The erratic slashing stopped.

Then came a high-pitched whine.

“What is that?” Before Chanyeol knew it, he was shoved to the floor by Professor Zhang.

His head hit a desk leg as a filing cabinet hurtled through the cubicle curtains, smashing into the wall beside him. At a loss for words, Chanyeol dazedly looked around, only to find another object rocketing his way. In a thunderous cacophony of screeching metal and cracking plaster, the bed followed suit and collided with the cupboards, sending splintered wood and loose sheets flying. Chanyeol rolled over and crawled to his feet, fighting the urge to assume foetal position.

Clouds of debris drifted in the air, slowly settling in the nurse’s office as a brown haze. Professor Zhang was nowhere to be seen. “Sir?” Chanyeol called out, coughing into his sleeve.

His stomach turned, and a wave of dizziness washed over him. He staggered over to the open window, leaning out into the fresh air. Liquid trickled down his cheek and collected at his chin, dripping onto the flowerbed below. Chanyeol touched his forehead, felt the tender flesh and the warmth spreading on his fingers.

He looked down. The daisies were speckled with blood. “.”

Light footsteps sounded behind Chanyeol. The cubicle rails rattled, and he quickly swerved around, reaching for his sword out of instinct. His hand froze at his wrist. It wasn’t there.

Kyungsoo was standing at the cubicle’s periphery, partially obscured by the half-drawn curtains. He raised a hand, and Chanyeol immediately grabbed a nearby pair of scissors. “Don’t move,” he said through gritted teeth, fingers trembling.

Kyungsoo merely stared, his expression blank. He ignored Chanyeol and opened his hand, letting a red tassel slip through his grip. Metal clattered on the tiles, glinting gold and silver. It was Chanyeol’s sword.

Before Chanyeol could make a move, Kyungsoo kicked something at his side, causing it to fall through the curtains. With a hard thud, Professor Zhang’s body collapsed onto the floor. Several claw marks were on his face, running from his forehead to his jaw. Squinting through the blood, he said with an apologetic smile, “Sorry Chanyeol, I thought it wouldn’t be so bad this time.”

Face scrunched up in pain, he took the sword and swung it at Kyungsoo’s ankles. Chanyeol flinched, dropping the scissors in his shock. But there was no blood. Instead, black liquid poured from Kyungsoo’s wounds, creeping over the tiles in a network of webbed rivulets.

Professor Zhang threw the sword at Chanyeol, who caught it by the hilt, “Go to the headmaster’s office. Tell him-” He was cut off by Kyungsoo, who had pulled him off the floor by his neck.

The dread sank in Chanyeol’s chest. Kyungsoo’s nails were sharp, like talons in the way they looked so ready to pierce flesh, so close to cutting a vein. Disregarding all the warning bells ringing in his head, he flicked a shard of glass at Kyungsoo, “Don’t rag on me about respect when you’ve gone off and attacked your teacher, you crazy bastard.”

Confidence required no effort to fake, a smug grin was easy to wear, yet his breath hitched the minute Kyungsoo let go. A blank stare, devoid of emotion. Chanyeol edged backwards, finally understanding what instant regret felt like.

He hadn’t even blinked, yet a hand was already clutching his throat and slowly, painfully, squeezing it until his lungs constricted from the lack of air. He choked something out in desperation, and attempted to break free when his fists were too weak to punch, when his body was lifted too far off the floor. When those pale blue eyes turned to a blur, and the wall was the last thing he saw.

The impact with the bricks shattered Chanyeol. It turned him into nothing short of broken.

Muted shouts rang all around him, but he could barely hear them over the thrum of his own heartbeat. The pain didn’t come. The numbness was immediate. As Chanyeol’s consciousness began to fade, he mustered the strength to snarl, “You’re a ing monster.”

---

Shadows of tree branches shifted on the corridor floor, their shapes melding with Jongdae’s own silhouette. He whistled as he walked, trying to drown out Baekhyun’s words that were playing like a broken record inside his mind. “Talk, my ,” he scoffed, shaking his head as if the thoughts would just fall out.

Down the corridor, a set of double doors opened and out strode the headmaster, accompanied by a group of men and women, all of whom were wearing greenish-blue capes. Governors, Jongdae assumed - fancily dressed ones at that.

“Block off the nurse’s office,” the headmaster ordered. Jongdae furrowed his eyebrows, wondering if he was meant to hear that. Deciding that he wasn’t, he hid behind a nearby plant stand. “I’ll let Yixing handle the rest. My grandchildren seem to think that they know better than I do.”

