☀️ Scene 1: "You Definitely Drooled on Me"

Fuma wakes up warm.

Which is suspicious, because his apartment above the café never heats evenly, and—

There's a weight on his chest.

A heavy one.

He looks down to find K, fast asleep, draped over him like a human blanket, mouth slightly open, hair a mess, one arm tucked under Fuma's neck.

"Nope," Fuma mutters. "Absolutely not."

He tries to shift.

K grumbles. Tightens his grip.

"K. Move."

"You're comfy."

"You're drooling."

K peeks one eye open. Smirks.

"No, you're drooling."

Fuma sits up too fast and nearly knocks them both off the mattress.

"I do not drool."

K lazily rolls off, still wrapped in the blanket.

"Tell that to my shirt."

"That's your fault for wearing black to bed."

"You're deflecting."

"You're impossible."

"And yet you let me stay."

They pause.

That lands a little too real.

Fuma softens. Grumbles.

"...Your tea's probably cold."

"Still want it."

"You're unbearable."

"You let me stay," K says again, quieter.

Fuma doesn't answer.

But he puts the kettle on anyway.

🎇 Scene 2: The Festival, The Slip, The Smirk

The Moonbloom Festival comes once a year. A magical market at night, filled with glowing lanterns, illusion booths, cursed candy, and way too many people from out of town.

K and Fuma aren't even going to go—but Beans the ghost cat bolts straight into the crowd, and neither of them wants to be haunted by a sulking feline for weeks.

They end up at a flower vendor's stall, catching their breath after a chase.

The vendor eyes them, smiling wide.

"Ahh, young love. I can always tell. Would you like a couple's charm? Half off."

Fuma opens his mouth.

K holds up a hand.

"Sure. Why not."

Fuma freezes.

"Excuse me?"

K takes the charm—two crescent moons made of spun glass—and pockets it like it's no big deal.

"Didn't say it was wrong."

Fuma glares at him as they walk away.

"You could've corrected her."

"You didn't."

"That's different."

"You're holding my sleeve."

Fuma drops his hand instantly.

K grins.

"Told you."

Fuma: "I swear if you bring this up again—"

K: "You'll what? Make me tea and stare at me some more?"

Fuma: sighs.
"You're lucky I like your face."

K (dead serious):
"I'm lucky you let me stay."

🪄 Scene 3: The Charm Activates

It starts a day later.

K's restocking the chaotic shelf of minor hexes when he hears Fuma's voice inside his head.

"Why is the air so thick in here? Did he forget to smudge again—"

K nearly drops a cursed spoon.

"Hey," he says aloud. "You thinking about me again?"

Across the street, Fuma pauses mid–cupcake frosting.
Turns.
Looks directly at him through the glass.

"What the hell."

Later, they regroup at the alley between their shops, standing too close as always.

"You kept the charm," Fuma accuses.

"You pocketed yours."

"It wasn't active."

"It is now."

K taps his temple.

"Emotional echo. Dream bleed. Maybe some light thought leak."

"You're joking."

"You felt annoyed this morning when I opened my window."

"You whistled the same song I dreamed about last night."

K grins.

"Romantic."

"Illegal."

"Effective."

They try a temporary ward.
It fizzles.

The charm hums, faintly.

"Guess it wants us stuck," K says, deadpan.

Fuma glares.

His thoughts leak just a little too loudly:

...His smile's so unfair.

K raises an eyebrow.

"Thanks."

Fuma throws a cupcake at his chest.

🧠 Bonus Detail: Side Effects of the Bond

They start dreaming in each other's spaces. K dreams of warm flour and tea foam. Fuma dreams of silver shelves and bad jazz.

When K gets frustrated with a rude customer, Fuma knocks over a mug two blocks away from the emotional static.

Fuma burns a tray of muffins the moment K flirts with someone else out of habit.

Eventually, they stop trying to "fix" the bond.
Because it's easier to just stay close.

K (tugging the charm gently):
"If we're stuck like this, I'm making it official."

Fuma:
"Officially what?"

K:
"Yours. Obviously."

🌙 Scene 4: Dream Me in an Apron

It's the third week of emotional tethering.
They've mostly stopped pretending it's annoying.
K still shows up before closing.
Fuma still pretends he doesn't brew extra tea for him.

