Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chan finally succeeds with concocting his first usable version of a love potion.

Being a witch is already a spectacular enough feat, but Chan's always been told that, with his eptitude and the strength of his magic, he is almost prodigal. Of course, he was often told this with the kind of tone that meant you're going to give us trouble, and that was something that Seungcheol grew to take personally.

The first time Chan's been told that, it was from someone who didn't even know him, not really. It was just some random who scanned his records, took a look at his magic, and decided he fit the mold for magical miscreants.

Chan is used to it, in any case. His magic isn't exactly straightforward or clean-cut, and he can see how that would intimidate the most straightlaced of magical practitioners, and when they go through his past, the apprehension just becomes even worse. Despite this, it should be obvious how despite how often he experiences this, it's still leagues more humiliating when they say it in front of other people than just telling him this to his face, and even more still when they inform other people of it like it's their right to do so.

When one of the administrative people in charge of him saw fit to say that in front of Seungcheol, Chan had nearly hexed him.

Luckily Seungcheol felt the same. Chan didn't even have to do anything.

Maybe Chan should have thanked that person who deemed it appropriate to tell the most stubborn person to ever exist something even resembling a warning. He's almost a hundred percent certain one of the primary reasons why he'd even been asked to join the coven, aside from his ambition and potential (duh), is because Seungcheol couldn't stand people telling him what to do.

It isn't even like that those people were correct in their assumptions. Sure, Chan's personal track record within the coven hasn't been the best over the years. There was the incident with the front door he'd blown off its hinges that pissed Seungcheol off so much that he'd chased him around the house for a solid fifteen minutes before his old man bones started creaking and he had to stop, but that was also Junhui's fault for surprising him, and the time he accidentally turned Jeonghan to a maltese, but that was cute and Shua hyung didn't seem too mad about it (he didn't even undo the spell until Jeonghan the maltese was peeing on his fancy signature shoes), and also that one incident with Chan's pet venus fly traps that still prompts a haunted look in Seokmin's eyes.

It was nothing too serious, though. Definitely not the level of chaos you'd expect for someone whose been described as a walking calamity. A flight risk. An explosion waiting to happen.

In fact, Chan's been the pinnacle of good, a combination of both hard work and innate talent, and he's always been praised for it. Unlike the hyungs, who have elected to remain in the fields that they've chosen, Chan's always been the type to experiment with his magic, taking what he liked from the practices of his hyungs and somehow making it his own.

So maybe he's grown a little cocky. Chan knows he's good, that's the thing. His spells always work out and he's one of the best at potions in the coven and the hyungs always tell him that he's a diamond, his potential untapped and his desire for growth unmatched.

Maybe his head has really grown a little too big. It doesn't matter. His hyungs always think that his cockiness is cute. He had been surprised, back then, to find that even the most selfish parts of Chan are something precious in their eyes.

So if this fails, what is the worst that could happen, realistically? It just wouldn't work. They wouldn't even find out. If they do, they would scold him, of course, but Chan knows that so long as it isn't harmful to himself or the coven, Seungcheol would let it slide after a thorough talking to. They'd maybe forbid Chan from potions for a while, but Chan has other things to concern himself with, like spells and casting. Chan's made sure that it isn't harmful when ingested, and that the side effects are nonexistent. It's fine. He wouldn't want to purposefully hurt them for his experiments, anyway.

Meanwhile, if it succeeds—which it probably would, considering Chan's potion success rate of ninety eight percent, confirmed by both Joshua and Soonyoung, the former presenting the information with baffling certainty in Chan's abilities, and the latter glowing with warm pride—then they'd definitely think it would be funny and a good thing.

Love potions are not on the market for a good reason, but between witches who made potions, it's a right of passage to succeed in brewing one of them, especially considering how difficult it was to get the recipe right.

(When Junhui made his, he'd tripped and accidentally made Chan's venus fly traps fall in love with Seokmin. It's ranked first place in the board of Episodes Caused By Love Potion, but Chan's determined to beat it.)

He knows that his hyungs like him well enough, but it would be nice to see what would happen if they were well and truly obsessed with him. It isn't like they keep him out of things or that they actively make him feel excluded, but…

"Oh, you're cooking?"

Chan looks up where he's been squatting, standing guard over the oven, and grins. "Yeah," he tells him, pride clear in the line of his shoulders. "Cookies."

Seungkwan's face does something—a grimace and a scrunch all that once—that makes Chan roll his eyes. Seungkwan always took it upon himself to humble Chan, or so he always says. "Pass."

"Come on, don't be dramatic. I'm not that bad."

Seungkwan sniffs. "Says you," he says primly. "There's a reason your digestion is shit, you know. Pun intended." He grins at Chan rolling his eyes. "Mingyu hyung would love to start cooking for you too. Why don't you eat that instead of giving yourself diarrhea?"

Chan tries not to pout, but he's sure he's failing if the way Seungkwan's smirking at him is any indication. He knows that Mingyu would make anything for him too, if he asked.

Mingyu's a kitchen witch, one of the best in the field, and as the coven calls him, the heart of the home. When he cooks, he always places deliberate care into the meals, making sure that each specific plate will cater to whatever problems that the person eating it has. He's started digging into recipes for back pain recently, especially after Seungcheol started moaning about his aching joints—aigoo, our hyung-nim's getting old, Seungkwan said, which had earned him a smack upside the head from Seungcheol. Chan's sure if he asked, Mingyu would find a way to make something that'd cure even the tiniest, most insignificant anxieties in Chan's heart.

But in the years he's stayed here, he's always been too shy to ask Mingyu for a specially made meal or drink directly. He's taken bites when Mingyu feeds it to him himself with his chopsticks during mealtimes, of course, to watch how Mingyu's puppy dog face brightens with pleasure, and of course, like everyone else in the coven, has been force-fed it when he was sick, but his personality makes it difficult to add on to the eleven other people Mingyu was already cooking for.

Now that he thinks about it, even Minghao, who joined the coven last, managed to ask for this much faster than Chan.

"I'll get the hang of it," he tells him, pretending to sulk.

"Sure you will, Chan-ah."

Chan's excuse has always been that he wants to improve in making his meals independently, at weaving magic into his food. They've accepted this because Chan is Chan, and he's always been competitive and serious about his personal development. They know that his perfectionism is terminal, that he spends hours making potions and practicing spells when he could be out doing more fun things.

Well, Chan is never going to be a top notch cook, but he can at least make basic meals now thanks to his stubbornness not to be a burden.

"I will!"

Seungkwan snorts derisively. "Not anytime soon," he waves off. Chan only flips him off with a laugh, standing to take the oven mitts.

Seungkwan's always been playful and direct. He and Chan got integrated into the coven at around the same time, but they've known each other even before that, having attended the same school; Seungkwan had just been acquainted with the idea of being a healing witch then, but under Jihoon's watchful eye, immediately became someone remarkable, juggling his school work and the realization that magic existed.

Chan had not adjusted as well as he did, and even up to now, Chan still thinks of Seungkwan as some deity, some fantastical being for having accustomed himself to the newness so quickly. Luck has made it so they are this closely intertwined; the years have only strengthened their bonds.

"That's it," Chan says, taking the tray out of the coven and placing it on the kitchen counter. "You're not getting any."

He surveys them with a critical eye and nods to himself with satisfaction. Oatmeal cookies, nothing fancy, cut into shapes, with the love potion already mixed in the dough. He's even made exactly twelve of them, each one fashioned into hearts that he'd painstakingly had to cut and form. It's not anything impressive. Seokmin and Joshua, the more competent members when it came to cooking, could probably replicate it in a jiffy.

Still, once Seungkwan joins him by the counter and sees the amount of effort Chan's put into the cookies, he says, "Come on, Chan, I was only kidding," and Chan finds himself glowing with happiness.

Playfully, he says, "Nope, no, you should've thought of that before you pissed me off."

Seungkwan sticks out his tongue at him, reaching out to steal one of them. Chan slaps his hand away. "Wait until all the hyungs get here," he scolds. "I know auntie Jwa didn't raise you like this!"

Seungkwan whines and complains, but obeys nonetheless, staying still with a pout on his face as Chan walks over to the kitchen doorway, where they've installed a bell for mealtimes or snacks.

With thirteen people living in the same home, it was often disastrous whenever it was time for meals. The first few months of all thirteen living together had been hell, with arguments happening back and forth about people not leaving behind food for the others to eat. Seungcheol, having had enough, decided that if any of the meals were ready or if anyone had snacks to share, they could just ring the bell. The magic he'd casted on it made it so that you could hear it ring even if you weren't in the house or wearing headphones (this was added primarily for Vernon's benefit).

Soon enough, they hear the troubling sound of footsteps coming from all directions, and soon, the kitchen is filled to the brim with eleven other men all scrambling to see what was on the kitchen counter. Jihoon, of course, makes it to the stools by the kitchen counter first; despite being the shortest, the mass of witches naturally part for him, like they're the Red Sea and he's Moses.

"I made cookies," Chan says, a little bit embarrassed with the weight of everyone's eyes on him, but he's never been one to be ashamed by the spotlight.

Jihoon's expression doesn't change, but he does take one in his hand. This is probably the most tension-filled few seconds of his life. If Chan didn't hide the smell of the love potion or if the magic wasn't masked well enough, it's certain that Jihoon would be the one to know.

Chan watches as Jihoon watches it for a moment and bites into the cookie. The youngest member of the coven would have breathed out a sigh of relief if it wouldn't have immediately blown his cover.

"Not bad," Jihoon says, in that same begrudging tone he always uses when admitting something, and that's all it takes for everyone to clamber forward and start to fight for their individual shares.

Seungkwan finally takes one, cackling in victory even as Chan pretends to take it back, and shoves it in his mouth. Mingyu follows after, along with Seokmin, who ruffles Chan's head and calls him a good boy. Chan lets him, but not without giving him a long suffering look that he, of course, only laughs at.

Soonyoung whoops, plopping on the stool beside Jihoon, and makes grabby hands for Chan to feed him, which he does. Soonyoung, despite his skill level and frightening mood switches, always plays baby with Chan. Soonyoung's scolded everyone in the group at least once or twice, a perfectionist in his blood, but Chan's among the ones he has only rarely snapped at. Minghao always says Soonyoung gets mean under pressure, and that's not exactly wrong.

But Chan likes Soonyoung, likes it when he's nice, and even likes it when he's mean, because Chan flourishes under praise and criticism both, and appreciates when people are honest, even when they don't spare his feelings. For this reason, Soonyoung likes him back just as intensely.

"Oh, our maknae," Soonyoung cooes through the bits of dough in his mouth, and Chan tells him he shouldn't speak with his mouth full. He pouts, but obeys.

It's when everyone's finished and already badgering him to make some more that Chan remembers the purpose of the cookies. The love potion, he remembers, will only work after twenty four hours, and it's specifically targeted to change their feelings about Chan. It's not permanent, dissolves after a startlingly short period of six hours, but that'll be enough to see if the members change any.

Once it wears off, he'll show them the embarrassing videos of them acting out of character and it'd be the world's greatest prank. Even Jeonghan, Joshua, and Jun wouldn't be able to top this! It'd be one of their legendary episodes until the end of time!

Wonwoo raises both brows from where he was rubbing crumbs off his mouth. "What are you smiling so weirdly for?" he asks cautiously, looking a little bit scared.

"Nothing, hyung," Chan sings, reaching over to pat his cheek. Wonwoo looks even more confused by that, probably because Chan doesn't usually do too much skinship. "Nothing at all."

Chapter Text

Seungcheol's magic protects the coven.

It's an old and beloved story, one that Soonyoung always finds a way to retell when a new coven member shows up, a wide grin on his face, even as Seungcheol nearly dies of embarrassment beside him, clutching into Jeonghan as though it would stop Soonyoung from doing whatever he wanted.

Nothing ever stopped Soonyoung from doing whatever he wanted.

The story goes like this: even as a child, it was apparent that Seungcheol already knew what he wanted. He was born into a family of witches and raised full of love; he already knew that he would grow into his magic, already knew his birthright, and already knew that he would be powerful.

