yunho’s entire expression changes. He now looks at San with big hopeful eyes and though San still has not the slightest clue what he is agreeing to, he finds himself nodding.

“Of course,” says San. “Get home and rest well before your morning shift tomorrow, okay?”

“Right,” says Yunho, distractedly. “I will, thank you. Tomorrow, yeah?”

He still sounds uncertain, distressed by the idea that he may end up not seeing San the next day. San leans forward to place a hand on his forearm, applying gentle pressure.

“We’ll be there, Yunho. I promise.”

Yunho must be content with his pledge, because San can feel him relax under his fingers and see his forehead smoothen out. He lifts his hand to wave San good-bye and finally tears himself away from the counter.

“That’s the second time he forgot all about me,” Wooyoung remarks dryly once Yunho is out the door. “I mean I’m used to third wheeling, but this is taking it to a whole new level. Borderline rude, if he wasn’t put under a spell.”

“But I did put him under a spell.” San reminds him, filled with the need to defend Yunho.

“I know,” says Wooyoung. “I was just trying to lighten the mood. Though I do wish for our old friend Yunho back—the one who respects your boundaries and keeps up the banter when I tell him his idea of a proper meal sucks.”

“Me too.” San sighs, stirring the spoon in his fourth coffee of the day. “I miss him, too.”

He takes a sip, eyes wandering until they land on the oversized version of Shiba sitting in one of the chairs at Yunho’s abandoned table.

“By the way,” he asks, “what’s happening on Saturday?”

✿❀

Yunho had introduced San to his best friend about three months into their regular bakery encounters. It had been easy to befriend Mingi, with Wooyoung in tow, completing their borderline chaotic foursome.

Much like Yunho, Mingi is a lovable goofball, exuding massive amounts of playful energy while somehow being the spitting image of a stone-cold giant. He’s a little less sociable than Yunho, though just as eager to make friends, and San enjoys Mingi’s presence more than anything. There’s no one else he’d rather share his last brain cell with.

That said, the addition of Mingi has certainly upped the hullabaloo at their frequent get-togethers, many of which take place at lively night spots and involve copious amounts of dancing and alcoholic beverages.

Apparently, Wooyoung informs him, this Saturday marks one of those occasions. San’s head must have been elsewhere, busy dealing with an enchanted Yunho and the ensuing flood of overwhelming feelings. Otherwise, he certainly would have remembered making plans with his friends to let go of their usual daytime responsibilities and enjoy each other’s company.

And so, Saturday evening finds San at Wooyoung’s apartment, sitting cross-legged on his bed and watching his best friend pick out clothes. San himself has tried on a few items over the past half hour, all of which he deems perfectly suitable for an evening out, but Wooyoung insists that he keep looking, lest he miss out on a particularly sinful cut-off shirt.

His phone screen lights up with a message notification just as Wooyoung marvels at a pair of ripped shorts that might be mesmerizing on Wooyoung but would look nothing but comical on San.

San sighs, a mixture of fondness and exasperation, as he taps in his pin code and checks his chat with Yunho.

yunho: Are you looking forward to tonight?

His forehead wrinkles in apprehension.

Originally, San would have been over the moon at the prospect of spending an evening with Yunho and their friends. But since this week’s fateful Tuesday morning, San doesn’t think he’s caught a break from the swirl of confusing emotions churning in his chest.

Between the familiar excitement of seeing his friends, the joy of spending time with Yunho, watching him under the soft glow of dim bar lights, and witnessing his carefree laughter, the rising anxiety gnaws at his nerves, dampening all the positives.

So, while Yunho’s question isn’t a particularly difficult one to answer—a simple yes or no, followed by a curt explanation at most—it only feeds into the dread settling heavily on San’s shoulders.

san: it’s been a while for the gang to get together

san: of course i’m excited!!

It’s not exactly a lie. Above all, San is excited to see Mingi, who’s been swallowed up by his work ever since the interior design firm he’s with assigned him to a major new project. No matter how much time they spend together, hanging out with Wooyoung never gets boring, and even when consumed by remorse, San is always, without fail, eager at the prospect of seeing Yunho.

Beyond that, San figures, it may be good to stay close, keep an eye on him, and wait for the magic to work its way out of Yunho’s body for the time being.

“Is that Yunho?”

San almost falls off the bed when he looks up from his phone to find Wooyoung’s face right in front of him. Wooyoung ignores how San barely catches hold of the edge of the mattress to save himself from an ungraceful tumble and continues to lean forward, trying to sneak a glance at San’s phone screen.

“Jesus,” says San, poking his toes against Wooyoung’s ribs in a weak attempt to bring some space between them and keep his best friend’s nosy nose out of his business. “Yes it’s Yunho, you creep.”

“How has he been doing?” Wooyoung asks, finally stepping back and glancing down at the shirt in his hands, perking up at the sight of the cut-off sleeves. “Apart from his little San-obsession and his lack of concentration, I mean.”

“He’s fine,” San sighs. “Very distracted, though. He’s been texting me all day, but it’s like he forgets my answer—or that he asked in the first place—just minutes later. It’s hard to tell when he’s being sincere. I mean, he always loves sharing stories from work or other parts of his life, but lately, some of them are just so abstruse . I think his brain is constructing false memories, and I don’t think he’s doing it on purpose; I think he’s genuinely confused.”

San tosses his phone aside, forcing himself to focus on the shirt Wooyoung is still holding up between them, trying to keep his thoughts from lingering solely on Yunho and his befuddled brain.

