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spaceskam · 2 years

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cor aut mors

Summary: Choi San dies and Wooyoung isn't about to let him stay that way, regardless of how Seonghwa feels about it.

Pairing(s): Jung Wooyoung & Park Seonghwa, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa

Tags: character death, witch au, mentions of violence, grief, resurrection

for day 1 of whumptober, prompt no. 1 “this wasn’t supposed to happen”

ao3

Seonghwa had been the acting Supreme for the last ten years, keeping the peace that his predecessor hadn’t been able to and teaching young witches the way of the world, when things inevitably began to unravel.

On the 10th anniversary of him killing his Supreme and taking the reins, Park Songhwa was woken up to the sound of a phone call that had caused all the blood in his body to run cold. Two hours after that, he was staring at the unnaturally still body of Choi San laying under a sheet in the basement, awaiting a proper witch’s send off. A spell had gone wrong, curiosity getting the better of him and experimenting in things he shouldn’t have without supervision, and now this was where it had gotten him. It was the first Novice to die under the care of Gurim School of the Arts in a decade; the first Novice to die under the care of Park Seonghwa.

The guilt would’ve eaten Seonghwa alive, most likely, if it wasn’t his constant state already.

“Hyung,” Wooyoung whispered, clinging to his side as he stared at the lifeless form, “I don’t‒We thought‒He just‒ Hyung.”

Seonghwa held Wooyuong as he cried, shushing him as he tried to stabilize himself enough to tell Seonghwa what happened only to spiral again before he could get it out. It could easily be added to the list of the worst 30 minutes of Seonghwa’s life.

Or, it was, until the next 30 minutes happened and bumped it right off.

“Hyung,” Wooyoung said, head popping up and eyes painfully wide and bloodshot, “You have that book of spells under the floorboard, don’t you?”

Nausea tightened in Seonghwa’s stomach.

“Wooyoung-ah,” he said softly, petting his head, “We aren’t using that.”

“But why?” Wooyoung asked. It wasn’t often that Seonghwa was reminded that he was still so young and had so much to learn, he acted so sure of himself, but it was so clear in this moment that he wasn’t ready to be on his own. “Why can’t we? Why is he not worth it?”

“Wooyoung-ah,” Seonghwa said, grabbing his face gently so he would look at him, “It’s not that he’s not worth it, don’t say that. You know I would do anything to change this if I could.”

“But you can! You have a book with a spell that can bring him back and we’re wasting time!” Wooyoung argued. Seonghwa didn’t loosen his grip, didn’t let him move or look back to where San laid. It was the hardest thing Seonghwa had done in quite some time. “Hyung, please. Please. Do this and we’ll never ask you for anything ever again. I’ll be on my best behavior and I’ll be a good Novice and I’ll‒I’ll do whatever you want, please. ”

“Do you know why I won’t let you use that spell?” Seonghwa asked softly, wiping tears off his cheeks, “Because whatever that spell brings back, it won’t be San. It will be something violent and angry and untamable. It will be resentful, but with the power of a very passionate witch, do you understand why we can’t have that? It won’t be our San, and it will hurt so much more when we have to do something about it then. Trust me. Trust that I just want to keep you safe and you don’t want to experience that.”

Wooyoung’s bottom lip quivered and he sniffled, beyond distraught. And Seonghwa understood and wished there was something more he could do, wished that this was any other day with any other mishap. Why couldn’t it have been like when Yeosang accidentally singed his eyebrows off or when Hongjoong had sneezed mid-spell during their own training days and caused a power outage? Why did it have to end like this?

Why couldn’t Seonghwa be a better Supreme and know what was going on with his Novices?