What he also knew was that he would lead a coven, and he'd take care of everyone in it. Though he couldn't see the future, this was apparently something he felt down to his bones. It was a bold choice for someone who was the youngest son in his own family, but Seungcheol couldn't be dissuaded.

So he builds a house—not just any ordinary house, of course. A little bit after meeting Jihoon, Seungcheol decides something like that wouldn't be enough for the coven he wanted to protect.

A man of extremes to the core, he uses his magic to tie his own existence to the house, to feel what the house feels, and to become the shelter that defends the coven during rainy days.

The house where his coven would end up living, with all its twisted ends and turns, its messy patchwork of posters and photographs in the living room, its walls and floors and ceilings, all stinking of the magic of thirteen witches bonded for life.

The truth is that while Mingyu is called the heart of the home, Seungcheol is the house. Every day, the house responds to Seungcheol's fervent wish to be someone who puts his loved ones above himself, and it manifests into the home that they've spent years practicing magic in.

The house loves them, no doubt about that. Chan doesn't think there's ever been a leaky sink or a broken tile in the time he's been here; the worst that happened was the stoves refusing to turn on after Seungcheol had a petty spat with Jihoon and that one time a random curtain caught on fire when Seungcheol was in a screaming match with Seungkwan.

With this in mind, it's natural that when Chan wakes up the next day, toes practically tingling with anticipation, he wonders what would happen if Seungcheol's heart now consisted of Chan.

He doesn't have confirmation of it working yet, but he's confident enough in his own skills that he doesn't get discouraged when he sees no immediate changes once he opens his eyes. The house and its interior remains as it's always been, but that's not a cause for alarm. Seungcheol's heart is large and he's always loved them all with a devotion people usually likens to religion; just because Chan used a love potion on him doesn't mean it would magically grow smaller.

Chan jumps down from his sleeping space on the top bunk, causing Junhui to flip over from where he was scrolling through one of his novels on the bottom of the opposite bunk.

"Zǎoshang hǎo," he greets, the words slurred and eyes still half-closed because of sleep. Chan grins at him, says good morning back as he flits around the room in search of his comb. Once he's gotten his hair fixed, he turns around to find Junhui staring at him.

Is this…

Wordlessly, Junhui spreads his arms. Chan understands immediately and without a single moment of hesitation, he dives into his arms.

Junhui isn't like Soonyoung or Jeonghan, heavy handed with their affection and excessive with their attention. He gets as easily embarrassed as Chan does with these things and can't find it in himself to express his sentiments with words to save his life.

Still, sometimes he needs someone to touch him, and Chan craves that too. So he lets Junhui hold him, pet him, and he wonders if this is a side effect of the love potion.

Probably not, he discerns, after Junhui has had enough for the day and gently pushes him away. This is just Jun-hyung. If he was in love with Chan, wouldn't he be more insistent that Chan stay cuddling him?

"Where's Seokmin hyung and Vernon hyung?"

Jun shrugs, already back to his phone. Damned phone addiction. Chan pouts. No obvious effects, but no big deal. Maybe Jun just didn't take enough of the love potion. It isn't exactly unexpected if one of the samples failed, but—

"Don't skip breakfast," Junhui says. He's always said that Chan missing meals won't help him grow taller, a grin on his face as he says it, and Chan rolls his eyes on instinct. "There's bound to be someone in the kitchen."

"Alright, hyung. See you later."

Jun doesn't even look up from his phone when he hums his confirmation. Well, that's anticlimactic. Guess he needs to look for the other hyungs, then.

Joshua is already in the living room with Wonwoo when Chan makes his way downstairs after washing his face and brushing his teeth. He's thinking about the probability of Junhui acting like that towards someone he loves and he realizes that it's pretty high. Junhui has never been ordinary; it's this bright-eyed optimism that stays the same even when years pass, and what makes him so good at divination. Only those untouched by human desires and concerns could truly be good at parsing the past, present, and future, and Junhui holds every burden he has with a cheer that Chan doesn't think anyone could replicate even if they tried.

Chan also tries hard to be optimistic, but his is hard won and hard earned. Junhui was born to be a being surrounded by happiness. Even that, Jihoon confirmed, was written in the sky and the stars.

Maybe he should target someone who'd probably be completely different when with someone they love.

Like—

"Chan?" Wonwoo calls, pushing up his glasses from where he was sitting down and leaning against the sofa, watching Joshua make bracelets.

Of course.

Wonwoo is probably the exact opposite of Junhui, diametrically opposed as they are. In the scale of people acting differently towards the people they love, Wonwoo would probably top the list. He's intense, possessive, and a person that they've acknowledged to be full of strong feelings despite his tendency to prefer watching than participating.

If he wanted to find out about the results, then he supposes the best option would be to test Wonwoo, see if he reacts strangely. 

Chan smiles, wide and bright, and immediately settles down in front of him, kneeling on the carpet. Wonwoo blinks at him, surprised that he actually listened.

"Yes, hyung?" Chan asks sweetly, looking up at him with fluttering lashes. At this point, Joshua looks up from his beads and turns to Chan with a raised eyebrow as well.

Wonwoo swallows, his throat working past the obvious lump. Chan's eyes track the movement, sure that he's caught at least one fish in his net—

"What are you being so weird for?"

Chan deflates immediately. "You were the one who called me," he complains. He acknowledges he's not the best dongsaeng, that he always finds any possible method to be difficult, but it's not like Wonwoo is a particularly easy hyung to deal with either. Is it really so difficult to believe that Chan would listen to something he said?

Joshua laughs at them and reaches over to ruffle Chan's hair, something he doesn't fight mostly because it's Joshua doing it.

"You know he just wants your attention," Joshua confides in a mock whisper, eyes turning to crescents, and that makes Wonwoo bristle.

"Hyung," Wonwoo whines, the tone he only uses with their oldest members. Joshua ignores him and leans a little forward to pinch at the fat on Chan's cheek.

"And you never usually act so cute with us. What's gotten into you, huh?"

Wonwoo closes his book and places it on the floor beside him. "He's been out of it since yesterday," he says, serious as ever. "Shua-hyung, does he seem sick to you?"

Joshua considers this with pursed lips, staring at Chan thoughtfully. Chan wonders what Shua-hyung sees. "Seems perfectly fine," he says after a while. "But, like, you realize I don't have a medical license, right? Just because my mom is a doctor doesn't make me qualified to evaluate if Chan's sick or not."

Wonwoo makes a noise of frustration deep in his throat. His voice goes a little higher as he protests, "Hyung, you practice herbalism!"

"Yeah, I make herbs, I can't just start giving out prescriptions willy nilly."

Chan watches the exchange with building amusement as Joshua tilts his head a little at him and winks; it's always fun to see Joshua wind someone up, and even more so if that person is Wonwoo, who, despite the years with them, never learned how to not fluster at the slightest bit of provocation.

"I'm worried though, hyung."

Wonwoo reaches out for Chan, as though to touch him, but pauses midway, suddenly refusing himself of the privilege.

Joshua and Chan both pause at the action, waiting with bated breath.

Before Seungcheol took Wonwoo in, he spent a lot of his time as a gray witch alone. The ethics of witchcraft often involved working for the highest good, but back then, Wonwoo had responded to questionable calls for his expertise, casting curses and hexes in exchange for money and food.

Now he mostly focuses on warding off negative energy from the house and keeping everyone safe—Jeonghan has already told him numerous times that the only thing expected of him in the coven was to keep himself healthy and happy, but Wonwoo has always been a person who spoke with his actions rather than his words—but he gets moments where he still looks like he feels like he doesn't deserve being where he is.

Chan feels that, sometimes. So sorely it almost seems true. Thinks about the place that he has that could easily be filled up by another person.

Wonwoo starts to pull away, his expression disassembling itself to something like guilt, and Chan can't stand it. Wonwoo is not meant to ever look uncertain about something. He's suited to victories, successes. Not anxiety over whether or not he should be able to touch a coven member, and especially when Chan doesn't have a problem with it.

So he reaches out, gently takes Wonwoo's hand in his, and presses it against his cheek. Now Wonwoo's cupping his cheek while Chan nuzzles into his palm, smiling softly up at him.

It's humbling, sometimes. The reminder that his hyungs also have the same concerns. He sometimes forgets that despite how strong everyone else projects themselves to be, they're also just as human as Chan is.

"Chan," Wonwoo says now, his voice fragile.

"Hm?"

"Are you cursed?"

Chan makes a face and turns his head a little to bite into Wonwoo's palm. He curses, pulling away, and Chan cackles, getting up with a jaunty little wave to Joshua, before he turns around to head into the kitchen.

"Chan, come back here! I'm serious, you know!"

The love potion didn't work on them either, then.

Chapter Text

With three members already off the list, Chan reconsiders his options as he slips on a stool in front of the kitchen counter.

It could be that he's being too arrogant about this. Sure, he's good, but is he really good enough for a preliminary love potion to work on his coven members? He's talented, sure. They call him the future of South Korean magic, name him beyond the mere definition of prodigal, but his hyungs are also living up to their titles. Just because he knows what he's doing doesn't necessarily mean he'd always succeed; Chan works hard, but that isn't all there is. The world could be sending him a reminder in humility.

He frowns and shakes his head. He has to get better at accepting that sometimes this is how things are.

Usually Mingyu is the one cooking at home, but today Seokmin is in the kitchen, which means that the space is filled with exuberant singing and a seemingly boundless joy.

Whenever Seokmin cooks, it's mostly for supernaturals and magical beings that need homegrown remedies. His recipes are always heavy duty, meant to treat serious illnesses, as opposed to Mingyu who feels more comfortable only cooking for the coven, so the fact that he's in here means that he's probably got a bulk of orders to fill.

It's one of the little businesses that keep the coven standing—along with Jihoon's potion business, Joshua's good luck charms, and Seungkwan's magic infused vitamins, among others—and Seokmin genuinely enjoys it, so they let him do as he pleases.

Minghao usually comes by when he does this and delivers the orders to the clients for him, and today is no exception. He's sitting on the stool beside Chan, his various multicolored crystals laid out on the kitchen counter, consulting them as he's waiting for Seokmin to finish up.

"Channie," Seokmin sings. There's some batter on his cheek that he hasn't wiped off yet. Minghao looks up at the sound of Seokmin's voice, staring at him with undeniable fondness; Chan's always thought that Minghao's eyes are one of the most expressive ones he's ever seen, along with Seungcheol's and Wonwoo's. He always looks like he's in constant awe, honey dripping from his gaze, and the feeling of being on the other end of it is incomparable.

They're one of the most difficult to deal with if we're talking about proof for the love potion. Both Seokmin and Minghao are so full of genuine affection towards the coven that it'll be difficult to tell how it's any different; not only that, but no matter how curious Chan is to see how Minghao and Seokmin are when they're in love, he has the suspicion that it's probably not even that different from how they are usually. Another case similar to Junhui, really.

"Hyung," Chan greets. "Morning." Seokmin slides a plate towards him without a word, flashing him a thumbs up.

It's chicken porridge. Something filling and aromatic, but in a serving light enough that it won't disturb Chan's stomach this early in the morning. The amount of thought Seokmin's put into something so mundane makes Chan ache from the deepest parts of him.

Ever since he was new in the coven, Chan's always depended on Seokmin. This is because Seokmin, like Hansol, is a person who knows how to empathize and understand; many times it's been brought up that their day of birth must have something to do with their natures, open and brimming with the kind of sincerity that only a chosen few have.

He leans a lot on Minghao too as a pillar of support too, as his brutal honesty and hard earned mindfulness is constantly the reason why he feels like he can say anything and not have to worry about feeling like he's only being appeased.

Chan knows that his problems aren't really that big in the first place—that he's just anxious and sensitive—but they still treat his problems as though they are worthy of the attention that they give them. He's apologized for his emotional incompetence many times and in return he's also been told just as much that it really isn't anything to thank any of them for, and that it doesn't matter.

But it does, to Chan. It matters a lot.

Despite what they say, of course, Chan still feels guilty about this heavy reliance he has on them both in particular. Other people's burdens must be a heavy weight to carry, and though he's tried to limit himself throughout the years, they can both still tell from just the look in Chan's eyes. It would be ridiculous if it doesn't warm his heart like a furnace.

