"Ladies, gentlemen, children of all ages, people of all ranks - I welcome you to this beautiful night, blessed with a full moon to illuminate the wonder mirrored in your shining eyes. Let me gift you with a few melodies to accompany your nighttime journey. This may be the key you seek, this may be nothing but a fleeting wave of musical notes. Whatever this means to you - today, we're making music together."
The last, faint mumbles among the crowd died abruptly when the man began to sing. High, sweet notes danced through the air like a swarm of jaunty butterflies. Impactful but fleeting. Close and yet untouchable.
Wonder and awe slowly washed over them as they admired the imagery the voice projected, drawing with notes instead of colors, painting a picture your senses completed with a blissful sigh, like puzzle pieces falling together. It got quiet in the audience as everyone tried to soak in the melody to the best of their abilities. Gone were the comparably insignificant daily worries, the askant looks towards the singer’s Western costume, the frowns on their faces.
The melody stirred up old memories of their first love, blew cobwebs off dusty reminiscence of past feelings of excitement and eagerness. The singer took them on a journey, a journey that he dictated but everyone experienced differently. First love was followed by the numbness of a lonely night and soothed by loyal friendship. They might have temporarily felt the prickling sensation of anger and disappointment, but the singer ended his show with a song that made them feel like they're drowning in the vast world, while at the same time feeling incredibly complete and sated.
There were smiles all around when he bid them farewell with a courteous bow, and the audience scattered away, a few dried tears on their bright faces.
Jongdae returned the smiles, nodding towards a few familiar consultants of the emperor and waving at little kids. The moon was hanging low in the sky, the night still young and full of unspoken promises. He retreated for the time being, but not before making the first promise by vowing to sing a second time, shortly before dawn. There were always a few visitors who'd love to spend the whole night listening to him, but the singer never failed to remind them that the imperial garden beared far more wonders to discover, all just as enchanting, if not more so, than him.
It may be hard to believe, but it was true - and who would know better than Jongdae?
Kim Jongdae, the smooth vocalist of the imperial garden with the twinkling eyes and mischievous quirk to his lips.
Kim Jongdae, who could close his eyes and feel the garden working its wonders.

It happened about a year ago, when the imperial garden opened its gates to the world.
It all started with a grand fire eating away at the previous garden, leaving behind nothing but a sad layer of ash and burnt tree stumps. The garden's previous magnificence was lost, and the emperor, a rather open-minded and unconventional person, had the citizens compete for a spot as his new gardener; being in charge of the imperial garden was a highly sought after position, bearing great honor. Thus, people of all ranks showed up to prove themselves, bringing plants and stories from every corner of the land. A group of ministers and the emperor's children personally observed the show, each looking for their favorite to carry to their father, hoping to gain his approval. The emperor was more than surprised at the variety of talents his dear children brought to him; after all, he didn't expect a singer to turn up, but not only did Kim Jongdae possess a disarming smile, he also managed to touch the emperor’s heart with his songs. He was undoubtedly ready to grant him a place in his palace, but curiosity had him inquiring what the singer was even thinking, asking for a spot as a gardener, when it was obvious that he had nothing to do with raising flowers or constructing bridges before.
The short man with expressive eyes and simple, but honourable garments, had smiled at this.
'A garden is a place to rest your soul in, isn't it? My tunes aspire to offer you just this' he had said, and the emperor couldn't find an ounce of falsehood in his words. However, the singer also admitted that there were countless ways to soothe a soul, and proposed that if the emperor were to place his faith in him, he would surely chose a few of the other competitors to complement his talents, in order to create the most marvelous garden the empire has ever seen. His words were bold and ambitious, yet his posture was humble, and the emperor couldn't deny that he'd already taken a liking to his refreshingly unique presence. He agreed, granting the singer a chance to try his very best, and this Jongdae did.
It started out with just a handful of people, mostly those Jongdae had seen the potential in during their presentation - there was Kim Junmyeon, a foreigner like Jongdae himself. He hadn't caught anyone's attention in particular, but Jongdae saw the unrelenting aspiration and genuity in his eyes and it quickly turned out that Junmyeon knew a lot of people and how to charm them unconsciously. Then there was Zhang Yixing, a gentle young man with exceptional talent in gardening and the business partners Park Chanyeol and Kim Minseok, two architects with starkly contrasting styles that created structures which awed both the childlike and mature minds.
