Archive of Our Own ^beta

The morning sunlight filters through the shop’s front windows, bathing everything in a cozy, warm glow. Minho hums to himself as he arranges freshly baked croissants and sweet rolls on the display shelves, their golden crusts still warm and flaky. The air is filled with the scent of butter, cinnamon, and a touch of magic—the perfect blend of welcoming and wonder he’s worked hard to create.

His familiars are lounging on the tiny couch, placed perfectly in the way of the wide beam of sunlight that streaks through every morning. Dori winds around his legs, nudging against his ankles and purring in a healing manner.

The soft forest green walls of the shop give the space a warm, calming aura, the shelves lined with jars of colorful herbs and ingredients, and small glass containers of potion powders. Each jar is labeled in delicate gold ink, and the shelves are dotted with bundles of dried lavender, mint, and chamomile.

In front of him, Hyunjin is curled up on a chair by the window, meticulously sketching new, aesthetic specials for the week’s menu. This time, he’s illustrating a “Healing Peach Menu”, and Minho can’t help but smile as delicate, watercolor-like peach blossoms bloom under Hyunjin’s deft hand. It’s one of the reasons Minho hired him; despite his admittedly subpar coffee-making skills, there’s a subtle magic to the bright energy of his artistic aura, one that makes the shop feel even more enchanting.

A loud crash sounds from the kitchen, making Minho sigh as he glances over his shoulder with a faint glare. Felix peeks his head out from the doorway, freckles smattering his scrunched-up cheeks. “Sorry, hyung,” he says, giving a sheepish smile, his little elf ears peeking out from under his beanie. “I’ll clean it up in fifteen,” Felix promises, his voice a little shaky but as sincere as ever.

Minho can’t find it in himself to actually be mad. Felix has a bright, warm aura—one that Minho’s magic can almost hear, humming with the gentle notes of warmth, healing, and kindness.

Felix quickly ducks back, clattering around the kitchen. He peeks back out after a few seconds. “Where’s the—”

Shaking his head with a fond smile, Minho waves his hand, sending the broom in the closet toward Felix with a flick of his fingers. Felix catches it gratefully, ducking back into the kitchen as Minho continues making bundles of loose herbs for the tea selection—rosemary, dried lemon balm, star anise, and a sprinkle of sage.

Minho whispers a small blessing over the tea bundles, imbuing them with a gentle warmth meant to soothe and restore. It’s a simple spell, woven with intention rather than complexity, meant to bring good health and peace to whoever drinks it. He likes to give some of these for free to patrons who look like they need it— a tired parent, a student on the brink of burnout, or an elderly lady who likes to come in just for the atmosphere and some company. It’s his own way of spreading quiet kindness, a gift in a cup. A small gesture to help them feel a little lighter.

“I’m done, look at this!” Hyunjin exclaims suddenly, holding up his completed drawing of a delicate peach pie and tea, with tiny heart symbols drawn around them in soft pastel colors. Minho nods approvingly, and Hyunjin rushes outside to set up the chalkboard sign.

Soonie hops onto the counter, rubbing against Minho’s arm, and he smiles, scratching behind the cat’s ears. He lets himself soak in the moment—the familiar warmth of the shop, the soft purrs of his familiars, and the gentle clatter of Felix bustling in the kitchen. It’s a peaceful, contented morning, a little slice of perfect.

And then, the soft jingle of the front doorbell rings through the air.

Minho glances up, ready to remind whoever entered that they aren’t quite open yet, only for the words to dry up in his throat.

Standing in the doorway is the prettiest pair of brown eyes he’s ever seen, framed by soft brown hair that curls around a face so perfect it feels unreal. The boy looks around, a hint of nervousness in his demeanor, before meeting Minho’s gaze—and Minho feels his heart do a strange, jittery little leap.

Pretty, pretty, pretty. So pretty.

The boy steps forward, fingers peeking out from the oversized lavender sweater sleeves that almost swallow his hands, though his broad shoulders manage to break through the fabric. His skin is pale, and the lavender hue only serves to compliment him in a way that makes Minho’s chest ache.

“Um...hello?” the boy says, in a voice like a soft summer breeze, causing Minho’s ears to warm.

“We’re not open yet,” Minho manages, not entirely sure he means it. “But you’re still welcome.”

“Oh, that’s...thank you.” The boy steps closer to the counter, and Minho has to grip it just to stay grounded. “I’m here to pick up something for Chan—uh, Bang Chan? He said he knows you.”

“You know Chan-hyung?” Minho asks, desperate to keep the conversation going. Chan has always been kind—a good friend and hyung to Minho. And while he’s grateful for a lot that Chan has done for him, the next time Minho sees the werewolf, he’s going to rip into him for keeping someone like this from him.

The boy nods. “Yes, I’m Seungmin.”

Seungmin. The name rolls around in Minho’s mind like a charm; it suits him perfectly. The universe must have been showing off when it made him.

“Minho,” he says, introducing himself before he forgets entirely and loses himself in the soft curve of those lips. “I mean, I’m Minho.”

Seungmin’s lips curve slightly, an almost-shy smile. “Oh, um yes, nice to meet you, Minho-ssi.”

Hearing his name from Seungmin’s lips nearly sends Minho into cardiac arrest. The way Seungmin's pretty voice rolls off his tongue makes his heart race, and he feels a rush of warmth spreading through him.

“Um, excuse me,” Seungmin says, and Minho realizes, mortifyingly, that he’s been shamelessly staring for the past few seconds. “Do you have... the order?”

Minho shakes himself out of the daze, his cheeks burning as he becomes painfully aware of how long he’s been fixated on those perfect lips. “Uh, right, the order,” he stammers, quickly ducking behind the counter to retrieve the small package ready for Chan.

He places the bag on the counter, his fingers lingering on the handle a moment longer than necessary. Seungmin reaches for it, careful and respectful, to avoid brushing his fingers against Minho’s.

With a reluctant sigh, Minho finally lets go of the bag, barely managing to hide a sad pout as he watches Seungmin. The boy gives a polite nod, whispering a soft thank you before turning to leave, and Minho can’t shake the feeling of wanting just a little more time in his enchanting presence.

Panic strikes, and Minho’s brain scrambles for a reason—any reason—to make this beautiful boy stay a moment longer.

Alright. Time to pull out the big guns.

“Are you a vampire?” he blurts, the words slipping out before he’s fully thought them through

Seungmin pauses, glancing back with a raised brow, then nods slowly. “Um, yes?”

Minho’s ears feel like they’re on fire, but he grins and delivers his line anyway. “Because I think this could be love at first bite.”

A pretty little choked sound of surprise escapes Seungmin, his eyes widening. Minho’s grin only grows as he catches Seungmin’s gaze.

“Um... okay.... I....” Seungmin stammers, taking a step back, he points to the door with this thumb and says, “I should, uh, go.”

Minho watches, entranced, as Seungmin turns and stumbles out. He stares through the glass windows until the boy disappears around the corner, his heart pounding and his mind reeling.

As soon as Seungmin is gone from his eyesight, Minho collapses against the counter, slamming a hand over his chest to feel the rapid and frankly, way too loud beat of his heart. “Whoa,” he whispers, nodding at Doongie who meows at his feet.

“Whoa,” echoes Hyunjin, who somehow reappeared inside without Minho noticing.

“Whoa number three,” Felix adds, looking at Minho with a curious expression from the doorway.

Minho lets out a dreamy sigh, the memory of Seungmin’s wide, surprised eyes still fresh behind his eyelids. “That was…”

“Fucking embarrassing,” Hyunjin finishes.

Minho snaps out of his reverie just enough to realize Hyunjin’s staring at him with an expression caught somewhere between disbelief and pure horror. “What?” he asks, already bracing for the drama.

Hyunjin can’t seem to close his mouth as he points in the direction down the street where Minho had watched Seungmin disappear. “That. What the hell was that?”

“It was cute. He was cute. Did you see how his eyes—” Minho starts, crossing his arms defensively.

“Hyung, I love you, but...” Felix interjects, still holding the broom and dustpan, “I didn’t realize your game was this bad.”

Minho jerks his head back, frowning as his brows knit together. “I don’t think you understand what love at first sig—”

“With all due respect, I don’t think you understand how weird that was,” Hyunjin says, stepping forward to dramatically slam his hand on the counter. “And that’s saying something, coming from me, considering how much I love romance in any form.”

“I didn’t ask for any of your opinions. That was perfect,” Minho snaps, glaring at them both as flashes of Seungmin’s face keep popping up in his mind, entirely unbidden and unstoppable. “You don’t get to ruin my first meeting with my dream boy.”

“It was good.” Minho insists, defensively cradling Soonie, who’s just climbed onto his lap as if to shield him from this onslaught of judgment. “Right, aegi?”

Soonie stares up at him for a long, silent moment, judgment clear in his gaze, before hopping off Minho's lap without a sound.

