MARK

Whenever Mark practiced illusions in his Las Vegas apartment, he always started with grass. It was amazing how much a few years in the desert could make him long for something he previously took for granted, but nowadays he craved the feel of grass tickling his feet as desperately as most people craved the embrace of a lover. He closed his eyes and summoned his power, and when he opened them again, the floor of his apartment was a sea of green stirred by a conjured wind, and the individual blades of grass caressed between his toes in a feeling so perfect that it could have been real.

Mark smiled, feeling power flood through him. Practicing his craft was always easier when he was in a good mood; his feelings were very much woven into his magic, and when he was temperamental, his magic was, too. But right now, it flooded out of him with joy and ease. He conjured a rabbit frolicking about the grass, nibbling it in its tiny mouth, then invited a flock of birds in and had them chirp out a rendition of Vivaldi’s “Spring” in perfect harmony. He filled the room with the scent of hyacinth and lily and honeysuckle and rainwater, childhood memories of a season that manifested completely differently in Vegas.

Sometimes he resented his gift of illusion. In a world where being anything but normal put a target on you, it was oftentimes an anchor of a burden to bear. But in moments like this, he thrived on it. Who wanted to be normal when being abnormal meant he could build paradise according to the fancies of his mind whenever he needed it?

Eventually, the traces of his apartment were buried under illusions of spring, and he was no longer contained by four walls, but in a field of flowers, tilting his head up to a blue sky and a sparkling sun. He took in a deep breath, extending his senses to examine the scene for flaws. Sometimes he would get details wrong—the texture of the grass, the exact scent of the hyacinth, the proper look of shadows cast by the trees, the notes of the birdsong—but this time it was perfect.

But then there was a sound not of his own making in the illusion, a thunk thunk knock on a door. Mark cleared his mind, and the illusion vanished. It would be incorrect to say he was now “back” in his apartment—he’d never truly left it at all. But like every time, it took him a moment to reorient and reestablish to himself that he was no longer in his spring paradise, but in his small apartment with its questionable cooling system in the city in the middle of a heatwave.

There was another thunk on the door, and Mark crossed the room to answer it. He was pretty sure he knew who it was already. There was only one person who visited him regularly. He took a breath and slicked back his hair that had gotten a bit sweaty from the effort of crafting the illusion. When he felt as ready as he could be, he opened the door.

“Hi, neighbor,” Park Jinyoung said. He was holding a plastic container with four muffins packed neatly inside. Mark knew what the next words of his mouth would be from how often he’d heard them spoken: “I was baking and accidentally made too much, so I brought the extras for you.”

Mark smiled endearingly at his visitor. It was all so transparent, yet adorable. Jinyoung baked something like this every week, and every time he always managed to “accidentally make too much,” even with things like muffins where he knew exactly how many muffins each tin would yield. He was obviously doing it on purpose, and though Mark didn’t know the exact reason, the most likely reasons were all sweet. Mark was pretty sure that it was because he exhausted a lot of energy in his illusion work and came across as chronically underfed. And Jinyoung was the kind of nurturing person who wasn’t going to let anyone waste away on his watch.

“Thanks, Jinyoung,” Mark said, opening his door a little wider. “Want to come in? I’ve just brewed some coffee.”

“Thanks, I’d love to.”

It had taken several months of Jinyoung’s baked good offerings for Mark to invite him inside his half of the duplex they shared, but now it was a part of their weekly rituals. Mark, unlike the very warm and open Jinyoung, had a bad but very necessary habit of closing himself off the people. But Jinyoung had wormed his way in nonetheless, and now Mark very much looked forward to his regular visits, as well as the fruits of his steadily improving baking skills.

Jinyoung stepped inside and sank down into Mark’s saggy couch. “It smells great in here,” he commented, glancing around. “Like…hyacinth? Did you get a new candle?”

“Air freshener,” Mark lied. He really needed to get better about wiping up the traces of his illusions. Scents were a minimal risk, but how would he explain it if a rabbit darted out from under his couch?

He ducked into the kitchen for a moment as Jinyoung settled in and came back with two mugs of coffee. Jinyoung took his gratefully and set it down on the coaster. He always drank his coffee slowly, to the point Mark had to imagine it was quite lukewarm by time he finished. He was lucky Mark had so little to do in the mornings and didn’t mind hosting a visitor who lingered a lot longer than would probably be considered polite.

“How are things?” he asked Jinyoung, sitting down beside him.

“Oh, you know,” Jinyoung said with a shrug. “Just busy with the usual fun of plying people with alcohol as they drain their bank accounts trying to get rich. It’s a living.”

“Any crazy customers recently?” Jinyoung worked as a bartender at one of the less upscale casinos downtown and was always filled with stories of the wild people and happenings of the Las Vegas strip.

