Chapter Text
Some parts of Min Yoongi’s life never changed.
He made his coffee every morning immediately after waking up, before even brushing his hair or getting dressed, he spent at least two hours every day taking and revising notes, guitar in hand, he only pulled the curtains open when the sun was on its downward course, and at least once a day he would curse at whatever object had ended up on the floor right beneath his foot or in his path, grazing his shin or knee.
And, almost every day, approximately 268 times a month, someone would knock on his door. No matter how different they were, these people always had something in common: a glimmer in their eyes, something between hope and joy, and it would shine even brighter upon seeing him.
Every time, they would open their mouths, about to speak to him, and he would have to interrupt them before they could even start, to tell them, “No, I'm not the witch, he lives over there,” and point across the street to a boy with a dazzling smile in a gold waistcoat who was somehow always outdoors in the garden of his cottage, waving excitedly at the one who was looking for him.
What his name was, Yoongi didn’t know, but he had already been living in the forest by the time he’d moved there. He owned a small stone cottage covered in overgrown plants and surrounded by greenery, with a stone pathway leading up to it. Even during daytime, the windows of the cottage glowed, and thin silver smoke rose from its chimney even in summer. His garden was fenced off, but with a wooden fence so short Yoongi could have stepped over it without breaking a sweat, as if he didn’t really want to keep anyone out. It was a beautiful garden, with flowers, trees and mushrooms sprouting at every corner, with a glow and sparkle about them as magical as the one who tended to them. A round wooden sign hung from the side of the cottage, reading, Potions and Spells for all Afflictions , in bright-coloured paint, with an illustration of a bubbling vial. It didn’t seem to help much for the witch’s business, however, if Yoongi was to take all the people who ended up on his doorstep instead.
Yoongi was no fool, he knew very well why this kept happening. His own moody, dark, weathered cottage, as well as his dark clothes, long, unkempt hair, and almost permanent frown were much more in line with the expected appearance of a witch, if one was to go by descriptions in folklore and fairytales.
Truthfully, if these people had not confused him with the witch repeatedly, Yoongi wouldn’t have had the faintest clue that that was what he was.
The boy was always smiling, always prancing around his garden speaking to the plants like they were his friends, drinking tea in small, colourful, delicate cups, and greeting everyone who came to him with such excitement, one would think the continuous interactions with others didn’t tire him one bit. Yoongi didn’t believe such a thing to be possible.
Not only did the witch himself have that quality, but everyone who left his cottage after visiting him did so with an air much like his. They left holding a small paper bag, and waving at the witch with wide smiles and eyes still twinkling, but in a different way, one of hope closer to being realised than merely wished for.
And although Yoongi had been watching them come and go for two years now, he had never felt the urge to find out what it was the witch did for them to get such a reaction. He hadn’t come to the forest to concern himself with witchcraft, and he preferred to stay in his new home, surrounded by his music, away from blinding light and exhausting society.
Yes, he was perfectly content on his own.
*₍^. .^₎⟆*
He was tuning his guitar when he received an unexpected visitor.
Not unexpected in the sense of their identity, but rather in that he didn’t know such a thing existed.
And yet, here it was, a golden butterfly fluttering around his house, leaving a trail of sparkling dust behind it. He hadn’t noticed it come in, had no idea how it even had, but it floated around his head in a circle, making his eyes trail after it.
A few circles later, the butterfly changed its course, turning towards his door, where it stilled, as though waiting for him.
Slowly, Yoongi placed his guitar on the floor and walked to it. Once the butterfly was sure he was following it, it flew through the door, right outside, where he couldn’t see it anymore.
Not wanting to miss it, he hastily put on his shoes and opened the door, his eyes squinting at the sudden contact with sunlight after sitting in the dark all day.
It didn’t take him long to spot the butterfly again, hovering right above the gate of his small front yard. It flapped its wings and set off again, making a course towards his neighbour's house.
Yoongi hesitated, not wanting to intrude on his neighbour’s property, unsure if the witch was even home, but the smoke rising from his chimney seemed proof enough that he needn’t worry about that. He couldn’t help but notice that the smoke was also a light pink colour. He wondered if he wanted to know what was even going on in there.
Or, currently, why the butterfly was clearly leading him to this place.
It landed on the doorknob and stayed still.
Realisation dawned on him.
“Really?” he asked it, knowing how ridiculous he must sound talking to a butterfly. Thankfully, there was no one around to witness it.
“You want me to go inside?” he continued, “And do what? Talk to him?”
The butterfly fluttered its wings in response, and he may not speak butterfly, but that seemed like a positive answer.
It was the last thing Yoongi wanted to do, talk to a stranger, or anyone for that matter, but what could he do? Argue with a potentially magical butterfly?
He raised his hand and gently knocked on the door, a secret hope in the bag of his mind telling him that the witch wouldn’t hear it.