Yes, at the beginning it was really just the five of them and the few helping hands Junmyeon knew and deemed suited for their project.
And the garden flourished like a Hortensie, growing beyond imagination and leaving behind the wildest dreams of those watching them from the palace windows. What started out as small, private and comfortable evenings in a rudimentary pavilion for the emperor and his wife, turned into a wide area with wonders slumbering in every nook and cranny, waiting for visitors to discover them. The emperor was a generous man and invited his ministers to take a stroll through the garden themselves, under the one condition, set by the gardeners themselves, that they shall only visit after the sun has set, allowing them to groom the garden during daytime and presenting the garden in all its brilliance at night. Besides, Jongdae had added with a mysterious little smile, the night made people's hearts more sensitive, opening their eyes in a way only darkness could.
Word spread quickly about the marvellous imperial garden and people began to seek it out, throwing curious and yearning looks from afar until the emperor relented, opening it to the public as well on weekend nights - again, an extraordinarily generous gesture, but the emperor was undoubtedly proud of the garden and not unwilling to share its grandeur.
Now, two years after he had chosen Kim Jongdae as the main gardener, the garden had grown into something akin to a public attraction with gardeners, chefs and entertainers the emperor prided himself to know all the faces of, no matter the costume they wore to appease the audiences. Every Thursday night without fail, he himself would take a stroll through his garden, enjoying the performer's sole attention and discovering the latest little details. There never passed a week, maybe not even a day, without change. Some were tiny, some very apparent, but all of them were miraculous, tickling the senses and piece by piece, made you fall in love with an art so unbelievable, you just stopped questioning it. It was like a big, magical illusion to be in awe of, and the emperor had long ago ceased asking how they did it.
A magician never reveals his secrets, Jongdae would say with a mysterious smile.
None of the people asking him these questions ever realized how much truth such an inconspicuous smile could hide.

Yes, the garden changed constantly, and Jongdae had made it a personal goal to be the first one to notice each new change.
It were the times when the sun had already dried the dew and cleared the fog but had a long way to go before reaching its zenith when he had most of the garden to himself. The sounds of the people inhabiting the palace were small, far away and blended with the background noise like the tittering of birds. Jongdae hadn't really snuck out of his quarters on the north side, but people tended to overlook him if he didn't want to be seen. He tugged the loose jacket closer to his slightly wispy frame. His Western way of dressing had once scandalized people, but his status as an artist had gained him enough respect by now to carry on like this. Jongdae genuinely admired the wide, fluttery garments of the people milling around the palace and even among their own, but he was most comfortable with the kinds of garments he had grown up in.
He inhaled deeply, relishing in the crisp, clean air that was now void of the flurry of scents it had been drenched in the night before - no more scented candles, no baked goods, no expensive perfumes. No people, to be honest. Just pure, raw nature. And magic, of course. Silent, but present.
It was funny how being part of the garden slowly changed people. Even though the garden was only hosting visitors three nights a week, most members had adapted to it over the course of a few months and barely anyone worked throughout the day anymore. He had asked around, ever so curious, and a young member told him that it was more comforting to be up at night and surrounded by the others, that it felt natural. The fact that the members of the garden were a close-knitted family satisfied Jongdae immensely. He cared about the people, liked to know as much as possible about the inner workings of every single one of them. It wasn't necessarily related to magic in the common sense, it was merely his way of leading a team.
He strolled down the Gazania path, deciding to stop by the office. There, he found Junmyeon buried to his nose in paper work, like he so often was. They exchanged quick pleasantries and Jongdae sorted out a bit of the mess he'd created (since for all his organisational skills, Junmyeon loved organized chaos the most, which could lead to trouble), before taking the stairs to briefly greet Minseok and Chanyeol.