Seonghwa pulled Wooyoung’s head to his shoulder, holding as sobs took over him again. And this was just the beginning. He’d have to break it to the others, to San’s parents who had taken a chance on him because he’d finally begun to change the bad name the past three Supreme’s had given this school, to his council who would no doubt look at him with pity because why did he think he could fix the curse this place must’ve had. He had to let down Hongjoong and all the promises they’d made.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. He made me promise I wouldn’t do anything stupid to get myself killed. Me. I promised. I didn’t think he needed a promise like that,” Wooyoung confessed, “He always took it so seriously, I never thought…”

Seonghwa let him cry until he ran out of tears and let him bounce back and forth between painful silence and anger and begging and sweet stories of them meaning to be together forever and travel the world. Seonghwa didn’t cry even though he wanted to. He stayed strong. He had to.

“Come on, go get some rest,” Seonghwa eventually said when Wooyoung’s eyes started to close once the events of the night finally began to catch up with him. Wooyoung shook his head. “Please. It’ll do you some good.”

A few more moments of persuasion later, Wooyoung stood up and made his way to San first. Seonghwa watched with a heavy heart as he kissed his forehead and pulled the sheet up to his collarbone in an effort to keep him warm and covered. Tears brimmed Seonghwa’s eyes, chest unbearably tight, and he blinked them away for his own wellbeing.

Seonghwa pulled Wooyoung out of the room and locked the door behind them, sealing it with a spell to keep everyone out. As much as he trusted his Novices, he didn’t trust the power of grief. San was loved in life and there was no doubt in Seonghwa’s mind that Wooyoung wouldn’t be the only one wanting to try their hand at bringing him back.

“Go back to your room, alright? Get some rest,” Seonghwa told him, gently pushing at his back towards the stairs. Wooyoung went up them in silence and Seonghwa was, for once, thankful that he had made the wise decision to room Wooyoung with Yeosang. Maybe it would hurt less not having to see San’s empty side of the room.

Maybe.

“Mmm.”

“Shh,” Hongjoong shushed, laughing softly as he scratched at Seonghwa’s scalp and furthering his descent into becoming putty in his hands, “Let’s not get caught.”

Seonghwa pouted and Hongjoong just smiled at him, pressing his thumb into his bottom lip before kissing him again with his thumb in the way. Seonghwa let his head fall to Hongjoong’s shoulder once the kiss ended and wrapped his arms around his middle. Hongjoong held the back of his neck, rubbed his back, rested his head on his, touched him everywhere he could.

“You’re going to be a great Supreme some day.”

They were sitting on the bathroom floor with the shower going to cover the sound of them speaking. It seemed like one of the only places within the house they could be sure they wouldn’t be overheard, even though they still had to whisper. It didn’t stop it from being one of Seonghwa’s favorite places.

Hongjoong made a face, nose scrunched up and lips downturned in disgust. Seonghwa’s gut twisted with adoration and he couldn’t help but squeeze Hongjoong’s ankle.

“I don’t want to be a Supreme,” Hongjoong said. Seonghwa lifted his head and tilted it in intrigue because he most certainly thought he did. “I hate this whole system, Seonghwa. That title goes to people’s heads in the worst way. I want to be a leader in the way that I’m trusted and looked up to, but not in the way that they’ll have to hide in the bathroom just to talk. When I take over, I just want them to call me hyung and feel safe to call me when things get bad instead of hiding. I don’t want to contribute to the low life expectancy of witches these days.”

Seonghwa nodded, chewing the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling too wide. He wasn’t sure how much that helped. He was sure the adoration and awe was clear on his face. Especially when Hongjoong rolled his eyes and shoved at his chest.

“Stop making fun of me.”

“I’m not,” Seonghwa said, “I think you’re incredible. I want to see you make it happen and I’ll be right by your side the whole time.

“Promise?” Hongjoong said, holding up his pinky. Seonghwa grinned and linked his with it.

“Promise.”

Hongjoong leaned forward to put his lips on the side of his hand and Seonghwa followed suit, staring at him over their linked fingers. It was all too easy to see a brighter future, one with freedom and comfort and safety and actual change when he looked into Hongjoong’s eyes. It was all there. Potential and passion and dedication. He would make a difference. And Seonghwa was going to support him every step of the way no matter how hard it got.