Alas, the boy must have had better hearing than Yoongi had thought, as immediately after his knock he heard a, “Come in!” from the other side.
He pushed the door open in resignation, watching as the butterfly flew in before him through the tiniest opening. He followed it, and from his first step inside the house, his eyes couldn’t decide where to look.
The interior of the cottage was lit up by candlelight, which appeared much too bright to be stemming from regular candles. Its wooden floor was covered in colourful rugs, and various paintings hung from the walls, hiding the grey stone and filling the house with colour. Or, at least the room Yoongi was currently in, which he assumed was the kitchen, given the counters and old wood-burning stove. The parts of the walls that were devoid of frames were lined with shelves, covered in all sorts of plants, books and knick-knacks Yoongi didn’t even know existed. The dark green counters were also covered in jars, bottles, and plants, but despite the amount of things, the room didn’t feel cluttered. There appeared to be organisation to this chaos.
Yoongi leaned closer to look at a small succulent plant on the counter, and almost fell backwards in surprise when that revealed the kitchen sink that had been hidden from his sight until then, where a dish was suspended in midair and a wooden brush was cleaning it by itself. Next to them, a rug was drying a glass, which then floated into a cabinet, the door of which shut behind it.
It was then that he remembered he was in a witch’s house, and stepped back from the plant, unsure if it was a regular succulent or something enchanted. He preferred to be safe.
“In here!” his neighbour’s giddy voice called out to him.
The butterfly that had guided him all the way there was fluttering between the kitchen and another room, where he could only assume his neighbour was waiting for him.
He crossed the kitchen and watched it fly delicately towards the witch himself, who was standing behind a large cauldron, stirring its contents. The butterfly circled around him once before landing on his golden waistcoat, where it vanished, turning into a small embroidered butterfly, one of many, Yoongi was noticing for the first time.
The witch looked up from his cauldron and smiled the same dazzling smile he gave people every day to him.
“So sorry I wasn’t there to greet you,” he said, “I thought I would be done by now.”
“It’s alright,” Yoongi replied, still unsure about why he had been brought there.
With a final stir, the boy tapped his stirrer on the edge of the cauldron before making a gesture with one of his hands, as if he was pulling something towards him. Instantly, the stirrer seemed to retreat into his other hand, until he closed his palm, the last of it disappearing. He then placed what was left, a small jewel, in the pocket of his trousers.
Yoongi wondered if he had been turned speechless, or if he was truly so caught off guard that he had no words to say.
“All done!” the witch announced happily, “Now, onto more important matters…”
He wiped his hands on his waistcoat and sauntered into the kitchen.
Not wanting to be left alone in this strange room, Yoongi followed him, his mind still riddled with questions. Most importantly, why he was even there.
The witch waltzed through the kitchen like he was dancing, picking up things as he moved along.
A tray, a porcelain teapot with a detailed flower design, steaming through its spout (this time thankfully not pink), matching teacups, and saucers.
He lay them on the tray, placing them so they formed a neat circle, not a single thing out of place.
“Would you like some tea?” he said as he waved his hand and a milk and sugar pot came floating towards him, the milk almost overflowing, but miraculously staying in its pot even as it landed on the tray.
It took a few beats of silence for Yoongi to realise that the question had been directed to him.
“Oh, me?” he exclaimed.
“Of course you!” the witch laughed, “I got carried away and made too many lemon squares. I can’t possibly have them all myself, so I thought you might like to have some tea together.”
Yoongi was still tongue-tied, trying to comprehend the entire situation he’d found himself in, but before he could even think of replying, the witch spoke again.
“You seem surprised,” he said, “Didn’t my butterfly explain it to you?”
“It just brought me here,” Yoongi answered, “I didn’t know it could say things too.”
“Of course it can’t, it’s a butterfly,” the witch giggled, a sound like silver bells ringing in a spring breeze.
“Then how was I supposed to know what you wanted me for?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow.
The witch left the tray to skitter towards the stove and oven. “Why, what other reason would I have to call you at such a time?” he said, matter-of-factly, as though Yoongi was the strange one, for not understanding.
He opened the oven, revealing the aforementioned lemon squares, and Yoongi couldn’t deny that they smelled delicious. Their sweet aroma filled the kitchen as the witch placed them on the counter and waved his hand again, summoning a jar of white powder.
“What’s that?” he wondered out loud, not catching himself in time.
“Oh, you know,” the witch said as he sprinkled some on the lemon squares, “Salamander’s bone dust, mixed with crystals formed by a bat’s tears.”
The horror must have shown on Yoongi’s face, because a few moments later, he burst out laughing.
“I’m joking,” he said, “It’s just powdered sugar.”
Yoongi wasn’t sure what sort of humour was acceptable amongst witches, but he found the “joke” a little much for a regular person like him.
“So, will you join me?” the witch asked, taking the tray with the lemon squares in one hand and the one with the tea, milk and sugar in the other.