“We got a middle-aged lady divorce party a few days ago. I was making margs all night and listening to horror stories about The Ex-Husband and the Ex-Mother-in-Law-from-Hell. You don’t want to know how many phone numbers I got written in lipstick on napkins that night—mainly from the divorcee, since she kept forgetting she’d already given me her number. Apparently I’m a very good listener, a quality The Ex-Husband was severely lacking.”

“So, am I to congratulate you on your new divorcee girlfriend?”

“God, no. She was a nice lady, but I’m not qualified to even attempt to handle those deep seeded issues in the long term.” Jinyoung fanned himself, then pulled off the light sweater he was wearing to reveal his short sleeved shirt. Even in the middle of a heatwave, it was rare to catch a glimpse of so much skin from him. Mark had to remind himself not to stare. “How about you? The entertainment industry treating you well?”

“Not bad. Tickets are selling well, and I got a new marketing team to help with promotions. They came up with this whole new flyer campaign and everything.”

“Do you have one you could give me?”

“I forgot to bring my stack home with me, unfortunately. But there should be distributors by your casino. If you see some, grab a copy. Or two. And share it with all your friends.”

“I’ll get enough to spread around campus,” Jinyoung said. He was a first-year grad student mastering in Communications; hence the bartending job, to help cover his tuition. “It’ll be solid proof that I share a duplex with a celebrity, which they refuse to believe.”

Mark snorted. “I’m hardly a celebrity.”

“Come off it, you have a Wikipedia page. You guys appeared on freakin’ Live with Kelly and Ryan when they came to Vegas. No one else in my friend group has been kissed on the cheek by Kelly Ripa.”

“She’s a nice lady. I’m sure if you ran into her and you asked nicely…”

“You didn’t just run into her. You were booked for her show, watched by millions. But nice try.”

“So if I’m a celebrity in your eyes, does that mean you only drop by for the clout?”

Jinyoung frowned. “Not at all. Believe it or not, I actually enjoy your company.”

Mark flushed in pleasure. “I’m leaning towards the ‘or not’ side of believing that.”

“As you should, considering you only said about ten words to me in my first few months of knowing you,” Jinyoung shot back. “How far we’ve come.” He glanced at the center piece of Mark’s coffee table, a vase filled with pink roses. “Where’d those come from?” he asked.

“My mother sent them,” Mark said.

“Oh. Does she live around here?”

“Nope. She lives in California, where I grew up. She sends flowers from time to time, probably as a reminder to call home every now and then. That’s why I always have the vase there. In case she sends something.” It was the least he could do. He hadn’t been the best of sons, what with the whole running away from home to start a magic troupe thing, and his mother’s occasional flowers were more than he deserved.

“And here I thought you left a usually empty vase on your table as an art statement.” Jinyoung played with a loose string on his sleeve. “I’ve been growing some flowers out back. I’ve been meaning to give some to you for your vase. Would that be fine, for the gaps between when your mother sends flowers?”

“That would be nice. You’re such a kind neighbor.”

“I learned everything I know from Mr. Rodgers.” Jinyoung smiled then, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His smiles were completely devastating, and Mark always felt a little bowled over after seeing them. It was like everything beautiful about the world was contained in them—a waft of spring breeze, a ray of sunlight, the sweetest scent of flowers. The brushing touch of warm grass against his feet.

“Well,” Jinyoung said finally, “I should probably get back to my apartment and get ready for work. See you later, neighbor.”

“Later,” Mark said. When Jinyoung was safely out of eyesight, he slumped down into the couch, squeezing a throw pillow against his chest.

He was perfectly cognizant of the fact that he had developed somewhat of a crush on Jinyoung, no matter how often he pretended like he hadn’t. It had been a slow builder, given how he’d started off wary of Jinyoung’s persistent intrusions in his life. Mark had never been the kind of person who opened his heart easily, and Jinyoung being a normie limited his ability to be honest in so many small ways that added up into something that should have made friendship impossible. But friendship had happened nonetheless thanks to Jinyoung’s kindness and how easy he was to talk to. And that friendship had somehow blossomed into something Mark had never even realized had been planted in his heart to begin with.

But he wasn’t going to let it become any more than a crush. ‘Crush’ screamed of juvenility, of pure fantasies and an impossible target. He couldn’t be with Jinyoung. There was a choice that came with being a Magical. If you wanted to practice magic as part of your career, as Mark did with his troupe, you had to obtain a special license that came with hundreds of regulations that would work to keep your true magical abilities secret from normies. And one of those regulations was a strict ban on dating or marrying normies. It was just too difficult to build your life and career off of magic and then expect to keep it hidden from your life partner. And that was the absolute rule: normies could not know about Magicals. Magicals who married normies as a rule had to give up the practice of the magic and live an entirely normal life.

It’ll pass, Mark thought glumly of his little ‘crush.’ Everything does. One day I’ll just have to force myself to empty my heart, and it’ll all disappear like it never even existed. Just like an illusion.