Their hands slowly dropped, allowing them to close the space between their lips in a soft kiss. Hongjoong grinned against his lips and reached for his thighs to tug him in closer before deepening the kiss. Seonghwa went with ease, draping his arms around Hongjoong’s shoulders. It was comfortable and familiar to have Hongjoong’s hand in his hair and playing with his clothes.

He never wanted to go a day without him.

One by one, his Novices came down for breakfast with sleepy faces, making their plates and taking a seat at the table. Seonghwa waited until he counted every single one, every designated seat full with two exceptions.

“I don’t mean to start your days off badly, but I don’t want anyone to think I’m hiding anything. So I have some unfortunate news,” Seonghwa said, slow and deliberate like he’d been practicing. Which he had, desperate to find the right words.

All of their attention was on him.

“Is Councilman Ahn coming to visit again? Because last time I think I upset him so I don’t know if I should be here when he does come,” Mingi said. Yunho flicked him in the arm.

“Maybe don’t put frogs in someone’s boots every night for a week.”

“He said he was immune to our spells, so I wanted to see if it worked on conjured frogs and it didn’t!”

“ Why would it work on conjured frogs?”

“Guys, please,” Seonghwa said, unable to be quietly charmed by their antics. Not when there was a body in his basement and a heartbroken witch upstairs, “Last night, San tried to perform a complex sealing spell on his own and something went very wrong. I did what I could, but he didn’t make it.”

The room fell completely and utterly silently. Looks shared between them and then with Seonghwa, all like they were expecting it to be a cruel joke. It wasn’t.

“So you mean…” Yunho said, blinking up at him owlishly, “...you mean my San? My roommate San?”

Seonghwa swallowed and nodded quietly, that aching guilt crawling up his throat.

Without another word, Yunho pushed his chair back and was stomping up the stairs. Mingi waited all of two seconds before running after him. Seonghwa didn’t try to stop them, didn’t feel he had any right to.

“Seonghwa hyung,” Yeosang said softly, “Where’s Wooyoung then?”

Seonghwa took a deep breath to reorient himself. “I sent him up to your room to rest, he had a long night.”

“But he wasn’t there when I got up,” Yeosang said, “I thought he had maybe spent the night with San, but…”

For the second time that morning, Seonghwa felt his heart drop to his feet.

“What do you mean he wasn’t there? He never came back into the room? Maybe he took a shower,” Seonghwa said, looking around the room. There seemed to be a unanimous agreement that no one had seen or heard a peep from Jung Wooyoung since last night. Not in any of the dorm rooms or bathrooms.

And then Seonghwa realized he hadn’t gone back to his own room‒where that book Wooyoung had been wanting was stashed. The book he gave up requesting quite easily.

Seonghwa ran.

He got to his room in record time, nothing obviously out of order, but the room all but reeked of Wooyoung’s magical signature. He was still learning how to conceal it and, well, in this situation, he clearly had no motivation to try. The panic rose even more within Seonghwa as he rushed to the basement door, so many thoughts fighting in his mind over what was the worst thing happening. His reputation would be tarnished, all of his hard work to create a safe place for Novice witches and would be discarded, he would have to put down the beastly shadow that was once Choi San, he’d have to deal with the repercussions of Jung Wooyoung’s second round of heartbreak.

He would have to relive the last thing he wanted to experience again.

The door to the basement was sealed shut, but not by his own seal. That had been crushed and doubled over with something stronger and maybe Wooyoung had been learning things from San. He specialized in binding and sealing‒a tricky artform once you got past the basics and something that led to his inevitable downfall.

After a few attempts to break the seal, Seonghwa finally managed to get the door opened, but a few of his Novices were already beside him and following him and he didn’t have the mindset to tell them to go away. He just needed to stop Wooyoung before things got out of control.

“Stop!” he yelled as he reached the basement floor, “Wooyoung, stop . Don’t do this.”

But Wooyoung was already sitting cross-legged on the table beside San, the forbidden book opened in front of him and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head as he drew upon his own magic to pull what was left of San back into his body.

Seonghwa stopped in his tracks, holding out his arms to stop any of his other Novices from getting closer to Wooyoung.

