Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Their pre-concert ritual hadn’t changed in years. The seven stood huddled, tension coiling tightly between them, silent prayers for success clinging in the air. Hands met in the middle as Namjoon started their concert chant. Yoongi cast his gaze away; a tremor of nervousness skimmed through him as he raised his hand with the others. 

Voices chanted as they approached the lowered stage platform. Shoulders flexing, hands being shaken out, earpieces being adjusted. The seven of them stood together on the platform, listening to the chants get louder as the lights in the venue dimmed. 

Yoongi felt the platform shift and begin to rise, steadying himself quickly as he clutched his microphone close. Next to him, J-Hope smiled and bounced on his feet, energy buzzing around him. Yoongi smiled, pausing to let his eyes adjust to the bright arena and large crowd. His earpiece buzzed softly in his ear, music flowing around him as Jungkook began singing their opening song. Already, the youngest members had bounded down the stage, starting their choreography, leaving the hyungs behind on the higher portion of the stage. The crowd, ARMY, was wild. 

Yoongi breathed in the venue area, an open-ceiling arena. The air was electric, flowing around his body as he took in the waves of ARMY bombs. Yoongi raised his arms outwards, as if asking the arena for a hug. The air swirled around him, the lights dancing off his light hair. Yoongi felt alive.​

The song flowed onwards, bodies moving in unison during the dance breaks. Yoongi stepped forward for his verse, microphone raised to his mouth, when the lights flickered. It lasted for less than a second, fast enough that nobody in the crowd noticed, but Yoongi did. He stuttered before composing himself to complete his verse, letting the stutter play a part throughout so the mistake wouldn’t be caught. The crowd ate it up. 

Keeping up the act, Yoongi let himself bounce to the music as J-Hope stepped forward to carry the song forward?. But Yoongi’s eyes kept surveying the room, anxiety eating at his chest. The arena was cold, he noted, regardless of the thousands of bodies. The lights didn’t flicker again, but Yoongi saw that his curated magic was dancing across the crowd again. He was the one that laced the magic into their songs, but only the seven combined could make it as strong as they did.

The concert finished smoothly, confetti and fireworks going off without a hitch. The seven said their final messages, bowed, exited the stage, and waited. The energy was still buzzing, regardless of how tired they were. 

“You recovered well at the beginning there!” A hand clapped on Yoongi’s back. Namjoon laughed lightly as Yoongi glared at him. The stiff concert attire was set aside, replaced with comfortable sweats and sweaters as they rehydrated in the green room. 

“What happened?” Jungkook nudged the elder's arm, walking side by side down a back hallway. 

“There was a flicker…the lights flickered.” Yoongi offered. Jungkook muttered, and Jin laughed. 

“There wasn’t a flicker, that was probably the most perfect concert we’ve had this tour. Are you sure you didn’t just see an army bomb change colors?” Yoongi shrugged at Jin's question. They climbed into a van, doors shutting around the seven of them. Yoongi stared out the back window, the city shifting by as voices argued about dinner. Yoongi paid them no mind, eyes searching across the city skyline, looking—hoping—for another glimpse of the dancing lights. 

The city offered only darkness, except for the other cars and streetlamps flickering every so often. The van came to a stop at a red light. Yoongi noticed a group of girls standing at the corner waiting for the cross signal to turn green. They weren’t rowdy, he noted, just huddled together to keep warm. Then, as fast as a breath of air entering his lungs, Yoongi saw the streetlights flicker. He jolted in his chair, the light turned green, and they were moving again. 

“You good?” A finger tapped his thigh. Yoongi turned to Jin, who had paused his activity on his phone to stare at the other. Yoongi shrugged, released his breath, and leaned his head on the window again. The cold glass met his forehead, and he was thankful for the momentary shock it brought to his system. He barely registered the van pulling into the parking lot of the hotel until Jin tugged at his sleeve. He climbed out after the others, feet dragging with exhaustion. 

The hotel lights were bright, causing Yoongi to flinch and squint, following the others quickly to the elevator. 

“Are we doing a live?” The question hung in the air as the floors counted upwards. Yoongi really wanted to go to bed; his body was sore, and his head was aching. 

“Not tonight, we have an early flight tomorrow, so we should try to sleep.” Yoongi breathed a sigh of relief at Namjoon's answer, thankful the leader had spoken up. The three youngest muttered amongst themselves, and it was obvious they were most definitely not going to bed. Namjoon made no effort to stop them as the three youngsters scuttled into a room together. 

“Are you rooming with me?” A hand curled around Yoongi’s wrist. Yoongi grunted at the cheerful other, letting himself be led into a shared room. He acknowledged Namjoon and Jin slipping into the room beside theirs, voices carrying down the hall about the next concert. Yoongi let himself fall onto one of the queen beds, watching out of the corner of his eye as Hobi opened his suitcase. Time seemed to skip as Yoongi registered the shower turning on. 

Sitting up in bed, Yoongi took the time Hobi was in the shower to grab things from his own suitcase. A soft, black book balanced in his hand as he hid himself on the floor beside his bed. 

(New paragraph)

Yoongi had received this book from his grandmother on his 18th birthday some years before. And before that, it was his great-grandmother's, and so on and so forth. Yoongi flipped the pages carefully, searching the scratched pages for the information he remembered reading so long ago. 

His hand paused on the inked pages, handwriting so similar and yet so distant, as if the idea of who wrote it scratched at the edge of his memory. Yoongi read through the page. 

1801, the flickering lights 

We were traveling as a coven, North, towards our next village, which had asked for help. The knowledge of our song had traveled wide, healing magic, saving magic. As we traveled, we sang. We did not know the risk. Our youngest, newest member, sang beautifully. Dancing in the trees, tracing the air, gifted with the sight. They sang a song powerful enough to summon light right in the palm of a hand. It built and built, as if making the sun new again in the dead of night. It caused our lanterns to flicker, as if pulling power right from the source of life itself. 

It built and built, until the magic dispersed rapidly, too rapidly. 

The destruction left behind is unspeakable. The youngest is no longer with us; destruction magic is forbidden for a reason.  

Yoongi remembers his grandmother speaking once of the magic bleeding through their bloodline before. It was a specialized form; healing, warming, a magic that others crave and pay to have. On his 18th birthday, he had discussed his music with his family, how the songs he wrote felt powerful, and how the crowd always fed off of him during concerts. His grandmother was overjoyed, a family gift passed down to the male side, now carried on for generations to come. 

The shower turned off. Yoongi scrambled to hide the book at the bottom of his suitcase again, remaining where he sat on the floor. 

“Why’re we on the floor?” Hobi walked into the room, hair dripping still. Yoongi shrugged, mind spinning rapidly with ideas. Hobi sighed, climbed into bed, and turned off the side lamps, plunging the room into darkness. 

“Well, floor man, try not to stay up too late. We have a flight in six hours.” Yoongi listened to the other slowly fall asleep, breaths slowing. He didn’t move from the floor. 

Have I been curating too much? Yoongi got sucked into his thoughts again. I can’t even remember the last time I poured full magic into one of our tracks. 

The night passed quickly, thoughts too scrambled to sleep. Yoongi thinks he remembers the light in the curtains, the sting of the suitcase handle gripped in his palm. He definitely remembers being ushered through the loud security. Yoongi felt himself jolt back into consciousness on the plane, nails digging into the fake leather of the seat. A hand rubbed into his shoulder. Yoongi looked to his seat partner. Jungkook smiled softly, not stopping his ministrations as if trying to calm Yoongi. 

Air travel always scared him; he didn’t like it, but preferred it over long drives. Eventually, Yoongi felt his eyes close, letting Jungkook's warm hand lull him back to sleep. When he awoke again, he was cradled in strong arms against a rough chest. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” He muttered. A giggle echoed against his head where it rested on the other. Yoongi breathed in the other, the warm smell of bergamot filling his lungs, the heartbeat of the other pulling Yoongi into darkness again. But Yoongi fought, letting his eyes scan the surrounding area. He was being carried to the car by Jungkook, who seemed all too happy to be doing so. Their security team was waiting by the van as well, mouths sealed in straight lines in the dim light of the afternoon. 

“You didn’t sleep last night.” The voice of judgment came from Mr Happiness himself. Yoongi scowled at Hobi, who was sitting next to Namjoon and Jin. 

“Did you not?” Namjoon turned in his chair to face Yoongi. Exhaustion rippled through the rapper's body; he knew his eye bags were dark, and his hair was greasy; he shook his head softly. 

