Injae’s and Hanji’s carpet’s downward fall slowed quickly, leaving a trail of thick black and orange smoke in its wake.

But Chan watched it only long enough to determine it wasn’t going to crash into Mihn and him, because he had an armful to deal with.

Mihn jerked violently in time with the boom, breaking out of Chan’s hold to sit up, neck craning to see the threat. Her eyes were red-rimmed and wide, scarily similar to the frenzied unicorns’. 

Chan should probably investigate what that boom was– was it the entropy explosion or the nullification?–but it could wait. It had to wait. 

“Hey, you’re safe. It’s okay,” Chan soothed, tentatively placing his rope-burned palms on Mihn’s heaving ribs. Her whole body trembled.

Mihn looked down at Chan from her perch on his stomach, hands braced against his pecs.

Chan’s smile was sunny and blinding against his brown skin. They were alive. The lure went boom, and they were still alive. As far as he was concerned, this was the best day ever. 

Mihn blinked once at him. Once. Twice. Thrice. Her blinks were an adorable scrunching of her eyes. Chan continued gently stroking her sides and gradually her trembles smoothed out and stopped. Her eyes lost their animalistic panic. 

Definitely the best day ever.

A confused furrow made its home between Mihn’s eyebrows and her mouth turned down at the corners. Her fingers kneaded Chan’s pecs seemingly automatically. “You–” The word got stuck in her throat. She shook her head, frustration painting her cheeks red. “I need–”

“What do you need?” Chan asked sweetly. Whatever it was, he’d give it to her. He wouldn’t even tease her about it. 

Mihn huffed and tried to roll off of Chan, but there was nowhere to go on this single-person carpet. 

“Hey, relax. Tell me what you need. I’ll help you.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Mihn growled and jabbed him in the side, apparently incapable of speech at the moment. The jab hurt his already aching body, but Chan didn’t even think about letting go. Then she started squirming like a cat with its tail trapped.

“Okay, okay,” Chan grunted. “Wait a second, I’ll– Just let me– I don’t want you falling off!”

Somehow, he managed to sit up and scoot to the side. He released her, and she all but jumped out of his lap and onto the freshly empty half of the little flying carpet.

She settled with her back to him, hair tangled wildly, and too much space between them. 

When Mihn stayed silent, Chan prompted, “Tell me what you need, sweethear–Mihn?” He wasn’t in the habit of calling her any pet names (though Gods knew he wanted to), always keeping them locked behind his teeth. One had slipped out in the midst of his blinding fear for her, but he didn’t dare push his luck now. Not when he was trying to capture that fleeting, amorphous moment of warm comfort they’d just shared. Not when he craved her trust once more.

Mihn’s shoulders hunched. They pushed a lump into Chan’s throat. He swallowed it down and tried for a light tone as he pressed one palm over her bunched muscle. “Aw, you don’t have to be embarrassed.”

Her shoulders hunched more, likely irritated at being called out. Chan’s smile was a weak thing. He wanted to cry.

To have Mihn turned away like this, hunched in on herself, hurt Chan a million times more than not being told what was up with her in Hanji’s magic shop.

“Listen, I know you don’t like needing help. You hate letting anyone see you…vulnerable. Hate sharing any burdens. But it’s fine. You’re fine. That’s exactly what I’m here for, Mihn. I’m here for you. Please don’t–” The lump grew suddenly, and Chan’s throat closed up entirely, strangling any more words. 

He didn’t want to beg. Not about something that meant so much to him. Please don’t shut me out. Please don’t keep all your pain to yourself. Lean on me. 

Mihn slowly straightened her spine, relaxed her shoulders. Chan’s heart echoed that unfurling motion. Hope blossomed hard and fast, wild and reckless.

She spun slowly, scooching around on the seat of her pants until she faced him. She took a breath. “Thank you.” The words ghosted from Mihn’s lips, soft and silken. They took up residence in Chan’s heart: they would haunt him forever. How delightful.

“I–I–” Mihn squeezed her eyelids shut as if she was in pain. 

Chan decided to spare her. He already knew, after all. Those two little words–sincere and genuine–told him volumes. He rubbed a palm over her knee. “I’m always here for you. No matter what.”

“I know that,” Mihn said, eyes still shut but less scrunched. She tipped forward on a sigh, resting her head on Chan’s shoulder. Cold fingers wrapped around Chan’s wrist, holding him lightly.

He felt liable to melt. Or vibrate into dust. Or both. “How…do you feel now?”