Hyunjin lets out a choked gasp before dissolving into loud, shrill laughter, followed by Felix’s softer, amused giggles.

"Fuck all of you!” Minho says, getting up from his seat. “Get back to work, now!” He points at them, but they only dissolve into louder fits of laughter.

With a huff, Minho gives both of them (and Soonie) the middle finger before practically running into the kitchen to pull trays from the oven. He ignores their laughter, his mind flashing back to the memory of soft brown hair and wide eyes as he grabs the tray—barehanded, without realizing.

Minho's mind drifts back to the image of Seungmin—the soft brown eyes, the shy curve of his lips—as he reaches for the hot tray without thinking.

A sudden, sharp sting pulls him back to reality. He hisses, cursing under his breath as he quickly releases the tray. Glancing up, he spots Hyunjin and Felix peeking in from the doorway, their eyes wide with barely contained laughter. They scatter like guilty cats when he chucks a spatula in their direction.

“Get back to work right now, or I’ll fire you both!” he snaps, rubbing his reddening fingers, but he can’t quite shake the ghost of that smile from his mind.

☆

Minho doesn’t usually like it when people touch his cats. It’s not that they’re unfriendly—he just knows that Soonie, Doongie, and Dori are finicky creatures, fiercely loyal to him, but wary of strangers. They’ve made a habit of hovering at a distance whenever someone new comes to the shop, giving long, suspicious stares before sauntering off to claim a high ledge or a shadowy corner. Dori, maybe, is an exception on his most playful days, but even he keeps his distance with everyone but Minho.

So when Minho glances up from his counter to see the little girl crouched by Soonie, his first reaction is surprise. She’s so small, maybe five or six, with pigtails tied up in matching pink ribbons and a slightly nervous look on her face, glancing up at Soonie like he’s some mystical creature she has to approach with reverence. Minho feels himself freeze as he watches her hand tentatively reach out, wondering if Soonie will shy away, startled by her tiny, outstretched fingers.

But to his surprise, Soonie stays put, only shifting slightly to accommodate her. And then, with a grace he didn’t know children could have, she begins to pet him. Her fingers move gently over his soft fur, brushing slowly, as if she understands that Soonie deserves the same careful touch one might give a delicate piece of glass. She’s quiet, too—her lips pressed together as she strokes him, just a small smile breaking through every now and then.

Minho lets out a soft laugh under his breath, leaning his elbow on the counter as he watches. There's something endearing in the way her hand, so small compared to his big, fluffy Soonie, rests so gently on him, her movements gentle yet sure. He wonders if it’s her first time ever petting a cat; there’s a carefulness in her touch that makes him think she’s been coached by her parents, maybe told to be gentle with the nice kitty.

When her parents call her away, she hesitates, giving Soonie one last, soft brush along his back, as if she’s reluctant to let go. “Goodbye, kitty,” she whispers, offering a tiny wave with one hand before standing up. Her squeaky shoes announce her steps as she jogs back toward the door, pigtails bouncing behind her like little wings. Before she leaves, she stops by the shop’s window, pressing one hand against it, and gives Minho a beaming smile along with a little wave.

He waves back, his own smile breaking free as he watches her go. He thinks about the good luck charm he had imbued for her bracelet, a small trinket her parents had picked out for her, and he silently hopes it brings her all the luck and courage she needs as she grows.

And as he turns back to Soonie, who is now lounging regally by his feet, Minho thinks that maybe his cats have a way of picking out the gentlest of souls.

Minho’s smile lingers as he surveys the empty shop, the morning rush finally behind him. The bell had quieted not long ago, and now the sun spills through the window in warm, golden bands that reach all the way to his favorite booth in the corner.

Taking the rare moment to relax, he grabs his notepad, settles into the sunlit seat, and stretches his legs out with a contented sigh. Felix waves from the kitchen as he heads out for his break, and Minho nods back with a hum, already lost in the faint rhythm of his own thoughts.

It’s peaceful now, and as he flips open his notepad, he sets to work on his monthly inventory for his witch’s orders—a list that always seems to grow as the month goes on. He’s nearly finished listing supplies, scratching out notes for rare herbs and the odd crystal or two, when he feels a soft nudge at his ankle. Looking down, he finds Soonie staring up at him, eyes soft and expectant.

“Oh, alright, you big baby,” Minho chuckles, leaning down to scoop Soonie up onto the table. Soonie doesn’t hesitate, making himself at home right away. He curls into a loose loaf on the table, basking in the sunlight that dapples across his ginger fur, looking perfectly content to just be near Minho, a silent companion in the quiet afternoon.

Minho is halfway through jotting down a reminder for lavender oil when the door chimes, soft but clear. He glances up and calls out, “One second! I’ll be right with you!” Then, as he sets down his pen and turns, he catches a glimpse of the new arrival and feels his heart stutter.

It’s Seungmin, standing just inside the door with a faint, tentative smile on his face, his hands tucked into his pockets as he glances around before meeting Minho’s gaze. Minho feels a rush of warmth, the kind that starts somewhere deep and radiates outwards. He’s quickly on his feet, smile broadening as he moves to greet him.

“Seungmin, welcome,” he says, and he can’t quite mask the excitement in his voice. Seungmin’s presence fills the space differently from his usual customers—there’s something softer, almost hesitant, that makes Minho want to lean closer. “What can I get you?”

“Oh, hi,” Seungmin murmurs, shuffling slightly as he glances around the shop. He pauses for a moment, eyes darting to Soonie lounging nearby before meeting Minho’s gaze again. “Um, just an iced americano, please.”

Seungmin hands over his card, and Minho swiftly processes the payment, handing back the receipt with a small smile. “One iced americano coming right up!” Minho manages to keep his tone steady, but inside, he’s buzzing. He turns towards the counter, grinning as he starts preparing the drink. He smiles when he glances over his shoulder to see Seungmin is still watching him.

“Do you like blueberries?” Minho asks brightly, voice warm with a little edge of mischief.

Seungmin blinks in surprise, brows lifting. “Uh, yes… sure?”

“Perfect!” Minho nods, gesturing to the cozy booth by the window. “Go ahead and take a seat over there; I’ll bring your order to you.”

Seungmin hesitates but obliges, giving Minho a look that’s half-curious and half-amused as he makes his way to the sunny spot. Minho can’t tear his gaze away as Seungmin sits, sunlight illuminating his soft brown hair until it gleams like honey. There’s something heart-stopping about the way Seungmin’s pink knitted sweater vest makes him look like he’s wrapped up in a cloud of spun sugar. His cheeks have a natural rosy hue that only adds to the sweet, cotton-candy softness of his appearance.

In his distraction, Minho manages to spill a little coffee powder, and he mutters a small curse under his breath as he hastily cleans up. But he can’t resist sneaking another glance at Seungmin, who’s now watching Soonie with an intent but gentle gaze. Soonie cracks an eye open to size up the stranger, and Minho feels his heart squeeze when Seungmin tilts his head like a curious puppy, offering Soonie the warmest smile.

Minho smiles to himself. What wouldn’t he give to be the recipient of that smile.

Once the coffee’s ready, he carefully closes the lid and picks up the iced americano along with a fresh blueberry muffin he’d set aside. Placing the order on a tray, he heads over to Seungmin, heart pounding a little faster with each step.

He sets the drink and muffin on the table with practiced ease. “Your iced americano,” he announces with a small flourish, “and… a blueberry muffin, on the house!”

“Oh, thank you.” Seungmin’s eyes widen in surprise, glancing at the muffin with a shy expression.

There’s a faint pink color to his cheeks. Minho feels the need to see them get brighter.

“Do vampires sparkle in the sunlight?” He asks, trying to keep his expression neutral.

Seungmin’s gaze flickers up, curious and slightly thrown off by the question. “Uh… no.”

Minho grins, leaning forward. “Then you must always look this dazzling.”

He lets the compliment hang, sliding casually into the seat across from Seungmin as he says it.

A soft, almost surprised giggle slips from Seungmin’s lips, and Minho files the sound away like it’s a treasured secret, taking in the way Seungmin’s face lights up, his eyes crinkling slightly.

Minho leans in a bit, trying to keep his voice casual. “So...how do you know Chan?”

“Oh, um,” Seungmin starts, fingers tracing the edge of his cup as he fidgets slightly. “I met him through an audition. He’s a producer, so I—”

“Right, right, enough about Chan,” Minho interrupts, unable to stop himself from jumping ahead. “Tell me more about you. You’re a musician?”

Seungmin’s brows lift slightly at the question, surprise lighting up his face. He takes a small sip of his americano, swallowing before he speaks. “I’m a singer. Sometimes I work with Chan hyung to record demos.” He sounds shy, as if admitting this is somehow revealing a hidden part of himself.

Of course, He is a singer— how could he not with a voice as bright as sunlight and sweet as honey.

Minho sighs softly, trying to contain his admiration, “No wonder you’re a singer. You’ve got a pretty voice.”