“Couldn’t sleep, too much to think about.” He didn’t offer further clarification. In all his years of being part of this group, he had never spoken to the others about his magic. He had never used it blatantly in front of them. In fact, Yoongi couldn’t  remember the last time he had used physical magic. 

Sure, he had laced it in the notes of songs, letting it cushion his feet in dances, and projected it onto the others in a protective manner if it rained during concerts. But he hadn’t cast a physical spell in so long, hadn’t stretched that part of him since he had lived at home with his parents. Yoongi didn't know if he still could after this much time, not that he had ever needed to, or would ever  need to.  

The next hotel was peaceful; they ate together in one of the rooms, crowded around a low coffee table. Ramyeon and drinks passed back and forth, vegetables decorating a plate in the middle. Voices were hushed, as if conversations weren’t important that evening. Yoongi relished in the quiet, letting his mind calm as he watched the others smile and talk. He watched the air fill with colors of his magic as they hummed, or if one of them laughed, he watched the magic spark as Jungkook tapped a beat with his chopsticks on the table. 

Yoongi would never tell them. He liked keeping this part to himself. 

​

Chapter Text

Yoongi was seven when his magic first awakened. Small enough to not remember, but his mother filled in the gaps of memory later on. Apparently, the radio was on, playing an old Korean children's song while Yoongi lounged in the living room of his childhood home. His mom later on told him that she only heard giggles from the kitchen and then the air shifted.

The living room had come alive around Yoongi, windows opened to let air flow through, sunlight dancing across the floor around where the boy sat. Yoongi’s laugh and claps to the song created the sharpest sparks of gold magic to fly out of his hands. His mom was so elated she picked the boy up and danced with him.

​

“You have my gift! You have OUR gift, Yoongi!” She twirled the young boy around and around in the warm room, laughter and song filling the space with a whirlwind of color. His mom released her own magic that day, a dark blue combining with Yoongi’s gold to fill the breeze-filled room.

​

Yoongi doesn’t remember that day. If asked about it directly, he’ll say it was a warm Saturday and he danced with his mom for hours.

​

Yoongi was twelve when he accidentally used his magic in public. School was hard for him; Yoongi didn’t like talking as much as other kids his age, he liked to read separated from large groups, and listen to the music his mom gave him. The other students made fun of him for this, Yoongi didn’t mind though.

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“Are you even listening?” A hand slapped his book where it rested on his desk. Yoongi, startled, backed up quickly from his desk. The other student, whose name Yoongi could not remember, was red-faced with anger.

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“I’m…sorry,” Yoongi stuttered out, voice quiet. A sneer, another slap to the table, and more curses filled the classroom. The teacher, ever absent up until that moment, stepped through the door. Yoongi doesn’t remember the rest of the conversation, choosing instead to look at the linoleum flooring of the room.

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What he does remember is the sting against his cheek as a metal ruler hit his face. The room fell silent immediately, the sting growing as something dripped down his cheek. Yoongi stared in shock at the angry student who now looked apologetic. The metal had cut into his cheek, not deep enough for stitches, but enough so it would leave a scar.

​

Yoongi stood up from his desk and quickly shuffled out into the hall, tears threatening to spill. The teacher, not bothering to follow the young boy, scolded the angry student. Yoongi disappeared into the bathroom, locking himself in a stall. Tears now cascading down his face, he clutched his bleeding cheek.

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“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Yoongi rocked back and forth on his feet. The stinging of the cut grew as his tears mixed with the wound, causing pain to flutter in his chest. Yoongi stuttered out a hum as he continued to hold his face. The humming grew as he continued to rock back and forth, letting the warmth in his chest spread.

​

He didn’t fully understand what he was doing at the time, now he does though. A minor healing spell, not enough to get caught, but enough that somebody would notice if he walked back in the room not bleeding. The gold magic licked at his cheek, warmth spreading through his body as the skin pulled taught again.

​

Moments passed before Yoongi left the stall, looking up to meet his own eyes in the mirror. The bleeding had stopped, the wound magically closed. There was definitely a scar, though, Yoongi traced his finger along it. He continued to stare in the mirror, wondering what else he could heal with just a hum.

​

When he joined BigHit, Yoongi was nervous, nervous that somebody would notice his hesitancy to hum or sing fully. But nobody did, he was a rapper after all. Namjoon got along just well, helping write songs in the beginning. Yoongi paid no mind to their growing popularity until the songs started to sit heavy in his mouth.

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“You haven’t hummed in a while,” It was a passing comment from Namjoon one afternoon after an awards show, but it stung deeper than the younger boy probably realized. Yoongi decided to meet with his grandmother before his 18th birthday, spending it with family who congratulated him on his band's growing popularity and asked how his magic was growing. Yoongi would lie to his family, say his magic was strong, he was learning to control it, that he was excited for the band to get more popular.

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Yoongi would tell his grandmother he was terrified. His fear was that every time he stepped on stage and opened his mouth, he was scared gold would erupt from him, that he would lose control.

​

The book she offered gave him clarity and a path for training, but Yoongi remained nervous until his aunt offered her expertise.

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“They might not be Coven, but your group obviously feeds into your power. Use that. To stabilize and to benefit.”

​

The first song he let his magic into was Butterfly in 2015.

Chapter Text

The next concert was hectic. Yoongi felt himself being pulled in different directions by the members and staff. Stress laced the air, stinging his lungs when he breathed. The venue was having issues with the physical tech; some of the lights had snapped in the night, crashing to the venue floor when thankfully nobody was there. But it brought up enough concern about the safety of the rigging to pause the front doors from opening.

​

The concert had been delayed, safety rechecked, and finally deemed safe enough to hold the incoming crowd. The venue filled quickly after that, apologies written on the screens with short, precise explanations. The seven knew that Army wouldn’t mind; they never minded when it came to the members' safety.

​

Yoongi was still tired, even after sleeping the night before, after the plane ride. He registered the chant, looking away rapidly as hands raised in unison. He let himself be softly pulled by the hand towards the rising platform. A voice came through in his ear piece.

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“Yoongi, you okay? You look out of it today, focus in!” Yoongi silently cursed the manager, letting his shoulders roll back as he stretched again. Shaking out his hands, he placed one on Taehyung's shoulder for balance as the stage raised up.

​

The eruption of sound in the arena brought a smile to Yoongi's face. The air was laced with different colors, dancing around the stage, moving with the others as they took their marks. Yoongi swears he could reach out and grab it if he tried. This was one of their larger venues, with more people stuffed into the space. Purple dancing across bodies as voices raised with the music.

​

The opening song went smoothly. Yoongi felt his body move in sync with the others, muscle memory taking over where Yoongi failed. He felt himself fall in line with Namjoon and J-Hope as the music swelled. The rap left his lips before he registered it was his time to start.

​

Where is my mind? Yoongi tried to shake his consciousness awake. The lyrics were second nature to him; each lyric was layered with his magic, leaving him as naturally as the day he had created it.

​

Namjoon took notice quickly of Yoongi’s hesitation, watching as his eyes flickered back and forth across the crowd. Yoongi took a step back, bumping into Namjoon, who grabbed him protectively to keep their balance.

​

The crowd ate it up, voices chanting louder for the two friends. The stage shook with energy, causing Yoongi’s feet to tremble, his legs barely keeping him upright as it surged into his body.

​

Careful. Namjoon mouthed at him. Yoongi turned his focus back to the choreography, letting his feet fall in line again. Ignoring the ache deep in his chest, the pull of colors around him seeming to dance faster and faster. Yoongi ignored it like he always had.

​

Just as fast as the lights flickering, Yoongi took note of how Jimin’s voice rose, how the energy pooling in the small dancer's chest echoed across the large arena. How it erupted in colors of purple, blue, and yellow from Jimin's throat, carried across the crowd like a blanket. Yoongi’s magic laced into the lyrics leaving Jimin’s body carried with more power than Yoongi had realized was capable when he wrote the words down in his notebook years ago.

​

Yoongi gasped as the colors settled into the crowd, how some people absorbed it and then projected it back out as they sang along. How some people sat with it, cradled on their shoulders like a shield, bodies swaying to the booming of the speakers. Yoongi felt his chest ache again, perhaps pride? Joy that his magic was still casting protection after all this time.

​

A hand grabbed his, tugging him forward with a jolt. Laughing, Yoongi ran across the stage with Taehyung and Jungkook who held water bottles. Yoongi let himself get splashed before laughing harder at the forefront of the stage. Jungkook ruffled Yoongi’s hair before sprinting off again. Yoongi was still amazed at how the youngest could run after doing their choreography.