The latter only had a sleepy nod to spare. While Junmyeon and Minseok liked to actually sleep at night and get up with the rising sun, Chanyeol was a social butterfly, keen on fluttering around the flowers that were different minds. He liked to see exactly what kind of emotions moved people, not unlike Jongdae himself, though he was also driven to see the visitor's reactions to his and Minseok's creations. Still, Minseok was an early bird and that usually meant for Chanyeol that he'd simply not go to bed before noon, consulting and cooperating with his business partner for a few hours. Yes, Chanyeol might have the most peculiar circadian rhythm of them all, and once in awhile, Jongdae would share some thoughts with him when the day kissed the night to bed. Today, Jongdae had gotten up a little later on purpose, not planning to seek company. So he merely took a few sips of tea, throwing a glimpse on their latest blue prints -the picky duo rarely allowed anyone other than the founding members to do so- and left right after.
Yes, Jongdae was convinced that in order to keep in control, it was utterly necessary to keep a good overview on everything. So far, he had succeeded.
He wandered down the paths, both wide ones which resembled a neat puzzle made of asymmetric wooden planks, and small, unimposing ones that were marked by nothing but a loose trail of polished stones. His goal was awaiting him in serene silence - an inconspicuous little pond lying in the East, where it could soak in the morning sun without having to share it with man-made structures made of wood and stone. With a little sigh, Jongdae sank into the high grass, and silence was laid over him like a thick blanket.
He closed his eyes, welcoming the warm, vivid rays of light on his skin.
The silent pond was one of his favorite attractions in the garden. It might not seem like much, but Jongdae relished in it. There was nothing particularly calling out to the visitor's eyes - it was simply a nearly round pond framed by high ferns with a surface so smooth, it could resemble a fine mirror. Jongdae's eyes grazed the all-too familiar little sign that accompanied it. There were a lot of signs spread out in the garden - some were easy to spot, others just as well-hidden as the attraction itself. This one was simply stuck into the grass, slightly weathered wood carrying a glass-frame that was framed itself by intricate, golden swirls of shining metal.

"If you were to speak for everything around you...
       What would you say?"

Jongdae smiled and closed his eyes, letting silence flood his brain and wash out all the temporary worries that had settled throughout the last days, a thick Layer of mud covering a riverbed that was getting trouble breathing.
He should have visited earlier.
Around this pond, there were no sounds at all. Neither from the outside, nor from the pond itself. No humming insects or people, and, most importantly, no sounds of magic. Yes, to Jongdae, the magic around them emitted a sound. It was less of a sensation to be picked up by his ears, but rather a constant, low buzz rumbling deep in his chest. Not here, though. The pond seemed to up any form of disturbance and sometimes, Jongdae felt like even the blades of grass didn't move, frozen in silent awe.
Jongdae had built a lot of attractions in the garden, had twirled magic around his fingers to weave it into the ground, the air, and into life itself. But this one had not been his doing. Just as Jongdae was adding attractions, showcasing his talent for the world to see, someone else was doing the same. Someone who tried to outdo him, a natural enemy.
But whenever he was resting here, absently gazing at the world around him from this safe little haven, it was hard to think of this person as an enemy; not with the way he created such wonderful things.

Jongdae barely remembered the time before he'd been taken in by Lee Seungri, a man priding himself in being the best con artist of the Eastern part of the world. The key to his success went further than mere mind tricks and simple deception through body language. It took Jongdae awhile to figure it out, and even longer to understand that this man hadn't taken him in as a trainee to simply amuse himself. At first, he would merely use him as a maid, have him clean up after him and serve his clients, completely disregarding the bodily needs of a still growing seven-year-old. More often than not, Jongdae awoke to stinging slaps after collapsing yet again from exhaustion. Useless, Seungri would call him. A waste of the bread and milk he consumed. It was not like Jongdae had anyone to go to, and after a couple of failed attempts to flee which resulted in harsh punishments, Jongdae had relented. For the time being. Swearing to himself under a pitiful smile that one day, he'd be free.
It took the visit of another man, tall and well-dressed, to shed light on things. Where Seungri's features held mischief, the other's were dark and imposing as they bored themselves into Jongdae's, who wished nothing but to shy away. Jongdae wasn't silly, though - he knew that such behavior would only result in a hearty beating later, thus he stayed rooted to the spot. With an ordinary pencil, the man drew a symbol on the back of Jongdae's hand, and the tip of his fountain pen was hot as glowing metal, all but burning the tiny into his skin. The sensation was utterly painful, but instead of blood, nothing but burnt-looking were left behind. Up to this day, Jongdae wore the hexagon on his skin, though he preferred to shield it from others eyes. The tiny, little hexagon marking him as a contestant in a battle being fought right under the public's nose. The rules were simple - both Seungri as well as his life-long rival would train a participant of their choice to their best of abilities. As soon as the youngest participant reached legal age, they would be send to their venue, where they'd prove their abilities. The venue happened to be the imperial garden, and regarding the end of the competition, Seungri had never once told him anything throughout the years of harsh training.
