The moon is full. Although Luhan can feel the familiar fatigue of magic depletion deep in his skin, he knows that tonight is the best night for what he has planned. It is either now, or a month from now, and he doesn't have that kind of patience.

He feels sorry to the quiet black cat who couldn't even muster up a tiny purr of content over his tuna when usually he could be heard from several meters away when eating. His feline companion wants so badly to live in a warm, safe home and he can't give him that when his aunt wouldn't allow any sort of magic in the house, Zitao included.

“It's dangerous!” she would say. “You could get into all sorts of trouble and we don't have your mother around to clean up after you any more.”

It stung. Luhan is not a child. He has been practicing his craft in secret all this time and hasn't caused a single major accident (he almost burnt down a building or two, but that was more to do with the awful conditions of his practice areas, he thinks).

And why does she always have to bring up his mother? Can't his aunt see that it cuts deep in his heart every time he's reminded that she's gone? Luhan smiles and laughs these days, but that's not because the pain is gone; it's because that's all he can do: move on with his life. Life wanted to move on without him for a while, but it felt horrible, so he adapted.

Life without his mother there to guide him was harsh. And magic? Magic brought her closer to him and reminded him of her snorting laughter when a spell went awry and strangely beautiful voice when everything went perfectly and her song wove deep into the network of intricate connections throughout nature, giving everything a slight nudge to a different direction. Like this, her melodies changed the world in wondrous ways.

His aunt doesn't practice magic, doesn't understand this feeling of belonging and empowerment.

So Luhan has a plan. If he can show that magic can do good and that he is clearly old enough not to mess everything up, then maybe his aunt will be more lenient and allow his familiar into the house. Besides, his aunt needs someone to take care of her when he goes to college and this spell will do just that.

Luhan digs into his stash of crystals and herbs hidden in an old and torn backpack shoved into his closet and tosses a few into his school bag, emptied for just this purpose. A small metal coin appears in this stash that he hadn't thought about in a long time. It's a good luck charm from his mother, given on his tenth birthday with the raised image of an angel on one side. He brings this with him too as he grabs his thickest jacket and heads outside, for he could use the luck at such a sinister time of night.

Half expecting something grotesque and evil lurking in the dark bushes, he searches the trees outside for the one he picked earlier with the most access to the full moon's light. Over there! He finds the budding long-stemmed rose he bought and tucked away in the branches of a tall willow that stood in a small clearing. His bag is slung up and over first before he climbs up and settles back on one of the lower branches.

Right here is just perfect. A little chilly, but perfect.

He sets a mortar and pestle down on the lightly frosted mossy bark and double checks that no one is watching him from anywhere. People generally don't like the image of someone concocting something in the trees - it creeps them out.

In the bowl, he puts pinches of herbs ranging from lavender, ginseng, and valerian to the spare bit of catnip he managed to sneak past Zitao. He grinds down the herbs into a fine powder, pouring this mix into a water bottle from his bag. It would have been better if he brought a silver bowl, but the one his mother had owned is currently in his aunt's possession. It makes it easier to stir, at least. He caps the bottle and shakes it, nearly losing his balance in the effort.

Something in the air feels charged as he dips the rose's stem into the water, watching it sink down to the bottom. The water bottle makes a crude plastic vase, but this won't be permanent.

Luhan panicks for a second, thinking his rose quartz is missing before finding it on the ground below him. Once he is back in the willow tree, he holds the pink crystal to his heart in relief and begins to sing his spell into being. His chest feels warm with the growing power seeping into the crystal. With the end of the song, he touches the tip of the rock to the rosebud and waits.

A second late, the bud cracks open a tiny bit.

“Come on,” Luhan whispers urgently, begging to whoever or whatever listened for this to work.

It slowly unfurls in small bursts before his eyes, blooming beautifully until a fully mature flower glowed in the light of the full moon. He is surprised to see all the water in the bottle gone, because it is his first time doing this kind of ritual.

But this worked, it really worked!

In his good mood, Luhan lay a hand to the tree's bark in gratitude for it's service before hopping off the branch.

***

Early in the morning the next day, with a single rose petal in each of his aunt's shoes, Luhan completes the spell.

“Go find love, Auntie.” he whispers out of her hearing, putting on his own shoes before leaving for the bus. On his way, he sees the rest of the rose lying in the bushes where he threw it last night, still in perfect shape. It seems a waste to just throw it out. What should he do with it, he wonders?

But he'll really be late if he doesn't leave now. He leaves with it, still debating what to do.

Taking a single rose with him on the bus had been a bad idea. Everywhere he turns, the people stare with knowing looks that say, “You are in love, you lucky kid. I bet she's pretty.” He gets off the bus early to avoid the more annoying whistles and jealous girls. He can just walk the rest of the way; it's not that far now.

But that had been a nightmare he had no intention of ever repeating. If Luhan ever does fall in love, they would just have to suffer a life without flowers, because he is not doing that again.

I mean, what the heck had he been planning to do with it? So what if it would have been a waste to leave it behind? It would decompose on the ground and become nutritious dirt for other flowers. It would actually be better if he had left it behind.