"What did I hear about you being cursed?" Minghao asks, sounding almost casual.

Seokmin's eyes widen at that, jolting up from where he was digging into the cupboards. "What?" he demands, voice immediately rising in pitch. Minghao winces a little, obviously regretting asking a question in plain view of Seokmin, who is unfortunately someone who worries like a mother. "Channie, you're cursed?"

Chan shakes his head immediately. "I'm not cursed!" he insists, only to be met by both Minghao and Seokmin's unimpressed stares. Well, fine. It's not his first time plausibly denying an injury (and it definitely won't be the last), so he can understand their doubt, but this time he's actually not lying. "No, seriously. I'm really not this time."

Minghao picks up a crystal from his collection and surveys its surface. Chan can't understand what he's doing that for. He's good at everything, but crystals elude him. The patience needed to handle crystals is not something he's completely mastered yet. "Somehow I'm not convinced."

Seokmin snorts before turning back to the cabinets now that he's ascertained that whatever Chan's condition is, it isn't something that's cause for urgent attention. "He doesn't have the best track record, our Chan-ah."

Chan almost pouts before remembering that would just give his hyungs more ammunition against him, which is the last thing he needs right now. "Wonwoo hyung just thinks I'm cursed. I'm not actually in danger or anything."

Sure, his ego's probably about to take a beating considering just how many of the members don't seem to be reacting to the potion at all, but that's really the extent of it. The other coven members don't seem to be in any direct danger either.

"Huh," Minghao blinks, considering this statement, and then, "why?"

"Why what?"

Seokmin rolls his eyes from where he was rummaging through his baking supplies. "Why does he think you're cursed, genius. He must have a reason."

Chan frowns. "Both of you shouldn't spend too much time together if all you end up doing is bullying me."

"Aiya," Minghao makes a noise of frustration, "how can that be? Seokmin-ah even made you breakfast. Speaking of, what are you doing? Eat."

Without waiting for a single word from Chan, Minghao reaches over to take the spoon in his bowl, and shoves some porridge in Chan's mouth.

As he chews, glaring at Minghao whose only staring back at him, he thinks back to both Wonwoo and Joshua being genuinely surprised that he was being sweet, and wonders if he's just that temperamental of a witch for them to actually find such an occurrence surprising.

He knows he's not as touchy as the rest of the members, especially considering his more extroverted nature, but Jihoon isn't touchy either and they don't make a fuss about it. He hugs and holds hands and accepts ruffling on the head when the situation calls for it, is even open to kisses when he can, so why did both Wonwoo and Joshua seem flabbergasted when he'd acted sweetly?

Seokmin and Minghao could probably give him answers, if nothing else. It's probably safe to say that the love potion isn't working on them either, considering the perfectly normal way they were acting, so he might as well ask them for their opinion on this before leaving. After swallowing the bite of porridge, Chan clears his throat.

"You have something on your mind?" Minghao asks, expectant. It's clear that he's asking the question even when he already knows. Chan should find it annoying, but if it's Minghao, he only feels a sense of security.

"Do you guys think it's weird if I'm affectionate?"

Seokmin physically pauses at the question—as in, he stops moving in the middle of trying to reach for a box of something on the top shelf. Minghao is more dignified with his reaction, but he does put down his crystal and blinks several times.

Chan furrows his eyebrows at their strange behavior. "What? Is it really that weird? I hug you guys all the time!"

"It isn't," Seokmin blurts out quickly, turning to face him. He turns so fast that shit accidentally falls off the cupboards and he yelps, twirling back around to put the stuff back into their places on the shelf.

"It's not weird," Minghao adds. "Sorry, it's not definitely not weird. I just had to think about it for a bit."

"If it's not weird, why did you have to think about it?"

Minghao frowns a little, pinching Chan's nose. He whines and gripes until his hyung lets go, childishly crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't be a brat," he chides gently. "It's not that simple. You're comfortable with touching us, we know this. It's just that you don't usually vocalize it."

That's…

Well, that's not wrong. He's part of the members who are more embarrassed about admitting that they are full of affection for everyone. Among the coven, he thinks he's most similar to Junhui in this regard, both easily embarrassed by such proclamations.

"It's just that you prefer to be touched on your own terms. It's nothing bad, of course. But you've never really sought that out from us, and we didn't think you needed the kind of affirmation from us, either."

Chan flushes. It's not like he does, it's just—

"There's nothing wrong if you do, though," Seokmin assures him, the corners of his mouth softening. "If you woke up one day and decided you wanted that. But it's also okay if you went on as you've always done."

"I know that," Chan starts to say, and then stops. He wonders if his hyungs think he's uncomfortable with them because he rarely allows them to go past his limits, and he's a little bit troubled by it even if it's his first time considering such a possibility. The coven is where he shines brightest, the place where he's most secure. He's not sure if he really knows that it's alright, or if he feels like it's another shortcoming that he has to make up for, so he doesn't bother lying. "I'm comfortable with you guys, I—"

"Chan, we know that," Minghao interrupts, blunt as always. Chan finds solace in that, at least. Minghao won't ever change. "We don't doubt that for a second. It's okay. If it's not you to be clingy, then that's alright. We don't need you to be. You can just be Chan."

This means more than even words could describe, but he isn't completely convinced. He's always had doubts and questions about his place in the coven that he's been trying not to ask in fear of disrupting the equilibrium.

"Even if that Chan—" his voice breaks in the middle of his question and he clears his throat, pretending it didn't happen. Thankfully, both Seokmin and Minghao turn a blind eye to it, and he's immediately thankful for it.

"Even if that Chan seems frivolous and shallow, yes," Seokmin finishes with a teasing grin, but his voice is gentle, like he knows that while Chan wouldn't appreciate being coddled, he's also especially tender.

Chan glares at him, but it doesn't have any real heat. "What do you mean frivolous and shallow!"

"You forgot impulsive," Minghao says.

Seokmin nods sagely. "Right, of course. I'll add it to the list. Frivolous, shallow, and impulsive."

"I'm serious," Chan insists. "I know I'm not the youngest you all expected—"

Minghao tilts his head in complete confusion. Seokmin immediately protests, "What do you mean expected? Don't be ridiculous. There's nothing like that!"

"I'm just saying. I'm not what you guys probably expected," Chan waves a hand dismissively. "It's okay. You can say it."

"We're the last people any one of us would've expected," Minghao cuts in, voice stern and sure. Chan knows that's correct. Years with them have only proved it; they were thirteen completely different people who would have never met otherwise. Joshua came all the way from L.A. and Junhui grew up in Shenzhen. Minghao himself is from Haicheng. It's sheer luck that they all found each other—an indescribable fortune that's so much more than a person should ever have in their lifetime. "We're thankful for everyone, all the same. No one has expectations about how you should be, Chan."

"I could stand to be nicer. Admit it."

"So could everyone else, but they're still as foul as they've always been," Seokmin says with a dismissive wave.

"But—" 

Minghao huffs. "We've been together for years, dummy. We don't have a need for things like this."

That's true, but he suspects that even if he pushes, his hyungs won't ever give in about this. Chan drops the subject. Instead, he smiles brightly and gestures to the oven. "Hyung, your orders are running late. You should probably go."

Seokmin and Minghao share a look, like they're communicating something to each other that he couldn't possibly understand. Finally, Minghao nods slightly, like he's relenting, and Seokmin turns to Chan, as bright as the sun.

"Alright, kid," he acquiesces, leaning over the kitchen counter to pat Chan's arm. He sounds soft, like he's trying to handle something carefully. "We'll see you later?"

"Yeah," Chan says. The porridge is still in front of him, still not growing cold. Seokmin seems to have also factored in Chan's tendency to get distracted when eating when preparing the meal. Of course. Seokmin's deliberate attention to detail when it comes to people he loves is known. "I'll see you hyungs later."

Chapter Text

Magic's purpose and intent is, like anything else, up to the wielder.

Chan knows that. Even if he sometimes feels like it isn't the case, that they're all bound to their natures, and that Chan is just made out of wrong, he knows that, technically, this is true. Magic has never been something used solely to heal or to harm. A person's intentions matter, the same way it matters when you're taking out a gun.

It begins like this: on February 11, 1999, Chan was born, and to no one's surprise, he was born exceptional.

Not just in the conventional sense—though he was plenty of that, too. He was born with magic.

Unfortunately, it takes years for him to recognize his magic for the gift that it was. Growing up, he'd thought of it as more of a misfortune. It wasn't because of his parents, because both of them were endlessly supportive of him, but because Chan's childhood was definitely more difficult because of his magic than easier.

There was no feasible way a child could have that much control over abilities that were far too strong to be considered typical, and while Chan's own parents had magic too, their own magic wasn't even half as powerful as Chan's was at birth. People thought of them as mostly normal, with a few extra perks. Chan's mother could sometimes see visions, and that's how she found out she would have two sons: one magic, one decidedly not, and both she would adore with her entire soul. Chan's father could read emotions, but it had dulled throughout the years to an itch or an ache when tensions were high. He used to get headaches whenever Chan came home from school upset, so Chan spent a while out working off his anger before deciding to come home.

Because of this, Lee Chan was thought to be both a prodigy and an abomination. His childhood hasn't been the best, as he's always been thought of as strange. Growing up, he's always been looked at differently, thought to be too dangerous to befriend and a child too volatile in temperament leave their own children unattended around.

Of course, Chan has never liked that, but what could he do in the end?

Ever since he could remember, all he'd ever really wanted was to be normal, or as normal as he could be, considering his circumstances. It had been jarring, to be thought of as someone who could hurt another person so carelessly.

Of course it could not be denied that Chan was capable of harm. That was a given; so was everyone else. His problem was that people also constantly forgot that he was also someone capable of good deeds. That he was always going to be regarded as someone who didn't have the emotional capacity for it, or the desire to be kind to others.

Chan thinks that he understands Wonwoo only because they both feel like they're both uncertain of where they stand. It is also simply because he knows what it's like to make mistakes that he regrets with everything that he has, and Wonwoo does too. There are mistakes that aren't easy to erase; outbursts with the intention to hurt aren't something that's easy to wipe off your skin. The feeling of unworthiness sticks.

Maybe that's why he gets a little snippy with Wonwoo too, even when he doesn't have to be. Maybe it's because Chan sees too much of himself in Wonwoo to be comfortable.

Possessive, selfish, timid. All of these traits but without Wonwoo's patience, dedication, and his unwavering goal of becoming someone the rest can depend on during times of need. Without all that, isn't Chan just made of bad?

Chan knows his track record wasn't the best when Seungcheol found him, and his past not the cleanest. He wonders if it's really true sometimes—the joke that Seungcheol had only taken in Chan because other people said he shouldn't. He should be grateful for it, and he is.

He is. Really. It's just sometimes—

His magic is not meant to harm anyone, and yet, he'd harmed people with it regardless. Despite his hyungs telling him that something like that isn't in his control, that it hadn't been something he knew he could do and definitely not something he meant to do on purpose, Chan holds it close to his heart as a reminder.

Sometimes he thinks about it. He's not like Seungcheol and Mingyu, born into magic, and certainly not like Jihoon, whose skills were recognized immediately in the magic community even as he was just stepping up to the podium. Not even like Joshua, who was delicately raised and wholly adored by a mother who has dedicated her life to magic when she found out her son was capable of wielding it, or Seungkwan, who had showed prodigious skill in it despite having only found out about its existence as a teenager.

All of them have always shone so brightly. Seokmin, who could make even plants smile. Vernon, who makes music that speaks to cats. Wonwoo, who continuously strives for the furtherment of the wards he places around the coven. They're beautiful, skilled, and just so intrinsically kind in ways Chan never was.

Surrounded by people so full of potential for good, Chan often wonders if his magic is being used right.

Of course he knows the coven is utilizing each and every single one of his skills to the best of their abilities, and that he's helping just by fulfilling all the tasks assigned to him. He knows that they think he's hardworking and passionate—he's one of the few who have been born with the knowledge that they have magic, and despite hating how it made life for him difficult, Chan also spent a good amount of time perfecting his grip on it—even if it is mainly because of a long suppressed fear that he'd inadvertently cause harm.