You will know when it's over, he'd only said.
Jongdae still wasn't any wiser, one and a half years into his time at the garden. He still hadn't figured out the identity of his opponent, either.

After half an hour of meditation where he meticulously checked the balance of the magical construct weaving itself through the garden, Jongdae got to his feet and set off to explore its physical state. The garden was big and complex, but it was also Jongdae's home, and he rarely set foot outside anymore. His feet just knew the way, knew which paths to take to get to all of his attractions. There were small ones, like the rose bush whose leaves would change the color, according to the mood of the one touching it, and bigger ones, requiring its own gazebo. Jongdae visited them all, making sure the magic was still vibrant and stable. He just stepped outside his favorite creation so far -he called it the 'Sound Bubbles' in his head, though the plate presented the much more elegant name 'Agravic Melody'- when he noticed it; a new structure, the shape befitting the other gazebos, though this one was rather small. Sometimes, it felt like buildings were adding themselves at random. They were just there, when the day before, they weren't. If Jongdae were to ask the architects, gardeners or anyone else, really, no one would question it. They'd simply accept the fact and maybe assume they had forgotten about those particular plans. Jongdae stepped closer with poorly concealed eager spurring his feet on. Discovering new attractions was his most favorite thing. It would be harsh to call Jongdae bitter and bored for he did enjoy human interaction, though it was mostly tarnished by the underlying stress of the competition. But knowing that there was someone out there like him, someone who saw and felt the things others couldn't... was exhilarating. Throughout all his life, Jongdae had only known his mentor Seungri, who used magic in a rather aggressive and straight-forward way as he manipulated people to fall for his charms and set ups. Jongdae, on the other hand, was the type to carefully construct it on the base of his imagination, trying to breathe life into fantasy. He put his creations out there like an exhibition of art and left it to the viewer on how to interpret it. Some of them might only notice superficial appearances, praising him on how pretty they looked, but others understood. And for those few who his creations spoke to, those few who had the mind to take them in completely, it was worth it. Yes, Jongdae liked to please people, much unlike Seungri. But his opponent...
Jongdae stepped towards the plate that was neatly fixed on chest level, right next to the entry.

Yin and Yang

He traced the words with his fingers, wondering where the usual inspirational phrase had gone to. It was something only his opponent did, coming up with a little note that bared a hint to understanding his creation. Jongdae really liked them, because they were rare glimpses at his opponent's inner workings. Nothing could speak more vividly about another person's heart than the art it created, but it was still nice to see a fracture of his traits being pinned down by precise and yet flowing words.
The inside of the round, little space was dark, but there was a glint of metal inside, presumably another plate. Jongdae approached it gingerly, savouring this new discovery of his. Stepping from the broad daylight into this dark, cool room was almost otherworldly. Jongdae trusted his instincts and approached the wall opposite the entry, where the air subtly prickled with magic. There was indeed a second plate, but he couldn't make out the words. The daylight from outside shed vague light on the matches placed in a holder above it. The gazebo appeared completely deserted, except for the single lamp someone had worked into the wall, and even without feeling it, Jongdae knew this was the center of the attraction. Unwilling to waste a match, he lit the candle inside the lamp with a touch of his finger, and the flame grew quickly, almost eagerly. It shed an unnatural amount of light on everything, and now Jongdae could admire the complex layers of metal caging the flame in, which somehow reminded him of a sun and moon pieced together. He could also read the words on the plate beside the lamp now.

"The sun to your moon
The moon to your sun
Soulmate."

Jongdae felt the words like they were tangible, like liquid chocolate dripping into his mind, as he looked back at the lamp, trying to make sense of them.