The compliment brings a nervous glimmer to Seungmin’s eyes, and he ducks his head with a modest smile. “You’ve never even heard me sing.”

“Guess you’ll have to sing for me sometime,” Minho teases, his tone light but hopeful.

Seungmin fiddles with the sleeve of his fluffy pink cardigan, an embarrassed laugh slipping out. “Maybe… maybe someday.”

Emboldened, Minho leans his cheek into his palm, watching him with amusement. “So, what’s the plan? Release an album, take over the industry, and be the nation’s heartthrob in, what, a year or two?”

Seungmin chuckles, a bit shy, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ll be that good. And I still have law school to get through. I’m not really… it’s not something I do full-time.”

Minho’s hums at the answer, his gaze lingers on the way Seungmin fingers peeking out of his sleeve. “If you do decide to go for it someday, and there are millions of fans screaming your name, please wink at me in the crowd. I’ll be at the front row,” he says, the teasing lilt unmistakable. He watches with delight as a blush blooms on Seungmin’s cheeks, turning them the softest shade of peach.

Seungmin huffs, waving him off. “I hardly think there will ever be people screaming just to get my attention.”

Minho grins. “Oh, you’re so wrong about that, Seungmin. I know people who’d do anything—maybe even make fools of themselves—for a bit of your attention.”

Seungmin glances away, his fingers fiddling with his cup, clearly trying to escape the intensity of Minho’s gaze. He laughs, shaking his head, as if trying to dismiss the thought, but Minho catches the faint sparkle in his eyes.

Minho holds out his pinky. “So, do we have a deal?”

Seungmin rolls his eyes but can’t hide his amusement. “You’re ridiculous,” he sighs, trying to avoid Minho’s gaze.

But Minho only wiggles his pinky insistently, and, finally, Seungmin rolls his eyes and wraps his pinky around Minho’s, the contact sending a delightful hum through Minho’s nerves. Laughing, Minho gives their joined fingers a playful shake to seal the promise.

When he lets go, he catches the sight of Seungmin’s face, cheeks now a deeper shade of red, and Minho’s heart skips, his own smile lingering long after the moment passes.

Seungmin picks up the blueberry muffin, breaking off a small piece and taking a bite. His eyes brighten at the taste, lips parting in a soft smile of delight. The sight nearly undoes Minho right there; Seungmin, munching on a blueberry muffin, looking entirely too adorable in that pastel pink cardigan, like he just stepped out of a rom-com scene meant to mess with Minho’s heart.

As if fate is testing his resolve, Soonie decides to edge closer, sniffing curiously at the muffin in Seungmin’s hand. Seungmin, still smiling, pulls his hand away with a gentle chuckle. “Sorry, buddy. You can’t eat this.”

Soonie seems to lose interest in the muffin instantly, deciding instead that Seungmin’s hand is far more appealing. He rolls over, head-butting against Seungmin’s palm with the insistence only a spoiled cat could muster. Seungmin lets out a soft, delighted noise, his hand opening to give Soonie’s head a gentle pet. In response, Soonie meows faintly, flopping onto his back, inviting Seungmin to rub his belly.

A sweet giggle escapes Seungmin as he gently strokes Soonie’s fur, and Minho’s heart stumbles, skips, and then races, as if trying to make up for all the lost beats at once. It’s like every butterfly in the universe has chosen to flutter in his chest, the sensation both overwhelming and comforting. All he knows is he wants to hear that laugh again, preferably because of something he’s done.

“Wow, you’re really friendly, huh?” Seungmin coos, fingers running over Soonie’s soft belly with the gentleness of someone who clearly knows how to handle a cat.

Minho chuckles, shaking his head with an amused smile. “He’s actually not that friendly. Soonie’s gentle, but he rarely lets anyone get close enough to touch him like that.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the revelation. Before he can question it, Minho adds, “Guess he just likes you. Can’t say I blame him.”

Seungmin ducks his head, letting the hint of a bashful smile escape as he takes another bite of the muffin to distract himself. The rosy tint on his cheeks makes Minho’s heart do another flip, and he can’t help but chuckle quietly to himself, marveling at how utterly disarming this boy is, with his warm eyes and shy smiles.

Seungmin finishes his muffin in contented silence, one hand gently stroking Soonie, who’s curled into a cozy loaf shape, slowly drifting off in the warm patch of sunlight. There’s something so simple and serene about the scene—a boy, a cat, and a quiet moment in the sunlight—and Minho can’t stop himself from wishing it could last just a little bit longer.

As if the universe has decided Minho’s peaceful moment isn’t meant to last, the jingle of the bell rings out, snapping the silence like a mischievous laugh. Minho’s mood drops as he spots Hyunjin barging into the shop, looking flustered with a smear of green paint streaked across the collar of his shirt.

“Hyung, did I leave my wallet here?” Hyunjin huffs, striding in and immediately ducking behind the counter. “I swear I had it with me during my shift yesterday when I—” He cuts himself off with a triumphant noise, clearly finding the wallet shoved somewhere. Minho’s about to make a remark when Hyunjin pops back up, and his gaze lands on Seungmin.

“Oh, hi, Seungminnie!” Hyunjin practically sings as he strides towards them, tousling Seungmin’s hair in a far-too-casual way. "What are you doing here?"

Seungminnie? Minho feels a pang of irritation at the nickname. First, because why does Hwang Hyunjin get to use a nickname before him. And second, it’s been a whole week since Seungmin first came by, and not once had Hyunjin or Felix mentioned that they were on nickname terms with him. In fact, they’d spent most of the last week teasing Minho mercilessly for his “pathetic attempts” at flirting with the “cute customer.” And yet, somehow, Hyunjin had forgotten to mention he knew Seungmin all this time?

Oh, Hwang Hyunjin, Minho thinks, narrowing his eyes as he watches him with thinly veiled irritation. Count your days.

“I was just on my way to Channie hyung’s studio,” Seungmin mumbles, swatting at Hyunjin’s hand as a soft scowl scrunches up his face.

“Of course, my singer,” Hyunjin declares proudly, making Minho’s eyebrow twitch.

“Why am I your singer?” Seungmin scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, why is he your singer, Hwang?” Minho cuts in, his words light but tinted with annoyance.

Hyunjin just gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “What do you mean why? He is my singer. I’m literally his number one fan,” he insists, smugly ruffling Seungmin’s hair again.

Then, as expected, Hyunjin’s eyes flicker with dawning realization as he notices how Minho and Seungmin were sitting close, the way Minho’s gaze kept darting over to Seungmin. Hyunjin’s mouth curls into a mischievous grin, and Minho shoots him a withering glare in silent warning to keep his mouth shut.

Hyunjin smirks and continues, “I’ve already reserved the very first spot to listen when it’s finished. I bet some people will be jealous, never having heard you sing and all. My singer.” He punctuates his words by pinching Seungmin’s cheeks.

“Stop,” Seungmin whines, swatting at Hyunjin’s hand, completely oblivious to the intense glare Minho is giving him.

“The air fryer is still an option, Hwang,” Minho reminds him, giving a deceptively sweet smile. “180 degrees for—”

“Yeah, yeah, 20 minutes, I know,” Hyunjin cuts him off with a lazy wave, clearly unfazed by the threat. Minho narrows his eyes, making a mental note that he might just need to up the ante with that air fryer threat.

“Let’s go together,” Hyunjin says, glancing at Seungmin. “I’m on my way there to meet Jisung for our date anyway.”

Minho glares at Hyunjin, silently cursing him for cutting into his time with Seungmin. If he’d had a few more minutes, he might’ve worked up the courage to ask Seungmin for his number.

Seungmin picks up his americano and giving it a little shake toward Minho with a soft, “Thank you for the muffin.”

He leans down, giving a still-snoozing Soonie a few gentle head scratches, fingers trailing softly over the cat’s fur. Soonie stretches, barely opening an eye before settling into a deeper sleep, seemingly content under Seungmin’s touch. With a final, affectionate pat, Seungmin stands, glancing back at Minho with a shy, grateful smile before heading for the door.

“Bye, hyung,” Hyunjin calls, looping an arm around Seungmin’s shoulder with an exaggerated smirk aimed at Minho. Seungmin rolls his eyes and tries to shove him off, which only makes Hyunjin cling harder, giggling as they stumble out the door together.

As Hyunjin nudges Seungmin toward the door, Minho musters up the last of his bravery and calls out, “Hey, Seungmin.”

Seungmin stops, looking back with that soft, honey-sweet gaze that nearly undoes Minho.

“If you ever want to stop by you know…” Minho hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll save you a muffin. And Soonie’s belly rubs. They’re, uh, exclusive.”

Seungmin chuckles, his eyes crinkling in that way that makes Minho’s heart lurch. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He waves and heads out with Hyunjin, leaving Minho wondering how in the world he’s going to survive any of this.