Around him, he recrafted the illusion of the spring day, but this time added storm clouds to match his mood. The rabbit scurried back into its burrow before the rain began to fall. Fat droplets plunked down onto Mark’s skin, feeling exactly as water should. Crafting these life-like illusions was the only thing he was really, truly good at. He couldn’t give it up. He just couldn’t.

“Sorry to intrude, but I forgot my sweater,” he heard a voice outside his door saying. The door was thrown open. He didn’t have time to erase the illusion before Jinyoung stepped into it, raindrops falling down onto his head and a cold breeze rumpling his shirt.

Jinyoung’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell open in speechless shock.

Mark’s fingers slammed down on the panic button hidden in a jewel worn around his neck.

JACKSON

Jackson stood in front of the front desk, overcome by an uncharacteristic sense of sheepishness. He cleared his throat, and when that didn’t work, he cleared it louder and said, in what he hoped was a contrite voice, a soft “Hey.”

Youngjae looked up over Jackson’s head, glancing around in a deliberate show of obliviousness. “Who said that?” he asked in a dramatic voice. “I don’t see anyone at my desk.”

“Don’t play with me,” Jackson said, standing on his tip toes so he could see over the edge to where Youngjae was seated in front of his computer. “I know this desk wasn’t this tall yesterday. You grew it, didn’t you?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the desk shot up even higher, towering over him. “I could have sworn I heard something,” Youngjae continued, rubbing his chin. “Sounds kind of small and squeaky…like a mouse?”

“I’m sorry about the other day,” Jackson called up to him.

Youngjae finally looked down at him. “Oh, if it isn’t my absentee boyfriend. I don’t see you groveling down there, do I?”

“That’s because I can’t.” He rolled up the leg of his pants, showing the massive bruises on his legs. “If I could, trust me that I would.”

Youngjae shrank the front desk back down to its normal size, his teasing face suddenly serious. “Oh my god, what happened?” he asked, leaning forward. “Are you OK?”

Jackson shrugged, sliding his pant leg back down. “Had a bit of an accident. The person who Summoned me yesterday was on a hiking trip. I wasn’t aware of that when I teleported over and landed on a cliff face and kinda, you know…fell off.” He pulled out his cell phone, which was completely shattered. “I would have called, but there was a bit of a casualty.”

“God, who cares about the phone?” Youngjae said, shaking his head. “Are you all right?”

“Other than the bruises, I’m all right. It wasn’t a far fall. It would have been easy to stop myself with magic, but there were too many normies around that I couldn’t risk it.”

“Did you go see a Healer?”

“Yeah, and I’ve got a follow up to get rid of the bruises in a few minutes. But I wanted to talk to you first.” He took Youngjae’s hands. “Babe, I’m really sorry about missing your open mic.”

Youngjae waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, yeah, I was a little mad, but it’s not a big deal. I’m just glad you’re OK. I thought your job wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. Should I be worried?”

Jackson shook his head. “Trust me, Memory Wiping is usually a snooze. I just got unlucky. I would have much rather been listening to you and that y voice of yours croon me a love song.”

Youngjae smiled. “Who said I would have crooned you a love song?”

“Hey, if I’m not your muse, who is?” Jackson tweaked his nose. “By agreeing to be my boyfriend, didn’t that make me the automatic target of all your serenades?”

“What about when I sing ‘Such a Loser’?”

“OK, maybe not that one. But seriously. I’m really, really sorry that I missed it.”

“Don’t be so sincere, Jacks, it’s weirding me out.” Still, Jackson could see in Youngjae’s smile that all was forgiven. It was such a relief. After all their interrupted dates, Jackson was worried an entirely missed one would be the last straw.

And he didn’t want a last straw to come anywhere near their newfound relationship. Jackson had been gunning for him the moment Youngjae had started working as the administrative assistant at the Nevada Department of Magical Secrecy a year ago, but they’d only been dating about a month. Youngjae had warned Jackson the first time he’d tried flirting that he wasn’t someone easily won over and would require a lot of wooing before even considering going on a single date. He hadn’t been kidding, either. But Jackson had been willing to bend over backwards to prove to Youngjae he wasn’t playing around, and in the end, his persistence paid off. They’d finally become boyfriends, and had been blissfully lovey dovey ever since.

There was only one problem: Jackson’s job as a Memory Wiper. Whenever a Magical was caught using magic by a Normie, it was Jackson’s job to make the Normie forget what they’d seen. It was the most important job at the NDMS, and the most challenging. To begin with, Memory Wiping was advanced magic that only high level practitioners were capable of. On top of that, Memory Wipers could be Summoned by a Magical at pretty much any hour of the day, which meant stopping whatever he was doing, immediately teleporting to the scene, and handling the situation before the Normie had a mental breakdown at the sight of magic.