The way light and shadows gently flickered across the metal was almost soothing, and then it occurred to Jongdae, that this whole gazebo must have been built for a reason. He his heels, eyes wandering over the simple planes of wood... to fix on his shadow. Long, much too long to be drawn by such a small source of light, did it stand there. It wasn't Jongdae's shadow, it clearly wasn't. Unruly strands of hair, broader shoulders, and an overall attire that didn't match Jongdae's comfortable combination of pants and a dress shirt.
Soulmate.
And Jongdae knew it was his opponent, it had to be. Because they were bound. Bound by the competition, by fate and magic and maybe something else. Jongdae had always pondered this, but now it couldn't be denied any longer - his opponent was stepping out and towards him. A subtle, careful step that might tickle dormant, unspoken rules, but a step nonetheless. It clearly told him that he hadn't imagined it, the way they were communicating through their creations. The way they were inevitably drawn to each other, attracted by the beauty of magic. For the longest time, Jongdae stayed in his place, all but drinking in the silhouette of the person whose mind must be the most beautiful he'd ever encountered.

Something changed after that. It wasn't an immediate change, but with the way his opponent had grown bolder, Jongdae followed suit almost eagerly. In response to the Yin and Yang attraction, Jongdae had covered the whole gazebo with a lush layer of paper flowers, intricate little origami pieces that covered every inch of wood below. A few folded butterflies grazed the ocean of petals, and visitors swore they were moving positions whenever they averted their eyes.
Jongdae wasn't sure whether he was overstepping a boundary - never before had he touched a creation of the other, and it may come off as offensive, even though Jongdae clearly meant it as a compliment. It sure called forth the attention of the visitors, who hadn't spared a second glance at the inconspicuous building before.
It seemed like the other wasn't offended and in turn started to add little details to Jongdae's creations as well, letting him know which ones he enjoyed most. Sure, the vocal adoration of their guests was wonderful, but nothing would have Jongdae glow like a silent compliment from the soulmate he'd never actually met before.
 

"You really don't tire easily, do you?" Jongdae asked with a side glance at Chanyeol, whose long legs were dangling off the bridge they were seated on, just barely grazing the watery surface below. The architect hummed in response, fingers roaming the wood almost restlessly. Somewhere along the months passing by, this had become their favorite spot to greet the morning sun, and judging by the soft pastel pink tinting the sky, it wouldn't be too long until their patience would be rewarded.
"I guess not. I feel like I've really accommodated to the life in the garden." Chanyeol lightly said, leaning back on his palms. Jongdae observed his features closely. Chanyeol's eyes were shining bright as always, and yet he felt like something was off. Maybe they were a tad too bright for the time, too clear for the hours he'd spent awake. His urge to move seemed almost a little jittery. The balance was a little tipped between the two of them. Whereas Chanyeol seemed a little too lively, Jongdae himself was unusually tired. He'd been plagued by a mild headache all night, just like yesterday and the day before. Maybe he'd caught some mild sickness, resulting in his body to grow weaker, but keeping the magic together was tougher than usual, the perpetual strain in the back of his head just that much rougher.
Without hesitation, Chanyeol scooted closer, until their sides touched and he could rest his head on Jongdae's shoulder with a delighted sigh. The gesture might seem intimate to others, but Jongdae could easily tell affection from feelings of love. It was an odd little thought, but if Chanyeol was actually romantically interested, Jongdae knew he'd feel uneasy. As if his heart belonged to someone else. He was well-aware that most of his mind, soul and purpose was dedicated to his opponent. But presenting and handing over his heart, too...? It was probably against the rules, and yet it seemed like such a natural progress of events.
He had indeed spent a considerable amount of time gazing at the shadowy silhouette in the Yin and Yang gazebo, trying to guess his opponent's identity. He was curious, oh so curious.
But it was futile. He was definitely male, judging by the hair, but the garden had a lot of staff members and it wasn't even said that his opponent had to be a member of the garden - he could just as well be part of the palace, or even nothing but a visitor, controlling things from the outside. Jongdae himself wasn't too good at keeping things together from a distance, much less build them, but his mentor had repeatedly told him that this was entirely possible (and had lamented over Jongdae's overall uselessness right after that). Still, even if the silhouette wasn't very telling, Jongdae was extremely sure it wasn't Chanyeol, for his hair was far too curly and his body too lanky, even in comparison with a slightly distorted shadow. It was for the better though. Chanyeol was a good friend, a warm and cozy shelter right in the middle of everything.