“So you don’t think the effects have started wearing off yet?” asks Wooyoung, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

“Not really,” San admits meekly, deflating as he recalls this morning and the messages waiting for him on his phone after he’d taken the Saturday to sleep in. Today marks the start of a public holiday, so Wooyoung and he had agreed to close the shop and finally catch up on some much-needed rest. San drops backward with a frustrated huff, spreading his arms wide to cushion the fall.

He’d started to feel a little concerned when Yunho kept texting him during his shift. After all, Yunho was supposed to be saving lives, not getting distracted by his inadvertent crush. Yunho had assured him that keeping in touch with San wasn’t affecting his work, but San hadn’t been convinced when his messages started coming through riddled with typos, turning into curt one-liners instead of the detailed, thoughtful text blocks Yunho usually sends. The shift in Yunho’s behavior reminds San of the way his great-grandmother used to spam his family’s phones with jumbled messages, trying to order her confused thoughts as her vascular dementia left her increasingly anxious. The parallels between the symptoms of a neurodegenerative disease and the effects of his potion on Yunho are mildly disconcerting.

Even after he was called to a construction site just before noon, and he needed to call in backup to transport all the workers involved in an excavator accident, Yunho had checked in every half hour to make sure San was still planning to show up tonight—despite San never having canceled on their plans before. 

“I thought he might be getting better by now since he’s only had a few sips of the potion, but if anything, his memory seems to be getting worse,” San finishes, barely managing to reach out a hand in time to catch the shirt tossed at him when he turns toward his best friend.

“Wear that,” Wooyoung says, his tone leaving no room for objections. “Not that it’ll change much, but if Yunho is already going to ogle you the entire night, we may as well give him a reason to. Let me check if it emphasizes your arms and shoulders like I’m hoping it will.”

San sighs again but reaches for his plain hoodie, taking it off before pulling the muscle tee over his head. He’s thankful for the change of topic, relieved to move away from sensitive concerns and back to the more familiar territory of his ongoing crush on Yunho.

“What’s the verdict?” he asks, smoothing down the fabric with his hands.

“Enchanted or not,” Wooyoung says appreciatively, dumping a matching belt in San’s lap. “Yunho’s not standing a chance.”

❀✿

As the resident lightweight, San is usually very mindful of his drinks, switching to non-alcoholic beverages after no more than two mixers and always keeping an eye out for his friends, who tend to capitalize on their much higher alcohol tolerance. Tonight, however, something feels different. San can’t quite hold it together.

Maybe it has something to do with the way Yunho latches onto him once he and Mingi join Wooyoung and San at one of the window tables in the bar. The open display of affection is welcome but unfamiliar, and San isn’t sure how to handle this new dynamic. Mingi, for his part, finds the change hilarious, blissfully unbothered by the fact that Yunho, who would typically stick to Mingi’s side, is now focused almost entirely on San, leaving him and Wooyoung sidelined from most of his attention.

“Wow,” Mingi remarks from beside them as Yunho pulls gently at San’s fingertips, as if trying to draw him closer across the table. “I never thought I’d see the day. It’s like we don’t even exist.”

“Yep.” Wooyoung loudly pops the ‘p’, barely containing his amusement. “I’m surprised he didn’t uninvite us.”

San thought he had already gotten used to the added attention. After all, it’s been a few days since Yunho swallowed the potion, and with the flurry of oversized gifts and sugar-coated words that have been targeted at him since, San was under the impression he’d steeled himself for whatever was to come next. But as the night unfolds, he realizes just how wrong he was.

Hanging out at their favorite dance bar with their best friends feels much more natural than the awkward encounters at the café this week. The energy is different here—more relaxed, more carefree. Yunho is endearing in his own way, clinging to San with genuine interest, asking about his day and offering up sweet unprompted compliments. Despite not having had much to drink, Yunho is more touchy than usual, his fingers skimming along San’s arm, sending shivers of anticipation down his spine, jittery where they leave behind a hot trail of expectations.

None of his touches are inappropriate or unwelcome. In fact, under different circumstances, San might have wished for Yunho to be a bit more daring, for his fingers to slip under San’s collar or his knuckles to brush up his sleeve. Normally, these little gestures would hold a precious meaning to San—signs of affection he used to long for—but right now, they hurt. The realization that they are stripped of their significance stings. The thought that his spell may have Yunho acting in ways he otherwise would not–ways that would make him uncomfortable, even–terrifies San.

He breathes a quiet sigh of relief when the group leaves their booth for the dance floor after their third round of drinks and a change of music. It’s a pleasant break from his emotional dilemma, following Wooyoung into the crowd, letting his body move to the rhythm, feeling liberated by the way the music and the movement wash away the tension in his chest. 

Still, he can’t keep his eyes off Yunho. The way Yunho moves on the dance floor, carefree and swaying with abandon, is unlike anything San has ever seen. The disco lights cast hues of purple, blue, or orange over Yunho, highlighting the soft lines of his face. With his hair fluffed up and his prominent dimple, Yunho is beautiful. San watches him with a fondness he can’t suppress, his heart beating faster, hard enough to feel like it might leap out of his chest and into Yunho’s arms.

They dance for what feels like hours and minutes alike, lost in the music. For the first time in a while, he doesn’t feel weighed down by a mess of emotions or his lingering guilt. For a few minutes, San forgets about his own mistake, focusing on the little things that draw him to Yunho—his free spirit, his disregard for any judgement as he begins gyrating in the middle of the dance floor, the joy he takes in the people around him. Yunho is a confident dancer, sharp and fluid in his steps, and San finds himself mesmerized, thinking he could lose himself in Yunho’s dance until the rise of dawn.