And far too often, ‘stopping whatever he was doing’ meant dates with Youngjae. Even if they were in the middle of a kiss, if he was Summoned, Jackson would have to leave. In just one month, it had happened more times than Jackson cared to count.

The main culprit was the lead magician in a Las Vegas performing troupe, Mark. Mark had only just been granted a special license to do performance magic by NDMS President Jaebum when a neighbor had unexpectedly moved into the other half of his duplex, which had been abandoned for years. The very same day the neighbor, Jinyoung, moved in, he walked in on Mark practicing tricks with an illusory tiger right in the middle of their backyard. Jackson had been Summoned to wipe Jinyoung’s memory before the two neighbors had even been properly introduced to each other.

Ever since, Jackson had been Summoned to wipe Jinyoung’s memory at least once a week, but more often two or three times. 40% of it was Mark’s refusal to stop practicing his magical acts at home, but 60% seemed to be because Jinyoung absolutely couldn’t keep away from him. To Jackson, it was obvious that there was a pretty sizable crush brewing there, but it seemed far less obvious to Mark. Whenever Jackson tried to point out how suspiciously interested in him Jinyoung was, Mark would defensively quip that Jinyoung was just friendly. Jackson had a feeling Mark probably knew it was more than that in his heart of hearts, but didn’t want to face the inevitable choice between Jinyoung and his performance license accepting it would lead to.

Jackson felt bad for him, but felt just as bad for himself having to constantly leave Youngjae to solve other people’s messes. Falling off a cliff had definitely hurt, but hurting Youngjae by not making an appearance at the open mic he’d been excited about for weeks had hurt even worse.

“You know what?” Jackson said spontaneously. “How about I take a week off and we go on vacation? Just the two of us?”

Youngjae’s eyebrows flew up. “Do you think President Jaebum would actually let you? You know how understaffed we are.”

“He’s legally obligated to give me a certain amount of vacation time.”

“True…” Youngjae chewed on his lip. “What kind of vacation are we talking? Like…a share a hotel together vacation?”

Jackson nodded hopefully. “If you want to?” They hadn’t slept together yet, so there was a chance he was pushing his luck.

Youngjae looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. “I want to go somewhere not a god awful hot as Vegas, and a place with good food is an absolute must.”

Jackson beamed. “OK, Mr. Bossy."

“I think I’ve earned the right.” Youngjae glanced around to make sure the lobby was empty before leaning in to kiss Jackson. Or more like French kiss Jackson. For a good five minutes. They only stopped because the Summoning pendant Jackson wore around his neck was going off.

Jackson pulled away, looking down at it. “It’s Mark again,” Jackson said with a sigh.

Youngjae frowned. “Don’t you have an appointment with the Healer’s?”

“I’m an expert at Memory Wiping Jinyoung by now,” Jackson said lightly. “Should only take a few minutes. I promise you, I’ll get my injuries dealt with.” He leaned in to peck Youngjae’s lips. “When I’m done, we can see about planning that vacation of ours.”

Mark

Very early the next morning, Mark ran into Jinyoung in the apartment complex parking lot trying to pull a massive bag of nutrient enriched soil from the trunk of his car.

“Need any help?” Mark asked.

Jinyoung lept in surprise. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

“I didn’t. You probably couldn’t hear me over your grunts of exertion.” y though they were, Mark added in his head.

“Could you not run into me in the middle of me looking pathetic?”

“Seems a little too late for that.” Mark glanced at the soil bag. “I wouldn’t be able to carry that by myself either, FYI.”

“Really? I always imagined you had really nice arm muscles.”

Mark tilted his head. “What would you need to be imagining me for?”

“Nothing,” Jinyoung said quickly. “It’s…you know how people use the expression about clothes ‘leaving nothing up to the imagination’? I meant that kind of imagination.”

“Well, your clothes leave everything up to the imagination, so I suppose I’m going to have to imagine you have feeble old man arms now that I’ve seen you try to carry that soil.”

“Jerk.”

“Just joking. But still, I’d better help you carry that before you throw out your back.”

Jinyoung relented with a sigh. Between the two of them, it was still a struggle getting the bag to the backyard.

“All right,” Jinyoung said, massaging his arms. “Thanks for being a knight-in-shining-armor, even though it totally doesn’t match your magician shtick. But don’t even offer to help me actually put the soil in. I’m going to take care of it myself.”

“Far be it from me to stop you.” Mark took a step back. “I’ll just keep you company.”

“Don’t you have anything better you should be doing? Practicing magic tricks, maybe?”

“Who needs practice?” Mark lifted the baseball hat he was wearing, conjuring a flower on top of his hair, then set the hat back down before immediately lifting it up to show that the flower had vanished. It looked like a sleight of hand trick, which meant he was allowed to do it even in front of a Normie though it was technically magic.

“Bravo,” Jinyoung said. “Sorry for doubting you. I just thought an act you were putting on for audiences of hundreds would be a bit more theatrical.”