“Yes sir,” they all chanted in unison, followed by a synchronised bow. Jongdae had only ever seen it in films, although there were usually heavily tattooed gang members involved - and a lot more blood. Like a regiment of troops, the group marched in the direction of the nurse’s office, their capes fluttering with every step.

Jongdae remembered seeing that colour back in year seven, back when he actually cared about school to the extent he’d willingly remember a random shade of blue-green from that one art lesson on the colour wheel. “Viridian”, if he recalled correctly.

It was the colour of the stretchers that two boys from Sallowthorn had been carried on, during a particularly cold winter six years prior.

One of them had been found sunken in a snow pile on the field, limbs broken and covered in shards of glass. The other boy was Kyungsoo, who, according to Junmyeon, had collapsed in his dorm room by a shattered window. Both of them had been roommates. Both of them had ended up pulling out of boarding.

It was a mental breakdown on Kyungsoo’s part. The boy himself had later told Jongdae when they were still in that “acquaintance or friend?” phase. Jongdae hadn’t bothered to question it - who would possibly lie about that? However, he never did find out what happened to Kyungsoo’s roommate. Nobody did, really.

“Jongdae!” Minseok called out, standing in the doorway leading to the astroturf. Beside him was Junmyeon, who was decked out in his football gear. “The game’s in five minutes. Whoever’s last on the pitch is buying everyone lunch!”

“We need more creative punishments,” Jongdae muttered, quickening his pace when Minseok began tapping his watch. “Nobody wants to run around the field anymore.”

---

Outside the nurse’s office, two men in police uniforms guarded the door, with the area in their vicinity barred with barricade tape. With a phone to his ear, Professor Zhang appeared from a connecting corridor, absorbed in a conversation. Neither of the two batted an eyelid when he slipped underneath the tape, handed each of them a bottle of water, and said, “Keep up the good work.”

As he entered the room, the pair broke their passivity and bowed, saying in unison, “Thank you, sir.”

Inside, viridian caped men and women milled about the wreckage. Curtains, cupboards and glass jars levitated around them, suspended in a sea of glowing dust. Hinges were straightened, the cracked plaster smoothed out, all done with a few spells and well-timed hand gestures. While the group of caped magicians went about their restoration, Professor Zhang skirted around them and perched on the edge of the newly-fixed desk.

He looked over Chanyeol and Kyungsoo. Side-by-side, both were lying on the floor, as completely out of it as each other. The difference was one was gagged and restrained by enchanted chains, whilst the other was bruised and bleeding, more fragile than a porcelain doll. Several magicians circled Chanyeol, supplying the unconscious boy with a constant stream of healing spells and botanicals.

Professor Zhang edged closer to the open window, catching sight of a nearby rugby game. He winced a little. A boy had been sent flying by someone twice his size. The pity was short-lived, however, for a voice called out from the phone. “Yixing, are you still there?”

“I’ll have to call you back later, Yifan. Send Han and Zitao my regards,” Yixing answered. A click came after a muffled goodbye, and the line went dead. Slipping the phone back into his pocket, he turned to one of the magicians, “How are they?”

Looking over a clipboard, the magician said monotonously, “The taller one’s not on the brink of death anymore. Kyungsoo still hasn’t fully left critical condition.”

A frigid breeze blew past, rustling the blood-spattered daisies. One raindrop hit the glass, followed by several more, until they came down in torrents. Yixing closed the window, and asked, “Memories?”

“The seal broke a while ago, so they should all be there.” Cries of drenched students rose from the field, only to be drowned out by the buzz of magic and moving furniture. The door opened and closed, briefly letting in the thunderous roar of rain pelting the neighbouring courtyard.

“News from the Voyance, sir.” Another magician approached. Much like the rest of them, her expression was harsh, with her lips drawn into a thin line. “From your cousin.”

“Yes, I’ve heard, she called me some time ago,” Yixing said, already used to the magicians’ stiff attitudes. They were his family’s servants, after all. “How did my grandfather take her resignation?”

“He understood her decision,” the magician answered curtly. “He is also rather concerned that both of you allowed the young master a familiar. Surely it would’ve been wiser to return him to normal first, were the master’s words.”

“Perhaps. Chanyeol was sorely in need of a partner. I thought-- ” Yixing’s voice trailed off. Though obstructed by the crowd of healers, he could still see glimpses of Chanyeol’s bloodied face, the bruises on which had already faded.

The magician simply nodded, then her heels. “Before you leave-” She stopped in her tracks, like a soldier being called upon, “-Eunyeong suggested giving the Hwa couple that mansion in Boseong. For taking care of Kyungsoo.”