Minho watches them through the shop’s glass window, shoulder to shoulder on the pavement. They’re laughing at something, Hyunjin still hanging off Seungmin like a vine.

A small idea strikes him, and he whispers a quick, subtle spell under his breath. A moment later, Hyunjin trips, stumbling over seemingly nothing. Hyunjin whips around, wide-eyed and indignant, instantly pinpointing the culprit. He points accusingly at Minho through the window, mouthing something Minho can’t quite make out.

Minho just waves back innocently, fluttering his fingers in a mockingly polite goodbye. Later, Hwang Hyunjin.

For now, he turns back to Soonie, giving him one last affectionate pat before heading to the counter. As he settles into his work, his thoughts keep slipping back to Seungmin’s warm smile, his crinkling eyes, the soft glow of his honey-brown hair in the sunlight.

He catches himself daydreaming, spilling a little too much sage oil into one potion, then accidentally adding twice the lavender in another. Groaning, he starts over, cheeks warm at the thought that Seungmin’s impact already has him hopelessly, and deliciously, flustered.

☆

The familiar scent of herbs, freshly baked pastries, coffee, and magic fills the shop, wrapping around Minho like a comforting embrace. It’s one of the few things that puts him at ease, especially on days like this when exhaustion gnaws at his bones. The morning sun spills through the windows, casting a warm glow over the array of glass jars, bundles of dried plants, and potion bottles neatly lined up on the shelves. The shop is a chaotic symphony of scents and colors, and despite his fatigue, Minho feels a small sense of relief—this is his sanctuary.

He’s been swamped all week, preparing special orders for the upcoming new moon. Werewolf packs across the city—including Chan’s—rely on his potions to ease the pain and intensity of their transformations. While they don't need them to change, the potions make the process smoother, less painful, especially for first-timers. This time, Minho takes extra care with Chan’s order, knowing that it’s Jeongin’s first transformation. The thought of the youngest werewolf going through that experience tugs at Minho’s heartstrings. He doesn’t want anything to go wrong, so he triple-checks each ingredient and stirs the brew with the utmost care.

But the transformation potions are just one part of the chaos. Last week, a new shipment of rare magical herbs arrived from overseas, and Minho’s been busy cataloging, drying, and preserving them for future use. Some of the herbs are particularly volatile, requiring careful handling and delicate spells to maintain their potency. It's meticulous work that demands precision and patience, and Minho has spent long hours in his workshop, hunched over his cauldrons and spellbooks.

Minho can feel his magic depleting with every potion he makes. But he pushes through it, refusing to let his customers down. He’s always taken pride in being reliable, and with so many people depending on him, he doesn’t want to disappoint anyone.

So, he works harder, his hands moving with practiced precision, even as he feels the well of his magic depleting bit by bit. It’s like dipping a bucket into a once-brimming spring, only to find the water level slowly lowering with each pull.

A headache pulses behind his eyes, a sign that he’s overusing his magic again. It’s fine, though—he knows all he needs is a good meal, some rest, and his powers will replenish. But he can’t rest just yet. Orders keep pouring in, and he needs to stay on top of them.

With a sigh, Minho pushes away from the table, the stool scraping against the worn wooden floor. He needs a specific ingredient, a vial of powdered moonstone, which he left outside on one of the shop's shelves. Maybe a few moments in the sunlight filtering through the front windows will help clear the fog in his head. He pushes open the door to his workshop, stepping into the main area of his shop. The scent of fresh pastries, ground coffee, and warm magic greets him, instantly soothing some of the tension in his shoulders.

But as he reaches for the vial on the shelf, his vision blurs, and the room tilts for a split second. Minho grabs at the edge of the counter, the cool surface grounding him. He shakes his head, trying to clear the sudden dizziness, but it doesn’t quite go away.

“Hyung, are you okay?” Hyunjin’s voice rings out from somewhere behind him, sharp with concern.

Before Minho can respond, Hyunjin is at his side, a steadying hand on his elbow. The younger witch’s brows are furrowed, his usually playful eyes now filled with worry. “You’re shaking,” Hyunjin murmurs, his grip tightening ever so slightly as if Minho might collapse any second.

“I'm fine,” Minho insists, forcing a smile. “Just a little... lightheaded.”

“You look like you’re about to keel over,” Hyunjin mutters under his breath, not looking convinced in the slightest.

Felix is already at their side, quick as a flash, his light footfalls barely making a sound on the floor. The elf’s face is usually all sunshine and laughter, but now there’s a pinched look to his lips. “You’re not fine, hyung,” Felix says softly, his eyes flicking between Minho and Hyunjin. “Come on, let’s get you off your feet for a bit.”

Minho wants to protest, to tell them he’s perfectly capable of handling a few more hours, but the words die in his throat when he stumbles again. This time, it’s Hyunjin who catches him, an arm sliding around Minho’s waist to guide him toward the small table tucked into the corner of the shop, usually reserved for late-night paperwork or a quick meal.

“Sit,” Hyunjin orders, not unkindly, easing Minho down into a chair.

“I’ll get you something to eat,” Felix says quickly, practically dashing off towards the kitchen.

Minho lets out a weak chuckle, trying to mask the fatigue tugging at his limbs. “You two fuss over me too much,” he grumbles, though the words lack their usual sharpness. There’s a softness in his tone, an undercurrent of gratitude that he doesn’t quite know how to voice.

Hyunjin only huffs, crossing his arms as he leans against the edge of the table, his eyes never leaving Minho’s face. “Maybe if you took better care of yourself, we wouldn’t have to.”

Before Minho can retort, Doongie hops onto the table and meows at him, his tone chastising.

Minho can’t help but smile, warmth spreading through his chest. “Alright, alright, I hear you,” he mutters, reaching out to scratch behind Doongie’s ears. His familiar meows again, hopping into Minho’s lap and purring, the vibrations offering a soothing wave of healing energy.

Felix returns moments later, sliding a steaming mug of herbal tea in front of Minho, along with a freshly baked scone. “Here,” he says, a touch breathless. “This should help.”

“It’s a blend to help replenish your energy,” Felix explains, his tone softening as he watches Minho carefully. “And the scone... well, that’s just because I know you have a sweet tooth.”

He takes a slow sip of the tea, the warmth spreading through him like a soothing balm. “So much drama, I’ll be fine,” Minho says but even with his familiar’s support, Minho’s hands tremble slightly as he lifts the cup. Doongie meows at him in warning.

“See? Even Doongie’s on our side,” Hyunjin huffs, crossing his arms. “Go upstairs and rest, hyung. You’ve done more than enough for today.”

But Minho only shakes his head. "I'm fine,” he insists, though his voice wavers slightly. “I’ll rest for a bit, but there are still orders to get to.”

Hyunjin sighs, clearly unconvinced, while Felix’s shoulders slump in resignation. “Just... promise you’ll take it easy, okay?” Felix says gently, his tone pleading rather than reprimanding.

Minho manages a nod, though the exhaustion is starting to weigh heavy on his eyelids. “Fine, fine,” he mutters, taking another sip of the tea, trying to convince himself that a short break will be enough to get him through the rest of the day.

“Thanks, you two,” Minho says softly, a flicker of a smile crossing his lips. “I appreciate it.”

Hyunjin’s expression softens at that. Without a word, he drapes a warm, hand-knitted blanket over Minho’s shoulders, fussing over him like a worried mother hen. Minho tries not to roll his eyes, but he secretly finds the gesture comforting.

“Alright, just five minutes,” he grumbles, resting his head on his folded arms atop the table. He can feel Doongie’s soft fur brushing against his cheek as the cat settles into his lap, purring loudly. The steady vibrations send a soothing hum through his body, and before he knows it, his eyes drift shut.

For a moment, there’s only the warmth of the tea, the comforting presence of his familiar, and the soft murmur of Felix and Hyunjin tidying up around him. The sounds of the shop—a quiet refuge of herbs, potions, and magic—fade into a gentle lullaby, coaxing him into a brief, much-needed nap.

Just a few minutes, he tells himself. Just enough to recharge. And for now, surrounded by the scent of herbs and the quiet care of his friends, he lets himself believe it’ll be enough.

By late afternoon, his headache has receded. Minho finds himself back at the small table in the corner, the one that Hyunjin had practically dragged him to earlier. The herbal tea and Felix’s scone did wonders, though the fatigue still clings stubbornly to his bones. He takes a slow breath, letting the familiar scents of herbs, baked goods, and potions ground him.

As he sets down an empty vial, preparing to head back into the workroom, the soft chime of the doorbell catches his attention.

Minho’s heart does a funny little flip when he senses that bright, honeyed presence that’s been occupying his thoughts lately. He turns around, and sure enough, there’s Seungmin, stepping into the shop with a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he greets Hyunjin.

Minho feels lighter already, like his magic breathes a sigh of relief in Seungmin’s presence. It’s as if the air becomes sweeter, the colors around him more vivid.

