accipe me | Yumark

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Yuta wandered about the witch's flat with slow steps and a steady gaze. He was positioned in the living room, and he was absolutely blown out of his mind, because even though everything looked just as it would in the average man's house, upon closer inspection, all was not as it seemed.

Possibly one of Yuta's favourites in the flat were the flowers, which Mark had bewitched to never wilt. It was a stroke of genius, honestly. The begonias, which had apparently been there for quite some time, had not aged a day.

"I liked them," Mark had said as a passing comment. "And since they were going extinct, I decided to keep them forever."

Yuta had dropped his jaw in awe.

His arms now circled the magnificent, patterned vase of flowers as he walked through the flat. The chairs had charms on them to never become unstable, the carpets had been stain-proofed, and the fabrics had all been charmed to smell as fresh as the first day washed.

There was a small rag suspended in the air, rubbing circles on and polishing the windows in sequence. Yuta pressed his finger against one of the glass panes, only to jump back when the rag whacked his wrist and vibrated threateningly as it wiped away his fingerprint.

Honestly, he found Mark's place to be a national treasure. To him, it was the same as going to a museum, but one of the museums where everything is really weird and interesting.

Yuta's final destination in the 'fun house' was the kitchen, where he found Mark stood behind a counter. He thought nothing of it, and had actually managed to engross himself in a scripture on the fridge, when he heard small breaths and grunts coming from the man.

The Japanese nearly dropped the vase when he stepped closer and saw a bloodied knife in Mark's right hand, and his left, bleeding hand against the counter surface.

"Mark, what the fuck are you doing?!" Yuta shouted, running towards him and grabbing his wrist. He pulled the hand away from his broken skin. What was he doing?! Yuta's hand flushed cold, and he looked up, gasping at a flow of Mark's blood flushing over his skin.

Mark's head flicked towards him, and for a moment, he could have sworn his eyes were consumed by an amethyst flame. Yuta's confusion died down when Mark smiled. "Yuta, trust me here. I'm just writing some charms into my skin. Let go of my hand."

Yuta's lips were dry. "As in carving them?"

Mark nodded, and Yuta caught a slight glisten of wet over the fortune teller's eyes. He released Mark's wrist, watching him get right back to work. "But, doesn't it hurt?"

"Of course it does," Mark chuckled, clicking his tongue when the tip of the blade passed through his skin. "But a little bit of pain now is better than a lot of pain later." He paused. He closed his arms and inhaled deeply, before opening them and continuing his ministrations. "I know what you're thinking. For the charms to work, they must taste my blood and feel my pain. If I use painkillers, or a charm to numb the pain, they're voided."

Yuta scrunched up his nose, and Mark laughed at his expression. "It sucks, I know."

Yuta's heart pounded, and all he could do was watch Mark carve the complex symbols into the back of his hand. The lines he dug into his palm glowed softly as though he had cut into the lampshade of a dim bulb, but the lights were violet, blue, and every colour in between rather than a plain white light.

"What is that?" Yuta's voice was quiet; he wasn't too sure whether he was allowed to interrupt, acutely afraid of something bad happening.

"The glow?" Before Yuta could even think about how much the cuts would hurt him, Mark was finished. He winced as he wiped the blood off his hand with a damp cloth. "My aura. I've been trying to get it to turn it down a little, but, well, I'm still working on it as you can see," he chuckled cutely.