SPELLBOUND ||TaeJin||

Onset

"I will never forget you."

How?

How is this possible?

"Well," Namjoon smiled, "I have a few more customers to handle. I will see you later."

He turned on his heels and hurried over to another table.

Taehyung's mouth hung open. He was in a state of shock. How does Namjoon remember him?

"Taehyung," Jin called, "I think you should start eating."

Jin had been silent for the entirety of their interaction. He couldn't believe this either. Unless Namjoon was simply pretending to know Taehyung, there was no way this was true.

"B-But," Taehyung stuttered, "H-How?"

"I don't know, Taehyung," Jin answered, "But we can talk to him after we finish eating. He is not going anywhere. Besides, didn't you say you were just a tiny little bit hungry?"

Jin's smiling face and his sincere words reassured Taehyung, but he was still restless.

The pair finished their meal in silence and cleared off their table. They walked towards the back of the shop, where they had last seen the young employee. Suddenly, a familiar voice called out to Taehyung, "I'm sure you're looking for me."

Taehyung turned around to see his friend, "N-Namjoon?"

"I know you have a lot of questions, Tae, and I'll gladly answer them."

"I'm Jin," the elder extended his hand, introducing himself.

Namjoon clasped Jin's hands in his, a small smirk on his face, "I know."

Jin's face flushed pink as he slowly withdrew his hand from the taller male. Taehyung shuffled on his feet with growing unease. He was finding it hard to keep a straight face. He didn't want Namjoon around Jin for some reason.

He cleared his throat.

"We'll go to the back of the shop," Namjoon said, not failing to notice Taehyung's obvious discomfort.

He lead the pair to a door in the back, out of view of the people. He touched the door handle, muttered a few inaudible words and the door creaked open. Namjoon stepped inside and flipped on a light switch. He stepped back and waved them inside.

The room was dimly lit. Gold-framed portraits of men and women, going back thousands of years judging from their clothing, covered every inch of one wall. Dark and dusty vases full of ancient-looking scrolls were arranged neatly on a wooden shelf on the opposite wall, while glass bottles of brightly colored liquids sat on a table next to it. A comfortable looking bed was stashed away at one side of the room. An old mahogany desk beside the bed held various different objects from loose papers and pens to odd looking equipment and closed jars. A large bookshelf containing books of all sizes and thickness covered another wall.

"This is my room," Namjoon said closing the door and muttering some words again.

"My grandfather's, actually. There he is," he pointed to a portrait on the wall. It was of a man in his late sixties dressed in a traditional red hanbok. He had small eyes and round face, but one that exuded power. He held himself in a manner that demanded respect.

"Well, make yourselves comfortable," Namjoon said gesturing to the bed while taking a seat on a chair near the desk, "I suspect we will be here for a long time."

"Why do you have... sticks on your desk?" Taehyung asked, thoroughly bewildered.

"St-Sticks?" Namjoon scoffed, eyes glinting with amusement, "Those aren't just sticks, my friend, they are very special sticks."