“Go upstairs,” he said slowly, “And seal the door behind you. Seal us in.”

There were a few confused and concerned noises, but Seonghwa shook his head to tell them he wasn’t taking no for an answer. Trying to stop Wooyoung now would cause irreparable damage to him, his mind and body and magic connection, something he wasn’t willing to do. But when San woke up, he didn’t want anyone in the way for what he would have to do.

They listened begrudgingly, taking the seriousness in him, and sealed them inside the basement.

Resurrection spells that were actually effective were hard to find and banned by the council a century ago. It didn’t mean it didn’t still happen, but it also meant all the spells capable of it were ancient and reckless and born of greed‒a recipe for disaster.

From what Seonghwa knew of this spell, from what he learned from his Supreme who had a fascination with it and had done extensive tests, if performed within six minutes of the deceased person’s last heartbeat, they would mostly be themselves. They would still have their personality and their morals and most of their memories, but typically the trauma from dying and feeling themselves slip away was too much to cope with. According his Supreme’s journal, only one of these people had been able to reacclimate while the rest eventually committed suicide.

Each passing minute after, less of that person would be able to be found. It would be nothing but fragments. Memories and personality traits and little quirks and certain emotions would be lost to the world, but their magic was something that could never be snuffed out, even the little bit held by non-witches, and their strongest held emotions and instincts would be pushed to the forefront. Every single time it was anger and rage‒it was a fact of people Seonghwa didn’t like to think about too much.

He most certainly didn’t want to see it in the eyes of Choi San, sweet and affectionate at his core.

Once the spell had been completed, Wooyoung was pulled back into himself and he blinked a few times, Seonghwa standing to the side and readying himself for whatever was about to occur. Something traumatizing, more than likely. Something that would make the council shake their head with knowing sighs. Poor little Park Seonghwa, too confident for his own good, repeating past mistakes.

“San-ah,” Wooyoung said, tilting forward in his fatigue. Seonghwa was impressed that he could still speak or hold himself up at all. From his Supreme’s journals, it was an exhausting process that would drain him completely. “Sannie, can you hear me? Are you cold?”

Seonghwa swallowed harshly as he watched Wooyoung touch San’s cheek, watched him press a kiss into his skin that didn’t hold the same elasticity as it should. He took a few steps closer to Wooyoung.

“Wooyoung,” he said softly, “Step off the table.”

“No,” Wooyoung said, nose resting against San’s skin, “I’m not leaving him again.”

“I just want to keep you safe, Wooyoung-ah,” Seonghwa said, letting his desperation show more than he wanted to, “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

Wooyoung ignored him as he rested against San. Seonghwa just watched the still body on the table, waiting for the moment he began to animate. Waiting for the moment the anger filled every inch of his body, waiting for the moment he became a being of uncontrolled magic. Waiting for the look that haunted Seonghwa’s nightmares, the empty and hateful gaze of someone he cared for‒an all too familiar replication of the last straw that caused him to finally stop his Supreme.

“When he kills me‒and he will, you know how much I threaten him,” Hongjoong had told him late one night, curled against him in the tiny single bed, “I need you to kill him.”

“Stop saying things like that, I’ll keep you safe, we’re almost out of here anyway,” Seonghwa had said, fear suffocating his young body as he held Hongjoong closer.

“Be serious,” Hongjoong said, lifting his head to look at him dead in the eye, “It’s going to happen. I’m strong, but he’s still stronger. So when the time comes, I need you to take him down while he’s weak.”

“Joong-ah, I‒”

“Promise me,” Hongjoong had said, grabbing his wrist and squeezing so hard it hurt, “Promise me that you’ll stop him. That’ll be our only chance. He needs to be stopped. This has to end.”

“Okay. I promise.”

A week later, Hongjoong missed their planned date and Seonghwa had to do what needed to be done.

He didn’t want to do this again. He didn’t know if he could.

“Hyung,” Wooyoung whispered, voice broken and desperate, “Why isn’t it working? Why isn’t he waking up? I-I thought I did everything right.”