"You know, I was thinking of building a little tower." Chanyeol began, while his legs kept kicking back and forth, like a running metronome. Really, something was off about him.
"Yeah? What kind of a tower?" Jongdae asked, ignoring the low buzz somewhere behind his forehead, drizzling down into his whole body, settling in his lungs like dust. Chanyeol hummed thoughtfully, brows scrunched as if he was piecing the idea together just now, which wasn't too rare. A lot of ideas tended to come to Chanyeol before dawn, when he was still drunk on the emotions around him, mind still strung high and bold.
"Maybe... I'm not sure yet, but I was thinking of how you feel small at the foot of a tower. And the higher you get, the taller you feel, right?"
Jongdae hummed in agreement, trying to feel the pulse of the young man leaning into him, trying to feel him.
"Wouldn't it be really something if you continued to feel small? If the interior and the look outside suggests you just keep getting smaller, though your head tells you you're not?"
Jongdae was quickly distracted by his suggestion, the clogs in his mind already ticking as to how he'd create something like this. It was a good idea, and certainly not the first incentive he'd gotten from those around him. Although Chanyeol, like all of the others, did not know about Jongdae's abilities, he rarely asked the question of 'how' to make things work. He'd simply begun to naturally assume they would work. Jongdae wasn't sure whether any of their mentors had set this up, or whether the thick fog of magic just worked its wonders.
"Sounds like a wonderful idea. You should propose it to Minseok. And keep me up to date on your progress." He gently said, petting his hair in the way he sometimes did, whenever Chanyeol turned into the young, lonely foreigner he liked to kept hidden deep inside him. He felt the tall man relax against him, his legs finally ceasing the restless movements.
"I don't know..." Chanyeol began slowly as his voice grew heavier, laced with a sudden surge of tiredness, "sometimes I feel like this. Like I am advancing; like all of this, the garden, the people are growing, and it makes me feel smaller. Sometimes, it kind of feels like it's all... alive and it's watching me, not the other way around. All of it. Do you think that's silly?"
Jongdae stilled in his movements, if only for a second. Then he continued to pet the messy curls, eyes trained on the steady, tiny ripples on the water surface that were starkly illuminated by the rising sun.
"No. Not at all." he mumbled and for a second he was Jongdae the exhausted magician, and not Jongdae, the inconspicuous singer of the imperial garden.
And while Chanyeol gradually dozed off, Jongdae pieced everything together. It wasn't the last missing puzzle piece, by far not, but the words and behaviour of the now peacefully sleeping architect had completed a part of the puzzle nonetheless. Jongdae had suspected this, but only now could he confirm it - the garden affected people. Not just superficially, but really drenched their beings in magic. He mostly saw it in the founding members. The more time they spent in it, the more devoted they were, the more they allowed themselves to be integrated into the garden... the more the garden became a part of them, too, like plants growing around each other, intertwining their roots. He felt the magic dusting their minds, influencing them. With Chanyeol, it was exceptionally strong to the point that he was feeling burdened by it... like Jongdae. He felt bad for him, for all of them. What was he doing to them, could it be stopped? Maybe he should try harder, try to keep everything in line. But his head was already aching at this point.
It was an insight he'd been vaguely aware of, but too scared to admit to himself, even in his thoughts, but the magic was beginning to take its toll on him. Juggling all the different constructs that were only growing in grandeur was taking more than just mild effort and inner peace at this point. It was getting harder, and that meant their little competition was gravitating towards the end. The mere thought woke a long-forgotten terror inside him. What if he lost? He had to keep going. If he lost and everything broke down, what would happen to the others? To his opponent? Would he have to carry the responsibility that had been too heavy for Jongdae?
It were moments like these, when Jongdae felt just so lonely. He wanted to talk to his opponent, his soulmate, and ask him whether he was feeling the same. But they were supposed to be enemies, and trust was not something that could exist between them. Like two caged animals, they were reaching through the bars of their cages, but didn’t dare escape it.
The pressure in his lungs intensified and Jongdae inhaled deeply, wiping his mind of all thoughts, and concentrated on keeping everything together.