Yunho’s eyes are closed, his limbs seemingly moving on autopilot as the pace of the techno beats picks up and they are surrounded by a pulsating mass of people. In any other given scenario the sheer amount of humans and sweat would suffocate San, trigger his escape mechanism and send him into flight. But now, Yunho is the anchor that keeps him grounded. San isn’t terrified with Yunho by his side.

The alcohol and endorphins flood his system, and he imagines acting on his urge to reach out, to close the distance between them. It’s the rational part of his mind that holds him back—now isn’t the time. When his eyes meet Yunho’s, he sees that the unease Yunho’s been carrying around all week hasn’t gone away. His gaze flickers anxiously between San’s eyes, and his fingers tighten around San’s as though afraid he might slip away if he lets go. The reality that he is the cause of Yunho’s distress comes crashing down with more force than he expects.

By now, San has lost sight of their friends. He hasn’t seen Mingi since he excused himself to the bathroom a while ago and Wooyoung had disappeared into the direction of the bar with four new orders etched to his brain (and written down in his notes app, just to be sure). He hasn’t reappeared for quite some time and San considers seeking him out to make sure hasn’t run into an undesired mishap, when he spots a flash of his best friend at the bar, chatting up the person next to him. It doesn’t seem like Wooyoung is in need of saving, so San forgoes an interception and sticks by Yunho’s side.

Yunho has been stealing San’s focus for most of the night, but without their friends acting as a rational buffer, there is nothing left to distract him from the onslaught of feelings swimming in his stomach. 

A wave of people from the bar pushes their way onto the dance floor and drives San forward until he bumps into Yunho without any real chance to avoid colliding. It’s stiflingly warm in the bar; he can feel the hot air working to let the muscle tee cling to his body and droplets of sweat trailing their way down his neck. One of Yunho’s arms settles around him and it’s surprisingly pleasant, even if San feels like he could peel right out of his skin and still be sweating buckets. Yunho hooks his arm around San’s middle and pulls him close until they sway together to the music. San doesn’t usually feel this nervous when near Yunho, but the unexpected proximity affects him in ways he’d much rather do without.

“Hey.”

Yunho steps closer, into San’s personal space, so he can hear him over the loud music blasting from the speakers. San tips his head up to look at Yunho, eyes getting caught on the shiny pendant adorning his exposed neck. He swallows as Yunho’s arm moves further down, resting over his waist and hiking him up enough that he can feel Yunho’s breath fan over his face and smell the vodka and ginger on Yunho’s breath. The spicy scent invades his nostrils and sharpens his senses, igniting a flame in the pit of his stomach that San fears can no longer be stifled.

“Are you having fun?” Yunho asks, his gaze shifting between San’s with an intensity that seems to search for the truth. The genuine concern behind his words, meant to assure San is okay, feels familiar and makes San’s heart flutter with excitement.

“Yeah,” he breathes, fumbling for the hem of Yunho’s shirt, so he has something to hold on to. “Are you?”

“Plenty of fun,” Yunho confirms and leans down further, squinting his eyes, like he can’t see San clearly. Given the shadows and the colorful disco lights, that’s not particularly surprising. What catches San off guard, though, is that Yunho doesn’t stop moving forward. The hand that isn’t already resting on his side reaches out to touch San’s face, gently cupping his chin as Yunho bends down even further into his space.

San sees it coming but is too slow to stop it. Yunho’s lips graze his fingertips as San raises his palm just in time to avoid the kiss. Every fiber of his being screams that this is everything he’s wanted for months—being in Yunho’s arms, for Yunho to close the ever-present distance and kiss him. But San is drunk on soju, and Yunho is under the influence of a potion that clouds his mind and emotions. None of this is what San truly wants. It takes every ounce of resolve he has left to hold himself together.

“We can’t.”

San’s voice is quiet. So quiet that Yunho can only hear because he is right in front of him, barely an inch from San’s face.

“Not like this.”

Yunho blinks, a mix of emotions flashing across his face—heartbreak, confusion, sorrow, hurt, and possibly the worst of all, regret. San can’t remember ever feeling so conflicted about sticking with a decision, especially when the sight of Yunho looking like a kicked puppy fills him with such deep grief. With a heavy heart, he lifts his hand to Yunho’s ribcage and applies firm pressure, creating some distance between them.

“I’m sorry.”

Wooyoung appears right then with their drinks balanced on a plastic tray, blinking between the two of them, eyes alert.

“Everything good with you two?” he asks, reaching out his arms to hold the tray between them.

“Everything’s fine.”

San is relieved to hear his voice sound firmer than he feels in his resolve. He placates Yunho with a few more belly pats and reaches for one of the plastic cups, using his refill of a drink to bring some additional distance between them and create a physical barrier. He catches both Yunho’s and Wooyoung’s eyes on him and quickly averts his gaze, focusing on the sliced lemon floating in his drink.

Wooyoung seems to take the hint, because he winds an arm around Yunho’s shoulders and attempts to feed him his own cocktail with playful force. The crease in Yunho’s forehead smooths out within seconds as he fights for air and by the time Mingi joins them, Yunho is back to his usual bubbly self.

✿❀

San wakes up with a fuzzy tongue and the urge to kiss Yunho. He allows himself half an hour of snoozing before his dry mouth forces him out of bed.

The hangover hits him fully on his way to the kitchen. He stumbles on wobbly legs to grab a drink of water from the fridge, but as pain shoots into his right temple, a wave of nausea compels a pitiful groan to escape his lips.