“It may have been too long,” Seonghwa said softly. He hoped and prayed to any being that might listen that it had been too long or that Wooyoung had done something incorrectly or maybe just wasn’t powerful enough to bring what was left of San back into his body. He didn’t want to go through this again.

Not for the first time since Seonghwa had taken over, he wished Hongjoong had been here to help. He would know what to do. He was always the better leader.

“No,” Wooyoung said, “It’s only been a few hours! It can’t be too long.”

“Young-ah,” Seonghwa said, “Please. Maybe it’s a sign. We need to just give him a proper burial and‒”

Just like Seonghwa’s nightmares, San’s body flinched and silenced them both. He and Wooyoung held their breath as San flinched again and then again before beginning to shake violently. Wooyoung, reckless and refusing to listen like always, threw himself onto San.

“Wooyoung, get back!” Seonghwa said, moving forward to grab at the back of his shirt and pull. He wouldn’t budge. “Wooyoung, please. ”

“San-ah, can you hear me? Come on, San-ah, come on. That’s it, you’re so strong, you can do this,” Wooyoung cooed with a shaky voice, stroking his cheeks.

The shaking subsided. Which meant they had mere seconds before San lost control completely.

Seonghwa reluctantly let go of Wooyoung and took a few steps back, feeling for the pocket knife he kept on him and preparing himself. His heart was thudding in his ears and he just wanted to pull Wooyoung off, to hold him and say he understood and to beg him to get away. He didn’t want him to go through what Seonghwa went through. He didn’t want anyone to.

“Hi, baby, hi,” Wooyoung said as San’s eyes opened. Seonghwa swallowed hard and blinked away the tears in his eyes.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Seonghwa had said, holding Hongjoong as his eyes slowly opened. Their Supreme laid in a pool of his own blood, Seonghwa having waited with foreign anger for the moment he’d slumped over after completing the spell to strike. It was almost too easy to take his life. Easy when he was vulnerable, easy when Hongjoong laid on the ground beside him with ligature marks on his neck. “I’m here, baby, it’s over. I-I told you I’d keep you safe, I told you I‒”

Except it wasn’t Hongjoong anymore.

Wild eyes locked on him, his best friend and partner long gone and instead angry, animalistic snarling taking the place of his beautiful voice. It hadn't even been that long. Hongjoong clawed at him with carefully manicured nails, digging into his face, refusing to stop or listen. It wasn’t Hongjoong.

It didn’t make it any easier watching the life drain from those eyes for a second time at Seonghwa’s own hand.

The scar on Seonghwa’s cheek ached suddenly, the last mark Hongjoong had ever left on him‒this one permanent and a reminder. Seonghwa was so sick of reminders. Seonghwa was so sick of the bad. Things had been going too well the last decade and although his bed was empty and a piece of him was dead and the grief was unpredictably suffocating, he had been so content. It felt good to make a change.

But apparently he never changed much at all if he was back in this basement with that same book and with a dead man rising.

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa said, warning and desperate.

And like clockwork, San let out that all too familiar animalistic snarling that had Seonghwa’s body tense and running hot. He could feel his magic well up in him in his agony at this happening again , like a human bomb that would explode at any moment.

Wooyoung acted faster than Seonghwa had with Hongjoong, pinning San down with his own body. He pinned his hands above his head and pressed the toes of his boots into San’s ankles to hold him in place even as San struggled to be let go.

“Choi San,” Wooyoung said, tone even and firm. Seonghwa felt foolishly frozen in his spot. “Choi San, my Sannie, my love . I’m Jung Wooyoung and you are Choi San. You collect plushies and you like romance novels and video games. Your first spell was a mending spell you only learned because you ripped a shirt at school and you were scared of what your mom would say. Seonghwa hyung is in here with us, but the last place you were at was the cemetery on Oakwood Street. It’s warmer here than it was out there.”

Slowly, San fought him less and less, almost like he was listening, just the sound of Wooyoung’s sure voice and San’s erratic breathing. Even more dread crawled beneath Seonghwa’s skin‒a different kind, something worse that made him hurt.

