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Chenle hated his life. Genuinely.
He was trying his level best not to think horrible things about whatever ancestor of his thought it was smart to get it on with a fairy in the backwoods because now, generations later, all Chenle had was slightly pointy ears and the questionable ability to use magic — questionable because Chenle had approximately no control over what exactly happened and when.
That’s what you get for having fairy blood but exactly zero fairies to ask for guidance from. It’s the twenty-first century. Half the forests were already cut down thanks to corporate greed and Chenle lived in a metropolis, filled with people who considered fairies something out of a storybook — a sentiment Chenle would most certainly share were it not for the fact that every few months, his hair randomly changed color in the middle of the night without any sort of guidance from him.
He felt bad for Jisung, honestly. His flatmate was very sweet, but always very confused about how Chenle was finding the time to get his hair dyed without him noticing.
Jisung also kindly put up with other various unfortunate mini explosions of magic, including but not limited to: the water in Chenle’s pot vanishing halfway through making pasta, Jisung’s favorite potted plant becoming extremely overgrown overnight to the point where its leaves draped over the counter all the way down to the floor, a semi-permanent tattoo of a cat wearing a birthday hat appearing on Jisung’s arm while he slept, leaving Chenle to have to pretend that he was pranking him while desperately hoping the tattoo would fade with time, and on one particularly memorable occasion, Chenle’s eyes turning a pure, milky white, irises vanishing entirely.
That last one had scared Jisung half to death before Chenle caught on to what was going on and assured him it was just contact lenses.
It was not just contact lenses. Chenle wished.
Chenle’s magic was like an overexcited, untrained young intern at a summer job who just wanted to help out but somehow managed to do the opposite every single time. Probably because Chenle had no semblance of control over it — wishing for things, even in his head, was dangerous because every so often, the magic would respond.
Once, Chenle spent an hour daydreaming about having a puppy during finals week, half delirious with exhaustion and riding the high of petting the therapy dogs their school had brought in to the library for them to help with student stress levels.
When Chenle woke up from a nap on the couch, there was a tiny white dog on his chest, and Jisung was staring at him from the doorway, mouth open in shock.
“Um. I got a dog,” Chenle had said. Jisung blinked and leaned against the doorframe for support.
“Uh, yes. I see.” A pause. “I can see that, I mean,” Jisung said, stumbling over his words. He winced. “At least the apartment has a dog-friendly policy?”
“You are literally the best,” Chenle said, beaming. Jisung’s cheeks turned bright red. “So we can keep her?”
They kept her.
Basically, the magic was unpredictable. Generally, Chenle tried to think positively about his magic — it was a part of him, and it was trying its best. But on this particular occasion, Chenle wanted to murder it.
The day had started out simply enough. He’d woken up, gotten dressed, eaten breakfast. He’d heard Jisung mumbling to himself in his room, but he didn’t pay it any mind because he had a class to get to, and he had no intention of being late.
Campus was loud. Louder than usual. As Chenle hurried through the halls to get to class, he heard hundreds of overlapping voices, all banging against his eardrums and giving him a headache.
It’s nine in the morning on a Thursday, he thought to himself, annoyed. Can people possibly shut the fuck up? Or at least try to be just a bit quieter?
He managed to make it to his classroom, but to his annoyance, it wasn’t any quieter inside than outside. Chenle approached his usual seat, falling into a chair beside Jaemin, a mechanical engineering major with bright pink hair, a coffee order that made Chenle want to vomit just thinking about, and a boyfriend named Liu Yangyang who wore Gucci sweatpants during finals week and acted like that was a perfectly normal thing to do.
“Oh, hey, Chenle’s here,” Jaemin said. “I wonder if he did the homework. Maybe he could help me with problem seven?”
“Chenle can hear you,” Chenle grumbled. “You should have texted me about problem seven last night, I can’t help you right in front of the professor.”
“What the fuck?” Jaemin said, sounding confused. Chenle turned to look at him, and saw the strangest expression on Jaemin’s face.
“What’s your problem? You look like you swallowed a lemon.” Chenle rolled his eyes, turning away to grab his pencil pouch from his bag, putting it on their table. “Sorry about problem seven. Text me next time.”
“Chenle,” Jaemin said, turning to face him. “Look at me. Can you hear me?”
Chenle looked over again, and stopped short. Here’s the thing. Jaemin’s voice was clear as day. But Jaemin’s mouth? Jaemin’s mouth wasn’t moving.