“The magic is gone. That witch must have done his job.”

Surprised, Chan realized he wasn’t hearing frantic whinnies anymore. He looked over the side of the carpet. The knot of unicorns had loosened, some animals wandering away while others had simply lain down on the trampled grass. Blood and sweat streaked them. They’d need medical attention soon. He’d have to go back to Headquarters for supplies.

But only after he made sure Mihn was okay. He looked down at her, seeing nothing but purple hair and the curve of her spine. “No more pond-scum?”

She shuddered. “More like a swamp monster chewing on my nerves.” She pressed her head harder into Chan’s shoulder, though her grip stayed loose. 

Worry swirled in his gut. He let himself rub her knee, reassuring himself just as much as her. He frowned. “Why would it affect you like that? I mean, I could touch it without…having a seizure.”

Mihn shrugged. “Who knows?”

The more Chan thought about it, the more worried he became. “We’re both human, both the same age. We eat the same, sleep the same. It shouldn’t have hurt you so badly.”

“Don’t worry about it, Chan,” she said dully.

Chan’s fingers clutched her knee. His other hand twisted up to grip her wrist. “Don’t worry about it? Mihn, how can I not? You were– you were–” he took a deep breath. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

Mihn sighed, a huge heave of her shoulders. Then she sat up and looked Chan in the eye. “Then just forget about it.”

She might as well have pushed him off the carpet. Chan’s mouth dropped open. “Forget about it?!”

Mihn tilted her head. “Yeah. Bad memories should be forgotten, right?” Her eyes shuttered, as dull as her voice.

Chan pressed his lips together, then grabbed the carpet. It rose suddenly, but Mihn didn’t wobble. “Nice try,” he said. “But I’m going to ask Hanji what happened to you and why.”

All dullness evaporated in an instant, replaced by killing sharpness. “No, Chan.” Mihn’s voice was as unyielding as the edge of a blade.

They had risen half the distance to Injae’s carpet. “Yes,” Chan said emphatically. “If you’ve got some weird magical disease, we need to know.”

Mihn gripped Chan’s chin and jerked his gaze to her. “Do not talk to the witch about me.” Her eyes were fiery, her fingertips bruising.

Usually Chan would acquiesce to that tone. This was Serious Mihn, the Mihn who would slash your ankles and torch your house if you didn’t listen to her. 

But Chan was getting pissed, too. So what if she hated magic? So what if she hated witches? Something was seriously wrong, and Chan was physically incapable of letting it slide, of stuffing it in his mysterious Mihn mind cave like he always did. This was too big and deadly to ignore.

So he yanked his chin out of her grip and matched her glare for glare. “I’m not going to let you hide this time. We’re going to find out what’s wrong with–”

“Nothing is wrong!” Mihn exploded, her face twisting, spittle flying. 

Chan roared right back. “Quit pretending! You touched that lure and it took over your body.”

“Which is why I never touched it before!”

“So you knew this would happen?!”

“Not exactly!”

“So there is something wrong with you!”

“It’s nothing anyone can fix!”

Chan’s next retort died on his tongue. He blinked. Mere inches from him, Mihn’s face was red, a vein sticking out on her forehead, chest heaving. 

His heart felt like it was sprinting to a finish line called damage.

“You… know?” Chan’s voice cracked.

“Yeah. I know,” Mihn spat, hugging herself and glaring.

Chan’s throat was dry. He licked his lips. Tasted blood where she’d split the lower, plumper one. “Is it…the same thing Hanji saw?”

Mihn’s fingers dug into her sides and she looked away, a sharp jerk away from Chan. 

“Yes.”

“C-can you tell me?” Damn. He told himself he wouldn’t beg. But here he was, literally on his knees in front of her, hands clasped together to keep from doing something he’d regret.

Her jaw was tight. “It’s not important.”

He scoffed. “That’s bull–”

“It’s not!” Suddenly, Mihn was in Chan’s face again, her hands gripping his neck, nails digging in like claws. “You can’t fix it! It’s not a problem! You don’t need to know. I hate knowing. I wish I could just forget! I want to forget I was ever–”

Mihn cut herself off and shoved Chan away violently, a furious snarl lifting her lip, eyes hot and fiery and far away.

Her shove made Chan tumble backward. He caught himself on his elbows, eyes wide and pained. “Mihn–” He struggled back up and reached for her, but Mihn slapped his hand away. Crack! 

Chan felt it in his soul. It stung like nothing else ever had.

Without warning, Mihn dove off the edge of the carpet.