Back in his room, San drops onto the bed and fumbles for his phone on the nightstand. He squints at the small number in the low double digits in the upper right corner, struggling to blindly plug his charger into the outlet before facing the same hassle when connecting his phone.

He opens his chat with Wooyoung, ignoring the unanswered messages asking if he made it home in one piece, because the only thing San did upon returning home from the bar was collapse face-first onto his mattress.

SOS , he types now.

Wooyoung doesn’t respond immediately, likely still recovering from his own hangover, so San scrolls through his other notifications. As expected, there are a couple of messages waiting for him in his chat with Yunho.

yunho: san

yunho: sannie

yunho: san

yunho: saaaaan

yunho: are you ignoring me :(

San snorts out loud. Bewitched or not, Yunho is all kinds of endearing. He doesn’t waste much time typing out a quick, humorous reply.

san: omg shut up

san: i was slEEPING

The small ‘1’ next to his chat bubbles disappears within seconds, indicating that San’s message has been read. Indeed, it doesn’t take long for Yunho’s own responses to pop up on his screen.

yunho: :D

yunho: hi san!!

San’s heart is in his throat. He can see Yunho’s wide, sunshine smile before him, how he leaned in last night when he tried to kiss him. It’s yet another reminder that Yunho has forfeited his own will and autonomy to San’s magic, because not once has Yunho tried kissing him before. 

san: …

san: is that all you wanted to say?

A chat notification from Wooyoung appears at the top of his screen just in time for San to click out of the app before regret can settle in. His messages purposefully lack the same ardor, but stifling Yunho’s ever-present enthusiasm feels harsh.

wooyoung: u alive?

san: barely

san: thank god we’re not open today

Wooyoung replies in style.

wooyoung: no way in hell are you going to see me leave the house today

For a few seconds, San thinks this is all Wooyoung has to say. Then, two more messages follow.

wooyoung: are you and yunho good btw

wooyoung: you were acting a lil weird last night

Damn. His best friend’s perceptiveness can be a whole inconvenience sometimes. Feeling cornered, San taps out of his chat with Wooyoung and returns to his conversation with Yunho.

yunho: OH

yunho: RIGHT

yunho: so

yunho: you know that haejangguk place near my apartment?

san: the one we’ve been to, like, four times?

san: yeah i’ve heard of it

yunho: hey :<

San snorts again. God, what is he going to do with this adorable giant of a man?

He does his best not to imagine the pout on Yunho’s face, the cute way he always scrunches up his nose and wrinkles his forehead whenever he is being teased, but fails miserably.

yunho: do you wanna meet there? :D

San’s thumb hovers over the notification on his screen. He feels conflicted. Does he want to see Yunho? Like any other day, the answer is a resounding yes.

But does he fear all that could happen while Yunho remains falsely infatuated with San? The answer to that question, too, is crystal clear.

Still, avoiding Yunho for the purpose of protecting his own heart feels cowardly, knowing it will likely upset Yunho in his current state. San owes him this much.

san: give me two hours

san: maybe ill be able to leave my bed by then

yunho: 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

San puts down his phone to pop a pill, but it still takes him nearly an hour to actually roll out of bed. By the time the painkiller kicks in, he’s ready to go: clean teeth, clothes chic enough to wear out, but comfortable enough to carry him through the day.

He texts Yunho to say he’s running a bit late just as he catches the subway to Yunho’s place, spending the train ride listening to a new episode of his favorite news podcast and trying not to doze off.

“Hey,” says San as he slides into the seat opposite Yunho, who looks up from the menu with a slight flinch of surprise. His face softens into one of those wide, pretty smiles, and San has to look away.

“Hi,” says Yunho, “how’s the hangover?”

San groans in response, and Yunho’s nose scrunches up further until his smile turns into an impish laugh that tugs at San’s heartstrings.

“Hangover soup for two, then, I assume?”

Yunho waves over the waitress and places their order before turning his attention back to San, who has resigned himself to resting his head on his sweater-clad arms atop the table in the meantime.

“How are you not hungover?” San complains, even though he is not the least bit surprised, knowing Yunho’s usual alcohol tolerance.

“I’m just lucky,” Yunho shrugs. “Especially because I get to see your mopey self today.”

Yunho’s hand finds the top of San’s head, and he allows himself a moment of weakness, closing his eyes to indulge in the warmth of Yunho’s care. Like everything else about Yunho, his hands are big and beautiful—long, slender fingers that comb through San’s hair while his body heat seeps from his palm into San’s scalp.

Yunho continues to stroke his hair for a few more minutes, letting San rest until the world around him stops tilting. Their peaceful moment is interrupted when the waitress returns with their order. With his eyes still closed, San hadn’t seen her approach. He jerks up in surprise when her hands suddenly appear to place their drinks on the table. Yunho’s hand slips from his hair, and San is startled back into reality.

The waitress seems partly apologetic and partly amused by San’s wide eyes, but before he can find the time to feel embarrassed for being spooked or caught red-handed, the look on Yunho’s face captures his full attention. His expression is just as confused as it was last night, and San is pulled back into the reality of what happened then: how Yunho had tried to kiss him and how bewildered he had looked after San rejected his advances.

San scoots back from the table and doesn’t close the distance again, even after the waitress leaves and they are alone once more. He briefly considers addressing last night, torn between wanting to confront the elephant in the room and not wanting to upset Yunho. Still, he figures it’s only fair to be open and honest.