“What the fuck,” he said, gasping. He dropped his pencil pouch, the assorted mix of writing utensils spilling out over the table. Jaemin looked amused.
So you can hear me? Jaemin said, no, thought. Christ, Chenle was going to have a migraine by the time the day was over. No wonder it had been so loud. How are you managing that?
“Don’t worry about it,” Chenle muttered, cursing the godforsaken fairy blood in his veins as he tried to sweep his pens and pencils back into the case. “Shit like this just happens to me sometimes.”
“Hm. Weird,” Jaemin said cheerfully, finally speaking out loud. Thankfully, he didn’t ask any more questions, and Chenle thanked god that Jaemin was so incredibly blasé about everything except Yangyang. “So, will you please give me a hint about problem seven? Class hasn’t started yet, I’m sure it’s fine.”
“I hate you,” Chenle said. “So much. I’m having a crisis here. I can read other people’s minds, apparently, because that’s a thing now, and you want to talk about a physics problem?”
“You love me,” Jaemin said with a grin, taking a sip of his death coffee. Chenle winced. “Besides, you seem to have it under control.”
“I am on the verge of a migraine,” Chenle said. Jaemin blinked at him. Chenle sighed. “Fine. I’ll help you with problem seven.” Jaemin lit up like a christmas tree and Chenle shook his head, exasperated, already leaning across the table to help him.
Class passed by uneventfully for the most part. Thankfully, it seemed most of the kids in the class were indeed focused on the lesson — though by the end of the hour, Chenle had still learned more about some of his classmates' personal lives than he would ever care to know. Apparently Mina’s boyfriend had cheated on her last week, Yeeun’s mom was coming to visit next weekend and bringing homemade seaweed soup for her birthday, and Wooyoung’s roommate was a total asshole who insisted on playing Overwatch until three am when he was trying to sleep, so he was exhausted.
Still, Chenle was more than relieved by the time the class was over. Usually he would stay on campus and eat lunch with Jaemin and his boyfriend and some of their other friends, but he could feel the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes and decided maybe it would be best that he headed home.
It wasn’t until he was standing outside the door to his (and Jisung’s) apartment that he realized Jisung would definitely be home right now, and for some reason, that made Chenle falter.
You see, he thought he and Jisung had a great roommate relationship. Jisung was neat and tidy and was always down to share his leftovers, and Chenle… tried his best. Jisung had never complained, anyway!
But Jisung was polite to a fault, and part of Chenle worried Jisung didn’t actually like him all that much. He tended to avoid Chenle when he could, and often seemed to turn red and flustered around him, never speaking more than a few words to Chenle at a time. A lot of times, Chenle thought Jisung was probably just nice to him because they were roommates, and he felt obligated.
Chenle genuinely liked Jisung, so he tried to shove those insecurities down, and tell himself Jisung was just shy. He wasn’t just being polite and hiding his dislike for Chenle beneath social niceties — he was too, well, nice for that. He had to like Chenle at least a little bit since he’d agreed to keep living with Chenle and look for an apartment together when they moved out of the dorms their second year in university.
But now, faced with the fact that he would be privy to Jisung’s thoughts about him with no filter, Chenle found himself hesitant. What if his worst fears were proven true? What if he heard something Jisung didn’t want him to hear?
Suddenly, this whole mind reading thing seemed intrusive and unwanted.
I wish I couldn’t read minds, Chenle thought aggressively. He waited for a moment. His magic was unresponsive.
Oh, fuck you, Chenle thought, exasperated. He couldn’t stand in the hallway all afternoon, staring at his own apartment door and looking lost, so he turned his attention back to the door. Steeling his nerves, he reached forward and unlocked it.
The apartment was quiet for a moment, but then Daegal, their magically-conjured dog, now much larger than she had been when she’d first appeared on Chenle’s chest four months ago, skittered around a corner. She nearly hit the wall before she corrected course, running down the hallway to greet Chenle, entire little body wiggling with the force of her tail wags.
Chenle beamed at her, sweeping her into his arms, and found, to his shock, that he could vaguely hear her thoughts too.
Happy, happy, excited, he’s home, he’s home, happy, tail wag, wiggle, comfortable in his arms, happy, happy, happy! Daegal’s thoughts were simple, disconnected phrases, but her joy at his return was obvious, and Chenle found himself overwhelmed with love for this tiny thing.