 

Whenever Jongdae wasn't singing on stage, he loved strolling through the garden and attending the other performances. There might not be magic involved, strictly speaking, but every performer, no, every member of the garden, excelled in his or her field of expertise. And whenever Jongdae watched Tao gently scratching the head of his exotic birds, or the sparkle in Luhan's eyes when his delicate fingers hovered over the tarot cards, feeling for the ones to flip open, he felt a warm surge of genuine adoration for all of them. All of them did such a great job, every night.
Tonight, he was out to pay a visit to his favorite performer though. He watched their guide, a quirky man named Baekhyun, who knew the garden almost as good as Jongdae himself, usher a few newcomers inside and Jongdae kept standing on the stairs leading into one of their biggest gazebos. He used to perform on a smaller stage, but the demand for Jongin was high, and Jongdae wouldn't dream of questioning it. Everyone had gathered close to the walls, seated on the cushioned floor and forming a circle, patiently waiting for Jongin to make an appearance. It was a nice sight, seeing both rich and poor people mingling together, the hierarchy almost forgotten as the warm light of candles dangling from the ceiling illuminated their expectant faces. Some familiar faces were fixated on the stage, while the newcomers took in their surroundings with awe. Jongdae, too, wasn't running out of appreciation for the piece of art the gazebo itself was. Instead of stone or wood, the walls were completely covered in silk, woven around the thin, wooden foundation like the most spectacular wicker basket one could imagine. The complex braids, knots and the painted silk itself were courtesy of Kyungsoo, their costumer. The quiet man, whose skillful fingers had created most of the performer's outfits, had always had a soft spot for Jongin, but again, most people had.
It got quiet the moment Jongin stepped inside, graciously moving past the few instruments on the ground, followed by the ones designated to play for tonight. He was one of the very few performers mostly clad in Western garments - in order to really showcase his movements, Kyungsoo had said, and said garments consisted of almost skin-tight pants in the same midnight blue Jongdae was wearing, though it missed the tiny diamonds imitating star constellations. Instead, the focus lay on a wide, fluttery blouse in the colour of a cloud getting tinged in the last sun rays of the day, complimenting his sun-kissed skin. All of their garments were linked to the night, but Kyungsoo had always insisted how Jongin was a child of the sun and Jongdae agreed. It wasn't a question of colored skin, but of warmth. Everything about Jongin was warm, from his brown orbs to chocolate-colored curls and shy little smiles he flashed those who'd earned his trust. Now, though, he was the unapproachable sun, soaring and hot in the warm glow of the painted candles around them, posture strong and controlled.
The moment the musicians began to pull the strings on their instruments, Jongin began to dance. It wasn't like any type of traditional dance Jongdae had ever seen, in or outside of Asia, for traditional dances had rules, movements and figures that one could learn. Jongin just... danced, bare feet flying over the ground, body twisting and expressing the music in the most raw, natural way Jongdae could see a human body possibly do. It was enthralling, and he'd never grow tired of it. It was one of the very few occasions where Jongdae could let go, where the heavy clouds of exhaustion that had become permanent residues were broken by sunrays, and nothing would occupy his mind but muscles working beneath tanned skin, fluttering fabric and flowing, graceful movements.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" a soft voice asked and Jongdae almost tumbled down the stairs in shock. The very familiar man who had snuck up on him was chuckling good-naturedly as he steadied Jongdae. It was Zhang Yixing, their head gardener. Sure, the title had once belonged to him, though simply for a lack of a more befitting one, and Jongdae had soon handed it over to Yixing - after all, Yixing was their main gardener, in charge of everything plant-related. It felt only right, and Jongdae preferred to be called... Jongdae. Though some new, unsuspecting souls would dare to call him Mr. Kim or their boss, until Jongdae taught them better.
It had been awhile since he'd seen the head gardener during the night, but meeting him was never an unwelcome occurrence. Yixing was an all around gentle and soft person, who emitted a serenity that was soothing.
"Yes." Jongdae replied softly and for a few musical segments, they watched the performance in silence.
"I haven't seen you in a while, shouldn't you be resting at night?" Jongdae asked casually, though not unkindly.