“Seungminnie!” Hyunjin calls out with a grin, already bounding over to greet him. “You’re becoming a regular here.”

Before Seungmin can even respond, Felix pops out from the back, practically beaming as he sneaks up behind Seungmin and wraps him in a warm back hug. “Look who’s here! You’re here to see me, right?” Felix teases, earning a light shove from Seungmin, though his laughter fills the room, rich and easy.

Minho watches the scene unfold, a small, unbidden smile tugging at his lips. The shop feels lighter, warmer, whenever Seungmin is around. And there’s something almost magnetic about the way he laughs, how effortlessly he fits in with everyone. Minho’s chest tightens with something he can’t quite name—envy, longing, or maybe just the desire to have Seungmin’s attention on him for a moment longer.

Just as Minho is about to call out to him, the doorbell jingles again, announcing another presence. Seo Changbin stomps in with all the subtlety of a storm.

“You little brat!” Changbin bellows with a grin, striding over and throwing an arm around Seungmin’s neck, pulling him into a headlock.

“Hyung, stop. My hair—” Seungmin protests, though he’s laughing, trying to squirm out of Changbin’s grip.

“Then stop teasing me, mongie,” Changbin shoots back, ruffling Seungmin’s already tousled hair for good measure.

Minho's left eye twitches. Since when did Seo Changbin get to be on such endearing nicknames basis with Seungmin? And why does it feel like everyone in the shop has some special connection with him except Minho? It’s almost infuriating, the way Seungmin so effortlessly fits into everyone’s lives. Meanwhile, Minho’s still fumbling around with awkward flirting attempts and overthinking every interaction.

But all that jealousy melts away, just a little, when Seungmin’s gaze finally lands on him. His eyes crinkle into that sweet, familiar smile that makes Minho’s heart race. Without realizing it, Minho’s already making his way over to them, his footsteps light and hurried.

“Oh, hi, hyung,” Seungmin greets him warmly, looking downright adorable in his oversized hoodie, the sleeves nearly covering his hands. Minho’s chest tightens—seriously, how can anyone be this cute?

Before Minho can get a word out, Changbin butts in, tugging on Seungmin’s ear playfully. “Yah, what did I tell you about running off like that?” Changbin scolds, though there’s a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Ah! Hyung, let go!” Seungmin yelps, laughing as he tries to wriggle free. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I’ll wait next time!”

Changbin grins, giving Seungmin’s hair another ruffle, this time gentler, like he can’t help but dote on him. The easy, affectionate exchange makes something tighten in Minho’s chest.

Minho clears his throat, stepping forward with a forced smile. “Changbin-ah, so nice of you to visit again,” he says, his tone a touch too sharp.

Changbin raises an eyebrow, looking at Minho like he’s grown a second head. “Why are you grumpy already? I just got here!”

Hyunjin just shakes his head, amused. “Ignore him. Hyung’s been in a mood all day,” he explains, a teasing lilt in his tone.

"Ignore him,” Hyunjin says with a casual wave of his hand. “He’s not feeling well today.”

Minho is about to shoot Hyunjin a glare when he hears Seungmin make a concerned little hum.

“Are you sick?” Seungmin asks, stepping closer to peer at Minho’s face, concern written all over his soft features. “You look tired.”

Minho swallows, suddenly feeling like all the air has been sucked out of the room. “I’m alright,” he tries to say, waving it off, but Hyunjin’s quick to jump in.

“He’s not alright,” Hyunjin tattles, a little too gleefully. “He’s had a headache and been dizzy since morning.”

“Oh no,” Seungmin’s brows knit together in concern, his voice soft but firm. “You should rest, hyung.”

Before Minho can think of refuting or a way to downplay how miserable he’s feeling, Felix pipes up, a sly grin stretching across his face. It’s a look Minho knows all too well—one that usually means trouble for him.

“He really should,” Felix agrees, his tone turning exaggeratedly mournful. “But you see, Hyunjin and I can’t possibly leave the shop unattended.” He places a hand over his chest, looking as if he’s on the verge of tears. “Oh, what ever will we do?”

Felix gasps, like he just got an incredible idea, always on for the dramatics. “Would you mind, Seungmin, taking him upstairs to rest?”

Minho narrows his eyes at Felix, already opening his mouth to scold him for being so blatantly manipulative. But before he can get a single word out, the room tilts slightly, and a wave of dizziness crashes over him. He has to grab the edge of the counter for support, his knuckles turning white against the dark wood.

“Hyung!” Seungmin’s voice is instantly filled with worry. Hyunjin and Changbin both take a step forward, but Minho waves them off, forcing a shaky smile.

“I’m fine, seriously—” He tries to protest but he cuts himself off when he feels a warm, gentle hand wrap around his arm. The touch sends a jolt of electricity up his spine, and he looks up to see Seungmin frowning at him, eyes full of genuine concern.

“You can barely stand,” Seungmin says, his voice stern yet soft. “Come on, I’ll take you upstairs.”

Minho shakes his head weakly. “There’s no need, really, I’ll be—”

Seungmin tightens his grip on Minho’s elbow, the touch grounding him in a way that’s both dizzying and comforting. “Don’t say you’ll be fine,” Seungmin scolds, his eyes narrowing. “You need to rest.”

There’s something about the determined pout on Seungmin’s face that makes Minho’s heart flutter in his chest. A mix of fondness and something dangerously close to infatuation bubbles up, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“Yes, yes, go! Make sure he sleeps in the bed, Seungmin.” Felix starts shooing them toward the back door. “No sneaking back down here, alright?” He winks at Minho, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Minho barely resists the urge to roll his eyes, filing away a mental note to find a way to punish Felix for this later. He’ll think of something devious, something involving the messiest potion ingredients he can find.

“I can go too!” Changbin suddenly offers.

Felix smacks Changbin’s arm, shaking his head. “No, no, you’ll just get in the way.” He gives Seungmin a gentle look, nodding encouragingly. “You take care of him, Seungmin. We’ve got things handled down here.”

Seungmin nods, turning back to Minho with a small smile that’s somehow both soothing and bright. “Come on, hyung,” he says softly, his grip on Minho’s elbow light but insistent. “I’ll make sure he sleeps,” he tells Felix and Hyunjin.

Minho wants to protest, wants to insist that he’s perfectly capable of handling himself, but the warmth of Seungmin’s hand on his arm is making it hard to think straight. The world still tilts around him, his headache pulsing at his temples, and he knows he’s not strong enough to deny Seungmin anything, especially not when he’s looking up at him with those concerned eyes.

“Fine,” Minho mumbles, trying to sound begrudging even though his heart is leaping at the thought of being alone with Seungmin.

Seungmin’s lips quirk into a soft smile, and without another word, he guides Minho through the shop and toward the back door. They step outside into the crisp afternoon air, the sun casting long shadows on the cobbled alleyway. Minho breathes in deeply, trying to steady himself, the cool air helping to clear his foggy mind, if only a little.

Seungmin’s hand never leaves his arm, even as they turn to the right, heading toward the narrow staircase that leads up to the apartment above the shop. The stairs are tucked away behind the building, a little hidden from the main street, and Minho feels a strange sense of intimacy as Seungmin leads him toward it.

“Careful,” Seungmin murmurs, his voice low and soft. “Just a few more steps.”

Minho glances over, catching the focused look on Seungmin’s face. It’s almost enough to distract him from how his legs feel like jelly beneath him, how his heart is racing for reasons that have nothing to do with his dizziness.

Seungmin’s grip on his arm is steady and sure as they make their way up the staircase. The whole time, Minho tries—god, he really tries—to think of something to say. A simple thanks, maybe, or even just a joke to break the tension coiling in his stomach. But every time he tries to open his mouth, the words slip away, sticking in his throat like they’ve been sealed by some cursed spell.

Why does he always get so nervous around Seungmin? It’s like his tongue turns to lead the second he catches those warm, brown eyes.

They almost reach the landing Minho’s foot catches on a step, his vision blurring for a moment. He sways, but Seungmin’s hand tightens around his elbow, keeping him upright.

“Careful,” Seungmin says lightly, his voice as soft as the afternoon breeze that filters in from the open alleyway below.

Minho mutters something unintelligible, cheeks flushing as he tries to steady himself. He knows Seungmin’s eyes are on him, concern etched into every line of his expression, and that only makes it harder to get his brain to function properly.

He's so caught up in his own nerves that he barely notices they’ve reached the door to his apartment until they’re standing in front of it.

With a shaky breath, Minho lifts his hand, unlocking the door with a quick wave of his magic. But the effort sends another spike of pain shooting through his skull, and he winces, squeezing his eyes shut against the dizziness.

Seungmin catches the motion, and he makes a small, sympathetic noise. “No more magic for you,” he says quietly, his tone leaving no place for argument. He pushes the door open with a gentle nudge, guiding Minho inside.