​

Yoongi turned to face the crowd, letting his smile spread as people photographed him. Letting the music course through him again as his part came up. Microphone raised at the ready, Yoongi heard the timing in his ear, opened his mouth to speak the first word…and watched as the lights flickered again.

​

In a moment, before he’d even blinked, before the air had left his lungs, Yoongi felt the air shock him. The sound of a cable snapping echoed in his head, as if a warning. Instead of his lyrics, Yoongi only yelled out a warning.

​

As if time had slowed, hand outstretched, Yoongi let his magic take control. For a stretch of time, the beating of a butterfly's wing, the maknae's foot paused midair before colliding with the stage. Yoongi felt his fingers tingle before color erupted from his palm; his magic was and always would be gold, shining and bright. It arched across the crowd like a net, glowing as his chest chanted endlessly. Words not leaving his lips once as he poured and poured thoughts of safety across the arena.

​

Time snapped back into place as the light fixture fell from the ceiling. Yoongi watched it as it came dangerously close to the crowded pit below. The others barely registered what was happening before screams filled the air. Yoongi watched the light stop midair, caught by his net. It remained there, frozen in time and space.

​

The crowd reacted, screams echoing over the music. The sound from the speakers cut out as the rest of the seven rushed to the front of the stage. The crowd below Yoongi began to move quickly, bodies pushing each other to move away from the frozen fixture.

​

“Holy shit,” Yoongi heard beside him. He turned to look at Jungkook. The youngest was staring at the light, which remained frozen so long as Yoongi remained alive. The others soon stood with them as well, watching as security ushered the crowd away from the light. Yoongi cursed himself.

​

If he had let it fall, it would’ve taken so many lives, would’ve caused so much harm. He knew that this was what he was meant for, saving others, physically and mentally. He knew that, but in this moment, while the light remained mid-air, he was really angry at himself. Really angry that in this moment, he chose to do physical magic, surrounded by thousands of people. That in this moment, there was nothing he could do to remove the light fixture without being found out.

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“Did anyone see that? Why the fuck is it stopped? Is there a line still attached to it?!” Namjoon shouted at the security team perched below the edge of the stage. Yoongi released the air from his lungs, not realizing he had been holding it.

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“Are you okay?” A hand grabbed his upper arm. Yoongi turned to acknowledge Jimin, whose eyes were blown wide with fear.

​

“I’m okay…” Yoongi states, turning back to the crowd. He watched a team of stage managers rush the floor next, the crowd parting for them. A ladder was opened, and three people attached a line to the light fixture. Yoongi watched them closely, timing his magic to release when the three men grabbed the light to lower it. When the light met the floor, the room seemed to relax. But the air remained heavy, silent.

​

The colors that danced before had disappeared, all that remained was the crackling of electricity in Yoongi’s fingers and the heavy gold of his magic hovering invisible above the room. His wrist twitched where it rested at his side, fingers snapping, and Yoongi watched the gold disappear.

​

“Due to today's severe accident, the concert will not continue. Tickets will be partially refunded, and we hope everyone gets home safely. Thank you.”

​

Yoongi followed the others backstage silently. Falling behind as if to make sure they all were safe. His hands still ached with the exertion of stopping the light, a physical magic he hadn’t done in so long. Once backstage, the yelling began.

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“How did that happen?”

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“Thank god it didn’t hit anyone! Was it still attached to a line?”

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“Did you see that! That was insane! Thank god it didn’t break fully.”

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“Jesus fuck,” Namjoon sat down on the couch, face in his palms. Yoongi snorted at the swear. Jin and Hobi were huddled together, fear coursing through their bodies. Everyone was shaken; the stress was palpable even without Yoongi’s magic to sense it.

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“Okay,” Namjoon looked up at the others, before settling on the stage hands, “Do we know what stopped it from falling?”

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Silence filled the room. Namjoon arched an eyebrow, surprised.

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“We don’t know?”

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Jungkook appeared beside Yoongi, hand laced in his, shaking slightly even with the physical touch. Yoongi squeezed, hoping that his steadiness would catch with the anxious maknae beside him.

The stagehands filtered out of the room, questions remaining unanswered. Soon, all that was left were the seven of them. All of them are sitting in their respective areas except Yoongi. Yoongi stood before the makeup mirrors, leaning against the counters, arms folded across his chest.

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You need to tell them. This was too close. If not for your sanity, then for your safety. Yoongi’s mind was racing again, and magic swirled in his fingertips where they tapped against his arms.

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“I’m glad we’re all okay, especially you, Yoongi.” Six pairs of eyes immediately cast to Yoongi, who was muttering and unfocused where he leaned.

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“Yoongi?” The small voice broke his spell. Startled, he met the eyes of Jimin, who looked damn close to crying.

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“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay,” Yoongi muttered. His fingers itched. His chest ached where the remainder of today's songs sat in his magic. He ignored the feeling, knowing that later the laughing, jokes, and humming of the others would release enough magic for him to sleep. He ignored the pain of the thoughts at the forefront of his mind.

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“You don’t look okay,” Namjoon stated. The leader sat beside Jin, whose legs were bouncing on the hard floor. Anxiety was filling the room, anxiety about what had happened and anxiety for Yoongi.

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Tell them. They’re your family. They could be coven. Yoongi was startled at the idea, standing up straighter against the makeup counter.

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He sighed. Eyes closing slowly, arms stretching out beside him, letting his back crack as he leaned forward. When he opened his eyes again, he acknowledged that none of the others had looked away from him.

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“Okay,” Yoongi began, before moving to sit in the metal folding chair joining the makeshift circle of others. They waited, patiently as ever, if not anxious to learn if Yoongi was actually okay.

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“I am okay. I promise you.” He looked to Namjoon, who accepted the answer. “I’m okay in the sense that it didn’t end worse. It could’ve been so much worse. We could’ve lost people today.”

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Hums of agreement filled the room. Jin's legs had stopped bouncing.

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“I think I’m just struggling right now because,” he paused, eyes downcast. A small, cold hand shifted into his lap, grabbing at Yoongi’s shaking palms. Taking a deeper breath, Yoongi glanced sideways at Jimin, who was definitely crying now.

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“I exhausted myself out there. I wasn’t in my top game tonight. I don’t know if it was those lights that broke last night or what. But I was out there, stuck in my head, not thinking 100%. I don’t know if it was fate or what, but Jungkook-ah and Taehyung-ah dragged me to the front of the stage, but I’m thankful they did. I just wish I’d reacted faster.”

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Jimin’s crying paused. The air stilled around them.

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“Reacted faster?” Jungkook asked softly, leaning forward. Yoongi met the youngest's gaze softly, chest still aching with unreleased energy. Yoongi nodded.

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“It’s better if I just show you?”

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Yoongi stood slowly, knees shaking with anxiety, releasing Jimin’s hand. If they rejected him, if they rejected who he was at his core, he didn’t know if they’d recover from this. Hands sweating slightly, he shook his wrists out gently.

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He brought his hands together in front of his chest, palm to palm, before arching his fingers and creating a circle where his heart sat.

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“I’ve known this my whole life, I’ve known since before we met. I didn’t tell you because I didn't want to…I don’t even know, make you all hate me?”

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“We could never hate you, Hyung," Taehyung piped up. Yoongi smiled. He let his hands relax, palms meeting, fingers twitching.

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“It’s why our songs are so powerful, why we’re safe when traveling, why you always heal so fast when injured.”

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Yoongi lets his power surge forward, gathering at the front of his chest. He let it leak out slowly, gold beginning to swirl in between his hands. Magic with no spell in mind but to reveal, to show his soul. Yoongi let the gold dance around his fingers before he brought them forward, palms upwards as if presenting a plate to the others.

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The gold fills the room with light, dancing off the walls in swirling spectacles. The others don’t speak a word, eyes wide, mouths open, as the magic danced with their heartbeats. Yoongi’s magic fills the space with a sense of warmth and safety. He watches the gold dance around Jimin, the pulsing of his heart rate slowing with the breaths leaving Yoongi’s chest.

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The gold swirls paused around Jin and Namjoon, who sat staring, not at the magic, but straight at Yoongi. Jungkook was giggling. The sound caught Yoongi off guard, magic faltering slightly.

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“I knew your raps were magical, Hyung, but this is next level,” Jungkook laughed. Yoongi let his anxiety wash away as the others outstretched their hands, teasing the magic as it danced more and more. Yoongi let them watch it a little while longer, as they tried to touch the gold, before he began to reel it back in.