For that joke alone, Yoongi knew that he should probably say ‘no.’ Paired with the fact he hadn’t wanted to speak or see anyone that day, like most days, the most logical thing he could do was to politely decline the invitation and return to his house, put on one of his cassettes and try to forget all the strange things he’d seen in a matter of minutes.
But something, the lemon squares, the tea, the memory of the glowing butterfly, the ornate tea set, he couldn’t tell, held him back.
“Okay,” it compelled him to say, before any logic could truly reach his mind.
“Wonderful!” the witch cheered, “Let’s go outside, it’s a lovely day.”
With a spring in his step, somehow managing to still balance the trays, he headed outside, the cottage’s door opening for him.
They stepped outside into the witch’s garden. The boy led him to a spot where a tree stump covered in moss stuck out from the ground. He gently deposited the tray with the tea on it, and twirled his now free hand above the ground.
At his movement, two small toadstools sprung up, growing in size, until they looked like stools, one on each side of the tree stump.
The witch hummed contently and took a seat on one of them, setting the tray of lemon squares next to the other one.
“Please, sit,” he motioned towards the other stool.
Gingerly, afraid that he would break it, Yoongi sat down, only to find it was much sturdier than it appeared. He let himself get comfortable as the witch poured tea into two teacups, and placed one in front of him.
“Do you take milk and sugar with your tea?” he asked.
Yoongi nodded, before thinking that the witch might find his silence rude and adding a, “Yes, please.”
A splash of milk and sugar cube later, his tea had taken a light brown colour.
“It’s herbal tea,” the witch told him, “I picked them from the forest myself. It’s my own personal blend.”
He took a sip, his eyes on Yoongi, waiting for him to try it.
Not wanting to disappoint his host, but still shaken from the boy’s last joke, he slowly brought the cup to his lips and took a small sip of the tea.
To his surprise, it didn’t taste strange at all, just very soothing and delicious.
“It’s very nice,” he said.
The witch’s smile grew.
“Thank you,” he said, “Here, try a lemon square too.”
Just like the tea, and true to their smell, the squares were divine, and Yoongi had to hold back from eating the entire tray in front of him.
They drank their tea and ate quietly, enjoying the sounds of nature around them and the warm sunlight that gave everything a gold tint. Bees buzzed around the flowers, and birds flew over their heads, rustling tree branches and singing to their friends. Every now and then, a soft breeze would blow, making the grass dance, and the witch’s wavy black hair move with it, rendering it an unruly mess on his head. The boy didn’t seem to mind, though, looking around and smiling at the smallest thing, his eyes returning to Yoongi every now and then before looking away again.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” he said suddenly, during their third cup of tea, “I wasn’t sure how much you knew about magic.”
“It’s alright,” Yoongi replied, “There are scarier things than a butterfly.”
The witch chuckled at that.
“I suppose,” he said.
He took another sip of his tea.
“It’s just,” he spoke again, “We’ve been neighbours for so long, but apart from knowing that my visitors confuse you for me most days, there isn’t much else I know about you. I thought it’s such a shame that we’re practically strangers.”
Yoongi couldn’t say that he agreed with that sentiment, but neither was he irritated by the witch’s presence or sudden invitation.
He’d thought that they would coexist the way they had been living for the rest of their time as neighbours, and he hadn’t had any problem with that, apart from the constant flow of strangers mistaking his house for a witch’s abode. Did they miss the colourful smoke coming from the cottage just across the road?
“I don’t even know your name,” the witch said.
And Yoongi may not be an expert at social cues, but he understood that one.
“I uh…” he replied, “I’m Yoongi.”
“Nice to meet you, Yoongi,” the witch said happily, “I’m Hoseok.”
Hoseok. He had to admit it was nice putting a name to the face he saw so often.
“Nice to meet you too,” he answered.
They didn’t speak much for the remainder of their tea, but to his great surprise, the silence around them wasn’t awkward. He found himself as comfortable in Hoseok’s presence as he did around his music, in his clothes, or within the pulled curtains of his house.
How a practical stranger could make him feel this way, he didn’t know, but even if it just meant he now had a name for the mysterious witch that lived across the road, he was grateful for the invitation he’d sent him, albeit unusual.
Once the teapot was emptied, and Hoseok was packing up his tea set, he looked down at the remaining lemon squares (they really had been too many), and brought a finger to his lips in thought.
“I could give you these to take home,” he told Yoongi.
The other boy was about to politely decline to take all of them, insisting that Hoseok enjoy his own food.
However, before he could, Hoseok’s eyes twinkled with a shy glint.
“Unless you would like to have tea together again sometime,” he said.
And just like that, the same thing that had compelled Yoongi inside the other boy’s house returned, making his chest feel light like a butterfly’s wings, and a warmth to spread inside him.
For the first time that day, the first time in longer than that, he smiled.
“I would like that,” he told the witch.