He theorized that Daegal must have existed before she appeared on his chest. After all, his magic always faded after a while — his hair never remained wacky colors for long, and eventually, the birthday hat cat tattoo on Jisung’s arm had faded. This was great news because it meant Chenle also wouldn’t be forced to hear other people’s thoughts in his head every second of the day after a week or so.
Or so he hoped. If this was a permanent thing, he might need to move to the mountains and live in seclusion, never seeing another human soul just to get some peace and quiet. He couldn’t live like this.
Unlike some of his other accidental magical creations, Daegal was still solid and alive as ever after four months, so Chenle concluded she must have just been summoned using his magic, not created. Chenle found himself extremely thankful for that. If Daegal had vanished, explaining her absence to Jisung would have been hell, because Jisung loved Daegal just as much as Chenle did and probably would have been just as devastated if something happened to her.
“Daegal, is Jisung here?” he whispered to her.
Other human is here, in his room! Daegal’s thoughts sang. Happy, happy, happy! You’re back, where you go? Don’t leave again! Go see him! Wiggle!
Chenle laughed to himself and put Daegal down, letting her swarm around his feet as he headed down the hall to Jisung’s room, her simple, joyful thoughts a happy little buzz in the back of his mind.
“Jisung?” He knocked on the door. “Can I come in?”
There was silence for a moment, and then Chenle carefully opened the door. Jisung was lying sprawled out on his bed on his stomach, doing work over his covers. His headphones covered his ears as he bobbed his head to the music.
Chenle could hear him humming along to the tune, his foot tapping against his headboard, the lyrics sung clearly in Chenle’s mind in Jisung’s voice. He was loath to interrupt him, but even more loath to ignore the unspoken agreement between himself and Jisung that they always let each other know when they got home after class.
“Hey.” Chenle circled around to the front of the bed, moving into Jisung’s line of sight. “I’m home!”
Jisung visibly startled, eyes widening in surprise as his thoughts came to a halt. He usually has lunch with Jaemin. What’s he doing home so early? Jisung’s thoughts seemed erratic, uncharacteristically nervous.
“Had a headache, so I thought I’d head home early today,” Chenle said breezily, answering Jisung’s unspoken question as he flopped down on the bed beside him. “Whatcha working on?”
“Just some linear algebra worksheets,” Jisung said quietly, looking back down at them. But though Jisung himself was quiet, his thoughts were decidedly not.
Jesus christ, Chenle is lying on my bed, his arm is touching my arm. He’s touching my arm. Jisung’s thoughts tripped over one another, and the tips of his ears were red. Yep, yeah, this is totally fine. I’m cool, it's cool.
Chenle blinked, some of the residual fear about finding out that Jisung secretly hated him melting away to make way for curiosity. It didn’t seem like Jisung hated him, at least. But his thoughts were skittish — more skittish than Chenle expected, considering they’d been living together for going on three years now.
He shook it off.
“So, I haven’t had lunch yet, have you?” Jisung shook his head. “Great! I was thinking maybe we could treat ourselves and order in some lunch. I feel like we haven’t had lunch together in ages.” This was true. Chenle and Jisung used to have lunch every Wednesday, but now Chenle was usually busy finishing up labs, choosing to stay in the campus library between classes rather than heading home like he used to.
Jisung blinked in what must have been surprise, and his thoughts ground to a halt. What? Lunch with Chenle? After months of him being too busy?
Don’t be ridiculous, Jisung. He sounded like he was berating himself. It’s not a date, no matter how much you want it to be.
This time, it was Chenle’s thoughts that ground to a halt.
“Huh?” he said out loud. Jisung shot him a weird look.
What’s he looking at me like that for? Did I slip up? Did I say that aloud? Oh, god, please no, I’ll die of embarrassment. Jisung’s thoughts were getting faster, more panicked, the tips of his ears getting redder, and Chenle rushed to reassure him.
“No! It’s nothing, Jisung, don’t worry! You just haven’t answered yet! So, what do you say? Lunch?” Chenle was sweating.
“Sure,” Jisung said, quiet. It’s not a date. It’s not a date. It’s not a date.
“It’s a date!” Chenle said cheerfully, not thinking, and Jisung screamed internally. Chenle tried his best not to wince at the sound. He must not have been successful because Jisung’s internal gay panic was swiftly replaced with concern.
