Morning came softly, like a sigh the city hadn't realized it was holding.
Light spilled through the clouds, catching on the wet asphalt, painting gold over everything the night had left behind. The world seemed normal again — unaware that three strangers from another realm had stepped into its rhythm, their hearts echoing the pulse of magic.
☀️ Boog
Boog hadn't slept.
He sat on a bench overlooking the park, hands tucked into his jacket, watching people rush to work — coffee cups, phones, laughter, noise. He didn't belong here, but for the first time, he didn't want to leave.
The glow on his wrist had faded into a quiet hum beneath his skin, like a heartbeat that wasn't entirely his own. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw him — the boy in the rain. That small, selfless smile. The way his voice had carried even over the storm.
He didn't even know his name.
A sudden bark pulled him from thought. He looked up — and froze.
There, across the street, was the same boy.
He was crouched beside the stray dog again, feeding it bits of bread from a paper bag. His hair stuck up in messy curls, and his shirt was still slightly damp, as though he hadn't cared enough to dry properly.
Boog's heart slammed once, hard.
Without thinking, he crossed the street.
The boy noticed him, startled at first, then relaxed when he saw Boog's neutral expression. "Oh — sorry, did the dog bother you? He's harmless, just hungry."
Boog shook his head slowly. His voice came out lower than intended. "No. I… just saw you yesterday. In the rain."
Recognition flickered in the boy's eyes. "Oh, you were the guy who stopped by the corner, right? Thought I imagined that."
"You didn't," Boog said softly.
The boy smiled, sunlight catching on his wet lashes. "Well, nice to know I wasn't hallucinating. I'm Nawin. And you?"
Boog hesitated a beat too long. "Boog."
"Nawin and Boog," Nawin repeated, tasting the name like it was a small mystery. "Cool name. You a tourist?"
Boog glanced around — neon signs, car horns, clouds moving like magic smoke. "Something like that."
Nawin laughed quietly, tossing another crumb to the dog. "You have that lost look. Like Earth's too loud."
Boog blinked. "You… could say that."
He didn't mean to stare, but every small motion Nawin made — the way his fingers brushed the air, the way his eyes softened when he smiled — tugged at something ancient and unspoken. The mark on Boog's wrist pulsed once, faintly glowing gold beneath his sleeve.
He shoved his hand into his pocket.
Nawin didn't notice. He just stood, brushed crumbs from his palms, and said, "Well, Boog, if you're new here, you'll need someone to show you around. I work part-time at a café nearby — you should stop by sometime."
Boog wanted to refuse, to stay distant. But the universe had other plans.
"I'll come," he said quietly.
Nawin grinned — warm, effortless, radiant. "Great. Then it's a date—" he paused, flustered, "—I mean, not a date-date, unless— never mind."
Boog's lips curved slightly. "I'll see you soon."
As Nawin walked away, the dog trailing behind him, Boog exhaled. His hand throbbed with faint golden light.
Destiny had a smile — and it was Nawin's.
🔥 Jonk
The club smelled of smoke and heartbreak.
Jonk leaned against the bar, eyes half-lidded, pretending to care about the drink in front of him. The guitarist from last night — the one whose voice had cracked the world open — was there again, tuning his instrument under soft amber light.
He didn't look like a star. He looked real — tired, determined, a little lost.
When he began to play, the room quieted.
Jonk felt it immediately — that thrum in his wrist, that electric pulse crawling up his veins. His bracelet flared faintly, hidden beneath his sleeve. The air shimmered for a second, unnoticed by everyone but him.
The boy's name was Tawan. Jonk had overheard it whispered by the bartender.
When the song ended, Jonk approached the small stage, clapping lazily but with genuine warmth.
"Nice song," he said.
Tawan looked up, wiping sweat from his brow. "Thanks. Didn't expect to see someone listening this early."
"I like your voice," Jonk said, tone casual but eyes burning.
Tawan laughed nervously. "Thanks, uh—?"
"Jonk."
"Tawan."
Their hands brushed briefly when Tawan reached down to shake his. The moment their skin touched, Jonk's pulse erupted. A thin red spark flickered between their fingers — faint, invisible to everyone but them.
Tawan jerked back, startled. "Did you feel—?"
Jonk smiled faintly. "Static."
He turned, heart pounding.
No. Magic.
It was too soon. Too strong. But there it was — destiny breathing down his neck.
Behind him, Tawan's voice followed. "Hey, Jonk?"
Jonk paused.
Tawan grinned shyly. "I play again tomorrow night. You should come."
Jonk looked over his shoulder. "I will."
As he left, the air behind him hummed with faint warmth — the first embers of something that could burn worlds.
🌙 Donk
Donk liked mornings. They felt honest.
He walked past the flower shop again, drawn by something he couldn't name. The air smelled like rain and lilies, and the same man was there, arranging petals in quiet focus.
The bell above the door chimed softly as Donk entered.
The man looked up, surprised. "Oh — good morning."
"Hi," Donk said, voice warm. "I passed by yesterday. Your shop's beautiful."
The man smiled, brushing soil from his fingers. "Thank you. Most people don't notice it — they're too busy rushing to work."
"Then they're missing something special," Donk said honestly.
The man's expression softened. "I'm Phum."
"Donk."
"Nice to meet you, Donk. You like flowers?"
"I like life," Donk said simply. "Flowers are just the part that smells better."
Phum laughed — a quiet, gentle sound that made Donk's chest tighten.
The shop was small, sunlight streaming through frosted glass, catching on water droplets that glittered like stars. Phum moved through it like he belonged to the light. Donk found himself watching, memorizing the way his hands cradled each stem, careful but firm — like someone who had learned the value of small things.
"Are you from here?" Phum asked, curious.
"No," Donk said, then smiled. "But I think I could be."
Their eyes met.
And there it was — the pulse.
His bracelet glowed faintly silver, hidden beneath his sleeve.
Phum blinked, unaware, but his gaze lingered a little too long.
"Would you like to stay for tea?" Phum asked suddenly. "It's quiet at this hour."
Donk smiled, warmth spreading through him. "I'd love to."
As he followed Phum deeper into the shop, the flowers seemed to shimmer faintly, reacting to the subtle surge of energy between them. The petals glowed for half a second, then dimmed — as though the world itself was learning to breathe again.
That night, all three wizards met again on the rooftop of an abandoned building — their new sanctuary above the chaos of the city.
Jonk leaned against the edge, cigarette glowing red in the dark. "I found him."
Boog said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes.
Donk smiled faintly. "Same."
The moon hung low — huge and bright, like a watching eye.
"So what happens now?" Jonk asked, flicking ash into the night.
Boog looked at his glowing wrist. "Now we fall in love."
"And if we fail?"
Donk looked toward the horizon, where the city lights bled into stars. "Then the magic fades. Forever."
None of them spoke after that.
The night wind carried the scent of jasmine and smoke, and far below, three hearts beat in sync with something bigger — something older than either world.
Magic had found them.
Love had begun its slow, dangerous work.