"You gonna tell me what's up with you?"

Chan jumps and turns around at the sound, only to be met by the sweet smiling face of Joshua, both of his arms crossed across his chest.

"Shua-hyung," Chan says, annoyed. "You really need to stop doing that."

Joshua only smiles brighter, the perfect picture of innocence. It's one of the tricks he's utilized since he first came into the coven and one he doesn't feel the need to outgrow. Jeonghan is hopelessly endeared by the habit; everyone else loves him enough to tolerate it. "Doing what?"

Chan snorts. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, hyung," he says.

Joshua takes a few moments to smile at him, before he reaches out to pat at the top of his head. "Chan-ah," he says, voice soft and fond. "Who's your favorite hyung?"

Chan stares at him for a moment, before opening his mouth slowly. Joshua stares at him, expectant.

"Did you put a truth spell on me? Really?" He's offended, really. It's an amateur move.

Joshua shrugs, unrepentant, even when Chan makes a face at him. "You won't admit to lying otherwise. You're a terribly good liar, Chan."

This definitely confirms that the love potion didn't work on Joshua. Chan sighs and tries to loosen up.

Joshua doesn't fall for it. "You've been weird."

Chan snickers, forces a disbelieving eye roll. "No, I haven't."

Joshua tilts his head a little. "I know you," he says patiently. "I'm sure something is wrong."

And really, honestly, sincerely, he does. Everyone in the coven does know him, despite his best efforts. Chan's spent an obscenely large amount of time trying to avoid being perceived, and somehow, it still managed to happen. All everyone's been doing all day is ask him what's up with him, and even Junhui had asked for a hug. Shit. Chan wonders if that was a way for him to indirectly offer comfort without seeming too overbearing. Junhui always got easily embarrassed about things like that.

Joshua shrugs. "It's alright. You don't need to say," he tells him, soft and soothing, and Chan feels the sudden urge to throw his arms around him, bury his head in the crook of his neck. Admit that he's dosed them with a love potion and is upset that it isn't working. Upset that he's had to go this far, because really, what is this without the veneer of a joke to hide behind? Isn't it just a pathetic plea for affirmation? "We're here for you, Chan. Every single one of us."

Chan doesn't have anything to say to that; an offer so profoundly kind that it takes him by surprise when it really shouldn't. He's been on the receiving end of such compassion since the first time Seungcheol had grabbed him by the back of the collar and dragged him to the coven, introducing him as their youngest.

So what he does is turn around to leave instead. Running—he's used to it. That method never disappoints.

Chapter Text

Chan would have stayed in his room all afternoon, lying about in bed and uncaring of the effects of the love potion now that it's disappointed him so intensely, but the door slams open despite his plans. Before he even has time to process it, he's grunting under the weight of someone throwing their body over him.

"We heard from a little birdie," Soonyoung sings, from where he was absolutely crushing Chan, "that you were acting weird today."

He goes through the names and wonders who among them is to blame. Joshua is the top contender, but when he sees Jeonghan grin appear as he squats in front of him, it's growing increasingly clear who snitched.

Seokmin-hyung. Of course. Seokmin could never refuse anything Jeonghan asked of him, too susceptible to those eyes, and if Soonyoung was standing there with him too, then Seokmin would have definitely folded like toilet paper.

He's always been like that. When someone makes a joke that's not that funny, he laughs. When someone is having a hard time, he's right outside with hot chocolate and a lullaby. Chan tries not to be too endeared by how much Seokmin loves them, because it's really actively working against his favor right now.

"I'm not," Chan defends himself, letting out a little oof as Soonyoung puts more of his weight against him like a punishment for lying. It's nothing. Soonyoung would never hurt him, not on purpose, and Chan spends far too many hours in the training grounds for this to matter, but his breath gets knocked out of him anyway because when he looks up, he sees how Jeonghan is watching them both with undeniable fondness, his eyes—usually so shrewd—full of light.

Despite everything—despite the prodigious talent, the undeniable skill, the determination written in his bones—Chan is really only a man. Right now, he's warm and surrounded by people he loves and something in his heart gives in. Just a little, but it's enough to leak. Enough to show on his face.

"Makdoongie?" Jeonghan calls for him, and it sounds so tender that it almost hurts him. The pet name is something he only uses during the rare moments Chan is soft enough not to protest; it must be obvious then, he thinks. How much he cares about the coven members. If they can tell when he feels safest, when his guards drop. That it's very rare that the guards are there at all these days.

"Hyung." The sound that comes out is really pathetic, but he almost forgives himself for it because he sees how Jeonghan's shoulders relax a little.

They're seriously worried, Chan realizes. He must be acting so out of character that they're all anxious about him now. Was he really bouncing off the walls earlier, unable to verbally lament his lack of success in the love potion only to physically manifest it? Wonwoo worries at the smallest thing when it comes to Chan, once even outright threatening a mosquito once never to land on Chan via Vernon's ability to communicate to animals (it was and is still the single most embarrassing moment of his life, even if he suspects that's why he's never had a mosquito bite in over two years), but Seokmin generally lets most things that he does fly. Chan must have looked borderline insane if Seokmin was already siccing Jeonghan (both a comforting presence and a chill down your spine) and Soonyoung (scary motherfucker who will knock you out if you refuse to rest when you're sick) on him.

He feels Soonyoung wraps his arms around his neck then, as though to bring him back to the present. It's almost overwhelming, how much he feels him, from his skin to his bones, but somehow it's comforting. Definite proof that he will never be alone.

Jeonghan is squatting on the side of the bed, and Chan feels it when his fingers card through his hair. "Are you sure?" he asks him, gentle. "That you're alright?"

Chan nods, feeling himself choke up. He can't admit that he's feeling this way because of a failed love potion, that his hyungs haven't been affected by it and he feels a little bit betrayed about it. Why does it matter? It's just a potion. These things happen.

"I was thinking about magic," he says instead.

"You always are," Jeonghan snorts, but Soonyoung, because he is the way he is, asks, "What about it?"

Chan sighs. "Just how far I'll go. Things like that. If I'm even capable of going that far."

"Of course you are, Channie," Jeonghan says immediately. It's expected. Jeonghan is a menace most times, but he loves every single one of them in a way that consumes. Seungcheol loves like a shelter. Soonyoung loves like a storm. But Jeonghan is ever-present, ever-merciful. The only constant. He is a fireplace, ready to light up when you need something to warm your cold hands. Seungcheol always says that Jeonghan speaks like he only has them.

Sometimes, it does feel like that. Not only to Chan, but to everyone. But Jeonghan seems to feel it the most among them, his need to be around them visceral and almost painful, to the point wherein the tears that he rarely lets go of are reserved for when any of them are hurt.

Chan hums at that. "As long as you guys are there, I suppose it's a given."

"No."

"What?"

Soonyoung makes a sound of protest. "Chan, you would have been a miracle regardless," he tells him, playing with the ends of Chan's hair. He sounds so certain in Chan's capability, so sure of his ability to forge a path for himself. "You would've made art wherever you were, whoever you ended up with. We're beyond lucky that you chose us instead of whoever else you could have had."

Chan swallows. "What?" he asks. This is Soonyoung, after all. Sharp and brutally honest Kwon Soonyoung. He doesn't need to lie to spare Chan's feelings—he knows that—

"Don't be stupid, Chan. You're obviously more than good enough. Fucking perfect, actually."

Jeonghan laughs. "You heard him," he says. "You're fucking perfect, Chan."

But perhaps that's not generous of Chan, to say that. He's always been Soonyoung's favorite—so obviously and clearly. Whenever they go out in the winter, Soonyoung rubs on his hands so that they don't get cold, and brings him warm soup that he didn't even cook himself when he stays up too late studying theory, and is always right beside him when he practices his arrays, strict on some days, satisfied on others.

Soonyoung loves being around people of undeniable talent, people with unwavering ambition and drive. He likes himself, so he likes people like him. There's always a place for your ambition, Chan-ah, Soonyoung always tells him. But it's up to you where you find a place to put it. Nothing here is for anyone who can't work hard for it. You know it just as well as I do, right? He'd always been a mentor to him, a person who could shape his dreams, who could help him achieve it.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"I adored you from the start, so of course I knew it what you were capable of," Soonyoung says, smug. "Didn't you know, Chan-ah? You were always born to be a star, I told you."

That's true, he realizes. Soonyoung has always been encouraging of his pursuits, has always been beyond enthusiastic when he heard about them.

"Don't you know, Chan-ah?" Jeonghan asks, teasing, climbing into bed with them now. Once he's comfortable (the most he can be, with his ridiculously long limbs), he pokes Chan's cheek, playful. "You're our team's treasure."

He really wishes he could believe them. As it stands though, he only smiles and relaxes into the cuddle pile.

Chapter Text

"Figured you'd be here."

Chan startles from where he was casting an array and turns around. Seungkwan stands by the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. He looks wind rumpled and satisfied with himself, like he's just finished having some big adventure. He probably did. Seungkwan's always been the type to find opportunity and thrill wherever he looked, happiness in whatever he unearthed.

Jihoon says that he was born under a lucky star, the same way Mingyu and Jeonghan are. They've always had some sort of omnipresent being right beside them, helping them along their paths.

Destined for greatness. Sometimes Chan wonders what kind of celestial being he was born under, and if he was just meant for a life of strife. He hopes not.

"You're obsessed with me," Chan replies. He steps back from his array, waves a hand so that it disappears in a puff of smoke.

It's clear he won't be able to work on it, anyway; clearly, Seungkwan's here to send him somewhere, or at least attempt to distract Chan from his thoughts.

Jeonghan probably sent him. He and Soonyoung were against letting him go when he woke up from his nap, but they had agreed when Chan said he had to go practice his arrays.

"You wish," Seungkwan replies, the comeback already at the tip of his tongue. It's ingrained into both of them, sharp and clever. "God. No, I just know you. Have always known you. Who doesn't know how obsessed with work you are?"

Chan can't refute that, so he doesn't even try to. "What did you want me for?" he asks.

"Nothing in particular. Just curious about something."

"Curious about what?"

Seungkwan looks at him, chewing his lower lip as though giving something extreme consideration. Chan thinks the only reason he grew up being so careful with words is because Seungkwan taught him the weight of them so early into the game.

But Seungkwan knows him, already knows what he means to say even without saying it, and that's why he reaches over to hold Chan's hands in his.

"You're okay?"

Chan nods, trembling a little. Seungkwan already knows it's a lie, but he always allows Chan his little fibs.

"The house felt that you were sad, you know. I'm sure Seungcheol hyung is sweating through his deliveries right now, thinking of a way to get back home to you as soon as possible," Seungkwan says. "You better let him coddle you when he gets home. You know it makes him feel better when you do. Do him a little favor, hm?"

And you, Seungkwan doesn't say, it always makes you feel better too, but you would die than admit it, so. I'll let you have this. He reaches over and pinches Chan's nose lightly. Chan lets him. It's way too much trouble to pretend not to feel like he's a failure, like he's a dog begging for scraps, and it's nearly impossible to do so in front of Seungkwan. The entire coven can read Chan, can understand him in different ways, but Seungkwan is someone who flows in his veins like blood.

"It's been a rough day," is all Chan can say.

"Hm?" Seungkwan hums. He doesn't sound surprised, even when the lilt in his voice suggests a question. "What have you been feeling?"

Chan's throat feels thick with rising emotion. "Just tired," he tells him. Tired and tense and anxious. He's been wondering about his place in the coven for a while now, but he's also been wondering if it's even right that he's doing so.

The love potion was the final straw, he thinks, and his heart aches in his chest.

Seungkwan's face drops. "Oh, my baby," he whispers, and the pet name makes something deep inside him tremble like a leaf. His hyung's hands find their way to Chan's shoulders and knead at the tense flesh there. "It's been more than a rough day for you, I think."

Chan feels like he's about to break apart and cry. Seungkwan's right, of course he is, but he feels so strangely about it. He doesn't want to admit that he's been insecure, not when they have exceeded every expectation. He wonders where he gets it from—this constant anxiety that the people he loves don't love him just as much—when all he remembers from his life are instances of his family and coven members adoring him.