Minho’s heart stutters in his chest. The fact that Seungmin immediately understood why he’s struggling—that he noticed Minho’s pain without him having to say anything—sends a strange mix of warmth and embarrassment coursing through him.

The door closes behind them with a soft click, and Minho breathes out a sigh of relief. The familiar warmth of the apartment wraps around him like a comforting embrace. His grandparents had passed the shop and this cozy living space down to him, and he’s poured so much of himself into it over the years. The apartment isn’t large—just a one-bedroom with a spacious living room that opens into a small kitchen, a single bathroom, and a balcony that looks out over the city. But it’s his.

The apartment is spelled to be attuned to his needs. The temperature is always just right, a subtle warmth that soothes his aching muscles, and the air hums faintly with the magic that flows through the ley line beneath the building. It’s a perfect place for a witch like him, a steady source of power that helps to keep his magic stable.

His apartment is a picture of homely chaos. A plush, overstuffed couch sits in the center of the living room, piled high with colorful cushions. Several cat trees are stationed near the windows, their platforms scratched up. The curtains on the balcony door sway gently with the breeze, bringing with it the scent of the herbs Minho grows in the garden outside. A wind chime, a gift from Felix, tinkles softly, its sweet melody filling the space with a sense of calm.

“You have a beautiful home,” Seungmin says, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid to disturb the peace of the space.

“Thank you,” Minho manages to reply, but when he turns to look at Seungmin, he nearly panics. He forgot Seungmin was standing so close, still steadying him with a firm hand on his elbow.

“I—I can walk by myself,” Minho chuckles weakly, trying to reclaim some semblance of dignity. He gestures vaguely toward the bedroom.

But Seungmin just shakes his head, lips quirking into that soft, infuriatingly charming smile. “I’m not taking any chances,” he replies, starting to walk them forward again. “What if you fall on your pretty face? That would be devastating.”

Minho’s foot catches on thin air, and for a moment, he nearly goes sprawling before Seungmin catches him. His legs tremble, not from dizziness this time, but because—oh my god, did Seungmin really just call his face pretty?

“Oh, shi— I’m sorry,” Seungmin says, though Minho can hear the laughter lurking behind his words, the smile in his voice.

Minho forces himself to look anywhere but at Seungmin’s face, his ears burning. “You shouldn’t try to hurt a sick man, brat,” he grumbles, his voice coming out petulant even to his own ears.

Seungmin just hums, entirely unbothered, and guides him gently through the apartment. They reach the bedroom door, and Seungmin pushes it open with a light touch. Minho catches a glimpse of Seungmin’s hand, the long fingers adorned with a simple silver ring, and his mind trips over itself at the sight.

Really, really pretty hands, Minho thinks, his face heating up even more.

“Lie down,” Seungmin instructs, his voice softening. He helps Minho sit on the bed, squeezing his arm gently before letting go. “I’ll bring you some water. Just rest, okay?”

Minho nods mutely, his throat too tight to respond. He sighs softly as he settles back, watching Seungmin disappear through the hallway. The apartment feels different with Seungmin in it, a little brighter, a little warmer, and Minho’s not sure if it’s because of the magic or the company.

Minho sits on the bed, pushing the blankets back as he leans his back against the headboard, his body sagging with relief. The dull throb of his headache eases a fraction as he closes his eyes, willing himself to forget the absolute disaster he made of himself earlier.

Nope, not thinking about how I almost face-planted because Seungmin called me pretty. Absolutely not.

He presses a hand to his chest, trying to calm the erratic beating of his heart. You’re just tired, he tells himself. That’s all it is.

The sound of soft, padded footsteps pulls him from his spiraling thoughts. When he opens his eyes, Seungmin is there, stepping in with a glass of water in one hand. Right on his heels is Dori, who promptly trots over to the bed with an air of exasperated authority.

Minho doesn’t even have time to look at Seungmin properly before Dori starts up a series of scolding meows, the sound high-pitched and rapid-fire, like a tiny, angry furball.

Minho chuckles despite himself, reaching out to pet the little ball of sass as Dori hops onto the bed, immediately nuzzling into his thigh. The familiar rush of Dori’s calming energy seeps into him, soothing the raw edges of his overused magic.

“Here, drink some,” Seungmin says, his voice low and gentle as he hands over the glass.

Minho nods, taking a few deep sips. The cold water slides down his throat, cool and refreshing, but he still can’t help the wince as the bright sunlight filters through the open window.

Dori glares up at him, meowing again as if to say, ‘Really, hyung? How many times have we told you to stop pushing yourself so hard?’

Seungmin laughs at the exchange, a sound so warm it practically wraps around Minho’s aching temples.

“I’ve never seen a cat scold someone,” he teases, moving to draw the curtains closed. The room darkens, the harsh light giving way to a softer, muted glow that’s much easier on Minho’s eyes.

“They love ganging up on me every chance they get,” Minho grumbles, though his fingers never stop stroking down Dori’s spine, a silent apology for making the little guy worry. He scratches behind Dori’s ear—his favorite spot—and Dori’s stern meows turn into a satisfied purr, nuzzling deeper into Minho’s palm as if to say, ‘It’s okay, but take better care of yourself, hyung.’

Minho finishes the water and sets the empty glass on the nightstand. Seungmin is immediately back at his side, those gentle eyes scanning him like he’s searching for any sign of discomfort.

“You should lie down,” Seungmin says softly, the words more of a coax than a command.

“I’m fine—” Minho starts, but his protest is cut off by a pointed, indignant meow from Dori, who’s glaring up at him like he’s a particularly disobedient child.

Seungmin’s giggle fills the room, light and soothing as a healing balm. “He agrees with me,” he says, eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that makes Minho’s chest feel all fluttery. “Please, just lie down, hyung.”

Minho lets out a theatrical sigh, pretending to glare at Dori. “Traitor,” he mutters, but he still follows Seungmin’s gentle nudging, sinking down into the bed. The pillow cradles his head perfectly, his eyelids already starting to droop. But even as his body screams for rest, he stubbornly keeps his eyes open, trying to soak in every second of Seungmin’s presence.

Seungmin tucks the blankets snugly up to Minho's chin, making sure they cover him fully and keep him warm. “Do you need anything else?” he asks softly, a smile so charming it makes Minho’s heart skip a beat.

Minho shakes his head, the dizziness still clouding his mind, but he can’t help the smile that stretches across his lips. Before he fully realizes what he's doing, he slips a hand out from under the covers and lightly tugs on Seungmin’s fingers.

A shiver runs through Minho’s hand as their skin touches, and he feels a rush of relief when Seungmin doesn't pull away. Instead, he gently entwines their fingers, his grip warm and comforting.

“I’m good, thank you,” Minho murmurs, something soft and warm settling inside him at the touch. “Can you stay until I fall asleep?”

Even through his muddled brain Minho can see how Seungmin blushes at the request, the prettiest shade of pink coloring his cheeks. Minho honestly thinks he should be given an award for making a vampire flush this deeply.

“Of course,” Seungmin says, perching himself carefully on the edge of the bed, fingers never letting go of Minho’s.

“Does holding my hand help?” Seungmin asks, his smile sweet and genuine.

“Absolutely,” Minho grins, eyes twinkling despite the fatigue. “It’s magic, and I should know—I’m a witch. Holding hands with a cute boy is the best remedy for headaches and dizziness.”

Seungmin’s laughs at that, bright and sweet, like a melody that soothes Minho’s aches better than any spell ever could.

“You’re really pretty,” Minho says before he can stop himself. The words tumble out in a rush, and he’s too tired to care about the embarrassment that will no doubt haunt him later. “Like, really, really pretty. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Seungmin scoffs, cheeks turning an even deeper pink as he rolls his eyes. “Wow, do you have a fever too?” He places his free hand against Minho’s forehead to tease, but his blush gives him away. “Go to sleep.”

Minho wants to argue, to find some excuse to keep talking just so he can keep basking in Seungmin’s presence. But then Seungmin’s fingers glide gently through his hair, brushing his bangs back with a touch so soft it sends a shiver down Minho’s spine. He all but melts into the bed, his muscles relaxing under the tender caress.

Seungmin hums a soft tune, and Minho’s eyes flutter, the exhaustion creeping in like a gentle tide.

“Seungmin,” Minho mumbles, smiling lazily when Seungmin makes a soft sound of acknowledgment. “It’s not fair that you’re a vampire.”

One of Seungmin’s eyebrows quirks up in confusion, and Minho can’t help but chuckle at the adorable expression.

“Because you’re already drop-dead gorgeous,” Minho finishes with a grin.

Seungmin’s mouth falls open in a small ‘oh’. His fingers pause in Minho’s hair for a beat before he bursts into giggles, the sound so beautiful it wraps around Minho like a warm embrace.

“You know, because you’re technically undead and all,” Minho adds, laughing when Seungmin rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Your pickup lines are... definitely something,” Seungmin says, shaking his head.

“But they’re working, right?” Minho asks, his tone laced with hope.