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The gold disappeared as fast as it had appeared. The room was still again; however, it felt cleaner, stable, and safer.

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“Why do I feel…warm?” Jimin looked at Yoongi again.

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“I was thinking about our dorm. The only way I can safely produce spectacle magic, with no intention set, is to just think of us seven, in the safety of our home. My magic has to come from a specific place for it to work. I wanted you all to see it, so I created an invitation.”

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“So..you’re a witch?” Jin spoke up. Yoongi nodded, pride coursing through his blood. His ancestors would be so proud that he found a group he could trust in, that trusted in him as well. Taehyung slapped his knees, lurching forward with a large smile plastered on his face, body twitching with happiness.

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“Can you turn me into a frog?”

Chapter Text

Yoongi swears he’s never seen Taehyung as disappointed as he was when Yoongi told him, ‘No, I cannot turn you into a frog.’

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The silly question broke the tension in the room. The discussion surged forward for what felt like hours. The other six are pulling memories, information, and stories from Yoongi that he doesn’t even remember sharing before in his life.

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The first time he saw his magic, the first time he cast a spell, how does he lace his magic? Is it just music he can cast with, or can he use it in other ways? Jungkook asks if he knows other types of magic. Jimin asks if this is why Yoongi doesn’t sleep well. Namjoon is more concerned about how the exertion of the magic may affect Yoongi.

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“I promise you, I’ve done this for over 20 years now, I know what I can handle and what I can’t. As for other types of magic, my family line specializes mainly in healing and protection. There are other types: earthly magic, summoners, necromancers, and the only forbidden type is destruction magic.”

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Yoongi explains to the best of his ability what he knows during the short period they are sitting in the backroom. Before long, the hours have passed, and their managers are calling them to return to the hotel for the night. The concert the next day had been cancelled, and tickets refunded.

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“Do you lace magic into every song?” The question is asked in the van. Yoongi is overjoyed that the others are curious and accepting of his lineage and magic.

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“Not every song, just the ones I know need it. Tonight it was Spring Day and Mikrokosmos. I wish I could show you what our songs do, on a metaphysical level. It was beautiful tonight…before all that happened. Jimin-ah!” Yoongi’s outcry causes everyone to jump in their seats.

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“You changed the melody! When you went high, it changed the way the magic was dispersed by us; it was so beautiful. Purple, blue, and yellow poured from you like your soul was leaking art.” Jimin blushed at the praise, albeit not fully understanding what Yoongi was explaining.

Before long, they’re back at the hotel, huddled in Yoongi’s room together again after everyone had showered. All of them are on the floor surrounded by dinner. Phones were off and away, post-concert lives forgotten.

​

“Does it hurt?” Jungkook’s face is painted with worry, concern leaking into his voice. Yoongi is surprised that the question comes from the youngest.

​

“Not in the way you’re thinking. Creation and dispersions don’t hurt; it’s almost like receiving a really big hug. But if I start creating and don’t disperse, it feels like a hiccup getting stuck in my chest. It aches, right here,” Yoongi points to his chest, just below his heart.

​

“We didn’t finish the concert. Does it hurt right now?” Jin follows up. Yoongi nods slowly, letting his hands rest on the table before them.

​

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung whispers. His eyes look scared when they meet Yoongi.

​

“Is there a way we can help disperse the rest?” Jin’s hand grasps Yoongi’s, holding him steady.

​

“Usually our post-concert dinner includes laughing, humming, and some form of musical play with utensils,” Yoongi shoots a glance to Jungkook, who grins, “but I think after what happened today, we’re really exhausted.”

​

The air stills again as if the others are thinking. Eyes flicker around the room, a silent conversation occurring. Suddenly, Yoongi’s ears pick up the sound of Jungkook's chopsticks tapping rhythmically against his cup. Starting slow, but picking up volume as Taehyung hums the intro to Butterfly. Yoongi almost laughs at this, if only they knew the irony of choosing this song, but instead, Yoongi lets his thoughts rest.

Jimin and Jin join in the humming, stacking the melody. Hobi and Namjoon begin tapping their fingers on the table, creating layers to the beat.

​

The air is restless around them as Yoongi attempts to relax. Not that he’s anxious about them finding out, but more so that he’s tired and in pain. He lets a smile break across his face as Jungkook starts to sing softly. A sigh of relief escapes Yoongi as his magic begins to leak forward from his fingertips. Dancing across the surface of the table in loops of gold and purples, moving softly to the rhythm that the others have created in the room.

​

“Can I show you what it looks like?” Yoongi’s voice is barely a whisper. He’s hoping the others picked up his question, but regardless, he lets his barriers come down. Let his magic dance forth for the others to see. The humming stutters as the six are given the sight to see the magic their music creates.

​

“This is what our music looks like to witches, to those with the Sight.” Yoongi brings a finger up to tease the dancing colors, swirling them together in a makeshift dust devil on the tabletop. The humming grows louder and Jungkook's voice grows more confident, allowing more colors to dance forth.

Yoongi watches greens and blues erupt from Jungkook and Taehyung's voices, joining the swirls of Yoongi’s own magic around the room.

“This is so mesmerizing. How do you not get distracted during the concert?” Jimin is standing now, letting the colors twist around his arms where they’re outstretched. The gold lingers longer on Jimin's skin than the other colors, acknowledging the yearning in Yoongi’s heart for his coven to accept him fully.

​

“I think I just got used to it. Today, though, Jimin-ah, today was the first time I've seen you create three colors by yourself.” Jimin is giggling, twirling around the room, dancing freely.

​

Eventually, Hobi joins him, the two creating a seamless dance with the magic. Yoongi watches them, awestruck. The dance isn’t coordinated, not like their usual ones. The movements are free, loose; their hands come together as if in a tango before separating again. Feet leave the floor in different spots, clothes are loose around forms, flowing along with the magic. One stream meets another without fault.

​

Yoongi gasps as the two dancers sync their movements simultaneously. Planned movement or not, the electric feeling the two have curated produces a multitude of colors. Yoongi’s gold is overpowered by a rainbow of swirling air. The room fills quickly with magic, unbridled joy, and understanding, warming the air quickly. With nowhere to go, Yoongi acknowledges, the magic will settle on the seven of them.

​

Good or bad? Should I open the windows so the magic can escape somewhere? Yoongi’s thoughts falter, anxiety leaking in. He’s never witnessed magic like this settling on mortals in such a tight-knit space. His hands begin to shake; in turn, the gold in the air begins to vibrate, the flow of magic disrupted immediately.

​

Before his thoughts spiral, a hand is on his knee. Namjoon and Yoongi’s gazes meet simultaneously.

​

“Let us help you.” Namjoon’s statement is soft. Yoongi feels the anxiety leave his body instantly. The song continues on, beat and melody held by the others as the two dancers laugh and twirl around each other. As the song comes to a close, the two dancers settle into a small three-step movement, colliding together one last time before falling onto the bed slowly in each other's embrace.

​

Yoongi watches, waits, for the magic to settle. The others also watch as the colors slowly muddle together, before slowly descending towards them. Yoongi takes a breath in, opening his palms upwards as if he can catch the stream.

​

“It’s warm, like a hug, just like you said, Hyung,” Jungkook states, the magic cascading over the top of his head. Taehyung is giggling as the magic settles onto his head. The young boy breathes in deeply, and Yoongi watches the magic disappear into his lungs.

​

The room falls silent again, waiting as the colors disappear. Eventually, the magic had dispersed, and Yoongi felt himself grow anxious again. Watching the others closely for reactions, for anything out of the ordinary.

​

“Is something else supposed to happen?” Yoongi looks at Taehyung, who is watching him just as closely. Yoongi shrugs, hands beginning to shake again as he watches the youngsters for a reaction to the magic.

​

“Perhaps because we’ve been exposed to it so much, what with us writing it, recording it, and concerts, it doesn’t affect us as much anymore?” Jungkook offers.

​

“Maybe…” Yoongi glances at the others. Namjoon sits on the floor silently, seemingly lost in thought. Jimin and Hobi tangled together on the bed, breathless. A breath is held in the room, the air paused in time as if waiting for somebody to react. Jimin is the first to move, sitting upright on the bed.

​

Yoongi watches closely as the room shifts around the swift dancer. Feet moving delicately on the cold hardwood floor as Jimin moves to sit next to Yoongi. A deep breath enters Yoongi’s lungs as he takes in Jimin's presence, calm spreading from the smaller.