He mentioned a headache, didn’t he? It must still be bothering him, Jisung fretted. I’ll get him water and an Advil or something while he orders. I wonder what happened, Chenle never usually gets headaches. Maybe the physics were especially abstract today? I wonder if…
Jisung’s internal mother henning was sweet, but god, it was hurting his head, and unthinking, Chenle said, wincing, “Jisung. Be quiet.”
Jisung frowned. “I… didn’t say anything, though?”
“Right, no, of course,” Chenle said, gritting his teeth as Jisung’s worry got all the more pronounced. “I think I’m just going to lie down. Can you order lunch?”
“Of course, don’t even worry about it,” Jisung hastened to assure him. “Any requests?”
“Just my usual,” Chenle said, and then Jisung was nodding, already halfway out the door, thankfully taking his train of thought with him. Chenle was left sitting on his flatmate's bed, Daegal scratching at the side trying to get up, trying to process the shocking realization that his flatmate had a crush on him.
Park Jisung had a crush on him. Chenle wanted to throw himself against the wall. It was so obvious. Jisung wasn’t nervous around him because he hated him — it was the exact opposite. He got flustered, tried to retreat from Chenle when his feelings got to be too much, constantly tried to be a good roommate to make Chenle happy, all while thinking he had no chance.
Suddenly, sly comments made by Renjun and Jeno at parties about them made more sense. The half-knowing, half-pitying looks Jaemin always threw Jisung’s way whenever he visited. The way Mark was constantly glaring at Donghyuck whenever he made a particularly bold comment about how married Chenle and Jisung seemed, or what a good couple they would be.
Chenle was the biggest, most oblivious jerk in South Korea. Possibly the world.
Because he liked Jisung.
Groaning, Chenle turned over onto his stomach, smashing his face into Jisung’s bedsheets. They smelled slightly of him: of that weirdly soft ocean breeze smell from Jisung’s fabric softener. Jisung had always been so nervous around him — stuttering over his words and turning red whenever Chenle so much as looked at him — that he’d absolutely refused to acknowledge the affection he felt tugging at his heart whenever he looked Jisung’s way. He’d never wanted to make him uncomfortable.
But no amount of repression could erase how Chenle loved the way Jisung always hummed under his breath as he completed tasks, whether it be his homework or washing the dishes. No amount of denial could keep Chenle from appreciating Jisung’s unwavering kindness and consideration, how he always set the table for two and left Chenle a glass of water, regardless of whether he was expecting him home for dinner that night. It didn’t stop him from admiring the way Jisung’s hair fell over his forehead in gentle waves, how his eyes glowed amber in the light from the setting sun, how he had a wardrobe full of clothing options, but nearly always settled on a red and black flannel anyway.
This whole time, they’d liked each other, but Chenle was too oblivious to notice.
Repeat, Chenle wanted to fling himself against the nearest available wall. Unfortunately, that would probably worry Jisung unnecessarily, so he settled for burying his face in Jisung’s pillow and wishing desperately that he would cease to exist. Why am I like this, Chenle asked himself miserably. You could have been kissing Park Jisung this whole time.
His preoccupation was interrupted by the return of said boy Chenle could have been kissing, a plastic bag of takeout in his hands.
Is he asleep? Jisung’s thoughts sounded worried again. Still. I don’t want to wake him. With his headache he could use the sleep…
Chenle groaned, turning back over onto his back. “Already back?”
“I come bearing food,” Jisung said, smiling that gentle smile of his. Oh, good, he’s awake. He lifted the bag, swinging it from side to side. “You up to move, or should we just eat here?”
“On your bed? We aren’t neanderthals,” Chenle said, forcing himself to sit up and look Jisung in the eye, managing a grin. “It’s just a headache. I’m not an invalid, I can walk a few feet down the hallway to the kitchen.”
“If you say so,” Jisung said, outwardly amused, internally relieved. I’m glad he’s feeling better. He seems less stressed than he did when I left.
“I do say so,” Chenle said, only feeling slightly overwhelmed. He didn’t know where to go from here. He knew Jisung had a crush on him, but Jisung didn’t know he knew because the only reason Chenle knew was because of some fucked up mind reading fairy-magic-gone-wrong which would no doubt sound fucking insane if he were to try and explain it.
But he liked Jisung back, and Jisung liked him, and things had to change. It would be extremely out of character for Chenle to suddenly stop being oblivious — Jisung hadn’t done anything different than he normally did. So how could he raise the topic with Jisung?
Briefly, Chenle wished Jisung could just read his mind.