“Understood. Is there anything else?”

“Send a group to man the blackthorn on Morford Hill,” Yixing ordered, staring at the veil of mist rapidly engulfing the landscape, and the shifting figures of the boys on the field. “Water specialists, in particular.”

While the magician took notes, sweat began to prick the back of Yixing’s neck. The temperature had risen considerably. Pushing open the window again, he asked, “Did one of you turn on the heating? It’s June for goodness’ sake.”

A bowl shattered on the floor, spilling crushed herbs and rose petals. Yixing peered over his servants, feeling the waves of heat sweeping his face. The circle of magicians stepped back warily, with one of them saying, “Sir, the taller one’s awake.”  

A bright orange glow, marbled with reds and yellows, emanated from Chanyeol, whose eyes were wide and restless. He was sat up and edging away from Kyungsoo. One hand was raised, as if he was about to-

Click

---

Scuffed knees, bloodied nose, and a soaked jersey- it wasn’t a good day for Baekhyun. As both rugby teams rushed off the field, he trudged after them, wiping the raindrops streaking his face. The main building was barely visible through the fog and the downpour, with only the lights in the nurse’s office for guidance.

“Idiot didn’t even apologise.” Baekhyun pouted, hissing when he touched his split lip.

Lightning crackled in the brooding clouds as he stepped into the west wing’s arcade, sheltering himself from the onslaught of rain. In the adjacent yard, the alder tree rustled loudly, its thinner branches swaying violently in the wind.

The howling gales rattled the heavy chains of the fence gate, and almost swept Baekhyun off his feet when he stopped at the doorway. He wrung out his shirt; there was no doubt that ones of the prefects would shout his ear off if he was caught in the corridors looking like he’d swam in a marsh.

“Excuse me.” Surprised, Baekhyun spun around. A boy in a raincoat was standing underneath one of the arches, cradling a black cat in his arms. “Do you know someone called Chanyeol?”

Strong gusts of wind carried the boy’s voice elsewhere, making it no louder than a whisper. Baekhyun moved closer, “I can’t hear you-”

In the distance, a deep boom thundered. Jolting in surprise again, Baekhyun snapped his head towards the field. Though hidden behind the curtain of rain, he could make out billowing clouds of something rising from the main building. A moment later, the shrill ring of the fire alarm sounded, leaving Baekhyun to gape at the plumes of smoke in silence.

The boy sighed, pulling his coat tighter around the cat, “That’s probably him.” Baekhyun definitely heard that. “Sorry for disturbing you.” After mumbling a goodbye, the boy bolted through the rain, his destination looking to be the nurse’s office.

“Hey wait!” Baekhyun called out, breaking out of his daze. The boy turned around, his fringe already matted with water. “That’s probably where the fire is. You shouldn’t go there.”

He smiled, “I wasn’t going to.”

“If you say so,” Baekhyun said dubiously, watching the boy disappear in the midst of the fog and rain. “Seriously, be careful!”

He thought about chasing after him, but he could already feel the rumble of the student body swarming the corridors and heading for the fire exits. Before long, the doors were swung open, and boys started to line up on the playing field in their hundreds.

Baekhyun’s cleats squelched in the mud as he joined the rest of the students, grumbling about wanting a warm shower and a picture of the year eleven who knocked him over to throw darts at. Amidst the complaints of soaked uniforms, he heard murmurs about a fire in the nurse’s office. Baekhyun looked over the dozens of heads surrounding him, squinting through the rain.

A figure was perched on a window in the main building.

---

“Chanyeol!”

Singed bandages hung off Chanyeol’s limb as he climbed onto the window stool. Behind him, smoke filled the nurse’s office, enveloping the strangers whose clothes he had set ablaze. This time, there were no strawberry-scented memories of summer accompanying the fire. This time, it was the smell of burning flesh. They shrieked and shouted, the flames their skin, and ran out of the room in their frenzy.

Yixing had narrowly escaped the brunt of the fiery explosion, and between the coughs, he still managed to give Chanyeol a reproachful look, “They’re the ones who healed you.”

“Then they can heal themselves,” Chanyeol said bitterly, scowling at Kyungsoo, who was unscathed and unbothered by the fire. “Don’t give me this bull that he’ll tell me himself. He’ll decapitate me before that ever happens.” He rested his hand on the window frame. Rainwater trickled down his scarred palm. “I’m going home.”

"Don't-"

Chanyeol jumped from the window, crushing the daisies under his feet, and ran.