“Maybe,” Seungmin hums, a teasing smile curling at his lips. “You’ll have to find out.”

Minho brushes his fingertips against Seungmin’s flushed cheeks, grinning at the warmth he feels. “Is that a challenge? Guess I’ll just have to keep going,” he says with a smirk.

Seungmin chuckles but squeezes Minho’s fingers gently. Minho squeezes back, sighing in contentment as Seungmin resumes brushing his hair, each touch delicate and soothing.

A firm, demanding meow interrupts their moment, and they both turn to see Doongie standing in the doorway, tail flicking impatiently. He pads over to the bed with the air of someone who’s had enough nonsense for one day, hopping up to curl against Minho’s other side. Doongie starts purring, the vibrations echoing through Minho’s body like waves of comfort.

Doongie lays a paw against Minho’s thigh, meowing at him in warning. ‘Enough flirting, go to sleep, now.’

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Minho laughs, reaching out to rub Doongie’s soft fur. The cat meows once more, apparently satisfied, and nestles closer, purring even louder.

Seungmin keeps combing his fingers through Minho’s hair, their other hands still tangled together—a warm, grounding point of contact.

“Sleep, hyung,” Seungmin murmurs, his voice like a lullaby.

Minho hums in acknowledgment, his eyes slipping shut on their own. The warmth of the blankets, the gentle purring of the cats, and the comforting touch of Seungmin’s hands lull him into a peaceful slumber.

Just before he drifts off, he feels Seungmin squeeze his fingers. There’s a soft brush of knuckles against his cheek, and he smiles, finally giving in to the pull of sleep.

☆

There are a few things in this world Lee Minho actively hates—the kind of rage-inducing, bone-grating, I-want-to-blast-something-into-smithereens-with-a-spell kind of hate. Namely: heights, sudden loud noises, the soapy taste of coriander that clings to his tongue, and disgusting couples who kiss and act all lovey-dovey in front of him while he’s in the midst of a cataclysmic crisis over a certain pretty boy.

Minho watches in rapt annoyance as Bang Chan has the audacity to saunter into his shop, distract Felix away from work by making gooey eyes at him. Then Chan actually has the nerve to tug his boyfriend into a kiss when Felix sets his order down. Minho decides enough is enough.

He grabs a handful of coffee beans, crams them into a tissue, balls it up, takes careful aim, and hurls his coffee-bean-tissue-bomb directly at Chan’s stupidly grinning, lovesick face.

Felix pulls back, giggling at Chan’s surprised expression, sneaking a quick peck on Chan’s cheek before disappearing back into the kitchen.

“Minho-yah,” Chan says calmly, rubbing his face. “You shouldn’t treat your customers like this.”

“I told you never to come back here.” Minho snaps, crossing his arms in defiance.

Chan, damn his ridiculous politeness, bends down to pick up the stray coffee beans that have scattered around his feet and places them neatly on the table. “But how can I go without seeing your angry face?”

“I’m going to put a hex around the shop to keep you out.” Minho says, instead. “You’ve shown your true colours. I hate you”

“Sure, you do.” Chan laughs softly, his eyes crinkling in that irritatingly warm way, as if he isn’t getting the full brunt of Minho’s well-deserved ire.

What really annoys Minho, though, is that Chan can’t even commit to the bit; instead, his expression melts into a stupidly fond grin as he says, “All this because I won’t give you his number?” Minho sees a corner of Chan’s mouth twitch into a smirk, and he stubbornly ignores it.

“You’re lucky Felix likes you. If it were up to me, I’d have thrown the whole grinder.”

Chan chuckles, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “You’re so cute when you’re mad!”

“There’s something really wrong with you Bang Chan.” Minho tuts, turning his head away dramatically.

Chan only sighs as if Minho’s being the unreasonable one here. “I do have a reason,” he insists, strolling over to the counter with his special tea and strawberry shortcake in hand. With all the solemnity of a peace offering, he plucks a ripe strawberry from the top and holds it out to Minho.

“Oh, I know the reason,” Minho snatches it, but not without biting Chan’s fingers for good measure. That’ll show him. “The real reason is that you’ve secretly hated me all this time, and now you’re making sure I suffer every second by taunting me, dangling the number of the cutest guy in existence in front of me like they did to Tantalus when he—”

Chan shuts him up with another strawberry, pressing it to Minho’s mouth mid-rant. Minho eats it, chewing with more fury than necessary.

"Why don’t you just ask him for it yourself?" Chan says, smirking.

"I can’t!" Minho huffs, glancing away. "I don’t even know if he’ll come back here. I think I creeped him out last time."

Somewhere to his left, Hyunjin snorts, and a single glare from Minho shuts him up instantly.

"I think you can," Chan replies, a deceptively sweet smile on his face that only makes Minho more suspicious. "In fact, I think you might even get a chance, say, right now."

“What do you—" Minho begins, a prickle of suspicion rising. “What are you up to?”

Chan’s smile widens, and there’s a strange gleam in his eye as he takes a leisurely bite of his cake. “I don’t know,” he says nonchalantly, “I guess you’ll find out.”

"Bang Chan, you will tell me what you mean, or so help me, I will—"

Minho grabs Chan by the collar, yanking him closer, fully prepared to follow through on his threats. The bell above the shop door chimes, cutting Minho off mid-threat. He freezes. The air shifts.

It’s not just the sound of his voice that does it, but the subtle ripple of magic that follows—warm, golden, almost tangible in its sweetness. Minho doesn’t need to look up to know who’s just walked in. The distinct aura wraps around him, subtly honeyed and alive in a way that feels inexplicably out of place for a vampire.

Minho’s grip loosens, his hand falling away from Chan’s collar as he shifts into a smile, his tone suddenly pleasant.

“Seungmin!” Minho says, smiling warmly.

“And Jeongin!” Jeongin interjects, with a coy smile, popping out from behind Seungmin.

Seungmin is wearing a fuzzy blue cardigan that looks impossibly soft, and perched on his head is the cutest white beret Minho has ever seen, like a cloud settled right above his dark hair.

But it’s Seungmin’s face that undoes him entirely. There’s glitter smeared artfully across his eyelids, catching the light every time he blinks, shimmering in a way that’s utterly mesmerizing.

Minho doesn’t even realize he’s staring until a hand waves in front of his face.

“Hyung, are you with us?” Jeongin asks with a barely restrained smirk tugging at his lips.

From somewhere behind him, Minho can hear Hyunjin snorting—again. He makes a mental note to deal with him later. For now, all he can focus on is the glow of Seungmin’s cheeks, the way they’re tinged with a faint pink that only grows deeper under Minho’s gaze.

“Pretty,” Minho blurts out before he can stop himself.

The word hangs in the air for a second, and then Seungmin’s eyes widen slightly, his blush spreading further.

“You’re really,” Minho continues, “so pretty.”

The shop feels impossibly quiet for a moment—quiet enough for Minho to register how Chan’s quietly muffled laugh breaks it, quickly followed by Jeongin’s delighted gasp.

Seungmin chuckles and the small, bashful sound is far too endearing. His hand tugs at the hem of his cardigan like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. “Thank you,” he mutters, eyelids shimmering when he blinks.

Minho doesn’t think it’s possible for his heart to beat any faster—until Seungmin lifts his gaze to smile at him. That shy, lopsided curve of his lips does something unspeakable to Minho’s insides.

“I didn’t know it was this bad,” Jeongin announces with dismay, his hands clasping dramatically over his heart.

“I told you so,” Felix chimes in from the kitchen, his tone both sing-song and smug.

He barely registers Jeongin’s snicker before Seungmin tilts his head, still fiddling nervously with the hem of his cardigan. “Are you okay now?”

Minho blinks. “Huh?”

Seungmin’s brow furrows slightly, his fingers still twisting the fabric. “How are you feeling?” he asks, fingers still fidgeting with his sleeves. Minho remembers those hands, remembers how they’d felt in his own last week. He feels the stupid urge to reach out again.

“Why? Was he sick?” Chan’s voice cuts in, loud and unhelpfully nosy as always.

Minho groans, rolling his eyes even before the inevitable lecture begins.

“It’s fine,” he says quickly, waving Chan off and trying not to laugh at the frown already forming on his forehead. Predictably, Felix is at Chan’s side in an instant, smoothing the wrinkle with his thumb.

“It was a full moon,” Minho explains, brushing off his concern. “Had a lot of orders. I was just a little tired.”

Chan’s frown doesn’t budge, and Minho knows another lecture is imminent. He quickly turns to the nearest distraction.

“How was your first transformation?” Minho tugs at Jeongin’s cheeks. “Our baby wolf is all grown up now?”

“It was fine,” Jeongin bats his hands away, rubbing his reddening cheeks. "Thank you for the potion,” he adds after a moment, “It eased the pain a lot.”

