Chapter Text
(What would you do if you were granted three wishes?)
Minho looked down at the box situated between his legs. He was sat on his bedroom floor, eyebrows furrowed slightly as he felt distinctly underwhelmed at the contents of the box he had received.
A great aunt of his, who Minho only knew by name rather than having ever met her, had died and he had been sent some of her things that had been left to him in her will. All that Minho had ever really known about his great aunt was that she had been an eccentric lady who had travelled all over the world after she had somehow come into a great fortune. His mother had told him that he and all his cousins had been written into her will, and Minho had been the lucky recipient of a box filled with odd artefacts. While he took in the sight of what mostly just looked like creepy figurines and dulled metal doo-dads (and he really hoped that wasn’t a shrunken head he could see), and idly wondered whether his 10 year old jackass of a cousin, Jeongin, had gotten anything better.
Minho huffed out a breath, trying not to feel too ungrateful towards a dead woman, before starting at the sound of his phone ringing from another room. He roughly shoved the uncovered box underneath his bed before standing up and leaving his room to find his phone.
*
Between the stresses of college and holding down a part time job to pay his rent, Minho didn’t spare the box another thought. It sat, near forgotten, under his bed for a few months.
*
Minho was having a bad day.
He had lost his part time job a few weeks ago due to company budget cuts, and despite initially having a pretty positive outlook on the whole situation and the likelihood of finding another job fairly quickly, here he was, days later with no job prospects in sight.
Minho all but fell face-first onto his bed in defeat; he had been to a handful of interviews in the past few days, but none of them seemed to be panning out for him.
‘Am I that unemployable?’ he grumbled out loud, flailing slightly on the bed in mild distress, words muffled from where his face was still pressed into his pillow. He thought he had been doing everything right for these interviews, and yet no one had been interested in hiring him. He had gone well dressed and with a charm-offensive strategy, hoping to make potential employers unable to resist him.
This was apparently not working for him. Changbin had told him on many occasions that he looked like a maniac when he smiled…maybe he was onto something. Maybe Minho had terrified them all into not hiring him.
He allowed himself to wallow in friend-induced self pity for a few moments, as the chances of having to move out of his beloved apartment or having to find a roommate to put up with were becoming much more real. He had grown accustomed to being the King of his own little apartment with no annoying roommates to contend with, but with everyday that was passing without him being able to earn any money for rent, it was becoming more and more likely that he would have to move into a cheap dorm on campus.
That was unacceptable.
Minho rolled onto his side, trying to think of ways to be able to pay his rent this month. He picked at a hole in his duvet cover, eyes narrowing and frustration rising as he couldn’t seem to think of a quick fix solution. No one had seemed interested so far in hiring him on a permanent basis, and who would be able to say how long it would take him to find someone willing to take him on. When he had complained to Seungmin about the lack of job opportunities, his friend had told him to consider being a drug mule. Or a male prostitute. Helpful.
After sorting out his money worries, finding new friends was definitely next on his list of things to do.
Minho sighed, and tried weighing up the pros and cons of looking for temp work. Maybe it would be as difficult to come across as a permanent job, and he couldn’t deal with this kind of stress again when a temporary job ended. Working for the money seemed like a distant dream, so perhaps he had something he could sell, just to tide him over long enough to find a job.
As quickly as the thought came, he dismissed it, snorting with laughter; what the hell could he possibly own that was worth anything? Extortionately priced text books and a shelf full of computer games were all he had to his name. Not exactly great treasures.
Wait.
‘Treasures?’ Minho voiced aloud, unwarranted excitement surging through him as he gracelessly scrambled off his bed and onto the floor. He stuck an arm under his bed, reaching for the box of random bits that he had completely forgotten about. His eyebrows rose in anticipation, a small grin blooming on his face as his fingers curled around the edge of the box; maybe there was something valuable in there to sell? Maybe he wouldn’t have to abdicate the throne of King of Apartment 15c.
He pulled the box out into the light of the room, suddenly cursing himself for not thinking of covering the box up before shoving it under the bed – everything was covered in dust from months of neglect. He felt suitably ashamed at not giving his great aunt’s things proper respect for a moment before anticipation got the better of him and he settled himself in front of the box.
He couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose at the state of some of the items in the box that had clearly held more of a sentimental value to his great aunt than anything else, but with a sweeping glance, Minho figured that a few pieces looked like they could possibly be viably valuable.
He picked up an old fashioned lantern that had been near to the top of the box for a closer inspection, brows creasing slightly with the beginnings of a frown at the signs of tarnishing on the lantern’s sides. He hoped tarnish didn’t affect the price of things too badly. He absently rubbed at the metal to get rid of the lingering dust, while trying to remember if he ever learnt how to polish a shine back into metal when the lantern started to get uncomfortably warm under his hands. Not quite understanding what was happening he just stared dumbly at the object in his hands, but Minho was snapped back to attention when smoke started pouring out of the spout of the lantern, and the metal became scalding to the touch. He yelped and dropped the lantern, confused, slightly fearful, and hands smarting. Minho could only watch in uncertainty as the smoke started to take shape in the form of something suspiciously human-looking.
As the residual smoke cleared, Minho tried not to hyperventilate at the sight of a deceivingly normal-looking guy stood before him; clearly a similar stature to Minho himself, with messy, black hair, and the brightest eyes he’d ever seen. After a few beats of stillness in the room, the boy suddenly moved into action, dropping to his knees and crawling across the few paces left between them to gently take hold of Minho's burnt hands. Amidst the fog of confusion that had settled firmly in his brain at the impossibility of what was happening in his room, Minho sucked in a breath as he felt something akin to electric sparks thrumming across his skin where the boy was touching him. A little voice in his head told him that phantom sparks were not really the thing to be concentrating on right now when the guy in front of him had just come out of a damn lantern.
The smoke boy proceeded to let out an upset little whine, lightly stroking over Minho’s sore hands.
‘Why didn’t you let go of my lantern once you’d summoned me?’ he asked softly, tone laced with worry and looking up at Minho with wide, concerned eyes. Minho could do nothing but stare at the other for a few long seconds. When he managed to find his voice, he was still just as disconcerted by the thrumming under his skin where they were touching as with the sudden appearance of this stranger in his room.
‘Summon? I-I didn’t…I mean, why would I- what?’
Despite stuttering to the point of incoherency, somehow the smoke boy seemed to understand the point Minho was trying to make, and a slightly sheepish comprehension dawned on his face.
‘You didn’t mean to summon me, did you?’ Minho slowly shook his head. ‘Oh,’ continued the stranger, looking slightly put-out for reasons far beyond Minhos ability to comprehend right now.
‘Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter whether you meant to or not, I suppose…’ the boy seemed to be muttering to himself by this point, brows furrowed and lips pouted in thought. ‘I’ve still been summoned. I have to do my job.’
The boy suddenly seemed to remember himself and shook himself out of his thoughts before addressing Minho once more. ‘This must be very strange for you, right? What’s your name?’ he spoke softly, eyes earnest as he looked up at Minho.
‘Uh, I-…Minho.’ He managed to reply, and any misgivings he had had about telling this stranger his name in the brief moment before answering dissipated when he was rewarded with a cute eye smile from the guy in front of him.
‘Hello, Minho. My name is Jisung, and I’m a genie.’
A genie? Minho almost groaned out loud – how could he say that so casually? Before Jisung had used that word, Minho might have been able to convince himself that a stranger had just somehow managed to wander into his apartment, and then all he’d have to worry about was making sure he locked his front door, instead of having to panic and re-evaluate his entire life. Because holy shit. A genie? He’d seen it, and he still wasn’t sure he could believe it. Maybe this was an elaborate prank. Surely one of his douchebag friends would burst into his room at any minute, laughing themselves silly at his naivety.
Jisung began to speak again, voice still soft. ‘I know you didn’t mean to summon me, but I’m still magic-bound to allow you three wishes,’ He looked down towards Minho's hands, still red and sore from the lantern, and moved his own hands to cover Minho's. ‘I’m really sorry that you got hurt,’ Jisung murmured, misplaced guilt audible in his quiet voice. ‘I’m going to heal your hands for free, okay?’
Before Minho had a chance to react, Jisung squeezed his hands lightly between his own, and Minho's eyes widened as the angry red burns and stinging pain faded away as if they’d never been there at all.