San steals a glance toward the kitchen and the waitress loitering near the cash register before bracing himself. At this time of day, somewhere between lunch and supper, the shop is nearly empty except for a man typing away at his laptop by the window and a group of elderly women avidly gossiping about other elderly women. Nobody seems to be paying them any heed, so it’s as good a place as any to bring up the topic.

“About yesterday…”

Yunho is already looking at him when San turns to face him, and San immediately loses his train of thought, fumbling for words.

“Did you have fun?” Yunho asks, noticing the delay in San’s response as he struggles to find the words his sluggish brain is trying to form. He doesn’t seem to understand what San is alluding to, because the smile is back on his face.

“I—yeah. Sure.” San continues to stumble over his words with little eloquence, finally managing to collect his scattered thoughts. “But I want to apologize for what happened on the dance floor. I hope it didn’t come off the wrong way, and that you’re not taking it to heart.”

He can’t bring himself to say aloud what happened. If their almost-kiss is as prominent in Yunho’s mind as it is in San’s, Yunho will know exactly what he means, even with San beating around the bush like this. But Yunho doesn’t do him the favor.

“What do you mean?” he asks. “What happened?”

Yunho still looks confused, and not like he’s teasing San.

The wheels are turning in San’s head. Yunho isn’t normally this slow-witted. Especially with his attention focused so intently on San, he should understand where San’s words are headed.

Then San remembers the stories Yunho had spun for him before—stories that always seemed to involve some version of San, or came back to him—, how he showed signs of short term memory loss, and the puzzle pieces begin to fall into place. Yunho’s thoughts must still be jumbled–so much so that they seem to drop any mildly unpleasant thought towards San from memory, as if his mind is employing a bizarre defense mechanism to unlearn anything that could paint their relationship in a negative light. To Yunho, the almost-kiss never happened.

“Nothing.” San is quick to clarify, placating Yunho with a soft smile. “Nevermind, I must have misunderstood.”

It can’t take much longer than another couple of days for Yunho to return to normal. By the middle of next week, Yunho should be back to his own self, kind and loveable as he is, and San’s spell will be broken. He will talk to Yunho then, San decides. He can’t hide any more secrets from him. It will be time to come clean not only about his magical side business, but about his biggest enchanting mishap.

Yunho keeps giving him the skeptical side-eye for another minute, so San rushes to distract him with a different topic of conversation.

“Tell me about your morning, Yunho-yah.”

❀✿

Monday and Tuesday pass in much the same way. Yunho texts San more so than usual and shows up at the bakery whenever he can. In return, San pretends he doesn’t cherish Yunho’s giggles and the love-struck way he looks at him, even though the guilt never stops nagging at his conscience.

Yunho is always a little unfocused when San sees him, following San around the store with dopey eyes and a wide, sweet smile, but never quite aware of what’s going on around him. Whenever San is busy with the coffee machine or working the cash register, Yunho finds a table to do his own work. Every now and then, he ventures off to chat with Wooyoung, and from afar, San catches a few instances where Wooyoung has to repeat himself, because Yunho hadn’t been listening—only to find Yunho’s eyes on him.

He could get used to this, San catches himself thinking on Tuesday afternoon, then immediately chastises himself for being so incredibly selfish.

Yunho is far from subtle as he keeps stealing glances at San over the top of his book, or while sipping his latte. Every now and then their eyes meet, and the grief gnaws away at San’s chest.

Yunho looks so starstruck that San’s heart aches. He looks like he’s in love, and San fears he won’t be able to bear the next time Yunho looks at him without that same glint of warmth in his eyes.

Stuck between wishful thinking and remorse, San’s heart feels heavy in his chest. He doesn’t know where the truth lies behind the illusion, overwhelmed by a hundred emotions he cannot fathom or tell apart.

It’s after-hours, when Wooyoung and San lock up and begin cleaning, that the words spill over.

“I think I’m becoming delusional.”

Wooyoung looks up from where he is mopping the floor, lifting an eyebrow in question.

“Sometimes I forget all that is happening to him for just a second and then I catch myself thinking, maybe I stand a chance. But then I remember what I did to him and it all comes crashing down. Do you see the way he looks at me?” San asks incredulously. “That’s hardly normal.”

“And when I tell you it’s not much different from the way I’ve seen him look at you before?” Wooyoung’s eyes turn heavy with meaning. San swiftly averts his gaze, busies himself with turning two glasses by the sink over the brushes of the manual glass washer to scrub them clean.

“The only thing that’s changed is that now he’s a lot less careful with being caught.” Wooyoung’s voice turns softer as he continues. There’s something akin to compassion San recognizes laced in his tone. “He’s not looking at you any differently, he’s just being a lot more obvious about it.”

Hope settles in San’s chest, warm and heavy, tugging at the knot of discomfort, creating a tiny gap of leeway.

It’s formidable–the flutter of anticipation that sparks a storm of butterflies in his stomach and makes his skin tingle with sanguine promise. Because Yunho couldn’t get San out of his head right now, even if he tried.

But if what Wooyoung says is true, Yunho’s thoughts may have been stuck on him long before San accidentally bewitched his own desires onto Yunho. And that would mean–

“What does that mean?” he asks. Because San can put one and one together, but it doesn’t make the implication any less daunting. He needs reassurance, even if he’s not certain Wooyoung is the one who can offer it to him.

“Look,” Wooyoung says, in an intense fashion that is so unlike Wooyoung it lets San know he’s being serious. “I’m your best friend, not his. I can’t tell you what that man is thinking, but I have eyes. I’ve seen the way his face changes when he looks at you and thinks no one is paying attention. How he radiates towards you whenever your clingy self reaches out for him. And I’m not talking about the potion here. I think it’s okay to have a little hope, San.”