That night, Fuma forgets to shield again.

And the dream catches them both.

The bakery is glowing.
Daylight filters in. A tray of warm honey-oat bread cools on the window ledge.

And K is behind the counter.

Wearing a dark blue apron. Hair tied back messily. Rolling dough with absolute focus.

"You're early," K says without turning.

Fuma knows it's a dream. He should wake up.
Instead, he sits at the counter, watching.

"You look... domestic."

"Don't tell the ghosts."

"Did you bake all of this?"

K shrugs.

"You dream it. I make it."

He brings over a slice of something warm—fig and rosemary. It tastes like Fuma's childhood and something new he's not ready to name.

Then K leans in, hands braced on the counter.

"I like this version of you."

"The sleepy one?"

"The one who lets me in."

Fuma exhales.

"You're always in here now."

K smiles—genuinely, dream-soft.

"Maybe I want to be."

And then they kiss. Not urgent. Not dramatic.

Just quiet. Like they've done it a hundred times.

And maybe they will.

✂️ Scene 5: Breaking the Bond

They find the spell. Eventually.

A charm reversal tucked into an old herbalist's grimoire. One crystal. Two drops of blood. One word said in complete silence.

They do it on neutral ground, after hours.

No magic sparking. No glowing light.

Just—

Quiet.

The tether is gone.

No shared thoughts. No dream bleed.
Just K and Fuma, standing across from each other, not touching.

Fuma fidgets with his sleeve.

K tries to smirk. Fails.

"Feel better?"

"It's... quiet," Fuma admits.

"Peaceful."

"Wrong."

K looks up.

So does Fuma.

"I miss it already," K says.

Fuma breathes in like it hurts.

Then he steps forward.

Reaches out. This time, on his own. No charm. No bond.

Just choice.

"Stay," Fuma whispers.

"I don't need magic to want you here."

K's hand slides into his.

Warm. Solid. Real.

"Then I'm staying."

They lean in—foreheads touching.
No tether buzzing. No emotion leaking.

Just the two of them.

Finally choosing each other.

"This time," K murmurs, "I want to know how it feels to fall for you without magic getting in the way."

"You already are," Fuma says.
"And I still want you to stay."

Timeline: 1 year later
Setting: Their shared storefront: half café, half magical oddities

🪴 THE SHOP: Sage & Sinister

They argued over the name for weeks.

Fuma wanted something "clean, respectable."

K wanted something that "makes people question reality."

They compromised.

Sage & Sinister:

Left side: warm lighting, herbal tea blends, cozy booths, floating lanterns.

Right side: dusty tomes, whispering candles, one skull mug that bites fingers if you judge its latte art.

Middle counter: where both of them pretend not to flirt while working side by side.

🫖 THE DAILY CHAOS

Fuma opens early, hair tied back, sleeves rolled up, muttering charm-activations under his breath while scones levitate into place.

K strolls in late with a coffee from their own café, puts on his coat like it's a robe of power, and immediately starts rearranging spell jars Fuma just alphabetized.

Fuma: "You're messing up the organization system."
K: "I'm improving it."
Fuma: "You alphabetized it by emotional damage level."
K: "And you're welcome."

Customers swear they can feel the tension.
And the sweetness.

Someone once asked if they were together.
Fuma choked.
K said, "Depends on the day."

They both turned red.

🪄 THE SECRET DOMESTICITY

There's one mug with "His Spells Suck" written in Fuma's handwriting.

K keeps fresh dreamroot tea in stock only for Fuma's bad nights.

Every full moon, they close early and sit on the rooftop in silence with a blanket, watching the stars.

Neither of them calls it a "tradition."

But they do it every time.

💬 Final Line:

A new customer asks,

"So are you two like... business partners? Or something more?"

Fuma looks up from the till.

K smirks, flipping the café sign to "Closed (Unless You're Hot or Haunted)."

"He's the reason the shop exists," K says.

Fuma rolls his eyes.

"And he's the reason the curses accidentally end up in the scone tray."

They don't answer the question directly.

But the way K pours Fuma's tea before he asks?

The way Fuma adjusts K's collar without thinking?

It's obvious.

They're everything.
Even if they pretend they're not.