Right on cue, Hyunjin launches himself with superhuman speed to tug, squeeze, and squish Jeongin’s face in his hands. Minho hears Hyunjin wax something about the baby growing up so quick, followed by Jeongin threatening to claw his hands off. The threat does nothing to quell Hyunjin’s enthusiasm, and Minho naturally tunes them out.

“Coffee for everyone, on me,” Chan announces, cool and casual. Minho thinks he sees Felix swoon, but he rolls his eyes. What else are all those music royalties for?

“An Americano for me, please.” Seungmin says.

“Not today,” Minho declares, pointing a finger at him, his smirk widening. “I’ve got something special for you.”

Seungmin’s brows knit together, his head tilting curiously. The fluffy beret on his head tilts slightly, making him look impossibly endearing.

“You’ll see,” is all he offers.

Minho grabs a cup from the counter, the smirk on his lips widening as he notices Seungmin’s curious expression following his every move. Without a word, he disappears into the back, heading straight for the refrigerator where he’d carefully stored the blood bag earlier, his secret weapon.

When Minho reemerges, he busies himself at the counter, expertly mixing the concoction. The drink is dark and velvety, tinted with a rich crimson hue that gleams under the soft café lights. Finally, he turns back toward Seungmin, placing the drink on the counter with a flourish.

“Are you thirsty?” Minho asks, his smirk widening into a full-blown grin.

Seungmin’s eyes widen, his lips parting in shock before curling into a sheepish smile. “Oh god, seriously? Now? In front of everyone?” he giggles, his voice light and melodic.

“Because,” Minho continues, his tone dropping into something smoother, more suggestive, “I could be your ideal blood type.”

He debates for half a second before adding a wink, just for effect.

Seungmin laughs, loud and unrestrained, the kind of laugh that crinkles his eyes and turns his cheeks the softest shade of pink. Minho’s chest tightens at the sight, pride swelling at the blush painting Seungmin’s pale skin. Their hands brush as Minho slides the cup toward him, and for a moment, sparks seem to skitter over his skin.

“Oh my god,” Jeongin screeches, nearly dropping the cookie he’s been nibbling. “Is it really this bad?”

“Am I hallucinating?” Hyunjin murmurs, eyes unblinking.

Seungmin takes a sip, his fingers delicate around the cup. “Thank you,” he murmurs, looking directly at Minho. “This is very kind.”

Minho barely gets the chance to respond before Felix darts forward, shoving him aside to inspect Seungmin. Felix squints suspiciously, leaning in closer.

“Wait a minute,” Felix says, his voice dripping with disbelief. “Are you… actually... blushing!?”

Seungmin shrugs, unbothered, his gaze returning to Minho with a warm, quiet smile that sends Minho’s heart thundering against his ribs.

“Do you even know how hard it is to make him blush?” Felix accuses him, “Not because he’s a vampire but because he’s....” he gestures to the general area of where Seungmin is sitting, “Seungmin!”

“He blushes easily for me,” Minho huffs, puffing his chest out like a proud bird. He must look stupid; he doesn’t really care.

Seungmin rolls his eyes, but Minho has the sheer delight of watching his cheeks turn even pinker. Felix gapes, his mouth hanging open like a fish.

“And this is really doing it for you?” Hyunjin asks incredulously, gesturing toward Minho. He’s smart enough to snatch his hands back before Minho breaks them.

“I think you guys are cute,” Chan says sincerely, and somehow that makes it all worse.

Minho grumbles under his breath, retreating to the kitchen to escape the relentless teasing. He tries to steal a few glances at Seungmin, but every time he peeks his head out, Seungmin is already watching him.

“Stop trying to act like you’re not staring and come out” Jeongin grumbles after he catches Minho for the fifth time.

Abandoning all pretense, Minho grabs a chair and drags it across the floor with an obnoxious screech before planting himself directly across the counter from Seungmin.

The conversation shifts into the usual chaotic flow of their group. Hyunjin is recounting his and Jisung’s latest misadventure—something about being kicked out of an arcade on their last date. Minho doesn’t follow most of it, too busy cataloging the way the corners of Seungmin’s lips twitch before he laughs.

He catches snippets of Chan’s conversation; about that big company event he’s throwing tomorrow—a charity gala or something equally boring that Chan has been trying to convince Minho to attend.

“You’re coming, right?” Chan’s voice cuts through Minho’s Seungmin-induced haze.

Minho doesn’t bother looking up from where he’s been fiddling with a napkin. “Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘p.’

Chan sighs, clearly expecting this. “But S-”

“Like I told you,” Minho counters lazily. “I already have plans with my cats tomorrow. Movie marathon and unlimited pudding. Way more fun than your fancy gala.”

Chan doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, what a shame,” he says, his voice practically dripping with feigned disappointment. “Seungmin’s performing. But I guess you’ll miss it.”

Minho freezes, his hands stilling mid-fidget. “What?” he asks, trying—and failing—to sound disinterested.

“Yeah,” Chan says, his grin audible in his voice. “He’ll be singing. His first live performance in forever.”

“It’s nothing,” Seungmin says quickly, waving a hand. “Just a few songs. I’m one of several artists—it’s really no big deal.”

Minho turns, narrowing his eyes at the knowing smirk on Chan’s face.

“Actually,” Minho says abruptly, “I just remembered— I uh— I have a free spot on my schedule tomorrow. So, I mean.... I can come.”

Hyunjin opens his mouth to comment. Minho kicks him hard from behind the counter. It’s enough to shut him up.

“You really don’t have to come for me,” Seungmin insists, his voice soft and almost shy. “If that’s why you’re—”

Minho leans forward, cutting him off with a confident grin. “Didn’t I promise to be front row?”

Seungmin’s blush deepens, and Minho feels a surge of triumph.

“Besides,” Minho adds, voice dropping just enough to make Seungmin squirm slightly, “you made a deal with me. And I fully intend to cash in.”

Seungmin’s eyelashes flutter, the glitter dusting them catching the light, making him look impossibly radiant. Minho’s heart does a dangerous flip, and he has to fight the sudden, reckless urge to lean in closer—to kiss the pretty blush-painted cheeks, or maybe even that bottom lip Seungmin keeps nibbling.

He catches the faintest glimpse of Seungmin’s fangs when he smiles, and something primal stirs in Minho’s chest. He files that feeling away for later, knowing full well that it’s going to haunt him until tomorrow night.

Seungmin clears his throat, clearly flustered, but his smile doesn’t waver. “Well, if you’re coming just to cash in on a deal, I guess I don’t have a choice,” he teases lightly, though his voice holds a soft edge that makes Minho’s chest ache in a way he’s not ready to examine.

Minho leans back in his seat, smirking. “Oh, you don’t,” he says with a wink.

Jeongin mutters something under his breath about how disgusting they’re being, but neither of them pays him any attention.

Seungmin stands, reaching for his coat, but he hesitates for a moment, glancing back at Minho.

“Thank you,” Seungmin says softly, his voice barely carrying over the sound of chairs scraping and bags being slung over shoulders.

“For what?”

“For coming tomorrow,” Seungmin replies, his eyes flickering briefly to the floor before meeting Minho’s gaze again.

“Then,” Minho begins, his voice low and deliberate, “if you’re that grateful, why don’t we make a new deal?” He leans forward slightly, catching Seungmin’s gaze and holding it. “After your performance tomorrow, let me take you out. Like... a date.”

Seungmin freezes, his eyes widening slightly as the pink dusting his cheeks deepens into a full-blown blush. He doesn’t speak for a moment, just blinks at Minho like the words are still sinking in.

Seungmin nods, a small, shy smile curling at the edges of his lips. “Finally,” he says, “I would’ve asked you tomorrow either way.”

Minho lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his smirk returning with twice the intensity. “Good,” he says, leaning back like the suggestion hadn’t made his pulse race. “It’s a deal, then.”

Seungmin hesitates for a moment before he steps closer, leaning in to press a feather-light kiss to Minho’s cheek.

The touch is fleeting, over in an instant, but it leaves Minho frozen, staring wide-eyed as Seungmin pulls back, his face tinged with a shy smile that’s just as lethal as the kiss.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Seungmin says, his voice as soft as the kiss had been.

And then he’s gone, the café door swinging shut behind him.

“I call best man for the wedding!” Felix shouts suddenly, shattering the quiet.

“That’s not fair!” Hyunjin protests, mouth hanging open in disbelief. “You can’t just call it. It’s Minho-hyung’s decision!”

“I just did,” Felix says smugly, crossing his arms. “Besides, you’re going to hog Seungmin’s title anyway.”

“Hyung!” Hyunjin whines, turning to Minho. “Tell him that’s not fair!”

Their argument escalates into a heated discussion over Minho’s hypothetical wedding party. Minho lets their voices fade into the background, too focused on the warmth still lingering on his cheek.

Minho blinks, slowly lifting a hand to brush against his cheek where the warmth of Seungmin’s lips still lingers. His lips twitch into a smile he can’t fight.

Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.