*
‘Three wishes…’ Minho murmured blankly to himself as he dropped his body unceremoniously onto the couch. His limbs didn’t quite allow for a comfortable fit along its length, but he shifted around in a half-hearted attempt to find the least painful position, eyes blinking up at the ceiling as if it would help him to fully comprehend the events of the evening.
He had found a genie.
A genie who had been so tired out from doing magic for the first time in a long time that he had almost fallen asleep on Minho straight away. Minho had put Jisung in his own bed, unsure on what the etiquette was for a sleeping genie that you’ve just met.
But he was pretty sure that he must have hallucinated the slighter guy currently sleeping in his bed, wearing Minho’s oversized clothes that hung off his petit frame. Because magic wasn’t real. And sweet-faced guys don’t just appear in front of you when you clean a lamp.
That would be ridiculous.
And when morning comes, Minho will venture into his bedroom only to find it empty, because genies aren’t real and ipso facto, Jisung is just a really cute part of his imagination.
Yup.
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(Wish I)
Jisung wasn’t just a part of his imagination.
Wonderful.
From the doorway of his bedroom, Minho stared at the bundled up boy on his bed, flashes of golden skin and a shock of black hair not entirely covered up by Minho’s duvet. Well, on the plus side, he thought to himself, even though having a genie as a surprise roommate probably wasn’t too common, the fact that Jisung was still here the next day must have meant that he was probably sane. What kind of hallucination would still be in his house the next morning?
*
Considering his extenuating circumstances, Minho had only thought it prudent to take a day off from classes to process the existence of a genie is his life.
Said genie was currently looking expectantly at him.
Jisung had woken up about an hour ago, a little embarrassed that he passed out last night so quickly and Minho had been left to deal with the aftermath. He had apologised sincerely, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with residual discomfiture, and Minho could do nothing but accept.
Over a simple breakfast of toast and cereal, Jisung had told Minho about the few restrictions that applied to any of the wishes that he was planning to make; Minho was only allowed to make three wishes, and he could wish for anything he wants except for more wishes or for someone to fall in love with him.
‘Also,’ Jisung had told him as he picked up another piece of toast, ‘when making your wishes, you have to start off with ‘I wish’, or it won’t work.’ Minho blinked. That seemed simple enough.
Which lead Minho to his current situation; Jisung was giving him an expectant look, as if to make his first wish.
It was funny, Minho was sure that if someone had asked him a few days ago hypothetically what he would wish for if he had three wishes, he probably could have answered them, no hesitations.
But now that the situation was real? Anything that came to mind didn’t feel important enough to wish for.
‘Well, there’s nothing that I really need?’ Minho felt so bad at the sight of Jisung’s eager expression that his statement came out a little unsure. Minho panicked when Jisung’s face visibly fell. ‘Well, I guess I need to find a new job,’ Minho backtracked slightly, ‘I just got fired and…’ he decided to leave out that he had planned on selling Jisung to raise some funds.
‘I need a job.’ It came out more resolute this time.
‘A job? Oh, okay! I can do that!’ Jisung’s countenance visibly brightened at the prospect of granting Minho his first wish. The genie’s gaze turned expectant once again. ‘You need to make the wish properly! It can’t be done any other way!’ he insisted.
‘Oh. Right, of course.’ Minho felt a little foolish; Jisung had only just gone over this. But in his defence, he was a first-time-wisher, plus he was more of a big-picture kind of guy. He tended to miss the smaller and finer points to situations.
‘Uh, I wish I had a job.’
Jisung grinned across the table from him before clapping his hands together once.
‘Done!’ he chirped.
‘That’s it?’ Minho couldn’t stop the question from falling past his lips. Considering the dramatic way Jisung had appeared last night, he just had been expecting something a little…grander. Jisung cocked his head to the side, ‘What were you expecting?’ he questioned. Before Minho could reply, his phone started ringing on the table next to him but it was from an unknown number.
And that was how Minho learned that he needed to be more specific with his wishes, because, yes, he ended up getting offered a job over the phone, but it was an embarrassing job. He was offered a job as a mascot for a local theme park, which for money’s sake, he had to accept.
Beggars can’t be choosers.
‘Well, no one ever really gets their first wish right?’ Jisung tried to offer consolation, it was probably supposed to be comforting, but the sheepish lilt to his words somewhat ruined the effect.
‘Yeah, okay. Thanks.’
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Other part will be posted soon.
Let me know if I forgot to swap any names...