​

“Do you feel better?” A hushed question from the dancer. Yoongi nods, body now aching for sleep. Moments pass again before Namjoon stretches his arms and begins to stand. His knees pop as he straightens upwards, and the room watches Namjoon slowly.

​

“It’s late, we have tomorrow off because the concert was cancelled. Let's sleep and meet tomorrow for lunch?” The room shuffles slowly, as others stand and stretch. Yoongi continues to watch from the floor. Hands meet his forehead, a kiss pecked against the crown of his head by Jimin, and the room shuffles around some more. Finally, as if the walls sigh, Yoongi is alone with Hobi in their shared room.

​

“I think I speak for us all when we say we love you, Yoongi-ah.” Hobi’s voice carries across the dimly lit hotel room. Yoongi, who hadn’t moved in quite some time, smiles softly at the statement, warmth spreading through his chest. Wrists aching, Yoongi grabbed his phone, ignoring the social media notifications and text messages from managers.

​

Another sigh leaves his body, “I’m going to bed now.”

​

Hobi, already moving to get ready for bed, grunts an acknowledgement. Yoongi crawls into his bed slowly, limbs aching from the concert and exertion of magic. A yawn cracks his jaw, hands pull the blanket up to his chin. Body shivering with joy from the day, head rushing with the memories of the concert, of knowing his group accepted who he was and loved him more for it.

​

See? It wasn't so bad. The next step is to make them coven. 

Chapter Text

​Yoongi woke up sore. Groaning and stretching, he glances at Hobi, who is still softly snoring across the room. Phone buzzing loudly against the mattress, Yoongi spares it at a glance.

​

LoudMouth: Sorry guys bailing on today.

​

Yoongi isn’t surprised Jungkook bailed on today; he looked exhausted last night. Grunting as he stood, Yoongi grabbed his phone, slid into his slippers, and silently left the room. Three doors down, Yoongi pauses, hand raised against the wood. It’s silent on the other side of the door, and Yoongi almost takes it as a sign to walk away. He knocks anyway.

​

“Hyung?” The door opens slowly to reveal a very tired Jungkook. Yoongi can’t help but sigh with memories of a much younger Jungkook in the dorm; hair going every which way and big yawns before early practices.

​

“Saw your text, wanted to check in with you.” Yoongi slips past Jungkook without invitation. The room is empty, and both beds are empty. Taehyung must already be downstairs with the others, Yoongi notes.

​

“It’s…nothing.” Jungkook shuts the door a little too roughly before climbing back into his bed. Yoongi sits on the edge, close enough to watch the boy's eyes, but far enough away that he’s not crowding the anxious younger.

​

“I’m the king of lying,” no laugh from the youngest, “so there’s no point, Jungkook-ah. Tell me what’s wrong.”

​

Jungkook curls into a ball under his covers, blocking Yoongi out, if not just physically. Yoongi waits patiently, phone sitting in his pocket, buzzing every once in a while with notifications, but he doesn’t bother to check it. If he didn’t know better, Yoongi could’ve sworn hours passed where he just sat and watched Jungkook breathe under the blankets. Finally, the body shifted.

​

“I’m so tired, Hyung.” Yoongi frowned at the curled-up ball of a man. He knew Jungkook was tired last night; the boy had practically dragged himself to bed after their “magic meeting”. He finally reached out a hand and placed it on what he guessed was Jungkook's shoulder.

​

“Jungkook-ah, look at me.” The blankets shifted, lifted up, and there was Jungkook's face. Tear-soaked eyes stared deep into Yoongi’s, red and puffy. Yoongi lifted himself up and crawled into the bed, pulling the youngest against his chest. Jungkook sniffled, rubbing a hand across his face.

​

“Was it after what I showed you last night that you started feeling like this?” Jungkook nodded against his chest.

​

“I’m sorry, Jungkook-ah. I should’ve known it would be too much for everyone.”

​

“But nobody else is reacting like I am. I’m the only one sobbing, locked in my hotel room.” Jungkook grimaced, tears forming again.

​

“It can be so incredibly overwhelming to have that full body sense of relief and healing for the first time,” Yoongi’s hand ran through greasy hair.

​

“I feel pathetic,” Jungkook was crying again, body shaking with silent sobs.

​

“You are far from it, Jungkook-ah. You’ve fought harder than all of us to come this far. No words can describe how sorry I am that last night was the first time we have helped you feel okay. Helped you feel okay with just being human for a small portion of a day.” Yoongi pulled the boy into a tighter hug, sobs slowly fading. With a squeeze, Yoongi reached into Jungkook's core, allowing the pain and grief the boy was feeling to be shared with Yoongi. Yoongi grimaced roughly. The pain was bright and heavy, like being handed a bag of bricks and being told to walk up 10 flights of stairs.

​

“I just want to spend today being normal,” Jungkook stated. Yoongi nodded against his back, forehead pressing between his shoulder blades. Yoongi made a silent promise that today, he would give Jungkook the most normal 20-year-old experience.

​

Moments pass for longer, the two refusing to separate. Until a very loud sound erupted from Jungkook's phone, where it sat plugged in on the side table. Jungkook sighed, sat up slowly, grabbed the phone, and answered the call.

​

“No…no, we’re okay,” Jungkook glanced at Yoongi, who was still frozen on the bed, arms having fallen onto the mattress.

​

“He’s with me, we’ve been chatting. Yeah, I’m okay,” another pause as the voice on the other side calmed down.

​

“I think Yoongi-hyung and I are gonna go to the city today,” Jungkook stretches, “We’ll be back for dinner, is that okay, Hyung?”

​

More voices on the other end of the line, what sounds like an agreement and ‘love you both’, then the call ends. Yoongi sits up slowly, slipping his phone out of his pocket. Text notifications litter his lock screen, some missed calls, but not enough to cause concern. Yoongi opts to open the group chat first.

​

HotinCharge: jin-hyung and i are meeting with seijn-ssi to discuss the rest of tour. We’ll be gone for about 4 hours

​

LoudMouth2: ttyl, dbciwjatmt

​

Hyung: what the fuck does that mean?

​

LoudMouth: Sorry guys, bailing on today.

​

PrettyBoy: talk to you later, don’t bother calling i’m with jimin at the movie theater <3 Jimin

​

Hyung: thanks, i think i had a stroke

​

DancingQueen: u guys went wo me?! Also u ok kookie?

​

HotinCharge: jungkook-ah? Has anyone heard from yoongi-hyung?

​

DancingQueen: he’s not here, neither is his phone. Maybe w kookie?

​

Hyung: I can try calling jungkook-ah, hang on.

​

HotinCharge: they’re alive, hiding in jungkook-ahs room

​

LoudMouth2: ill throw away the funeral plans then

​

Hyung: aish, be respectful! Everyone be back at the hotel by 7

​

PrettyBoy: we had funeral plans???

​

Yoongi clicked through the messages quickly, catching up where he could before shooting a message into the group chat.

​

Don't throw out the funeral plans just yet, jungkook-ah may kill me today with all the walking.

​

Jungkook stands from the bed, moving to his suitcase. He quickly slips into some jeans and a dark blue sweater. Yoongi is pretty sure he stole from Namjoon. Yoongi watches the other get ready slowly, doing his skin routine, then picking sunglasses from a case. They trudge down the hallway together to Yoongi’s room, who opts to adorn a black short-sleeve top and cargo pants, tossing on a bucket hat and face mask.

​

They leave the hotel together, not once seeing the other members.

​

“I’m sorry you’re spending the day with me,” Jungkook mutters to Yoongi as they slip into a local coffee shop. Yoongi almost slaps the young boy, but the pitiful look on his still slightly red face tugged at Yoongi’s soft spot.

​

“It was either this or Hobi talked my ear off about my dance mistakes from yesterday,” which got a chuckle from Jungkook. Yoongi orders them both a drip coffee and joins Jungkook in the back of the cafe.

​

“I’m still sorry, I don’t feel very fun right now.” Jungkook’s eyes were downcast, coffee clutched in shaking hands.

​

“That doesn’t matter to me,” Yoongi bumped himself into Jungkook’s side, “I’ll spend eternity with you just to see you smile.”

​

The train ride to the city center is quiet. Yoongi sits down by a window, and Jungkook practically sits on top of him to stare out the window. They whisper to each other as time passes, mainly about how beautiful it is outside today. The train station is bustling with people when they exit, but nobody seems to pay them any mind. Either not recognizing them or not caring. Jungkook has a death grip on Yoongi’s hand, pulling him towards the exit rapidly. In Jungkook's other hand is his phone, directions pulled up on the screen.