He shouldn't care about the people who don't—about the people who told him he was a flight risk, someone that Seungcheol shouldn't want in his coven, a person who didn't deserve all the kindness he's been given.

"Want to make potions with me?"

Chan blinks away the film that's been gathering in his eyes and tries for a shaky grin. "Sure," he says, trying for light, and Seungkwan drags him along.

The table is full of apparatuses meant for potion making, and Seungkwan knows this is more Chan's alley than his, but he makes a show of nitpicking on anything Chan does anyway in an effort to make him laugh. It doesn't quite work, but he does feel even more fond of Seungkwan and his earnestness as a result.

He really does love his members. He cares about them so much and so deeply that he worries about it being used as a weapon against him.

"Your aura's been a little wonky for a while now," Seungkwan tells him as they settle into the seats. Chan knew that it was coming, but it still feels terrifying, being under Seungkwan's gaze like that.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Seungkwan nods, all serious and intense the way he gets when Jihoon hands him a puzzle to work on. He doesn't reach out again to hold Chan's hands, but he looks like he wants to by the way his fingers twitch.

Chan reaches out first. Seungkwan's face breaks in relief and he meets him halfway, holding onto him tight.

When Seungkwan found out he could read auras, Chan was right beside him. They were the recent additions to the coven, two little boys with nothing under their belts but audacity, and Seungkwan had just brought up what the colors around a person meant.

Chan told him that he didn't see what he was seeing, which frustrated Seungkwan at the time. They were attached to the hip, inseparable even when they were always fighting, and even then, they could already understand each other with a single look.

Don't mess with me, Seungkwan had snapped, as though it was a given that whatever he knew, Chan would know, too.

Joshua, who at the time was the authority on such things, had only smiled at their bickering. Of course that was before they found out that Seungkwan had a predilection towards auras, that he could read them far better than anyone in the coven could, but Joshua had been patient, guiding him through every color and what they constituted.

It just means you're someone with a beautiful heart, Seungkwan-ah, Joshua told him with a fond smile when he'd asked questions about why exactly he got to read auras and everyone else didn't. A big one, too, if you can see the colors that clearly. I can only read auras to an extent, but what I have, I'll give to you.

Seungkwan's a healing witch, that's what Jihoon said, but apparently he can also see auras. It's related, isn't it? Maybe the healing Seungkwan is supposed to specialize in relates to matters of the heart.

Chan reads about it later on, booted up Jihoon's old laptop and pored through as many articles as he could get his hands on, just because that's what you do when it's someone you care about. Junhui researches recipes without peanuts so that Hansol can eat with them too, Joshua learns how to braid and blow dry long hair so that he can help Jeonghan in the mornings, Jihoon drops by to give Wonwoo his favorite snacks every so often.

It's love, Chan's learned, that drive people to do this.

Seungkwan does have a beautiful heart, though. Joshua's right about that. And a big one, too, because how else would he have cared for someone like Chan, otherwise? But aside from that—

Witches who can read auras usually manifest it because the people they hold dear need them to, he remembers the words printed on that website as clear as day. Usually, it's because their loved ones cannot say what they mean, cannot admit things without coaxing, has a tendency to bottle things up…

That's love, he thinks now. That's what it's capable of. He keeps the thought close to his heart so he doesn't forget.

"I'm sorry," Chan says, and he means it. He knows it burdens Seungkwan to know how everyone's feeling all the time, and he also knows that Chan's heaviness, his uptight personality, is the reason why Seungkwan's shoulders will never be light ever again.

Seungkwan only shakes his head vehemently. "What's there to hide between us?" he squeezes Chan's hand. "Don't say anything stupid."

Chan snorts. "What does it look like?"

Joshua told him before that Chan's aura was always yellow— energetic and charismatic , he told him, patting his cheek. It suits you. But Seungkwan had told him that his colors flunctuated in the worst of ways, that his aura is one of the most volatile in the coven.

You could be smiling, Seungkwan told him, and your aura would be saying a completely different story. That's why I know I ended up knowing how to read them because of you.

Vernon says the same thing. Seungkwan needed you around, the same way you need him, and Chan had told him that both of them needed him to temper them both.

"Gray," Seungkwan says. "Blue. Red. Just—exhausted. Angry. Sad. You haven't been this way since your prepubescent years."

"Oh," Chan blinks, considering this. Then, because it's the way they are, "Fuck you."

"I'm serious!"

"Well, yeah, but fuck you still."

Chan was a child who grew up around people who didn't know where to put him. Outside of his home, he's never really belonged—a child with feet too big for his shoes. That lonely little kid now has a coven with twelve other people, and he's still anxious that one day they'll see that his potential has reached its limits and will have no use for him anymore.

Seungkwan narrows his eyes. "You think you're slick with that subject change? Focus."

"Fine."

"I just—is there anything any of us can do to make you feel better about whatever it is that's been bothering you?"

Two peas in a pod. If he had to say, maybe it's true that Seungkwan is closer to him than perhaps even God. A humbling thought. Seungkwan's ability to read auras came about because it was something Chan needed, and Chan's always felt him in places where not even his own soul could reach.

"Just," he swallows, holding onto Seungkwan like a lifeline, "just—stay with me. Okay?"

Seungkwan softens, turns hazy at the edges. "Okay," he agrees, gentle. "Of course. Hyung will stay with you as long as you need."

Chan sighs in relief, bows his head as though in prayer. All of his members—all of them—have always been so kind to him, and he wonders if it's ridiculous to feel this horribly about a defective love potion.

After all, even if they didn't love him, they are still kind to him. They still look after him, they still accomplish every responsibility they have for him. That's not something he should taken for granted, he knows, and he's never not been grateful for it.

Still. He's still human, no matter how much magic he can wield, so there's still yearning inside him that can't be satiated.

It makes him long for more, though. These kinds of things always do.

Chapter Text

When Chan was young, he went to a predominantly non-magic school.

It was common for most magical entities to go through a largely human education, and most of them came out of it without problems. His parents did, and they came out of it largely unscathed. Magic, as a whole, was still largely misunderstood, but blatant discrimination wasn't supposed to exist, which was why Chan's parents even considered it in the first place.

Unfortunately, Chan, seeing as his birth was already almost an act of utter defiance to many set rules, had to be the exemption to this too.

It was not easy, he remembers this now. He tried his best, and still, he couldn't quite be what they wanted him to be. Despite having a patient temperament by nature, the ostracization had gotten bad enough to get the adults involved. Even then, there was nothing they could realistically do for Chan, who couldn't make friends because of the prejudice. The neighborhood parents were never on his side, and his own fretted endlessly. They would have pulled him out of school completely if Chan hadn't been insistent on staying.

Even with his stubbornness, though, it was difficult. For every accident, it seemed like they found a way to blame Chan. Of course, it was true that due to being overstimulated and out of any healthy methods to cope, a younger Lee Chan had accidentally set the pages of his own books on fire, and refused to attend some classes as his anxiety had been so bad that it made him feel physically ill. Still, it couldn't be denied that the Chan they were accusing of major punishable offenses was only just a child, and one who was confused as to why he was being treated so horribly on top of it all.

Chan comforts himself with this thought now, especially when he feels particularly raw. Joshua had always been insistent that they shouldn't have treated such a young child with such venom, and if there's anyone in this world Chan would believe in a heartbeat, it'd be Shua-hyung. Besides, even without the confirmation of others, he knows now that he's not that type of person. Never was. He's not a person who wants to hurt others, who works to actively harm them. Seungcheol had performed rigorous background checks on him before admitting him into the coven, and considering how protective he was about his loved ones, Chan would have never passed the test if he was truly someone detestable.

But the people in his neighborhood could never trust him when they were too aware of what he was, and then—

Well. He got into a fight with some other school kids over something Chan doesn't even remember now, and he blew up in a very real way. He was shoved, called names, and while he was indeed a child, he was a child who knew better. His grandmother had always told him, from the very beginning, that he had to be more responsible for others if they couldn't do it for themselves, or if they weren't aware of his capabilities. Magic is not a gift or a punishment; it is nothing but a tool. Intention matters. Chan knows that.

And well, no matter how much he tells himself he's not a bad person, it's difficult to believe it when he was the one who cursed that boy that day. With his own mouth, fueled by enough rage that it had actually stuck, and while Chan doesn't want to remember the specifics of what exactly he'd done, he was too aware that he'd done it.

It had been horrible, opening his eyes from that and realizing he had the capability to hurt people, and even worse was coming to terms with the fact that he had proven them right. Chan's parents had to send him to Seoul alone with heavy hearts. It wouldn't get better, that was the final decision. Chan knew it then, and it had hurt to acknowledge it.

But his parents sending him away—even when they called when they could and visited when they had the money—had made Chan incredibly miserable. Geon still had to go to school, and it made his parents sad to see him in such a state, so really, the visits to Seoul weren't beneficial to anyone involved, though they insisted on them anyway. For formality, maybe? Chan isn't sure to this day.

Seoul was a big city. It was easy to get lost, to get lonely. Young as he was, Chan already knew that people from all over came to prove themselves or find things that they couldn't find in their hometowns. That's how it was, even in civilian movies. You travel so that you can be with the best of the best. Chan was surprised to find that while he fit right in ability wise, it was his temperament that ended up being the problem.

Perhaps it shouldn't have been a surprise, but years in a non-magic environment had made him defensive and meticulous to the point of obsession. They were good attributes to have until they weren't, and with schools sending him back and forth as he was considered too unstable to be part of a coven, Chan had nearly come to terms with the idea that perhaps he would have to continue on alone. He was too eccentric, first of all. No foundational training, too. Just a whole lot of luck and talent and drive, and while that was good, if he couldn't work in a team… None of that talent and drive would matter.

It was fine. A lot of witches did this kind of thing alone. Chan could survive it, even if he would definitely be lonely beyond measure. It would be better than being in a team that hated him. Or a team that wouldn't listen to him. Chan would hate that more than anything in the world.

That plan immediately went into flames when Chan met Seungkwan, though. He thought he'd end up losing him and had spent so long so terrified of getting attached that they fought all the time about what Seungkwan perceived as Chan's apathy. After all, despite not having known all his life, Seungkwan was more digestible to the majority of the covens in South Korea: teachable because of a lack of proper education and obviously very intelligent. Of course it was only going to be a matter of time before Seungkwan got picked for a coven, and then he'd leave Chan all alone.

Chan didn't want to be left all alone. He'd rather die than be some person that Seungkwan had to leave to live a better life. Better to be remembered as something else other than some tarnished memory.

That was when Seungcheol found him. That was when that director said it wouldn't be wise to pick Chan. That was when Seungcheol had chosen him, anyway.

And kept on choosing him, for better or for worse.

"Chan-ah?"

Chan tries to play dead. He'd fallen asleep in Seungkwan's lap on the floor while they were drawing up plans, but of course Seungkwan knew the second Chan had regained enough of his consciousness to start thinking. For all of his talents, Chan has never quite mastered the art of disguising his aura, and he doesn't think he ever will.

As if to agree with him, Seungkwan sniffs and says, "Come on, you know that doesn't work on me."

Chan is still debating on the merits of playing dead regardless when the door to the training room opens. Vernon stands at the doorway, carrying a thermos in one hand and his phone in another. There's, for some reason, a fluffy yellow chick nesting on top of his head, and he blinks at Seungkwan assessingly before pointing a thumb outside.

"You," he says. "Out."

Seungkwan gasps in disbelief. "Hey—"

"Go on."

"Don't be spoiled!"

"You know it's nothing personal, Boo," Vernon says. "It's just. His magic's so unstable I could smell it from all the way inside. Even the animals are saying it's been bad. You know Channie doesn't want to worry about upsetting you, too."

Seungkwan's face scrunches up at Vernon's words, but one thing about Vernon is that Seungkwan does not possess the ability to refuse him anything. He pats Chan's head and leaves the room, but not before passing by Vernon and patting him on the cheek.

Vernon stares at him, large eyes devoid of any judgment. The chick on top of his head chirps, and Vernon raises a hand upwards so he can guide it back down to the ground. The chick makes a couple of chirping noises that Vernon hums at, and then it races into the yard, tiny little feet scurrying across dirt and grass.