Wooyoung went on. “We’re currently in the basement at Gurim School of the Arts and it’s the building where we met. I came a few months after you and I still remember the first time I saw you. I just knew we were meant to be. Everyone knew it. We are supposed to grow old together and we are supposed to love each other until the end, until we die and our magic finds two new bodies to be born into and they’ll find each other and love each other just as much because you and I both know this didn’t start with us and it won’t end with us. But you promised me you would kiss me in front of the Eiffel Tower like cheesy tourists and you can’t leave me before then. Choi San doesn’t break promises.”

“Ch-Choi San,” San said, stilted and scared, but listening. Repeating. Speaking.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Wooyoung cooed, releasing one of his hands to stroke his cheek, “You’re Choi San.”

“Choi San.”

Seonghwa dropped his knife to the ground and tears welled up in his eyes.

“Your roommate is Jeong Yunho. You like to take cold showers and you sweat in your sleep no matter how cold it is or how little clothing you wear. Yunho freezes trying to keep you at a normal body temperature because he’s worried about what happens when a witch overheats,” Wooyoung said, laughing softly, “You are passionate and strong and talented. You’re one of the best witches I’ve ever met in my life and I have never been more proud of someone. I love you, I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

“Wooyoung?” San said, slow as he worked his lips around the word.

“Yes,” Wooyung said, “Yeah, that’s me. Good job, baby, you’re doing so good.”

There were very few things Seonghwa regretted in his life. One was believing his Supreme was a good person for as long as he did, another was not stealing Hongjoong away before their Supreme killed him. And now not trying to reason with Hongjoong more when he woke up, not trying to console him and comfort him, remind him who he was and soothe his fear. Because he was scared. Hongjoong was scared and Seonghwa had not thought twice about his Supreme’s findings, that whatever was brought back was not human. Because he was too stupid to try to save someone who meant the world to him.

Seonghwa fell to his knees, chest tight with horror and pain to a degree he wasn’t familiar with. His whole body throbbed and ached with the new knowledge. It was hard to breathe. He didn’t even try. A decade had gone by thinking he ultimately did the right thing even though it was hard, because things were peaceful and Hongjoong knew what was going to happen. And he couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa whispered, hand rubbing over his heart as his body shook.

“Hyung?” Wooyoung asked, looking over at him despite the fact that San was alive and breathing beneath him, “Hyung, are you alright?”

He shook his head no. He was far from alright. It wasn’t long before he was completely on the floor, unable to breathe and horrified with himself. A decade he’d told himself his actions were worth it. A decade of thinking he did what was best, all he could do.

A decade and he didn’t even try.

Seonghwa had never felt quite like this in his life. He'd done so many things he wasn't proud of, most of which he knew he did for a good reason, but this. How was he supposed to recover from this?

He felt hands on him and saw Wooyoung's face hovering over him, eyebrows pulled together in concern. Seonghwa’s ears were ringing, the world around him spinning as his body throbbed and ached in ways he had no way to ration with it. He didn’t see a way he could ever cope with this. Maybe the council was right to doubt his ability to take over; he had never been able to think for himself. He’d always done as he was told. He could’ve had a lifetime with Hongjoong. Years of running a school together, years of falling into bed together, years of unbridled trust and love and safety‒all if he’d just thought for himself for one goddamn minute.

Hands were on him and Wooyoung’s face slowly came into view, leaning over him with his eyebrows pulled together in concern.

“Hyung, this is a weird way of punishing me for ignoring you and stealing from you,” Wooyoung said, voice drained despite the joke. It seemed like all at once he was hit with the fact that his Novices were here and that the one who’s body he had carried into his basement was alive again.

Seonghwa scrambled to his feet and headed towards San, forcing the horror of the situation to be forgotten. It had to be. He could deal with himself later. This wasn’t about him. It was never about him.