“My recent act involves summoning ghosts, and I thought that would scare you.”

“More like you don’t have your trick projector set up in the garden.” Jinyoung grabbed a pair of gardening gloves from his pocket and slipped them on. “I’m just teasing you. You’re more than welcome to stay here with me.” Jinyoung paused, his eyes suddenly lighting up. “Oh, that’s right! I ran into one of your flyer distributors on the way to work last night.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper, which when unfolded revealed a shadowy picture of Mark, his face half obscured by his gloved hand and a crow seated on his shoulder, looking beadily at the unseen photographer. Underneath the image in gold front was written: “The Marvelous Mark Presents: A Night of Macabre Magic.”

“I have a copy I didn’t fold up, lest you think I’m disrespecting your image,” Jinyoung said quickly. “It’s a great flyer. Sinister.”

“Well, that’s what we’re going for. A night of spooks and chilling things to give people shivers so they can forget about the heatwave.”

“I could go for that.” Jinyoung paused as he tore open the bag of soil. “If you want to invite me, that is.”

“It’s a free country. Nothing’s stopping you from coming to my performance.”

“I know. But I’m a low-level casino bartender. I was actually waiting for you to offer me a ticket. For months. Which is cheap of me, I know, but…” He shrugged. “I was hoping you’d want me to come, but you always seem to avoid going into detail about the subject.”

Mark grimaced. It was for a good reason. Even in Harry Potter where magic was prevalent enough to have a whole social order spring up around it, it was something sworn to secrecy and guarded protectively. In real life, the gift was rarer and more of a mutation than anything. It was more like X-Men than Harry Potter, and that meant limited numbers and limited power should anyone discover their existence and feel threatened by them. Thus, the magical community was regulated with even greater strictness and caution than that of the fictional Ministry of Magic.

Which was why he usually didn’t get close enough to anyone who could find out the truth. Jinyoung had been an exception for a while now because he’d never gone to Mark’s shows or asked too many questions. Mark didn’t want to let him into the part of his life that could so easily change their comfortable boundaries.

“I just figured you’re usually busy at night,” Mark said finally. “We work the same hours, basically, so I didn’t think you would be able to come.”

“I do have vacation hours. And I have Monday nights off. I could come then, next week.” There was a slightly beseeching look in his eyes. “I just think it would be cool to see. My quiet, perfectly normal neighbor doing legit magic tricks in cool costumes on stage in front of a massive audience.”

“It’s all pretty standard stuff. I’m no David Copperfield.”

“No. I don’t know David Copperfield. But I know you. That would make it all the more interesting.” He flashed his doe eyes at Mark. “Is a ticket to next week’s performance really asking too much? After you’ve enjoyed my brownies and cookies and muffins for so long?”

“I didn’t know any strings came attached to those.”

“They don’t. Like I said, I didn’t mean to bake too many muffins the other day. You really did me a favor by taking the extra off my hands.” He leaned in a little. “But if you wanted to show your gratitude for my baking, I wouldn’t say no.”

Mark bit his lip. Was it really such a big deal? Tickets were for sale publicly—Jinyoung could buy them at any point if he wanted. Did it really matter if he went to see the show? It wasn’t like he’d automatically assume after watching that Mark’s illusions were real illusions—especially considering his memory had been wiped every time he’d seen Mark’s more inexplicable illusions like the tiger in their backyard, the thunderstorm in Mark’s room, or that time he’d walked in on Mark seemingly boiling himself alive in a prop cauldron.

“Fine, you win,” Mark said. “I’ll give the box office your name and you can pick up your ticket tomorrow.”

“You’re the best, neighbor! How about I drop by the apartment with champagne after to toast your grand illusions and share my thoughts?”

“What, did you buy too many bottles accidentally?”

“You know me so well.” Jinyoung smiled. But the smile was only momentary. When he turned to look at his garden, his expression became heavy again. Even though he’d been growing flowers that could survive in the desert, they were all on the verge of dying. “But before then, it looks like I have a lot of work to do,” he said grimly.

0

This time, Mark really made an effort not to get caught. He really did. He waited until he was sure Jinyoung had left for his bartending job before creeping back to the garden and working magic to resurrect the dying flowers. He just couldn’t bear that sad look in Jinyoung’s eyes over his struggling garden. He instead wanted to see Jinyoung’s eyes light up at the sight of all the beautiful flowers there. He wanted Jinyoung to proudly give him a bouquet to put in his vase.

But the next morning, there was a knock on the door. A very agitated Jinyoung was standing behind it.

“I set up a time lapse camera so I could see how my garden was progressing,” Jinyoung said in a wary voice. “Could you please explain to me this bit of footage?”

Before he’d even turned the camera to show Mark, Mark’s fingers had found the panic button around his neck. He pressed down on it with a wince, hating himself for what he knew was yet again coming.

JACKSON

Youngjae opened the cookbook and set it down in front of them on the counter.