At Chan's curious look, Vernon shrugs. "Sweetpea said you looked scary," is all he offers.

Chan can't help it. He laughs. "Well, Sweetpea is not very nice."

"To be fair, you've only just woken up," Vernon teases. "I can see why he'd be scared."

"Are you saying I always look ugly in the mornings, hyung?"

Seungcheol is the one who brought him to the coven. Seungkwan is his first friend. Soonyoung is one of the biggest reasons why he continues to have such an undeniable passion for magic, his thirst for improvement rivaling and fueling Chan's own.

But Vernon—

There's never going to be a word to describe what Vernon is to him. It's already difficult enough to think about a way to describe him in general, considering how many paradoxes live within him. All of his hyungs are attractive, that's not something anyone could refute, but siren blood flows through Vernon's veins. Mystifying, enchanting—whatever poetry Minghao likes to spout. When Chan and Seungkwan were in the throes of puberty and struggling with it, both with magic and normal puberty things like acne, Vernon had breezed through the entire ordeal like it was nothing.

Chan's always liked him. Vernon talks to the cats that liked to step too close to him and asks them to leave him alone, polite and firm. Vernon brings Chan new Venus flytraps every month, consistent enough that Chan's running out of ways to refuse him. He makes all of Chan's anxiety dissolve because he has no airs about him, and he holds all of Chan's opinions on his potions in high esteem. I'll annoy you forever, he'd promised when they were much younger, and he was not one to back out of his promises.

In the years wherein Chan's temper continued to fluctuate, and with it, his magic, Vernon had been one of the presences that had helped him ground it. He's not bothered by it at all, the way Seungkwan is. Chan is convinced Seungkwan gets itchy when he can't help any of their coven members, just nervous energy stinking up the place, but Vernon just sits with him, lets him ride it out. His anger doesn't flare when Chan's does, and his frenetic energy always has a friend in Vernon's rock like presence.

"Of course not," Vernon says. He pours some of the mystery liquid into the thermos cap and passes it over to Chan, settling on the ground beside him. "What's wrong, Chan-ah?"

Chan doesn't look at him immediately. He inspects the cap, wonders if it's safe to drink if Vernon made it, and sighs. Whatever. It can't be that bad. He takes it and downs it in one gulp.

"Hyung," Chan answers. Vernon was different than the others in the sense that he was empathetic, understanding. He didn't care if Chan fucked up. He'd laugh at most. Even without that, Chan always thought it was difficult to lie to him. For all that he gave Seungkwan shit for it, he wasn't exactly immune to Vernon, either. "You won't judge me?"

"Is it that bad?"

"Well," Chan sighs, "No, but. It is pretty childish."

"So what?"

Of course he'd say that, and mean it too. Chan's heart aches. "One of my projects failed. I'm a bit bummed about it."

Vernon nods slowly. "Ah," he says, very casually. "Well, figures."

That makes Chan laugh, because that's exactly like Vernon. It's why it's easy to tell him things. Vernon embraces even the things about himself that Chan finds stifling. "Oh, fuck off."

"You know what I mean!"

"I really don't."

"You always equate your worth to that, so," Vernon makes a dismissive hand gesture. "Makes sense you're all…" He then moves his hand to Chan's general vicinity, gesturing around him in wide circles. "About it."

Chan has to concede to that. "Well. Yeah. I guess so," he sighs. "You're not very nice, either. I see where Sweetpea gets it from."

"No," Vernon agrees, amused. "Also I resent that you brought Sweetpea into this."

Chan shrugs. "All's fair in love and war," he says, "or something. I don't know. Pretend I said something Wonwoo hyung would say."

"But I brought you tea Mingyu brewed himself, and I'm sitting with you, and I think you're very pretty even though you've had a rough day, so is that enough?"

Chan's heart feels so warm. So pleased. In his life, he hasn't had very many friends. To be fussed over when he's this upset… well. Maybe if the hyungs didn't love him, they liked him. The love potion isn't the only important thing in the world. So what, right? He can enjoy whatever this is. He can enjoy being cared for. He leans against Vernon's shoulder, who hums and wraps an arm around Chan's waist, pulling him closer.

"Yeah," Chan agrees, closing his eyes. "It's enough."

Chapter Text

Mingyu always cooks when someone from the coven gets sick. That's why, he tells Chan with a frown, he doesn't understand how this would be any different.

"It's different because I'm not sick," Chan insists, secret heartsickness notwithstanding. That's his own problem to deal with, not anyone else's. Jeonghan always said that their Channie has always been soft; in his most private moments, Chan thinks about how the softness means that he's always just tender enough that something like this would bruise, leave blue and purple where there shouldn't even be any marks.

He's accepted it now, even when a few years ago the very same thought had sent him into anxiety attacks so bad he'd felt as though the world would end. If Jeonghan thinks Chan's soft, then Seungcheol thinks Chan's too serious. He's right, of course. This wouldn't even be a big deal for other people. Chan just isn't other people.

"You've been acting weird, though," Mingyu reasons with a wrinkle of his nose. "That's enough reason, isn't it?"

"How is it enough reason?"

Chan frowns, frustrated. He woke up on the sofa a few minutes earlier, having fallen asleep on Vernon, and somehow hadn't stirred even a little when they moved him to the living room. When he woke up, his hair was all over the place, and he was still heavy with sleep, barely able to make out whatever Mingyu was trying to get him to pay attention to. It had processed, of course, but it had taken a long enough time to be embarrassing, and now, sufficiently awake, Mingyu is refusing to listen to his insistence that he doesn't need anything.

It was funny, in its own way. If Seungkwan was present, he'd make a joke of it. Yes, Chan-ah, how terrifying—being fed a delicious dinner by someone who wants so badly to feed him. It's not like Chan doesn't agree. The notion is ridiculous the way Chan thinks all the best things are, warm and selfish and undoubtedly his .

But there's a reason why he's refused for so long. Sure, it doesn't make a lot of sense, but it's a reason regardless.

"Because I said so," Mingyu tells him matter-of-factly. "Anyway, sit down." It reminds Chan of who exactly he's dealing with—despite how cool Mingyu likes to act, this is still one of his useless hyungs.

"Childish," Chan complains, feeling like one himself. He's sure if Joshua were here, he'd say just that. Wah, really? Neither of you are better than the other.

As though to further prove his maturity, Mingyu sticks his tongue out at him.

"Don't be stubborn," Chan argues. "Can't you see that I'm not sick at all?" Mingyu cuts him a look as if to say pot, meet kettle, and then returns to the stove . Wow, okay. "You should save up on the resources for emergencies. I'm fine. Peachy, even! Look at me, healthy as can be. Hyung, are you paying attention? Hyung!"

Mingyu obliges, flicking his gaze up at him, but he doesn't look happy about it. Well. Tough luck.

Chan makes jazz hands. "See? Aren't I just peachy?"

"No," Mingyu says, not even sparing him a glance longer. He returns to watching something boil in his cast iron pot. "Just sit down and stop trying to distract me with conversation."

"I'm not!"

"You are," Mingyu rolls his eyes. Chan only shrugs his shoulders in response, caught but not particularly guilty. Well, whatever. He was telling the truth, anyway.

Mingyu has always been a kitchen witch, but the reason why he's the self-proclaimed cook of the coven is because he apparently claimed the position for himself when he first got installed into the house as a new member, still cautious of stepping on any toes. It's predictable, in its own way. Mingyu is the type to always need to be useful, even when he doesn't have to be. A painful similarity that he shares with Chan, and one they've both been told to grow out of numerous times.

It's difficult to do, though. He doesn't know if it's the same case for Mingyu, but to Chan, who only learned his magical theory when he came into the city, magic is transactional. Jeonghan makes Chan a draught, Chan braids his hair before going to sleep. Minghao reads his fortune, Chan makes him a charm. Things like that are what continues to make magic flow.

Chan never nags Mingyu about it like the others do because he knows they're one and the same in this aspect. It's difficult to say anything about it when all Mingyu needs to do is bring up why exactly he's hovering around the members when everything is clearly handled, desperate for someone to tell him what to do to be of use, for him to pause. They've spent long enough around each other that saying such things is easy. They know each other too well to let it get between them; a coven contract is a marriage in its own way.

It's not necessarily a big deal, but this kind of magic—administered by mouth, for obvious reasons—was often reserved for members who were feeling under the weather as a result of using too much of their magic reserves (Seokmin) or exposing themselves to too much negative energy (Wonwoo). If not that, then for those who were going through an especially rough time emotionally.

Chan had never needed it. Even during his tumultuous puberty, he had refused Mingyu out of principle. He could handle it on his own, no matter how difficult it is. He'd need to know how to do that by himself, of course.

Mingyu is getting better at listening, though. He clearly doesn't think Chan has, and he says as much after another pointed look at him reaching out to help him set the table. "I said," he says pointedly, " I got it, Chan-ah. All you need to do is eat."

"You won't even let me put plates down?" Chan raises his eyebrows in surprise, trying for humor. "Whoa, hyung, you keep this up and I might just get used to it."

This is the easy way out—teasing, joking, covering everything up with a witty remark. The ball is in Mingyu's court now, and Chan expects him to make a snarky remark about how he'll have him wash every pot in the kitchen the next time he's here, because that's what always happens. It's what Chan finds the most comfortable. It's the easiest—where they pretend to tease and refuse to let him do what they threaten, anyway. Like clockwork. The sentiment, but without the acknowledgement. It's just there for Chan to take advantage of when he's ready.

"Get used to it, then," Mingyu tells him instead of the snark he was expecting. "You're not going to run away from me."

Chan blinks, admittedly thrown. "What are you talking about?" he asks uncertainly.

"I really meant it when I said that you seriously aren't going to escape it this time, Chan-ah."

This is unprecedented. Mingyu is acknowledging how Chan refuses to eat his food—even pointing out that he's been trying to avoid it. He never did that before, probably conscious of making Chan feel cornered or trapped, but for some reason, now he's charging right on, eyes staring straight at Chan's own.

It's so very Mingyu.

Chan's heart hurts with how much he wants to reach over to smooth the wrinkles off of Mingyu's forehead, with how much he wants to promise him that it's not anything personal. It's undeniable, his affection—it runs in his veins like the magic he's been born with. It doesn't displace the desire to run, though. The same fingers twitch with the effort it takes him not to get up and go.

"You need to start accepting it too, you know," Mingyu continues. "This is your life now. It won't be changing."

Chan feels something inside him thrum at the words, but he refuses to give it a name. "Where did you get the ingredients?" he changes the subject, throat dry.

Mingyu goes to the market every day for new ingredients. He used to go every couple of days, because he's picky about the produce being fresh, but over the years the coven has only gotten bigger and so Mingyu had to up the ante. Now every produce seller in town knows him by name, and astonishingly enough, sometimes when Chan drops by instead to pick up spices or condiments when Mingyu is preoccupied, they already have a nickname for him.

Pebble, they call him, much to Chan's utter confusion. They never really explain, either. They only pause to give him indulgent, knowing smiles before sending him off with Mingyu's food, and whenever he asks Mingyu himself about the nickname, there's no answer he'd give him that actually makes sense. He's always dismissive, waving off any further questions and refusing to look Chan in the eye, which makes Chan shake his head and just accept it.

Mingyu gets shy too, who would have known?

"The same," he tells him now, working steadily over the stove, "you know them all already. Auntie Jang, and Baekyung, and Yeonie. She even had some fruit that her mother had her send over."

He watches Mingyu work with clean, sharp precision, and settles into his seat despite how uneasy he is. It's useless to run, he decides after some contemplation. Mingyu would hunt him down and drag him back to the table and that would just be embarrassing for everybody involved.

"That's nice," Chan says after a moment. "You must have liked seeing Yeonie again."

"Yeah," Mingyu nods. "She hasn't visited in a while."

Out of all the fields, Chan thinks that maybe Mingyu's is the one he doesn't pay a lot of attention to. Sure, he dabbles in food magic from time to time, because he needs to learn it to really be able to say he cares about magic and its disciplines, but he just doesn't have the same talent that Mingyu has with it.

