Beomgyu's Potion Shop

Chapter 1

Beomgyu wipes a hand across his forehead, looking down at his cauldron. The pinkish purplish brew swirls and bubbles, and a saccharine scent rushes up his nostrils. The mixture thickens, and he's careful not to raise the fire too high. He wouldn't want to burn it, even as his wood stove's flames lick the dark metal of the cauldron.

Love potion.

His ultimate goal for years has been to create one. He's mastered others. One for invisibility, one for strength, one for higher perception. One potion even allows one of his clients to levitate over four feet in the air.

But a love potion is proving harder to make. Much harder.

Ever since he inherited his parent's potion shop, he's been toiling. But it's a good kind of toiling, one that feels rewarding for every customer that he helps. Although he usually mans the shop alone, sometimes his parents will travel from Daegu back to Seoul Forest in order to check up on him. After all, potion making is a hard trade—and Beomgyu needs all the support he can get.

The mixture in his cauldron suddenly overboils, and the mystical color shifts to gray. Aw shit. It didn't work again. The potion, in order to work, must maintain its vibrancy. He failed again. What was this? The thousandth time?

Beomgyu looks up as the bell on the door jingles. He immediately rushes out of the brewery when he realizes who it is.

Yeonjun strides into the shop. The potion shop is old fashioned, almost like something inspired from medieval times, with polished wooden surfaces and low light from electric bulbs in sconces. Yeonjun offers a modern, unreal accent to the shop—with his blue hair, leather jacket, and baggy denim that tightly circles his waist.

Beomgyu tries not to stare. There are a few other customers sipping on lighter brews around the scattering of tables in the atrium, but they are quiet. It's like they don't care to notice the perfection before them.

Yeonjun is one of his favorite customers. And he could be the one.

Beomgyu tries to keep the desperation out of his voice. It still leaks out in a squeak. "Hi! How can I help you today?"

The thing is, Beomgyu never asked for Yeonjun's name. He heard it while the boy was speaking to someone on his phone—probably his mother, by the endearment in his tone.

"The usual," Yeonjun says, striding up to the counter. His smile is dazzling.

That smile could kill me if I'm not careful.

"Of course, of course." Beomgyu heads to the brewery again, wondering where Yeonjun got that hair dye and whether he could impress the older boy with his own color. Who is he kidding? He could never pull it off. He begins to feel very plain. He could never match up to Yeonjun's prowess.

As he pours the ingredients into a new cauldron, he glances over to his failed love potion. It's even grayer now, shifting into the tone of charcoal. He wants to smash it over the sink. He knows it will probably take him two hours to properly clean out.

Yeonjun's usual is a speed potion. Beomgyu knows that Yeonjun runs track and field, and the new season is beginning tomorrow.

No, he isn't a stalker. He just has a very high awareness of when track and field begins in Yeonjun's art school. Totally normal.

Beomgyu pours spices into the pot, the highlights being dried persimmon, rosemary, and the rarest of all—the spit of a walrus. His parents source these ingredients, but lately he's been taking charge of making sure his wares are fully stocked.

Yeonjun doesn't see all this background. Only the finished product, but Beomgyu wishes that the boy would ask him for more than a potion.

As the brew simmers, he heads back to the counter, tapping his fingers on the wooden, slightly oiled surface. "How are you today?" Beomgyu asks, trying not to tap too nervously.

"Oh, great." Yeonjun gives him a bedazzled smile.

He just knows Yeonjun is the most popular boy in school. Beomgyu would give up a hundred potions if only he could walk those same halls and hold Yeonjun's hand.

He hopes he isn't blushing too hard, but his cheeks must be in the same shade of some of his rarest maroon ingredients.

"How about you?" Yeonjun asks.

Beomgyu thinks that Yeonjun makes a simple question sound like music. He wishes he could step out from behind the counter, take off his apron, and talk to him like an old friend. Yeonjun's vibe is more than just friendly. It's warm and inviting, like one of his mother's rich stews.

"The same old things," Beomgyu says. He doesn't know why his teeth are chattering a bit. "I am trying to make something."

"Oh really, what is it?" Yeonjun says, drifting closer in curiosity.

Beomgyu wishes to smack himself. Really? He can't let anyone know about his love potion. It's supposed to be a secret, even to his parents. Making a love potion is illegal, as known by everyone in the potion industry.

"Nothing," Beomgyu says, weakly.

"Really?" Yeonjun grins in a cheshire cat way, and Beomgyu's nervous sweat turns even hotter. "It doesn't sound like nothing to me."

Beomgyu takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing. He is no stranger to magic, and now calls for some magic diversion. "I like you."

Yeonjun's brows raise high, and he grows silent for a bit.

Beomgyu wants to brew something for himself now—something that would put him to sleep, possibly for a thousand years.

"I'm—" Yeonjun recovers quickly. "I'm sorry, Beomgyu. I have a girlfriend."

Beomgyu pauses behind the counter. He's probably frozen for a good thirty seconds before he quickly takes his leave back to Yeonjun's potion.

The mixture is orange and vibrant, and he quickly pours it into a glass vial. He stuffs a cork in the top and ties it with some string. Back outside, he hands it to Yeonjun without saying a word. He doesn't dare look up and see Yeonjun's pitying eyes.

"Hey...."

But Beomgyu doesn't listen as he heads back into the brewery. When the door jingles again, he knows that Yeonjun has left. Beomgyu wouldn't be surprised if the boy never returns.

A/N: Comments and votes are always appreciated! What do you think of potion-maker Beomgyu so far?