​

Jungkook is dragging them down a busy street, big windows adorning buildings with mannequins and bright signs. Jungkook pulls his hand, guiding them both into a clothing store that Yoongi recognizes. Calvin Klein adorns the walls, people in long coats muttering and skating around the store, around the duo.  

​

“Don’t you have enough clothes?” Yoongi stands behind the boy, arms crossed across his chest. Jungkook is giggling, hands tracing fabrics along the wall.

​

“Never, Hyung,” Jungkook is grabbing a jacket and holding it up. Yoongi can only watch, mildly amused by the younger who is giddy with joy as he skips around the store. Eventually, Jungkook leaves the store, bag in hand. Yoongi is at least somewhat proud that Jungkook spent less than 200$.

​

“Was there something specific you wanted to do today?” Yoongi asked where they stood on the sidewalk. Jungkook met his gaze, seemingly lost in thought. A smile slowly spreads across his face, cheeks rosy in the afternoon air.

​

“Actually, what I wanted to do pertains to you and your…abilities,” Jungkook mutters the last word. Yoongi’s smile falls.

​

“I thought today we were pretending to be normal?” Yoongi shoves his hands in his pockets, cocking his head at the younger.

​

“Hyung, there is absolutely nothing normal about us.” Jungkook cracks a grin at Yoongi, whose face remains fallen.

​

“Hyunggg,” Jungkook whines, “I promise, it’s not what you think. There’s a metaphysical shop a couple of streets over, and I really wanted to check it out. I just want to learn more about your world. I want to understand.”

​

Yoongi can’t help but grin at the youngest, realizing he’s truly trying his hardest to understand Yoongi. Yoongi reaches a hand out and tugs on Jungkook's sleeve, the younger lets his bottom lip pout out.

​

“I’d be happy to teach you more Jungkook-ah. Do you want to show me the shop you found?” Jungkook lights up at the agreement, pout disappearing. Yoongi practically gets dragged down the street, shopping bag smacking his leg.

​

Yoongi feels the metaphysical shop before he sees it. The shop feels like a warm spring day, the smell of rain and fresh grass wafts from its front door. The front of the shop is glowing softly from lights strung in the window, and the door has bells hung from the handle that jingle as Jungkook pushes it open. Inside, the walls are covered in scarves of an assortment of colors, and shining stained glass lamps hang from the ceiling.

​

There isn’t a direct path through the shop, Yoongi notes. Shelves of books and herbs clutter the floor, taxidermy animals line the front counter, and soft music is echoing off the walls.

​

“Hello!” A chipper voice jolts Yoongi, his hand falling from Jungkook's. Yoongi meets the eyes of a short woman dressed in all green, a scarf hanging off her shoulders lightly.

​

“Oh…hello?” She double-takes at Yoongi. Jungkook is smiling ear to ear, his shopping bag hanging from his arm as he takes in the whole shop.

​

“I’m just here to get him some books; we won’t bother you too much.” Yoongi nudges Jungkook to start wandering the store.

​

“Looking for anything specific?” The shopkeeper's fingers are playing with the necklace around her neck. Yoongi notes that it glints in the light, the green gem humming lightly as it rubs between her fingers.

​

“Actually, yes, do you have any books on healing spells? Also! I would really love a protection bracelet, or if you have any good incense…”Jungkook pipes up. He’s bouncing on his feet, radiating joy and excitement that Yoongi feeds off of.

​

“The back wall has all my spell books, as for bracelets,” she gestures to the case behind her, “I’d be happy to help you choose.”

​

Jungkook bounds off towards the back of the shop, leaving Yoongi and the shopkeeper standing there alone.

​

“Your gold is most magnificent,” she smiles warmly at Yoongi, “you’re a protection witch, yes?”

​

Yoongi nods, hands hiding back in his sweater. His fingers tingle slightly as she hums and turns away from him, moving to grab something off the counter. The lights flicker momentarily before she turns back to him, clutching a black ring in her palm.

​

She offers it forward, Yoongi eyes it cautiously.

​

“It’s a dampener. I noticed you watch the lights quite closely. I’m sensing you’re having an issue with control.” The ring remains in her open palm. Yoongi makes no move to grab it.

​

“No, thank you. I don’t dampen my magic.” Yoongi turns away from her and moves to follow Jungkook. If she was upset with him denying her offer, she made no show of it, and Yoongi paid it no mind if she did.

​

“Look, hyung!” Jungkook thrust a book towards Yoongi's chest. The book was white leather, black lettering on the front and spine spelled out the title in swirling text: Healing and Protection Incantations for Beginners.

​

“Oh, I know this author,” Yoongi turned the book over in his hand, “yes, she was a witch who lives a few cities over from my grandmother.”

​

Jungkook grabs another off the shelf, Bonds and Covens, Yoongi eyed it quickly, a shiver running through his body. Jungkook paid him no mind, taking the first book back and heading towards the shopkeeper. Yoongi watched her smile at him, scanning the books quickly before eyeing Yoongi.

​

Yoongi stood at the back of the store a moment longer, eyeing the wall of incense and dried herbs. His eye caught a little box of sandalwood incense sticks and a bag of dried lemongrass. Contemplating just for a second before deciding to get both, Yoongi moved to join Jungkook at the counter.

​

The two were chatting about the bracelets, but Jungkook seemed to be growing more weary with every option she offered. She moved to help Yoongi check out while Jungkook continued to take in the five bracelets lined up for him on top of the case. Yoongi watched him closely, paying cash for his items, shoving them in Jungkook's shopping bag, and moving to stand behind the younger one.

​

“I don’t think I like any of these…they feel wrong.” Jungkook started suddenly, backing away from the counter. Yoongi grabbed his forearm, pulling the boy closer to his chest. The shopkeeper hummed, hands sweeping the bracelets into her palm to put them back away.

​

“Well, thank you for taking a look anyway. I hope you two have a splendid rest of your day.” Yoongi interpreted the prompt invitation to leave her shop and began to do so, pulling Jungkook with him. Jungkook was gripping the books close to his chest with his other hand, muttering to himself about “stupid bracelets”.

​

Once outside, the two stepped aside, Yoongi refused to let go of Jungkook's forearm. Jungkook seemed frozen in thought, still muttering under his breath as Yoongi grabbed the books and shopping bag from him.

​

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asked, forgoing formalities. Jungkook took a breath before shaking his head. Yoongi didn’t pry further, taking the boy's anxiety as the best answer. He watched closely as Jungkook began muttering again, brow furrowed tightly.

Pulling out his phone, Yoongi quickly texted the group chat.

​

Something's wrong with Jungkook, I think a panic attack. We’re heading back early.

sent 1547

read 1547

​

DancingQueen: Shit, need us to pick u up?

​

Hyung: Can you get home safe? We can send a company car if needed.

​

HotinCharge: Car has been sent, I pulled your phones location. What the hell happened?

​

Me: went to a witch shop, some bracelets triggered him. I didn’t get a good look at them, so I'm not sure what happened.

​

Hyung: weird. Tell us more when back.

​

PrettyBoy: <3 u kookie

​

Scoffing, Yoongi shoved his phone away again, turning back to Jungkook, who had shrunk to the ground. Yoongi squatted beside him, pressing a hand to the boy's cheek. Jungkook took in a sharp breath before tears began to puddle against Yoongi's fingers.

​

“Hey, you’re okay. We’re going back to the hotel. Just waiting for the car. Can you tell me what happened?” Jungkook remained silent, body lightly shaking as more tears fell. It must’ve been 20 minutes of the two of them crouched outside the metaphysical shop before a black car rolled up. Yoongi recognized the bodyguard and driver who climbed out, immediately standing to gesture for the bag. The driver opened the back door of the sedan quickly as the bodyguard grabbed the shopping bag.

​

Helping Jungkook into the back seat, Yoongi climbed in next to him, shutting the door. The younger still hadn’t stopped crying as they began to drive off. The ride to the hotel was short, Yoongi not letting go of Jungkook once until they pulled into the parking garage. The car door opened, and Yoongi met Namjoon's eyes. Jungkook turned, eyes red and face puffy, reaching out towards Namjoon, who helped pull him from the car.

​

“Hey, you’re okay, baby,” the hotel room opened to the other four sitting around the coffee table. Jungkook was swept from Namjoon's embrace into the arms of Hobi, who led him to the couch. Jungkook had stopped crying, but if his shaking hands were any indication, he was still panicking.