Witches are products of the household too, probably even more than anyone else. Mingyu has been raised with love and affection, carefully tended to and looked after. Seokmin says it's easier to dabble in witchcraft like that, because the most difficult part is already over, and it sure looks like it when Mingyu works.

Chan thrives on ceremony, on the work that he puts into his task. Mingyu finds his own magic in routine—in the laundry, the dishes, the chopping board. That's not something a lot of people can do, and even if they did have the capacity, it's not easy to keep going.

Mingyu's hands are hands that have only ever been taught how to build and soothe. Every meal he makes is made with tenderness and care. The mere act of cooking involves being around ingredients taken from the earth, and they respond well to earnestness.

After all, this hyung is the kind that wants to learn everything in the world. Good with his hands , Jihoon used to say, fond and warm. Good at taking care of things . Chan doesn't even need to be told about the significance of a talent like that, especially for witches. They are artists whose craft depend on such a skill, after all. Spells don't work if plants aren't grown sincerely. Potions can't brew if the herbs aren't blessed. Crystals don't respond unless they're being fed happiness every day. Things last when they're taken care of. Mingyu is someone that knows that knowledge intimately.

And it is through the food he makes that he manages to take care of all of them. It's not like Mingyu is the only one who participates in food magic. Junhui and Seokmin are good at it too, of course, but they have other things they like more. The sky. The stars. The sound of music. Mingyu is indisputably the one who studies food the most, as invested as he is about specific tastes and the importance of the senses.

"Yah, Chan-ah," Mingyu says. "Wash your hands. Food's almost ready." He sounds firm, like he's ready to barter with Chan on this, and Chan already knows what it's about.

Chan thinks Mingyu is predictable. It's hard not to. Soonyoung is a raging tempest; Seungcheol is an open fire, blazing and hot. But Mingyu has always been steady as the earth. Out of all the people in their coven, he is the one with his heart bleeding red and painted on his sleeve, and the one most unashamed of it. Most days, Chan even likes that about him. It makes it easier to know what he expects from him. Makes it less of a mental exercise to see what he wants, given how clear each expression is.

It also makes it easier to spot disappointment, though. Makes it much more evident, makes it so that Mingyu's fears are bared for everyone to make their assumptions about. Makes it so the food that he makes is honest, earnest. Truthful, even if that's a strange quality for food to have.

Chan swallows when he returns from washing his hands to find the food already set up in front of his empty chair, Mingyu occupying the seat directly across it with an expectant look.

The bowl is steaming, and it smells absolutely delicious. Dakgaejang, he realizes when he gets closer. This is dakgaejang , because of course Mingyu would put into consideration how he likes to have spice when he's feeling especially cruddy.

Here's another reason why Chan refused Mingyu's food all those times before; it's magic, of course, and it's intent, so Chan knows why every single ingredient is there. Kitchen witches like Mingyu study herbs, ingredients, food for holistic cleansing, for emotional reinvigoration. For every single addition to the soup, Chan can see the reasons why Mingyu decided to put it in: protection, comfort, warmth.

"Eat my food."

It's not like Chan hasn't eaten it before. He has been wrangled to have a bite or two when his recovery was priority, when he couldn't stay conscious for long enough that they had to go for emergency rations. That's Mingyu's role, after all: to feed, yes, but to heal, in the long run. But to have to sit there as every ache he has gets excaverated because of the weight of Mingyu's attention... It's a bit embarrassing to endure, regardless of how thick his face is.

"Hyung," Chan starts, but Mingyu's lips pinch together at his stubbornness.

"Ei, come on," he says again. "Just eat it! You'll feel better."

Chan doesn't doubt it. Not really. Not at all. He takes a deep breath. "Hyung…" he tries again.

Mingyu looks dangerously close to a pout. "Please."

Chan closes his eyes briefly. Fine. He takes a spoon and slurps up some soup.

"It's good, right?"

Chan swallows and gives Mingyu a grin. Since the love potion didn't work, he can at least comfort himself by saying that he has this. He's not sure how he's supposed to repay him for it, but—

"Yes," he says, blinking tears out of his eyes and pretending that it's the steam. "Yes, it's really good."

Chapter Text

Like every other day, they feel it before they hear it—Seungcheol’s arrival. The house brightens, the light bulbs flickering bright and warm, and everything seems to stand at attention, just the way Seungcheol likes.

“Daddy’s home, everyone!” Seungkwan screeches from somewhere else in the house, making Chan shake his head fondly and Mingyu slap a palm to his forehead. “Look alive, okay?”

“Don’t call him that!” someone else—Seokmin, it sounds like—wails.

“I’ll call him whatever I want!” There’s some thumping. A yelp, obviously Seungkwan. “Hey, no! It fits him, anyway! Why are you so mad?”

“It’s embarrassing—”

“Can both of you,” and this time he’s sure that’s Jun now, “be quiet now. Please .”

There’s telltale sounds of movement around the house—people noticing the same thing and getting ready, going down the stairs, finishing up the chores. Seungcheol is usually out all day to make deliveries and often comes back with things you ask him to buy. Jihoon is a top customer, considering how little he likes to go out and how often he works on all kinds of spells that need ingredients that would have even the most seasoned of errand boys knocking their knees together in fear.

It’s nice, too, how happy the house becomes whenever Seungcheol comes back. No matter how bad Chan’s day is, the bluster and vitality of this part of the day always makes him feel a little bit better and today is no exception.

In front of Chan, however, Mingyu is currently going through the five stages of grief. “He’s early,” he frets.

“Hyung—”

“I haven’t even gotten dinner going yet.”

Chan would roll his eyes if he wasn’t so grateful for the interruption. “You know Seungcheol hyung doesn’t care about that. He can wait, you know. It’s not like he informed you in advance.”

Despite the reasonable argument, Mingyu only looks even more upset.

“Well, who cares if he doesn’t!” Mingyu says frantically, because he and Seungcheol are like that, would never admit to caring for each other until pressed. Until worse comes to worst and Seungcheol is shrugging, saying well, I don’t know, maybe Mingyu is my favorite. “I do!”

Chan would smile if he had the heart for it. As it was, he feels entirely too heavy to do so. He reaches out to grab Mingyu’s wrist instead, an attempt at grounding him. This particular hyung always liked being dragged rather than told. “Come on, let’s just go and say hi, then I can come back with you to the kitchen.”

“Nope.”

Chan feels his shoulders tense just as Mingyu blinks at someone behind Chan, visibly deflating. “Hyung,” he whimpers miserably, “you’re finished with work too?”

Which only means one thing.

Chan turns around, slow and careful. Jihoon is staring at them both when he does, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms. There’s a deceptively neutral expression on his face. “I am,” he confirms, “but I’m not hungry yet, Mingyu, so there’s no need for… all that.”

He gestures to Mingyu’s expression, which—well, Chan’s not gonna lie, he looks pretty devastated right now.

Mingyu protests, “But—”

“No buts, Mingyu, can you go and see Seungcheol already?”

Mingyu looks constipated, but he tugs his wrist away from Chan, gently, and does just that, patting Chan’s shoulder as he goes.

Leaving Chan alone with Jihoon.

“You look like shit,” Jihoon tells him as soon as Mingyu’s left. Chan can’t help the snort he gives at that. Not only because of his amusement at Jihoon’s wry humor, but also because of his own foolishness. Of course Chan’s half baked attempt on a love potion wouldn’t work on him—not when Jihoon all on his own is stubborn enough to resist it all on its own.

“Gee, thanks,” he replies with a snort. He returns to the stool, lets himself wonder why he was being kept back from joining everyone else to greet Seungcheol. He steadies himself with a hand on the kitchen island. Is it the love potion? But Jihoon looks concerned rather than angry, and Chan thinks if he did find out he’d been subject to unethical use of a magical item, he’d be a little bit more frustrated about it. Not angry, maybe, but a little bit pissed.

“Why?”

Chan blinks, unsure if he should be offended. “I just look like this?” he drawls, a silent question in the way his brows furrow.

“No,” Jihoon says, waving that off, “not your face. I’m not talking about your face.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“Your magic,” he says grimly, and that makes Chan’s jaw snap shut in panic. Fuck. “It’s weird. I can sense it, but it feels either smothered or overextended.” He gives Chan a knowing look. “So which is it?”

Jihoon’s always been kind of a prison warden when it came to the coven taking care of themselves. Chan’s used to this, at least. Jihoon worries even more than anyone else in the group, though he wouldn’t ever say it outright. He has a heart too full to carry around and yet he waits outside the door like a tiger waiting for its prey, preemptively seeking out the perfect time to strike. Jihoon has never been one to be all touchy feely. Jeonghan tells him that some people are built like that from the beginning—he said that a lot in the first few months of Chan’s arrival, wanting desperately to be older, wiser, someone he could look up to, despite not having as much magical reserves as Chan did. Minghao confides that Jihoon always approaches caretaking like a wild animal because that’s how he’s been taught.

He’s just like his mother is Seungcheol’s only opinion about it. Makes sense. Chan’s also like his father, even if he wishes he had more of his mother in him sometimes. Jihoon loves, and he loves well, loud in its silence, doubly poignant in its unassuming nature. If there’s something he and Chan have in common, it’s probably how he’s always careful about how much he puts into his magic. There’s always something to be said about the nature of care and all the favors it grants; the most powerful witches often have an abundance of love to give as magic’s source feeds from witches who know how to take care of the things and people around them.

And Jihoon—

“You haven’t been sleeping?”

One thing he does is take care of his people. Chan can accept that. He can be appreciative of it, even. Grateful, too. “I have.”

“How many hours?”

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t exactly keep track or anything; he winces. “The normal amount?” he answers, an uncertain lilt to his voice that Jihoon obviously doesn’t like, if the nose scrunch is any indication.

“Which is?”

“I dunno, hyung.”

“Water, then?” Jihoon presses some more. At Chan’s incredulous look, he states bluntly, “Food. The problem is food, isn’t it. Min—”

“No!” Chan yelps. When Jihoon raises an eyebrow at him in challenge, he continues, “I’ve already eaten today. Twice! Don’t worry him any more than that, hyung.”

Jihoon makes a tsk ’ing sound, but he concedes. “I know how you are about food. You always think you’re so above it. Just because you’re gifted doesn’t mean you’re immune to all those embarrassing mortal diseases, Chan, I’m telling you to look after—”

Which—just blatantly untrue. Chan just forgets to eat sometimes, that’s all, he doesn’t skip for the fun of it. He’s just kind of a workaholic, and sure, his schedule’s fucked, and he refuses Mingyu’s cooking, but— “I said I already ate, hyung!” he interrupts before Jihoon can go any longer. Frustration mars his features, and he has half a mind to stomp his foot in agitation if he wouldn’t be embarrassed by it. “Jeez, what’s with you?”

“Me,” Jihoon repeats, in disbelief. “What’s with me ?”

Chan crosses his arms. “Yes, you. Who else?”

There’s a heavy pause in which they stare at each other, hoping for either to give in. No one does.

“Stubborn,” Jihoon finally speaks, shaking his head decisively. “I’m not the one acting weird.”

Chan avoids looking straight at him, fists clenching at his sides. Jihoon wouldn’t understand. Chan and Jihoon are prodigies in their own rights, geniuses who have been raised extremely differently, and Chan has always thought that the difference in their upbringings was a deficiency that he had to shoulder. He’s proud of his family, his sibling, the way he’s been raised, of course, but he knows that the other witches look down on him for it—they think that it’s a shame that he hasn’t been groomed for a life of magic since he was young, that so much of his potential has been wasted and that his non-magic parents squandered his growth.

What do they know, Seungcheol had growled then. You could have every single one of those bastards on their asses with just the magic from your pinky finger. Jihoon had listened, terse and furious, and just simply stated give me their names. Chan hadn’t, of course—rookie mistake to do that, by the way, offering names to someone who knows enough hexes to put even former dark arts master Jeon Wonwoo to shame—but their protectiveness had only made him more firm.

He knows his coven isn’t like that. He wouldn’t have stayed if he thought otherwise.