In fact... Luhan stops his walking on the sidewalk that eventually leads up to his school and veers off into someone's front garden to deposit this thing where it belongs. He gives the flower one last look of admiration, because wow, it's just beautiful. The red color is so deep and warm. It makes him happy just looking at it, though he doesn't quite know why that is. It's just a dumb flower.

“Lu?” says a familiar voice and Luhan looks up to see Xiumin exiting the house in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

Why is his mentor outside of his house? How does he know where he lives? Xiumin asks himself these questions and concludes that the only logical answer to both is magic. He must have used magic to find out where he lives to talk about, well, magic.

But what is that he's holding? Is that a rose?

Well, now he's really confused.

“I- uhm,” Luhan was not expecting to meet his classmate like this at all. “Hi, Min.”

Why did I say that, he wonders, panicking now for having used the nickname he came up with for Xiumin at such a time as this. Now it looks like he came here to confess or something and boy, this is awkward. That name is too intimate at a time like this!

“Nice rose.” says Xiumin carefully, trying to process this situation.

“I used it in a love spell.” Luhan really wants to smack himself for saying that. It's even worse than the nickname! “I mean, it's not for you,” he amends. “It's for someone... else- listen, I have a bus to catch, so...”

Turning on his heel, Luhan walks out of there as quickly as he dared. Xiumin blinks after him, watching the back of his winter jacket with an odd desire to stop him. But that would be silly. Luhan's love life has nothing to with him and if he doesn't want to talk about it, it's his choice.

Shrugging it off, he goes back inside to grab his backpack and say goodbye to Jongdae before leaving to walk to school.

***

Kim Minseok. A foreign exchange student from South Korea who has spent years learning Chinese in preparation for it. He is a senior at this school and is well-loved by his classmates. Everyone loves Minseok. Everyone loves Xiumin.

Xiumin, Xiumin, Xiumin. This name has been plaguing Yixing all night. It's a wonder he got any sleep at all.

Xiumin likes soccer. He found this out as he quietly followed this student into the school, seeing him pause a good while by a flyer advertising tryouts for the school soccer team. He's also strong, beating the Canadian exchange student in arm wrestling without breaking a sweat. He smells like coffee. This was discovered completely by accident, Yixing swears. When he got his jacket back after lending it to the boy, it smelled faintly like freshly brewed coffee. He didn't smell it on purpose. Really.

After speaking Xiumin's name again twice yesterday after school and once more in the middle of the night, waking him up, Yixing concluded that he must be completely nuts. The really weird thing is, when he told his piano teacher, who is the wisest of all men he knows, his teacher told him that Yixing is falling head over heels without him knowing it.

Love doesn't work like that. It can't. He didn't ever pay attention to that guy before, so how could he possibly have suddenly grown so infatuated that his mouth moved before his brain?

Yixing is not in love. No way. Not with a man. Not now.

No, no.

No.

Lunch comes around without any incidents and Yixing could cry he feels so relieved. He casts nervous glances at the one who never seems to leave his head, Xiumin.

Look at that wide smile. It doesn't matter that he's older, Xiumin is a kid at heart, grinning and laughing and poking fun with his friends as if he has no idea the kind of chaos he's causing. His friends begin play-acting, for whatever reason choosing to make silly, seductive faces at each other and breaking out in laughter.

And then Xiumin joins in, winking with a smug smirk and swipe of tongue.

Yixing chokes on his food. Against everything he had ever felt before with past girlfriends, Yixing found that y. His heart is beating like crazy now.

He didn't choose to sit alone like this because his friends insulted someone he didn't even know, didn't choose to obsess over and stalk a guy, certainly didn't choose for that guy to be Xiumin.

“You don't choose love. Love chooses you.”

Yixing wants to punch his piano teacher for saying that, because now those words are all he can think about as he watches this strange, yet completely ordinary teenager.

Something happens that confuses him: Luhan enters the lunchroom and Xiumin stands and greets him, waving him over to join his table. But Luhan's face reddens and he turns around and leaves without a word. Since when did they become friends? Or rather, since when did Xiumin start looking at the school outcast like that? He is the only one Yixing can remember who ever greeted Luhan like a close buddy.

Thinking back to the words he spoke to his friends yesterday, he remembers it was Luhan he spoke about, not Xiumin. Luhan, the guy who's known to play with magic.

Yixing has no idea why he's even considering the thought that Luhan could be behind this. Still, he gets up and follows his new target from the cafeteria all the way to his locker so he could talk to him and see what's going on.

Standing in front of his locker door, Luhan takes out a rose and looks at it in thought.

“Nice rose.” Yixing says, trying to start a conversation in a non-awkward way.

But this felt even more awkward to Luhan, for that's exactly what Xiumin said earlier today.

“Y-you like it?” he asks and Yixing has to admit that it really is a nice rose. It's so perfect in color and the petals look very elegant.

It's actually stunning. What about it is so captivating right now?

He doesn't look away from the flower and nods.

“You can have it then.” Luhan decides, shoving it towards the boy and leaving.