​

The room door shut with a click, and Yoongi shed his shoes, placing the shopping bag onto the floor. The others looked at him with questions in their eyes, but Yoongi had no answers.

​

“Feeling okay enough to talk now, Kook-ah?” Jin rubbed the boy's back soothingly. A soft nod, and Jungkook immediately looked at Yoongi.

​

“Those bracelets, they were wrong. It’s almost like they were screaming. I didn’t dare touch them; they were so loud. It hurt to even look at them. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it.” Yoongi tilted his head in confusion. Jungkook shook out his hands, wiping the sweat onto his pants.

​

“They weren’t protection bracelets; there was something profoundly wrong with that shopkeeper.”

​

Yoongi stepped forward, crouching in front of Jungkook, balancing carefully on the balls of his feet. Placing his hand on Jungkook's knee, Yoongi hummed softly.

​

“She offered me a ring when you walked away from me; it was rancid with dark magic. I’m proud of you for sensing that and walking away. I’m sorry it affected you in such a way, but you are still strong.” Jungkook sniffled, leaned forward, and grabbed Yoongi’s shoulders and pulled the older boy into a rough hug.

“I think we take a very important lesson away from this experience,” Yoongi whispers into Jungkook's ear, “you have so much more magical capability than we originally thought.”

​

Jungkook smiles widely, pulling away from the hug and turning to Jin, who rolls his eyes.

​

“Aish, don’t feed the kid's ego, he’s enough of a handful as it is.” But Jin is smiling as he says it, not meaning a word. Namjoon nudges the shopping bag with his foot, the paper rustling.

​

“What’d you buy anyway?”

​

Jimin reaches the bag first, tearing into it with greed. He giggles at the coats Jungkook bought before pulling out the two books.

​

“Bonds and Covens?” He asks, looking at Yoongi. The bag wafts a soft scent of lemongrass around the room, the bag of herbs sitting on top of the jackets.

​

“It was something Jungkook-ah picked out. I’m not quite sure why he was so curious about it. Actually, the whole trip to that shop was his idea.” Yoongi turned to Jungkook, who was still smiling. Taehyung moved from the floor to grab the book from Jimin, flipping it open and reading a page quickly.

​

“Are we going to become a coven?” Taehyung looks up excitedly. The question catches Yoongi off guard, immediately stuttering and pulling further away from Jungkook.

​

“I wanted us to read this first! It was recommended by an online witch forum I found. I also wanted to discuss it with Yoongi-hyung, seeing as he is the only magical being among us.” Yoongi is still frozen on the hotel room floor, eyes searching Jungkooks as the younger one speaks.

​

“Do you really want to be a coven?” The question is barely a whisper out of Yoongi’s mouth. He had been so nervous and excited to show the others his magic, pondering long and hard about the meaning of covens in his life. He knew the boys had bonds with him, strong enough bonds that Jungkook somehow avoided being cursed today. A coven, though, was something Yoongi knew would take a lot more.

​

“If I know anything, hyung, it’s that the six of us love you a lot, trust you a lot, and want you to be the best version of yourself.” The others hummed in agreement with Jungkook. A hand landed on Yoongi’s shoulder, gripping it tightly.

​

“I think it’s a discussion we should eventually have, when we know more.” Namjoon states. Yoongi nods, thoughts racing. The room falls quiet again, only the soft shuffling of pages heard as Taehyung reads more of the book to himself. Jimin has shifted to be near him, reading over Taehyung's shoulder. Yoongi sighs in the silence of the room, the group merely existing with each other for a moment.

​

See? They want it to. Let them be Coven. Let them join you.

​

Yoongi rubbed his temples as the thoughts pounded behind his eyes. Cursing under his breath, he rolled back until his head hit the floor roughly, eyes closing momentarily.

​

“Coven, huh?” He mutters out loud, six other heads turning to the witch, “Doesn’t sound so bad.”

Chapter Text

The early morning air was cold. Beanies adorned most of the members, their sweaters pulled tight, as they waited in silence, their feet scuffing the cement. Standing behind them was Jungkook, headphones humming with soft music, fingers tapping on his backpack strap as they waited in the garage for the van to arrive. The others are chatting, some awake, some still half asleep. Beside Jungkook, Taehyung was chewing on his bottom lip, eyes downcast, phone clutched in his hand. They load into the van quickly once it is parked in front of the group.

​

Taehyung sat in the back of the van, leg shaking with nerves. Beside him, Jungkook chewed on his hoodie string, fingers tapping at his phone screen aimlessly. Jungkook removed an earbud, letting it hang down in front of his hoodie.

​

“Stop shaking,” Jungkook placed a hand on Taehyung's thigh, “you nervous about something?”

​

“No…nothing,” Taehyung stopped shaking his leg and turned back to the window. He was lying; that much was obvious to Jungkook. Taehyung wasn’t scared of flying, so to speak; they had done it dozens of times since their debut. It was the energy of airports that made him anxious. The people, sounds, lights, and the noise of the intercoms. Taehyung was rattled with hidden anxiety every time he set foot in an airport.

​

“You’ll tell me if that changes, right?” Jungkook squeezed his thigh in an attempt to ground Taehyung. Taehyung didn’t answer.

The rest of the van ride to the airport was silent except for the background hum from Hobi, whose headphones were blasting. They exited quickly once the van had stopped, Taehyung attempting to grab at Jungkook's hand for stabilization, but Jungkook was faster to exit.

​

The airport is busy, although not as busy as it could be, given a last-minute change in flight details. However, fans were still able to arrive faster. They entered in a line, security surrounding them. Feet moving quickly on the tiled floor towards security. Taehyung noted his hands beginning to shake again as he lifted his bag onto the scanner belt. The fans yelling died down behind them as security ushered them through the X-rays and towards their terminal.

​

“You okay?” Taehyung turned to the soft voice beside him. Yoongi, headphones on and face mask pinched under over his nose, stood beside the younger and met his gaze. Tensing, Taehyung shook his head briskly, hands still shaking at his side. The others had found seating in the lounge area, waiting for their boarding group to be called. Taehyung remained standing, facing them all, unable to will himself to settle.

​

“Taehyung?” Namjoon's voice rose up, halting the rest of the conversations. Eyes quickly moved to take in the younger, who stood frozen to the spot before them.

​

“You’re shaking,” a hand laced into his, but Taehyung couldn’t turn to look. His gaze was fixated on the floor, eyes glossing over as his mind continued to race. Jungkook stood up quickly, moving to grab Taehyung, whose whole body had begun to vibrate. Taehyung’s breaths were quickening, his head growing heavy as panic set in, his eyes blurring as his heart rate skyrocketed.

​

“I think he’s having a panic attack,” Taehyung couldn’t make out who was speaking or pinpoint where it was coming from. Hands were gripping him on all sides now, strong hands holding his upper arms, helping lower him to the floor, and cold fingers were tapping the palms of his hands.

​

“Stop crowding him, he can’t breathe,” the hands on his arms helped lower him to the floor. Breaths still coming in rapidly, Taehyung's death gripped the hands resting in his palms.

​

“You need to slow your breathing or you’re going to pass out,” a soft voice said next to him. Yoongi? Taehyung remembered the older man having stood next to him earlier. Taehyung's thighs were pushing into the floor below him, tremors causing his breath to shake, feet splayed out in front of him.

​

The hands on his arms released, and Taehyung all but whined. The grounding feeling leaving so rapidly caused his breath to stutter and sobs to rack his body.

​

“Shhh, it’s okay, Tae, breathe, baby,” The voice was closer to his ear now, and small arms wrapped around his body.

​

“Yoongi, please, he’s going to pass out,” they were right. As the sobs ripped from his throat, Taehyung felt himself unable to catch a breath.

​

“Okay, okay, Tae, I’m going to help you now. I need you to relax.” Taehyung would’ve laughed if he could, but relaxing was far from his mind right now. Sensing the break in his panic, Yoongi squeezed the boy harder. Immediately, a warm sense of calm flooded Taehyung's body. A hum filled his ears as his sobs faded. Taehyung sucked in a sharp breath, warmth filling his lungs.

​

“There you go, baby, keep breathing,” Yoongi breathed against the younger's ear. Taehyung kept sucking in air, lungs stinging as his mind began to clear. The shaking hadn’t ended, legs still vibrating against the floor. Taehyung wrapped his arms around Yoongi, pulling the boy closer to his own body as breathing became easier.