But it’s difficult sometimes. Chan often feels insufficient, despite his best attempts not to. Jihoon has been a prodigy since then, raised all formal and proper, a respectable, talented witch from the very beginning of time. There were pictures of the mantle, alongside Joshua in his home in South California and Seungkwan carrying a basket of Jeju tangerines, of Jihoon in his magic school uniform, of the countless medals pinned to his chest at fourteen, his equally—perhaps even more—intimidating mother standing next to him in all of them.

Even now Jihoon’s looking at him like he could whip something up and Chan would be all right again. “Let me get you something,” he wheedles, and Chan’s fingers twitch. He bets if Jihoon made the love potion instead, it’d be a success, and even if he failed the way Chan had, he would definitely handle it with way more grace than Chan currently.

“For what?” he chokes out hoarsely, trying not to let the waves of insecurity pull him under. Not enough, he already knows. Not enough, he has confirmed with this experiment.

“To help you sleep,” Jihoon says. Noticing the look on Chan’s face, he adds, “For your appetite. For your magic. Anything that you think would make you feel better.”

Chan shakes his head. Jihoon's kindness rankles on his skin. What he wants is to go back to his room and be left alone. “No, it’s fine,” he insists.

Jihoon shakes his head. “Chan.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, I—”

“Hyung, please.”

Jihoon sighs, shoulders dropping in disappointment. “I didn’t want to have to do this, Chan,” he says.

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Do what?” he asks, but then the lights are growing brighter and brighter, and the colors in the walls are turning more vivid, and Chan steps forward, desperately, “No, you wouldn’t, hyung—”

Jihoon steps to the side just as Seungcheol walks up beside him, the expression on his face unreadable.

“Seungcheol,” Jihoon says, and to his credit, he turns his head slightly to give Chan an apologetic look before saying, “You deal with him.”

Seungcheol hums and steps forward, pinning Chan down with his stern gaze, the gravity of his presence so undeniable that there is an actual pause. Chan feels himself freeze, feet glued to the floor as the heavy scrutiny keeps him from moving.

Fuck, he thinks, empathetically, and repeats an even louder one when he sees how the other coven members crowd the entrance now, varying emotions on every face.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Before Chan decided he wanted to join the coven, he went to a fortune teller.

Truth be told, it’s an extravagant habit—one that he definitely couldn’t afford to keep doing. He’d told himself numerous times that he really shouldn’t be wasting money on bets of his future, that he should start saving and investing if he wanted to make something of himself if the magic thing didn’t work out. He never had the head for numbers, though. He’d much preferred magic. Every little burden aside, he wouldn’t have exchanged it for the world, and especially not now, since he’d found the coven because of it.

The first time he gets his fortune done it’s during his first year in Seoul. He doesn’t even think the person who offered it had legitimate magic; Chan would’ve smelled it on him, but the street hawker was decidedly normal.

Chan pulled out some won, the hawker gave him a reading—it was nothing fancy, really. The advice the hawker had landed on was keep going —vague and generic enough that it could apply to anything—but it had been enough for Chan, who had very little going for him at the point. It didn’t matter in the long run, if the man knew what he was saying or not. Chan had kept going.

Chan ends up getting it done every year, the little barter with fate his tiny vice. He makes up little rules so that it’ll seem like a proper exchange, as magic always is: never the same vendor twice, always on dates with even numbers, and only once a year. Call it wishful thinking, but he’d always believed that his fortunes would change.

And change it did.

He does it when Choi Seungcheol asks him to join the coven. To be perfectly honest, Chan hadn’t really believed it at first; who would? Choi Seungcheol was not just some random off the street; he’d built a reputation for himself for protecting his people and learning his trade. He’d been called both names and titles. The truly commendable ones always do. In comparison, Lee Chan is a country bumpkin with temper issues, no name and no family, a random who wasn’t going to bring much to the table and instead drive up the living expenses.

So he does what he’d thought to be the wisest decision: he wanders to the streets downtown in the snow and the hail and finds a fortune teller in a hole-in-the-wall. The weathered old woman there smiles at him kindly, a knowing curl to her thin lips.

When he hands over money to pay and ask his question, she waves it off. Chan, shivering even his winter clothes, is left slack jawed when she tells him, without prompting: “You’ve found where you’re supposed to be.”

Similarly, before Chan decided he wanted to join the coven, Wonwoo did an augury.

It wasn’t really an augury, per se. Based on what little the hyungs were willing to tell him, Chan suspects that they had used a magical method that was either illegal or ill-advised—residuals from Wonwoo’s past as a dark witch, a habit he couldn’t really kick back then—and that, like Chan’s own fortune, it had been done out of wariness.

They do this with every member, so Chan’s not surprised it had been done for him too. He also knows that they’re not allowed to speak about it to the member in question—that’s the rule, the little condition Wonwoo has made. Chan was around for a good portion of the members; he still remembers how the smoke shifted and parted for each one.

Like that, for Chan’s arrival, Wonwoo had asked, and someone from beyond had answered. Chan’s never been told what it was that the visions said. Just—they give him hints, sometimes. A little quirk of the mouth. A little throwaway comment.

Of course , Joshua would say, the missing piece of the puzzle. Minghao would tell him things all make sense now , all sweet and soft. Chan never understood, never dreams to, but he thinks about it sometimes.

Does he belong here? Does he really?

Now Seungcheol bears down on Chan, his disquiet so large it’s coiling into the room itself. It’s the same look as the one he’s always given him when he was younger and more impressionable— easier to bully into behaving, Jihoon would joke, brushing a hand on Chan’s head so he’d know he meant it as a jest.

The stare doesn’t work as well as it did before; there was a time in Chan’s life where it would have scared him shitless, of course, head dipping low immediately with the need to please the leader, but now Chan only stares back at him evenly.

Well, maybe not evenly. He trembles a bit, feeling the weight of Seungcheol’s concern like Atlas holding up the sky. This is what’s different from the beginning; Chan knows that this isn’t really frustration. It’s concern, and Chan doesn’t know how to hold that, how to cup it in his hands and bear it with grace.

Seungcheol only just got home. He hasn’t even eaten yet. Guilt eats at his insides; Seungcheol hyung must be exhausted, but he’s still here, trying to make sense of Chan’s emotions, trying to take care of him.

“What’s up with you?” asks Seungcheol hyung, his eyebrows pulled together in apparent worry. Something about it makes Chan’s mouth very dry. “The house is worried.”

Even the house—Seungcheol’s very soul—has sensed it. He’s really not good at masking his feelings, and he doesn’t know what he’d do if he had to admit it. What would they say? They’d start treating him like glass, walking around eggshells. Chan doesn’t want that.

“There’s—” Chan swallows, the intensity of Seungcheol’s gaze pulling him back. He can’t say. He shouldn’t. “It’s nothing. Really, hyung, there’s—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because there’s a weight on his shoulder. It’s Seungcheol’s hand—warm. Familiar. Steadying, in its way.

“Did anyone say anything to you?” He asks protectively. His hand moves to clasp the back of Chan’s neck and urges him to look up at him.

“No,” Chan croaks out. Seungcheol’s eyebrows are furrowed. He’s so determined, so desperate to find what’s been making him feel off. Chan feels like the most awful person on earth for doing this to him. “Nothing like that, it’s really just been a couple of off days. Honest!”

It’s clear from their skeptical expressions no one believes him. Seungkwan even honest to God rolls his eyes, because of course he does. Chan lets it go—if anyone has a right to be annoyed by his repression, then it’s probably Seungkwan.

“No one needs to worry,” Chan says, more forcefully. Then, turning to Seungcheol and looking him square in the eye, “I don’t want you to worry.”

The room quiets down, and Chan doesn’t need to be particularly intelligent to know that his words are what’s done it. Seungcheol’s gaze grows exasperatedly fond. “Chan-ah, how could I not?” he asks, voice thick and raspy. “If anything upsets my sweet boy, of course I’d want to know.”

That’s the last straw, he knows even before the first tear falls. Then there’s another one, and then another, and with the entire coven watching in muted horror, Chan properly bursts into tears.

Everyone panics, of course. Chan isn’t the type to cry, and when he does, it was always when he was at the end of his rope. Seungkwan and Soonyoung surge forward immediately at the sound of his sobs; even before they get to him, both are already babbling, shooting off a flurry of things like, “We’ll get them, Channie, whoever they are!” and “Oh, don’t cry, don’t cry—” which only makes Chan cry harder.

“Chan-ah,” Seungcheol says, and he sounds even gentler if that’s even possible . “It’s—”

“Don’t be nice to me!” Chan barks out, though it’s a frankly pathetic attempt, considering it’s all just snot and tears now. He doesn’t even sound sharp, just miserable and weepy. “Fuck—don’t—” he wails, another stream of tears slipping down his cheeks without his notice, “I don’t deserve you being nice to me!”

“Chan-ah,” Vernon says, and he sounds absolutely aghast. “What are you saying?”

There’s a hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. Minghao, he knows it just from the hand. Oh no, he thinks desolately, they’re trying so hard, they don’t know he’s a bad person and that… that…

“Chan,” Seungcheol calls for him, stern but patient, “look at me, baby. Please.”

Oh no. Oh, no. Anything but that. Who in the world is strong enough to handle Seungcheol calling them baby?

“Nooooo,” Chan sniffs very pathetically into his hands, “no, I can’t look at you! Any of you!”

The hand on his nape tightens. “Please, Chan-ah,” Seungcheol says softly, and it sounds like a plea, though it shouldn’t. “I just want to—”

“I fed you a love potion!” Chan blurts out, because rip the bandaid off all at once, right? That’s how it should be? “I baked you cookies, and I laced it with a love potion, and and and—” His lower lip trembles. “It didn’t work! Even a love potion didn’t work! So I either failed at it—which is horrible on its own—or my greatest efforts can’t make you love me, and I shouldn’t be asking, I shouldn’t be curious, it’s probably not mine to have, the love is not mine to take—I know that, I do, but God, I tried, I wanted...selfish, I know, I know—”

“Idiot,” Jihoon interrupts sharply. This makes the softest parts of Chan tremble, the words stirring up another wave of tears. “How could a love potion work on us?”

Chan wants to wail some more, because he’d expected this but it didn’t make it any less painful; he tries to rein in the extra tears because he remembers how before the coven he’s always been told to be tough. To take things as they are. Still, it's beyond humiliating to be called out in front of the other eleven people he cares about the opinion of.

He deserves it, though. Jihoon’s one of the best at potion brewing, and he hadn’t noticed it. Of course it wouldn’t work.

“Haven’t you read the basics of a love potion?” he continues.

“I—uh, I skimmed through it, but, but—”

Jihoon raises a finger to silence him. It works, because Chan’s jaw clicks shut immediately. “If you properly read up on it, like you should’ve,” he says mildly, “you’d definitely know that it doesn’t work on people who are already in love with you.”

“Well, how was I suppo—what?”

All twelve stare back at him expectantly. Some are smiling, some are raising eyebrows, some of them are shaking their heads in utter disbelief that this is happening at all. One thing that they all have in common, though: all of them look like they want to smack Chan for even assuming otherwise.

Chan pauses, taking that in. “Huh,” he says, then goes, in complete and utter disbelief, “ What ?”

“Dumbass,” Jihoon tells, not without a little fondness. Seungcheol grins and squeezes the back of Chan’s nape, a reminder of his presence. “All that brilliance for nothing.”

“Hey,” Chan protests weakly, head still buzzing. They love him? They’ve always loved him?

Wonwoo snorts and crosses his arms at the confusion on his face, and well, okay. Fine. Maybe he should have seen it. Maybe he should have—

“You’re an idiot,” Seungcheol says, eyes bright with a glossy sheen. “You really are. Because if you weren’t, you wouldn’t be saying any of this. It’s not yours to have? Bullshit. Everything here is yours.”

“Hyung,” Chan protests, because it was a valid concern, they’ve never explicitly sat him down, but Seokmin smacks a hand over his mouth, glaring in a way that Chan knows at once is due to fondness.

“No more talking for you!” he insists, refusing to give in. “It’s time you sit down and take this as is.”

And then they tell him—even without the love potion, even without the cookies, even without the tricks—how exactly everything and everyone in the room is his, without even needing to ask.

And for once, Chan listens.