“You’re using a cookbook?” Jackson asked, incredulously. “For pancakes? Doesn’t everyone know that recipe by heart?”

Youngjae shot him a look. “Well, excuuuuuse me, Mr. Pancake Expert. And here I thought I was being nice by coming over to make pancakes for you.”

“You are being very nice. I’ll shut up now.”

“No, I think if you’re so convinced your pancake knowledge is beyond mine, you’ll have to prove it.” Youngjae pointed at him dramatically. “Jackson Wang, I challenge you to a duel!”

“Are you sure that’s something you want to challenge a fencer to?”

Youngjae grinned. “Only if the weapon is batter. I’ll make a half batch of pancakes and you make the other half. Whoever’s tastes and looks better wins.”

“You’re on. But let’s go one at a time so there’s no cheating. No magic allowed.”

“I never cut corners in the kitchen. Prepare to eat the best pancakes you’ve ever eaten in your life, Wang.”

Youngjae got to work measuring out the ingredients, Jackson watching his every move to make sure there was no magic slipped in. “So how are your bruises doing?” Youngjae asked as he began dumping things into his mixing bowl.

“All healed up.”

“Were you late to the appointment the other day?”

“Nope. Like I said, I’m an expert at dealing with Jinyoung. He’s easier to Memory Wipe than others.”

“What do you mean?”

“A lot of Normies…I don’t know…go a bit crazy when they see magic? It’s like their brains can’t process the lack of a logical explanation, and it sometimes translates to anger towards the person that made it happen. Even violence. Hence the whole existence of our secrecy laws. But Jinyoung’s not like that, whenever he catches Mark at his magic. It’s more like he’s confused but wants to understand. He’s more open minded. Which I guess makes it easier to open his mind and clear it.”

“Do you ever feel bad about it?”

“About Jinyoung? Yeah. I feel bad for Normies like him. But the other ones…the ones who don’t have any room for the out of the ordinary…yeah, I don’t feel bad about erasing the memories of those guys at all. It’s for the protection of Magicals, right?”

“I guess, sometimes,” Youngjae agreed. He looked somber.

Jackson poked his cheek. “Come on, babe. That’s not a good happy pancake face.”

“Happy pancake face? What does that even mean?”

“Pancakes are one of those foods you should be happy and smiling about while you make them.”

“Does it make them taste better?”

“Absolutely.” Jackson wrapped him up in a back hug, squeezing him tight. “Your laughter is the best flavor.”

“Awww, aren’t you worried about giving me an unfair advantage? This is supposed to be a competition!”

“I’m still not letting you go.”

“Maybe you’re actually trying to sabotage me. Making me all flustered while I’m trying to pour my batter.”

“Are you flustered? You’ve always been so cool and collected while I’ve been the one making a fool of myself chasing after you.”

Youngjae leaned in to his chest. “You’re a Magical. You should know that looks can be deceiving.”

“Hmmm?”

“I liked you pretty much from the beginning, you know? You’re a really kind and generous person beneath all your showboating, and I saw that right away.”

“So what was all the waiting for?”

“Because seeing someone can happen in a moment. Trusting them is something built over time.” Youngjae exhaled. “It can be a scary world out there for people like us. If we’re going to face it together, I wanted to do that trusting you to fight at my side. I wanted to know you well enough to have that.”

“Wow,” Jackson said, his breath catching. “That’s really beautiful.”

“Also, President Jaebum said you were a player and I should watch my back.”

“That jerk! I’ve never played anyone in my life!”

“If you don’t want him making up that kind of thing about you, you really should stop stealing his lunch and telling him gnomes did it.” Youngjae laughed. “Now let’s make these pancakes!”

He made four. One in the shape of a crescent moon, one a heart, one a crown, and one a sun. Most of them looked pretty good, although the sun wound up looking a bit more like a flower when it cooked.

Just as Youngjae was plating them, Jackson’s Summoning pendant went off. He cursed under his breath, checking it. Mark again. In less than 48 hours since the last time.

“Youngjae,” he said bleakly, pointing to his pendant. “It’s Mark.”

Youngjae sighed. “If it’s Jinyoung, it shouldn’t take long, right?”

“Yeah. But…” He shuffled his feet. “Let’s just have your pancakes when I get back, all right? Since there’ll be less time for me to make some of my own. We’ll save the competition for another time.”

“So this is you admitting defeat?” Youngjae’s voice was trying to sound light, but it didn’t quite sound like his heart was in it.

“Never.” Jackson pecked him on the lips. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can, OK?”

MARK

“You seem antsy,” a voice came from above. Mark almost leapt out of his skin in his surprise; he’d thought he’d been the first to arrive backstage and was entirely alone. A moment later, a bat fluttered down from the rafters, shifting into a crow and then vulture before landing on the ground in the form of a human man.