​

“He’s coming back, keep breathing, Taehyung-ah,” a voice in front of him urged. As Taehyung's breaths steadied, the warmth that filled his lungs slowly started to retract, the arms around his body not letting go once. Eventually, his legs stopped shaking and rested against the floor, thoughts stabilizing in his head.

​

“There you are,” the arms around him released slowly, pulling away slightly. Taehyung opened his eyes slowly, the bright lights stinging as he tried to focus on the people in front of him.

​

“Hey, baby, you’re okay now,” a warm hand rubbed through his hair. Taehyung wiped his face quickly with his sleeve, turning his head upwards to the person squatting next to him.

​

“Kook-ah?” Taehyung's throat hurt, raw from the sobbing. His hands released Yoongi slowly, falling to his lap as he took a few more deep breaths. Taehyung turned his head to Yoongi, who was sitting next to him, facing the young boy, deep worry etched into his brows.

​

“I’m…sorry,” Taehyung hiccuped, tears threatening to spill again. Yoongi lurched forward, pulling him back into a tight hug.

​

“Don’t be, you’ve been anxious all morning. We should’ve seen it sooner.” Jin was crouched behind Yoongi, watching the pair of them closely. Taehyung seemed to recognize he was on the floor of the airport, the lounge was empty except for the seven of them and their security detail. He turned his head to take in the large room. Somebody was guarding the doorway, and the six other boys had circled around Taehyung as if to protect him.

​

“We’re boarding soon. Do you think you can stand?” Yoongi asks softly. Taehyung nods, reaching a hand out to Jungkook, who helps pull him slowly to his feet. Jungkook doesn’t let go of him as they head towards their gate.

​

“Take it slow, okay?” A hand brushes his shoulders, and Jimin passes by with a soft glance at Taehyung. Taehyung offers his ticket over at the gate and then slowly allows Jungkook to lead him onto the plane.

​

“You think he’s going to be okay?” Yoongi turns to Hobi, who has a death grip on his passport and ticket. Yoongi shrugs, watching the two youngest slowly board the plane before following. The plane is cold, Yoongi notes. He sits behind Taehyung and Jungkook, who are sitting silently, a blanket thrown over both of them. Namjoon watches them all take their seats across from each other before clearing his throat.

​

“We have 15 hours, so please get some rest,” he tosses a look at Yoongi, “I don’t want to hear complaints about the time change tomorrow.”

​

Yoongi rolls his eyes, pushing his backpack under the chair in front of him. Namjoon sits down across the aisle next to Jin, who is still watching the two youngest closely. Yoongi falls asleep shortly after takeoff, exhaustion from the airport events catching up with him. In front of him, Jungkook stays awake, scrolling on his phone, Taehyung having fallen asleep leaning on his shoulder. Jimin is humming next to Yoongi, reading a book under the overhead light. The older members are sitting, Hobi leaning over the back of his chair to chat with Jin and Namjoon.

​

Jungkook was listening to the humming of Jimin and trying to remain as still as possible for Taehyung when his phone buzzed with a Twitter notification. Multiple tags of their group popped up, articles, pictures, and fanpages, all reporting on the same thing. The light falling at the Tokyo show.

​

Jungkook scrolls for a while before he sees a fanpage, plain as day, posting a photo of Yoongi. Zooming in, Jungkook curses under his breath. Clearly screenshotted from a video, Yoongi is frozen mid-frame, arm outstretched, mouth open in a yell, the light hadn’t even broken from the ceiling yet, but it was clear where Yoongi was staring at. Jungkook sent the Twitter post in the group chat, immediately catching the silence falling over the older three.

“Shit,” Hobi turns off his phone, turning to glance at Yoongi, who is still sleeping.

​

“What are the chances people look deeper into it?” Jungkook continues to listen to their conversation.

​

“They won’t, management will shut it down. People will believe it's just fans fishing for popularity, or a chance to throw BTS under the bus again.” Namjoon sounds angry, Jungkook notes. Taehyung sniffles, shifting slightly on Jungkook's shoulder but not waking.

​

“Okay…we’ll deal with this when we land. For now, we rest.”

​

The rest of the flight passes quickly, Jungkook eventually falling asleep with Taehyung. Yoongi wakes up to the dark plane humming, flight attendants walking down the aisle with the cart offering breakfast. He stretches, joints popping as Jimin rouses beside him. Jimin, who was awake the first time to see the posts, doesn’t mention it to Yoongi, who has yet to glance at his phone.

​

The plane lands after Yoongi finishes chugging a black coffee. Phone shoved away in a pocket, Yoongi grabs his backpack and deboards with the others. A whisper from security, and Namjoon glances around at the rest of the members.

​

“Stay close. We have a security warning for fans.” The seven gather close, joining hands in pairs as they exit the gangway.

​

The airport is packed, fans crowding the security gates all the way to the front doors. If Taehyung wasn’t half awake and wearing headphones, he swears he would’ve had another panic attack. The seven walk in formation, Jin and Namjoon leading, the three youngest in the middle, and Hobi and Yoongi walking in the back. Yoongi had forgone his headphones, immediately regretting it at the volume of the cheers.

​

“Please back up! Please give the artists space to pass through!” The voice of whoever was yelling was drowned out by the fans' cheering as Jungkook flashed a smile.

​

If he had the space to, Yoongi would’ve run to the car, shoving through everyone crowding around. A tight hand in his, Yoongi looked to Hobi, who was equally as stressed, a smile plastered to his face as he waved to fans.

​

The van waited with open doors, all of them climbing inside as quickly as possible.

​

“How the hell did they get our flight info?” Taehyung rubs his eyes, pulling his phone out of his bag. The car is quiet as they drive off, Namjoon whispering something to Jin before turning to the driver to state something.

Yoongi notes the others keep shooting him side glances, something unsaid hanging in the air.

​

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi finally asks, crossing his arms across his chest. Jimin is the one who breaks, apologies bleeding from his mouth as he turns his own phone to Yoongi.

​

“We don’t know how the photo got out; it’s everywhere now, and management is already on it. I swear we’ve been reporting the posts, but there are too many now.” Yoongi gripped the phone as Jimin rambled.

​

There on the screen sat the photo of Yoongi standing on the stage right before the light fell. Yoongi could see glints of gold on his person in the photo, hand outstretched as if to catch something.

​

This isn’t happening.

​

Yoongi hands the phone back to Jimin, not speaking a word nor making eye contact. He brings his hands together in his lap, lips pursed as if a thought was forming.

​

Nobody can see the gold; you’re safe. Only witches can see it, but they’ll never tell. What if your mom sees it? What will she say?!

​

Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, tugging roughly at the roots as if it’ll stop the thoughts from forming rapidly.

​

This will impact the others if it goes further than a theory.

​

“Hey, it’s okay, nothing will come of it.” Hobi places a hand on his thigh, trying to soothe Yoongi as he continues to tug his hair roughly.

​

It’s not okay. This is far from okay. You crossed a line. You saved them, but at what cost? Exposing your group to new dangers. How will you protect them now?

​

“FUCK!” Yoongi snapped, both hands moving to grip the back of the seat in front of him. Finger nails dug into the leather, and the squeaking of the fabric broke the silence as it strained in his grip. His head dipped down between his arms as his breaths became more labored.

​

“Nothing will come of it,” was repeated by Namjoon, who was fully turned around in his seat now so he could see the older person.

​

“Except something HAS come of it,” Yoongi’s eyes were wild as he looked up, “I’ve put you all at risk, I shouldn’t have used my magic so publicly.”

​

“And what? Saved people? Do you regret saving people? That doesn’t sound like the Yoongi-hyung I know.” Jimin is frowning at Yoongi now, and everyone else is remaining silent.

​

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel, or think, or really even DO after this. I’m so fucking angry, at myself, at this fan…I’m so angry they crowded us in the airport.” Yoongi is gripping the leather tighter, fingernails tearing through the fabric successfully. Gold sparked across his fingernails, hissing where it collided with the leather.

The others don’t know what to say to calm the other down. His anger rolls off him in waves strong enough that Hobi scoots away from him on the shared seat.

​

Fingers pull at his own grip on the seat, tugging gently for him to release.

​

“Let's just get to the hotel, and we can come up with a game plan, okay?” Taehyung offers. Yoongi could almost laugh at the hilarity of the situation; not even 16 hours earlier, he had been the one calming down Taehyung. Yoongi ripped his hands away from the other, leaning back in the chair, crossing his arms as if to guard himself.

​

“Fuck off.”

​