San was still, eyes closed and head lulled to the side, but his chest rose and fell with each breath. Proof of life. Seonghwa checked his pulse on his wrist and then moved his hand to his stomach, eyes closing as he channeled all of the pent up magic in his system to check San’s magic. It was noticeably lower than normal, but it was there and palpable.

“I used a resting spell because he was going to hurt himself with how scared he was, but he’s breathing,” Wooyoung said, pushing San’s hair back, “He’s alive. Hyung, that spell really works. I told you he was worth it.”

Seonghwa swallowed harshly and bowed his head.

“Wooyoung-ah,” Seonghwa said slowly, “All of the records from every time that spell has been performed, I don’t know if any of them had tried to remind them of themselves in that way. It was always assumed they were no longer themselves, no longer human, but… It has never crossed my mind until tonight that maybe they were just scared. And almost every time recorded, they were brought back by the person who murdered them, so of course they would be violent.”

“I don’t know how much I believe that,” Wooyoung said. Seonghwa looked over at him in question. “That every single time it was by the person who killed them. Like, that kind of spell is created to bring someone you love back and you don’t kill someone you love.”

Seonghwa thought of the ligature marks on Hongjoong's neck and the stab wound that followed. He thought of all the blood he spent hours scrubbing from his skin and sometimes still felt like remained. He thought of whispered 'I love you's with mischievous smiles knowing they were doing something their Supreme wouldn't approve of.

"I suppose," Seonghwa said.

"Hyung," Wooyoung said, bumping his shoulder into Seonghwa's but not really pulling away after. Wooyoung melted against his side within a couple seconds, fingers curling around his arm like a child. A reminder that he was still scared despite his bold move and his success; a reminder that Seonghwa was his Supreme. "What happens next?”

He would have to tell his other Novices that San was, in fact, alive. He would have to speak with the council. They would have to see what was actually changed in San, bearing with him as he adjusted after something traumatizing. He would need somewhere safe to adjust and heal; somewhere, hopefully, away from the council’s eyes. Seonghwa didn’t have time to punish himself for what he’d done‒he just had to be better for these people who looked up to him and needed him. As much as Seonghwa didn’t feel worthy of that position, he was always keenly aware that everyone who was worthy didn’t make it this long. Hongjoong didn’t make it this long.

He would have to do.

“I think we need to make some changes around here,” Seonghwa said.

“What kind of changes?” Wooyoung asked, mindlessly reaching out to put his hand on San’s chest right over his heart.

This was a new life. This was a second chance.

Seonghwa would do what he set out to do a long time ago.

“Have I ever told you about Kim Hongjoong?”

“I think you’re going to be a great leader,” Seonghwa whispered, nuzzling into Hongjoong’s chest, “I’m still here because of you. So are a lot of other Novices. You’re the only reason I haven’t begged my parents to pull me out of here yet.”

Hongjoong was quiet for a moment before he said, “Maybe you should.”

“Hm?”

“Maybe you should beg them to pull you out,” Hongjoong said. Seonghwa lifted his head and looked at Hongjoong with furrowed eyebrows, confusion coursing through him. Hongjoong didn’t falter. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. We’ve already lost three people within the last month. Supreme Chu is getting a lot more bold and not caring if people catch on and I don’t think the council has any intention to remove him. I really, really don’t want you to be added to that list.”

“I’m not going to. And you aren’t either. We stick together, right? He can’t get us if we’re together. We’re going to make a difference here,” Seonghwa insisted. Hongjoong gave him that look, the one that belonged to someone much older and jaded than his age allowed, the one that said Seonghwa was naive and too hopeful.

“Seonghwa, if something happens to me, then, will you still make a difference?” Hongjoong asked him. Seonghwa wanted to argue, wanted to say that it would never happen so there was no point in talking about it. But he was familiar with that look on Hongjoong’s face, was familiar with the desperation.

“Yes,” Seonghwa said, “I will.”

He would.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #park seonghwa #jung wooyoung #choi san #kim hongjoong #whumptober2022 #no.1 #this wasn't supposed to happen #fic #ateez fic #character death #witch au #grief #ressurection #my fic

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