---

Wet gravel crunched under Baekhyun’s feet as he ran to the dormitory entrance. Two police officers, who were in the school for whatever reason, had called it an impromptu fire drill. The smoke told otherwise, but that too was dismissed as part of the drill by several caped men - governors, Baekhyun assumed, and stupidly dressed ones at that.

Through the misted windows, he could see Jongdae lounging on the sofa, head tilted back in laughter. For a moment, Baekhyun watched, hand frozen on the door handle. Nevermind how the mud was settling in odd places, or how his hair felt heavier than a soggy fur hat; there was a fuzzy feeling in his chest that was impossible to shake off. “Damn it, I must’ve caught something,” he muttered, opening the door.

“He keeps on slapping my ,” was the first thing Baekhyun heard upon walking into the entrance hall.

“Your  is of the slappable variety, Jongdae.” Sat opposite to Jongdae was Junmyeon, sporting a pair of grandfather-esque tartan slippers. “Maybe he’s trying to assert his dominance?”

“What dominance does he need to assert? Minseok’s the captain of the school’s football team,” said Jongdae, exasperated. Baekhyun slowly backed away, knowing all too well where the conversation was heading. “Then again-” A loud, poorly muffled sneeze interrupted. ”-Baekhyun.”

Cursing under his breath, Baekhyun closed the door and, with confidence, said, “It’s my fault.”

“What did you do?” asked Junmyeon, his teacup held to his lips.

Baekhyun plopped down beside Jongdae, who immediately changed seats. Casually wagging his middle finger at Jongdae, Baekhyun said, “I tried out for the football team once.”

“Ah. Makes sense.” 

“ off. I was like the second coming of Messi on that pitch,” Baekhyun snorted and kicked his feet up on the cushions, carefully avoiding the brocaded set Professor Zhang had brought back from China.

Jongdae chimed in, “You were the only one on that pitch. Everyone ran away because you kept on aiming for their balls.”

“I wasn’t aiming. They all just at dodging.” Baekhyun shrugged, then shifted on the sofa, only to topple a vase in the process. He quickly slid down, caught it on his cleats, and whooped in triumph. The other two remained unimpressed. “Anyway, I didn’t know Minseok was older than me. Thought he was a random kid or something.” 

With his hand in a bag of toffee popcorn, Junmyeon asked, “And then?”

Baekhyun laughed dryly, “He started telling me off for putting everyone’s future children in danger.”

“Then Baekhyun said, ‘Wow year seven -ed started early this year,’” said Jongdae, flicking a kernel at Baekhyun. “The team’s been teasing Minseok about it ever since. Happily ever after. The end.”

“Still doesn’t explain why he’s slapping your though,” said Junmyeon, to which Jongdae hummed in agreement.

At that moment, the front door slammed open, and Chanyeol burst in, draped with loose bandages. He was breathing heavily, visibly shaken. Upon a closer look, Baekhyun noticed tendrils of smoke rising from his body, despite being completely drenched.

“Hi Chanyeol,” said Jongdae, waving. Chanyeol made a beeline for the stairs. “Bye Chanyeol.”

“So that’s Chanyeol? Kyungsoo was looking for him yesterday,” Junmyeon said, straightening his posture at the mention of the name.

Jongdae looked over Junmyeon’s head, trying to follow Chanyeol’s movements, but he had already disappeared into the next floor, “Baek go talk him, he looks upset.”

“Why me?” Baekhyun groaned, his body entering the jelly-like state of pure comfort and laziness. 

“My cheeks have already sunken into the cushions. That’s the point of no return.”

With a final indignant grunt, Baekhyun swung his legs off the sofa, pulled a face at Jongdae, and traipsed up the stairs, complaining about a sore back that wasn’t really sore. Upon reaching the second floor, Chanyeol ran past him, carrying his suitcase. “But you just got here!” Baekhyun cried out, blocking him in a starfish position. “I can’t be that bad of a neighbour.”

“You greeted me in your underwear.”

“I wanted to make you comfortable.”

Rolling his eyes, Chanyeol manoeuvred around him, bumping his suitcase against the wall - and Baekhyun -  as he tried to break past the impregnable defence. Baekhyun eventually gave up and moved aside, but that didn’t stop him from harping on about missed opportunities and the wonders of dorm life as Chanyeol made his way downstairs.

“Sorry for leaving like this,” Chanyeol said, addressing the two boys in the common area. “You’ve all been great. I don’t know who you are-” He pointed at Junmyeon, “-but you’re probably great too. So I’d like to say-”

“Someone was looking for you,” Baekhyun interjected, sitting on the suitcase that Chanyeol had set down. “He had a cat.”