San knows Wooyoung means well with his encouragement, but his words make San all the more jittery. The feeling of hope that’s creeping up on San is a scary little thing–the alluring anticipation spreading up to his fingertips. It’s a feeling so very fragile, it could easily be crushed with the single snap of fingers; a single gesture of rejection. Wooyoung may be right but he may be wrong, too, and being wrong would mean San putting too much on the line to walk away unscathed.

A few more days, he tells himself. For better or worse, in a few days, he will have clarity.

✿❀

San’s alarm bells go off when, instead of a flood of good-morning texts and Yunho bolting into the bakery before noon on Wednesday, he is met with radio silence.

Whereas Yunho’s omnipresent appearances at San’s workplace at the beginning of the week have almost felt suffocating at times, the sudden lack thereof brings along an unsettling sort of emptiness that San dreads much more. Even on his busier days Yunho has always come through with a row of unrelated text messages, called San the second he was off duty, and even before the incident with the potion, San could count the days he hasn’t heard from Yunho on one hand.

He tries to feel relieved, knowing that Yunho’s absence can only mean one thing: the effects of the forget-me-not potion are wearing off, and Yunho is finally regaining his self-control. Still, he can't help but hate himself a little for feeling sad about Yunho’s absence.

Without a single word, photo, or even a sticker from Yunho by Thursday, San finds himself on edge all morning. As lunchtime passes and business at the bakery winds down, he checks his phone for the hundredth time, only to find that his last message to Yunho—sent two nights ago—has been left on read, with no response.

Like so many times over the past week, San finds himself seeking comfort in lamenting his entire friendship with Yunho to Wooyoung.

“He hasn’t texted in two days,” San says, never stopping his pacing around the storefront. His voice rises in pitch with the next sentence. “He hates me.”

“San,” Wooyoung says, cutting him off halfway across the bakery and placing both hands on San’s shoulders in a manner he knows will appease San. “I promise you, it will all be okay.”

“I manipulated him into paying attention to nothing but me for a week. He must be so upset with me.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose.” Wooyoung points out.

San recalls Wooyoung’s words from a few days ago, the confidence they had instilled in him. There’s none of it left now that Yunho has disappeared, leaving San in the dark. Maybe that’s all it ever was—a fleeting hope that there could be more to Yunho’s kindness. It shouldn’t be surprising, given everything San has done—deliberately or not—but still, he can’t deny that it hurts.

“What if he never wants to see me again?” San worries his bottom lip between his teeth, swallowing down the lump forming in his throat to keep his fear at bay. To his surprise, Wooyoung just laughs.

“Are we talking about the same Yunho here? We both know that he won’t be able to stay away from this bakery for very long or keep his thoughts locked up without spilling over. He’ll be here to talk it out soon, trust me.”

Rationally speaking, San knows that Wooyoung is right. Yunho isn’t one to shut down and ghost his friends over petty arguments or real conflicts, but the fact that this issue he has created isn’t a harmless misunderstanding or squabble fosters irrational fears to warp his logical train of thought.

Wooyoung takes him in his arms. San closes his eyes and tries to believe him.

❀✿

Time on Friday trickles by pleasantly slowly. Even as the pre-weekend bustle sets in and their shop is swamped with friend groups gathering to catch up over drinks and co-workers heralding after-work hours, San finds the day dragging on at a comfortable pace.

When evening rolls around, the day’s lethargic spirit settles over them. Wooyoung and San clean the back room in peaceful silence, as the last few customers finish their orders amongst muted conversations. San is just stepping out from the kitchen, the low rumble of the dishwasher making for a cosy background noise, when the front door chimes.

San is about to start explaining that they’re about to close and that the coffee machine is already out of order when he spots Yunho approaching the counter.

“Oh, hi,” San says, a little stunned by the unexpected visitor. Of course, Yunho’s sudden disappearance hadn’t been forgotten, but by day three of no word, San had accepted that he needed to give Yunho space.

“Hey,” Yunho replies. He looks like he wants to say something else but draws a blank, and for a moment, there’s silence between them. Yunho’s eyes are fixed on San, whose mind stalls under the weight of his gaze. Yunho still looks at him like he hung the moon, but something has shifted since the last time San looked into his eyes—though he can’t quite pinpoint what’s different.

“I need to tell you something,” San says, when the silence stretches on.

“I came to talk to you, too,” Yunho replies.

San keeps his gaze fixed on Yunho, and finally, the penny drops. The serenity that had been lost under the potion’s effects has returned to his eyes, now bright with a spark of life. Today, Yunho seems much more lucid, both in his words and his actions.

A peculiar mix of relief and anxiety washes over San. He doesn’t know where this leaves things between them, but having Yunho back is the only thing that truly matters. Yunho leaves him with hope, because now that San has experienced the longing in Yunho’s eyes and held his hand, the thing he fears most is losing his friend. To his relief, seeing how Yunho seeks him out first, this doesn’t seem to be the case.

He is about to risk it all with his next step, but he knows that there is no way around it. He glances at the few tables that are still occupied and realizes that maybe the bakery isn’t the optimal place to come clean about his secret.

“I can probably leave here in forty-five minutes—an hour tops. I could come to your place?” he says.

“Leave it to me,” a third voice intervenes. Yunho and San spin around and find Wooyoung leaning in the door frame to the back room, hands and chin resting atop the broomstick he has propped up against the floor. “I’ll finish cleaning and lock up today. You two have a lot to talk about.”