That was a mistake.
He felt the magic stir in his chest, and desperately, he tried to get ahold of it. But it was too late — the magic was stubbornly determined to listen to this wish, of all wishes, and for the love of all that was holy, Chenle was going to find a way to murder magic, no matter how intangible it may be.
It’s just like you go out of your way to be inconvenient, Chenle thought viciously its way.
Okay, ouch, Jisung’s thoughts cut in, as Jisung took in a sharp inhale, dropping the bag of takeout in the hallway. Fuck. Chenle had forgotten that Jisung could hear his thoughts now.
I can hear your what? Wait, you thought something in response to what I’m thinking? You can hear my thoughts? Jisung turned around to stare at Chenle in the hallway, wide eyed and horrified. His thoughts became erratic, panicking as he tried to hide them from Chenle’s view. Get it together Jisung — nothing to see here, Chenle, haha. Don’t think about how pretty his eyes are. Fuck, you just did! Ignore that, Chenle. What in the fresh fuck is going on?
Chenle’s head began hurting again, throbbing just slightly at the disorganized chaos of sound that was Jisung trying to process what was going on.
“Jisung,” he said, wincing. “Be quiet.”
“But I didn’t… say… anything…” Jisung trailed off, mouth falling open in shock. “What the fuck! Since when? This is why you have a headache?”
“Since this morning,” Chenle admitted. “And it’s not just you. It was everyone I ran into.” Fucking fairy magic.
“I —” Jisung rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, no doubt trying to process what was happening. “Huh. Okay.” I don’t even know where to start with this.
Maybe the fairy magic? Chenle suggested.
Definitely not the fairy magic. I’m pretending I didn’t hear you think that so I don’t have an existential crisis, thanks, Jisung replied. Chenle barely managed to stop himself from snorting. He was starting to feel a bit hysterical, the absolute absurdity of their situation finally starting to sink in.
“Fuck, this is weird,” he said aloud.
“Tell me about it,” Jisung muttered. He turned his head to look at Chenle out of the corner of his eye and then swallowed nervously, suddenly averting his gaze. “Uh. Out of curiosity, how much did you…?”
I know you have a crush on me, Chenle thought bluntly, not slowing down when Jisung’s panicked thoughts kicked themselves up a notch. Which made me feel like a complete and utter idiot for a couple reasons — one, because you’re so obvious I should have noticed two years ago, and two, because I like you too, and we could have been dating for two years already, if I hadn’t been such an oblivious idiot.
“Oh,” Jisung breathed into the silence that fell between them.
“Yeah, oh,” Chenle said, rolling his eyes. He could hear Jisung’s cautious optimism in his thoughts, and Chenle found himself growing giddy as he considered where this could go. He liked his flatmate, and his flatmate liked him back.
He looked at Jisung. Jisung looked at him. For a long moment, they both just stood there, processing.
“Fuck it,” Chenle said, and stepped forward. Think now, or forever hold your peace.
As if I’d stop you, Jisung thought, and then Chenle’s lips were on his and all rational thought abandoned them both.
When they came up for air, Jisung said, “Fairy magic?”
“I want to die,” Chenle said, emphatically. Jisung audibly stifled a laugh, and Chenle sighed. “Yeah. Fairies exist, or maybe existed. They might have gone extinct. But either way, I’m part fairy. Thank you so much for this blessing, ancestors.” Chenle poured as much sarcasm into the last sentence as he possibly could.
“So you’re part fairy, and have magic. Hm.” A contemplative look stole across Jisung’s face. He nodded, resolute. “Yeah. That makes sense.”
What tipped you off, the mind reading? Chenle was amused.
Oh. No. Jisung sounded shy. I just think you look pretty enough to be one.
“Park Jisung! Don’t say things like that without warning!” Chenle slapped his arm, face burning.
“I didn’t say anything, though?” Jisung said, a small smile at the corner of his mouth.
Chenle laughed and laughed and laughed. Then he pulled Jisung into their living room and kissed him on the couch in a stray beam of sunlight and thought, I’m so glad that he likes me back.
Jisung smiled into the kiss. I thought it was obvious.
You didn’t say anything, though, Chenle pointed out, teasing. Jisung pulled back, smiling at him, eyes warm.
No, I didn’t. But I didn’t need to.
“True,” Chenle said, huffing out a laugh, still breathless from the kiss. “Now kiss me again.”
“Anytime,” Jisung said, and obliged.