“Nice shifting, BamBam,” Mark said. “But could you not scare me to death like that right when I’m trying to calm down before a performance?”

“I thought scaring to death was the theme.”

“If we literally scare anyone to death, we’ll have a lawsuit on our hands.”

“We’ll make that President Jaebum’s concern, not ours.” BamBam picked some stray feathers from his hair. “So, what’s with the tense expression? The performance has been going well, hasn’t it? Nothing left to worry about.”

“I know. But this is the first time I’ll be performing in front of an invited guest.”

BamBam’s eyebrows flew up. “You invited a guest?”

“Well, he kind of invited himself, but yeah.”

“This is a first.” BamBam tilted his head. “So…are you going to tell me about this guy?”

“It’s my neighbor.”

“Oh, the Normie who’s always catching you in the act?”

“Yup. That perfectly normal guy. Emphasis on perfect.”

“Ooooh, are you going through your Normie phase? I thought about it a little before applying for my performance permit. But I figured most Normies don’t want to hook up with someone whose inner self includes, but is not limited to, an anteater, a python, a honey badger, a wasp, a warthog, a-” BamBam shifted his body into each as he listed them.

“Luckily, I don’t have a warthog inside me,” Mark interrupted dryly.

“Just an active imagination,” Warthog BamBam said. “Be careful with this Normie phase. Never forget that Normies mean having to quit doing magic. And this troupe would totally without you.”

“Excuse me, but this troupe would still have me,” Yugyeom said, entering through the beaded curtain. “I could totally be the troupe leader.”

Warthog BamBam snorted. “As if I’d accept you as my boss. I’m older than you.”

“But I’m more mature, Pumba.” Yugyeom sniffed. “The only reason why I haven’t usurped Mark’s position yet is because I respect him.”

“Sounds like you’re a giant chicken,” BamBam shifted into one himself and pecked at Yugyeom’s feet.

“How about I fry you up and serve some nuggets?” Yugyeom asked, kicking BamBam lightly with his foot. In spite of all the dissing, the two were actually best friends. Mark had initially recruited Yugyeom, and BamBam had joined up immediately after, claiming they were a package deal. While BamBam’s specialty was shapeshifting, Yugyeom was a master of escape and flying magic.

 “Mark has a guest coming tonight,” BamBam reported to Yugyeom, their little argument presumably over. “A Normie.”

“I didn’t know you had friends other than us,” Yugyeom replied in a shocked voice. Mark whacked him on the arm. “I mean, I didn’t think you had much of a life outside of the troupe.”

“Way to go from insulting to demoralizing,” Mark grumbled. “And he’s not exactly a friend. Just my neighbor. We share a duplex.”

“Got to watch out for neighbors. One of mine parked so often on my side of the driveway that I melted his car out of revenge and Jackson had to come down to cleanse his memory since the neighbor caught me in the act. I bet 80% of memory wipes are because of neighbors. They’re such snoops.”

“Jinyoung isn’t much of a snoop. He’s just nice. Friendly.”

“It’s the nice, friendly ones who turn out to be brightly inquisitive and curious. It’s their charm and our downfall.”

Mark wanted to defend Jinyoung, but decided against it. They had other things they needed to be doing. “Now that everyone has made clowns of themselves, shall we get ready for tonight’s performance?” Mark asked, putting on his Troupe Master top hat. “You’ve all got some cleaning up to do.”

“Yes, sir!” they chanted in unison, as they always did. They were a bit much, but they were family. When it came down to it, they were both fantastic performers and professional from the moment they stepped on stage.

“All right, then,” he said. “Let’s put on the show of the lifetime.”

0

Mark wrote the script for all their shows, and A Night of Macabre Magic came from an Edgar Allen Poe binge after getting bored at the annual Vegas Magic Halloween Party and camping out in the host’s library. Mark opened the show with a twist on Poe’s greatest hits, with BamBam posing as the raven and croaking out “nevermore” before the spectral illusion of the lost Lenore burst through the window accompanied by a gust of wind and a sudden flare of flame in the fireplace. Mark followed up with aural illusions—the telltale heart pounding beneath the creaking floorboards, a disembodied voice echoing eerily through the audience singing “The Haunted Place” from The Fall of the House of Usher—and then shifted into more complex visual illusions—making the walls appear as they were dripping with blood, transforming objects in the room into skulls and bones, and disintegrating the bust of Pallas BamBam was perched on into dust.

Through the corner of his eye, he peered when he could in the direction of the box seats he’d gotten Jinyoung a special ticket to use. By the glow of the dim overhead lights, he could just faintly see the looks of awe that passed across Jinyoung’s expression as he watched. It gave Mark a burst of confidence to see it. He wanted to make the spectacle even more impressive, just for him.

