Donghae sighs as he checks his mail box and sees letters addressed to the place two houses down. Really, is it that hard to find Hyukjae’s house?

Tucking his own mail under his armpit, he swings his briefcase idly by his leg as he heads down the hill. He goes to hit the buzzer and frowns when he sees it’s been destroyed. Concerned, he pushes the gate experimentally and stares when it easily gives way. He takes quick strides to the front door and promptly bangs on it. “Hyukjae!” He calls, his concern growing when he detects a faint smell of smoke.

He can hear rushed footsteps before the front door opens. “Donghae!” Hyukjae greets, his smile genuine but his eyes nervous. “What’s up?”

“Have you been broken into?” Donghae asks immediately, “the door’s broken and the buzzer’s…” he trails off, staring past Hyukjae’s head to the piles of gleaming metal haphazardly strewn across the hallway. “And did they leave everything they’ve already stolen here? What the ,” he frowns.

“Oh, uh, I’m into art.” Hyukjae laughs nervously, “abstract art? Like, the constructive kind?”

Donghae’s not buying it and is steadily becoming unnerved that his crush might be a thief. “There are actual gold bars over there.”

“Fake!” Hyukjae says, his voice a tone too high for it to not be panicked. “It’s all fake,” he says, a broad smile on his face.

Donghae raises his eyebrow. “Sure. Since when were you a hoarder?” He’s never been inside Hyukjae’s house before, but surely that much metal can’t just appear overnight. Donghae had given Hyukjae his mail yesterday and the halls had been clear.

“Hoarder,” Hyukjae laughs, and Donghae thinks he couldn’t look more uncomfortable if he tried. “Very funny. Oh! You have my mail again.” He snatches it out of Donghae’s hand and tries to slam the door shut, “Thanks and nice to see you but I’ve gotta go!”

Stopping the door with his foot, Donghae decides to treat rudeness with rudeness and barges inside. “I’m an idiot.”

Hyukjae stares at him with shock, glancing at the door. “For trespassing?”

Donghae shakes his head. “You can relax, Hyukjae. I know you’re a dragon.”

Hyukjae’s laugh is so high Donghae actually winces. “Dragon! That’s hilarious,” he says, still forcing that awful laugh as he claps Donghae on the shoulder.

Donghae shakes his head again and looks around, seeing even more piles of metal. Trophies, old crockery and antiques are stacked in piles of varying neatness, sorted into gold, silver, copper and bronze. The scent of smoke is a little stronger, but it’s an earthy woodfire smoke that seems absorbed into the walls and floor. It’s definitely warmer too, and Donghae sets his briefcase against the wall as he removes his blazer. “Hoarding, smoke, nobody ever finding your house? Totally dragonesque. Also, I literally purified that cursed jewellery box for you last week,” he says, pointing to the delicate silver box sitting on top of a nearby pile.

“That’s ridiculous,” Hyukjae says, his eyes a little wild with anxiety. “The mailmen are just dumb and wait,” he halts as he processes Donghae’s words. “Hold the phone. You’re the witch? Oh my god, Haru and One Day. You would call it that.”

“Family business,” Donghae says with prid