Chanyeol clicked his tongue, and pushed Baekhyun off. “Do you know where they went?”

“To the nurse’s office.”

“Oh for the love of--” Thoughts of Kyungsoo came to mind, but those were quickly pushed aside. He was starting to wonder if there was some elaborate plan to have his bones permanently broken. “Thanks.”

“How’s Kyungsoo?” Junmyeon asked, the very question making Chanyeol inwardly groan.

Rubbing the back of his neck in frustration, Chanyeol spat out, “Ask Professor Zhang. He seems to know everything, but’ll tell you all instead.”

“Oof. Calm your ,” Jongdae said, looking as offended by the remark as the other two. Chanyeol sighed, regretting having said it. “Why so antsy? Were we really that bad?

“Sorry. It’s not your fault, neither is it sir's.” Chanyeol shook his head, feeling the three pairs of eyes searching him for answers, “My brother suffers from chronic diarrhoea so we’re moving closer to a specialist clinic. It’s on the other side of the country. I’m a bit annoyed.” He slipped out of the door, only to abruptly stop at the threshold. “Wait--” He leant back a little, a smirk playing on his lips, “Jongdae, Baekhyun likes you. ‘kay bye.”

The door closed. Junmyeon munched on his popcorn. Baekhyun turned to Jongdae, who raised an eyebrow, “What he means is he’s a -stirrer and that was a lie.”

---

Underneath the alder tree, with its dewed leaves and dampened underwood, stood Jongin with a black cat nestled in his arms. Traces of the rainstorm lingered as a cold, lazy wind rustling the peonies in the yard, and as the raindrops rolling down his navy raincoat, which had begun to dry in the sun’s emerging light. Though hindered by his baggage, Chanyeol stormed through the arcade and swept across the blades of wet grass, uncaring of the green stains forming on his socks.

“You got rejected, didn’t you?” The cat leapt out of Jongin’s arms, shifting into his human form. With a tail curling around him, Sehun stretched out his limbs, “No wonder you look so sad.”

“Pitiful,” Jongin added.

“Pathetic, even.”

Chanyeol didn’t say a word and walked past them, heading for the gate. Jongin and Sehun silently exchanged looks, before joining his side. While Chanyeol went about undoing the chains, Jongin grabbed his wrist. “He did say yes,” he said, poking at the flushed stripe on Chanyeol’s palm. “Did he collapse then?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to talk about it.” Chanyeol pulled his hand away, and the chains unravelled. He pushed the gate open, ignoring the hushed whispers between the younger pair of boys. “Let’s just go home.”

Bird songs echoed in Sage Wood’s, making up for the lack of conversation. Their feet trod on soft earth, with the crunch of the twigs accompanied by the rattle of Chanyeol’s suitcase latches whenever Sehun and Jongin took turns carrying the luggage. It wasn’t so much out of kindness, as it was for the promise of a free meal.

Hooting owls marked their arrival at the blackthorn, the shoots of which were dripping with rainwater. While Sehun thought to fill his brother in on what he had missed, Chanyeol remained silent, lost in thought. Sehun nudged his arm, “You’ll find another partner. It’s not the end of the world.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Chanyeol stepped onto the stump, paying no heed to any more of Sehun’s attempts at consoling him.

When Morford Hill came into view and the blackthorn opened up, a dozen umbrellas raised against the spitting rain greeted them. Beneath the uniform sheet of black, there stood several men with solemn expressions, waiting around the tree.

“We should move, that’s a long queue,” said Chanyeol, ushering Jongin and Sehun onto the patch of flowers. As the trio meandered through the unmoving crowd, the eyes of one man met Chanyeol’s. Chanyeol averted his gaze, finding the stare uncomfortable, only to lock eyes with another. His throat tightened. He looked elsewhere. Another one looked back. Every single man was looking straight at him.

They had no intention of boarding the blackthorn.

“, we need to-” A spark whizzed by Chanyeol, and with a small burst of light, Jongin and Sehun collapsed onto the ground. Chanyeol’s heart began to race. Instinct told him to reach for his sword and stab the closest man. Experience told him to wait.

The crowd parted, revealing a familiar face. One eye with a pale iris. The other was a dull black, bearing some semblance to the boy Chanyeol had come to know.

“Chanyeol,” said Kyungsoo. His wrists were bound, his countenance as inscrutable as the men who gathered around him. “We need to talk.”