“Are you sure?” San asks.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung smiles. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks, Young-ah.” San smiles back before turning to give Yunho a small nod. “Give me two minutes, okay? I’ll grab my stuff.”

It doesn’t take long for San to shed his apron, stuff his phone and charger into his backpack, and meet Yunho by the door. He turns to wave goodbye to Wooyoung, who is clearing the dirty dishes from the last group of customers, before pulling the door open for Yunho to step out first.

“Where to?” he asks, once they stand side by side on the curb.

“I’m not sure this conversation is fit for a public setting,” answers Yunho.

“My place is closer.”

Yunho nods, and together they head towards the bus station that San usually passes on his way to work. They get lucky this time—the next bus arrives within minutes, ready to take them to San’s stop.

“Do you want anything to drink?” San asks as they enter his apartment. He peels off his coat and walks to the kitchen to grab a pitcher of water and two glasses, hearing Yunho’s response. Afterward, he leads them to the living room, placing the drinks on the small coffee table before motioning for Yunho to sit. San takes a seat at the other end of the sofa.

For a moment, they sit in silence.

“It’s me,” San finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. “The reason you’ve been so... so confused lately.”

San falters, unsure of how to continue. Yunho remains silent, watching him with an unreadable expression. The weight of the moment presses on him, and he decides to push through, figuring it’s better to get it all out.

“I owe you an apology first and foremost,” San begins, his voice shaky but determined. “I know this is probably going to sound insane, but please just hear me out before you make up your mind. I—well, I have some... magical abilities.” He pauses, waiting for Yunho’s reaction before continuing. “My mom is a gifted brewer. I inherited my skills from her—she taught me the basics of potion-making, and I just kept building on it. With her network, things were... easier. And then there’s the bakery. I love running it with Wooyoung. It’s been my dream for as long as I can remember, even if it doesn’t make us rich. But when the pandemic hit, and we barely managed to pay the bills, Wooyoung suggested we start a side business using my… gift.”

San looks up from his glass of water, holding it in his lap just so he has something to keep his hands busy. He doesn’t need long to find Yunho’s gaze. His eyes are dark, bright, still unreadable. San can’t decipher what lies behind them.

“Wooyoung and I—we’ve been selling magic potions,” San begins again. “I usually prepare them in the morning, but I... I got careless. When I realized you’d drunk the forget-me-not potion, it was too late. I didn’t know what to do and I panicked. I didn’t want to dump all of this on you when you were already struggling with the effects, when there was nothing you could do to fight them. There is no excuse for what I did to you. All I want you to know is that I’m truly, truly sorry. I tampered with your mind and put you in danger. I made you act in ways you couldn’t control. I messed with your life, Yunho. And I can’t forgive myself for that.”

San gasps for air, the words spilling out in a rushed confession that leaves him no time to breathe. His hand reaches out to place the empty water glass down, before he spills any of it.

“You have every right to be angry, or disappointed in me,” he says, voice strained. “I understand that completely. But… I just wish you’d give our friendship another chance. Maybe after some time. If there’s one selfish thing I can ask for, it’s to keep you in my life. Because you mean too much to me, Yunho. I’m the one who put our friendship on the line, but I can’t just stand by and let it break apart.”

For a long, drawn-out moment, Yunho doesn’t say anything. Then, to San’s surprise, he grins.

“I know you’re a wizard, San.”

San gapes at him. “What?”

This time, it’s San who falls silent, and Yunho seems to take it as an invitation to keep talking.

“Remember that time I disappeared for a week and a half because I had the flu?” Yunho starts, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Well, that’s only true if the main symptoms of the flu include rapid graying of the hair and shriveling of the skin. Turns out, the cup next to my coffee that morning was actually filled with an aging potion.”

San freezes, his mouth slightly agape as he processes the words. Astonishment washes over him—he’s flabbergasted that his secret hadn’t been as well-guarded as he thought it was. 

“Sorry, Sannie,” Yunho grins, showing a flash of teeth. San’s head starts to spin as he tries to process the words, grasping for some semblance of understanding.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” San stammers, his confusion mounting with each passing second.

“Wooyoung assured me it would only be temporary when I panicked,” Yunho shrugs, looking surprisingly at ease. “And I figured you must have had your reasons for not telling me. I wanted to give you space to tell me in your own time. And, well, since you were keeping something from me, I thought I’d return the favor.”

San’s head is still spinning, but now it’s mixed with a strange, fond affection for Yunho’s thoughtfulness, which is so on-brand for him, even in the middle of a panic. But then something Yunho said clicks in his mind.

“Wait, what do you mean Wooyoung knew you knew?” San asks, brow furrowing in confusion.

Yunho just grins in response.

“Oh dear,” San says, rubbing his socked toes against the sofa. “When did you realize you must have swallowed a different potion this time?”

Yunho pauses, a sheepish look crossing his face. “I think I only fully realized at the end of it all. I’d been feeling off for days—god, it’s been a week full of anxiety and confusion—but I couldn’t make sense of it. There was this pull toward you. Suddenly, I was doing things I couldn’t control, saying things without thinking, touching you—”

Yunho’s cheeks are flush with pink. He takes a quick sip of his water and clears his throat, as if stalling for time to find the right words.

“I remember now,” Yunho says quietly, with soft eyes and so much fondness, San’s skin crawls with the need to close the distance between them. “That I like you, I mean. How much I really like you. I liked you last week, too, but it didn’t feel right, I couldn’t remember why I liked you. But now I see you and I do—I remember everything.”

Heat blooms in San’s chest, so intense that it feels like it could ignite a fire and reduce him to ashes—if it weren’t for the heavy, unsteady rhythm of his heart keeping him grounded.