Next was Yugyeom’s segment, a reenactment of The Pit and the Pendulum. He was chained to the floor of the stage with a razor sharp pendulum swinging down little by little towards his body. He put on an acting performance of panicking and struggling as the pendulum descended, and then at the last minute used all the little weaknesses he’d melted into the chain to twist out of it and roll away just as the pendulum sliced over where his body would have been. The pendulum descended the rest of the way, blocking Yugyeom from the view of the audience so that when it lifted again, he could appear before them wearing his chains as a necklace, bracelet, and belt set. The audience cheered wildly.

Mark then appeared on stage to do his MC bit, a hammy narrative about all the ghosts and spirits present with them tonight, which he made appear in random places in the venue like the aisle and dangling from the chandelier and, to be cheeky, right in the box section Jinyoung was seated in. After the audience had a good fright, nervously laughing amongst themselves about how convincing the ‘projections’ had looked, Mark entertained them with the basic tricks people traditionally expected from these kinds of shows—sleight of hand, card tricks, pulling animals (all BamBam in different forms) out of his jacket, and making items belonging to members of the audience disappear and reappear. He caught himself showboating more than he usually did more than once, acutely aware that Jinyoung was watching.

At last, the show wrapped up with another one of Yugyeom’s segments. Yugyeom came out dressed as Edgar Allen Poe, and Mark again conjured the specter of the lost Lenore to drag him off up to heaven with her. Yugyeom and Lenore got into a mid-air battle as Poe resolved to stay on the earth no matter how much he loved her and wanted to be with her, utilizing all of his craftiest flight tactics to evade her as she tried to force him to go with her. As always, the audience kept glancing to the ceiling trying to spot the wires helping him levitate, but they could never find them since they didn’t exist.

With the show wrapped up, the troupe took their bows (BamBam perched on Mark’s shoulder in crow form) to the cheers of the audience. Jinyoung was giving a standing ovation, a big smile on his face. Mark smiled back, a nervous flutter in his heart. He was happy to have entertained Jinyoung and given him joy with his illusions, even if only under the guise of being a trick-based “magician.” But all the same, it worried him. Jinyoung had already been on the receiving end of far too many Memory Wipes—wouldn’t it only get worse if they got closer?

Got to watch out for neighbors, Yugyeom’s voice echoed in his ears. Mark had dismissed it, but it was probably true. Jinyoung’s every smile and cheer felt like they were setting off fireworks in his heart, and it felt almost like the rest of the audience was an illusion and Jinyoung was the only real and essential presence among them. Yes, he definitely had to watch out for this neighbor. Or he was going to lose himself to him entirely.

0

The heatwave didn’t let up much even at night, and the air Mark stepped out to was almost oppressively scorching. He could craft the illusion of wind to cool down a bit, but it wasn’t as good as the real deal, and he was too exhausted from expending his power all evening to go through the effort.

He saw Jinyoung in the parking lot, seated on top of the hood of his used Chevy. He rose to his feet when he saw Mark walking towards him, smiling one of his electrifying smiles.

“Hi, neighbor,” he said.

“Hey,” Mark said back. “You haven’t gone home yet?”

“Just enjoying the fresh air.”

“The fresh…oven-like air that is dry to skin-destroying levels?”

Jinyoung shrugged. “You know how it is in our apartment. The A/C never works. At least it’s not stale and stuffy outside. Besides, I wanted to see you fresh from your triumph.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Immensely. Did you set up that ghost projection ahead of time to appear in my box?”

“I thought it would be a nice treat.”

“You’ll have to pay me back for the years you scared off of my life, some time.” He paused. “So, I thought you said there were no female performers in your group.”

“There aren’t.”

“Then what about Lenore?”

“That? That was a projection. Like the ghost that appeared in your box.”

“No way! If she were a projection, she wouldn’t be able to lock fingers or struggle with Edgar Allen Poe as convincingly as she did. His hands would have shot right through her.”

“It’s not like she could be real, either.”

“You say that, but I know the truth.” Jinyoung looked Mark square in the eye. “You can do real magic, can’t you?”

Mark’s hand instinctively went to his panic button, pressing down upon it hard. “W-What…?”

Jinyoung kept looking at him, eyes deadly serious. Then all of a sudden, he burst out laughing. “I’m just kidding,” he said giddily. “What’s with that face? Of course there was some kind of trick to it! I know the magician’s code—you don’t have to explain it to me. I was only teasing.”

Mark’s heart tightened. . He’d just Summoned Jackson over a little joke, and Jinyoung was about to get his memory wiped for no reason. He’d forget the entire magic show he’d just seen. He’d lose yet another chunk of time they’d shared, of a memory they’d made. And for what? Nothing more than Mark’s paranoia and desperation not to lose his performer’s license, as if it was the more precious thing to him than the moments he had with Jinyoung.

How much longer are we going to be able to go on like this?, he wondered sadly. Are we going to hit our breaking point soon? Am I finally going to have to make the decision to give up someone I’m absolutely not ready to give up?

A/N: This will be three chapters. Enjoy~