“Spending so much time with you this past week really opened my eyes. I realized just how much you mean to me. It’s not something I can walk away from anymore, just because the spell’s wearing off and I don’t have an excuse to hide behind anymore.”

Yunho pauses here, twisting in his seat and leaning his back against the armrest. San mirrors the movement, pulling one leg up on the sofa and turning to face him.

“How come you’re not mad at me?” The question tumbles out before he can stop it. How could Yunho, after all the hide-and-seek and breaches of trust, still be the most open-hearted person San knows?

“I happen to have a massive soft spot for you, San.”

San watches as Yunho grows more confident in his words, sincerity shining through. The weight of his honesty instills a sense of confidence in San, too. “Let me ask you this: Did you slip me the potion on purpose?”

“No!” San screeches, vehemently shaking his head. “Of course not, I would never! But I ignored all precautions and got careless when I knew–”

Yunho cuts him off.

“You didn’t do it on purpose, Sannie. It was an accident. You made a mistake, just like we all do. And as long as I’m not going to suffer any long-term effects from this”—he raises an eyebrow, silently asking San for confirmation, who shakes his head in response—“then you didn’t hurt me. You didn’t cause any lasting damage. I’m the one who grabbed the cup without asking, and that’s why it’s okay, San. I accept your apology.”

San slumps back into the cushions, still reeling from the conversation. Of everything he braced himself for, he hadn’t expected the lack of anger or frustration in Yunho’s response. He’s left unsure of how to handle the calm acceptance, the absence of fury.

“Shit,” Yunho mutters, the weight of it all sinking in with San. “I know it wasn’t really my fault, but I’m still sorry for all the lines I’ve crossed. When I tried to kiss you—”

San’s stomach twists at the thought. Yunho just learned his drink was laced with hallucinogens, and still, he feels the need to apologize for his own actions. Meanwhile, San is the one who is entirely responsible for everything that happened. It’s both endearing and utterly insane.

“Please,” San says softly, urgency in his voice. “Please don’t ever apologize for what happened last week. The forget-me-not potion… it tampered with your brain. It imprinted on me the moment you drank it, and it distorted everything around me, made you believe your world revolved around me. You have nothing to apologize for. I promise.” He adds the last sentence when their eyes meet, Yunho’s gaze now intense, the amusement from before replaced with something else.

“I’ll admit I lost control of my actions,” Yunho continues, his voice steady, “but I never lost control of my feelings.”

The silence between them stretches on. Yunho is looking at San as though waiting for something, but San can’t quite figure out what it is that Yunho is searching for.

Yunho sighs, clearly weighing his words.

“When I tried to kiss you, what did you mean when you said ‘not like this’?”

He shifts forward on the sofa, scooting until he’s sitting right in the middle, leaving the decision up to San whether to close the space between them or keep the distance. San doesn’t hesitate; he reaches for Yunho’s sleeve, gently pulling himself closer.

“I didn’t want to take advantage of you or pressure you into anything you couldn’t fully choose for yourself,” San says. “But if you still wanted to kiss me, at a different time… I wouldn’t mind.”

Yunho’s grin turns cheeky, one of San’s favorite sights. The sheer unfiltered joy and smug confidence in it, when it isn’t clouded by a fake reality or a lack of filter, is captivating. It’s so beautiful that San wants nothing more than to lean into that smile, to capture it with his lips and savor it in a kiss.

Yunho does him the favor. He leans down, gently tilts San’s chin up, and kisses him—long and slow—until San’s toes curl. A warm feeling of giddy fondness spreads through him, all the way to the fingertips resting in Yunho’s nape. He threads his fingers through Yunho’s hair, pulls him closer so he can part his lips and kiss Yunho deeper. Yunho has a hand on his side, caressing the skin between San’s ribs through his thin shirt. San’s knee is in the way when they paw at each other in a desperate attempt to minimize the space between them. With a single tug and one swift movement, San lands in Yunho’s lap.

“I really like you, San,” Yunho says, his words breaking the kiss as they shift positions, with San now looking down at him. He cradles Yunho’s face in his hands, his thumb tracing the delicate lines of his nose and jaw. He slips his thumb between Yunho’s lips, just enough to capture them in another kiss.

“Prove it and date me, you coward.”

It’s the first time in over a week that they’re back to their usual banter. Yunho throws his head back and laughs, his fingers digging into San’s sides. San seizes the opportunity to plant a trail of kisses up Yunho’s throat.

✿❀

“How did you two collectively get worse at cooking?” Wooyoung asks when the four of them gather at San’s apartment a few weeks later, ready for games and drinks. San had volunteered Yunho’s and his cooking skills, which has led them exactly to where they are now—with a pan of raw eggs and overcooked meat.

Wooyoung lets out an exaggerated sigh, throwing Mingi a conspiratorial glance, as if asking, how the hell did we end up best friends with these idiots?

Ming can only offer an amused shrug in response.

“Give me that,” Wooyoung says, snatching the pan from San and nudging him aside with his hip. He scrapes most of the contents into the trash can by the sink. “I’ll take over. Should have never enabled you two, had I known neither of you know what a proper meal entails. Or how to make one. Your cooking constitutes a serious risk to public health.”

San rolls his eyes behind Wooyoung’s back, slumping into his boyfriend. Yunho catches him with a quiet laugh, and San leans into the comforting embrace, absently playing with the index finger Yunho has twisted into the front of his shirt.

Together, maybe they do pose a threat to public health. Good thing San knows a paramedic.

❀✿