A side glance told him that the gardener was looking at him attentively. Yixing was a man full of humble respect for just about anyone, and although it created a certain distance, Jongdae had never once felt unwelcome. Only when Jongdae turned towards the gardener with a questioning glance, did Yixing avert his eyes, let them be drawn in by Jongin.
"Ah. Not today. I was expecting the Brahma Kamals to bloom. Besides, it's always advisable to check up on the garden at night, to see how the flowers are doing."
Jongdae nodded to himself. All the performances and architecture aside, what really breathed life into the garden were the countless plants and flowers, coloring the place and captivating the senses. On one occasion, Yixing had told him a bit about gardening, had pointed out the flowers which only opened up at night, though there was no denying that Yixing had the ability to make any flower bloom at night.
"I can understand. I'm no gardener, but I think most of us like to see the results of our work." Jongdae offered and Yixing hummed.
"Occasionally."
Jongin spun on his bare foot in one elegant motion, and Jongdae was so into it that he could feel  the world swaying. Blindly, he reached for the railing, but missed it, and before he could help it, his surroundings moved almost slowly, gently-
"Jongdae."
Arms were reaching around him, keeping him up. Jongdae blinked. Lazily. Keeping his eyes open was difficult. He was missing Jongin's performance, and wait, had he almost tumbled down the stairs just now?
"Jongdae." the voice repeated, more urgently, though in a low volume, and Jongdae's fingers flailed for the railing, finding it this time, holding on tightly.
"I'm alright. Just a little tired." he mumbled, putting all his effort into standing straight and having nothing left for a smile. He felt hot all over.
"I beg to differ." Yixing protested gently, but firmly, and though his hand had left his waist, it was still hovering over Jongdae's suit, waiting to catch him again.
"You should take a break, I'll brew you some tea, come."
Jongdae heard himself slurring some protests, felt his body move and knew he was following Yixing; and yet it felt like a small, dark gap in his consciousness. One moment he stood outside, watching Jongin's stage, and a bit of shuffling later, he was seated in a plush armchair at the back of Yixing's huge greenhouse, far away from any guests, a delicate porcelain cup of steaming hot tea on the low table in front of him.
"Please, drink it as long as it's still hot. I'm sure it will relax you. I added some rose roots."
Jongdae blinked stubbornly, as if willing the milky film of exhaustion away, as he reached for the cup, careful not to drop it.
"I'm sorry for disturbing your evening..." he began, tentatively blowing cool air against over the steaming surface, "I'll be good from now on, so please feel free to continue with your previous activities."
"Maybe I was watching you?" Yixing suggested with a mischievous grin, before shaking it off in favour of a mild smile, "all jokes aside, I couldn't possibly go back now. Don't worry, I had no particular duties anyway."
Jongdae only smiled back, albeit weakly. Yes, Yixing was very enjoyable to be around, with his mature self wrapping around a playful mind in such a pleasant way.
The sudden surge of fatigue had caught Jongdae off guard, but now that he was sitting in a calm place, he already felt much better. True to the gardener's words, every sip of tea slowly aided to his well-being, like liquid peace warming him up from inside.
"Amusing, how the tables have turned." Yixing stated serenely, and Jongdae couldn't help an ironic little grin of his own.
"They have, haven't they?" he asked lightly, reminiscing about the time where he had forced Yixing to rest. It had been about six months after Jongdae had won the emperor's benevolence. Back then, Yixing was their only gardener and adamant about doing his job to the best of his abilities, to the point that Jongdae once found him on the floor of his greenhouse, collapsed from sheer exhaustion. Yixing was peaceful, but stubborn, and back then Jongdae prove his status as a leader by being even more stubborn, insisting on Yixing accepting help. Auditions and interviews were held, and now Yixing could call himself the superior to a whole group of staff members he'd carefully picked himself.
"Are you becoming too stressed?" Yixing asked with a tilted head, nudging Jongdae out of his fond memories. His gaze was intense, as if attempting to see the signs of exhaustion mirrored on his face. Jongdae knew he couldn't; his control wasn't slipping that much - if the magic would already take a visible toll on his body, he'd probably be long gone.
After all, the members of the garden were blessed with unfazable youth, though it was hard to tell after a time period as short as two years. Still, Jongdae could feel it and see it in the young members - they did age, albeit slowly. At the end of the day, the magic didn't want to consume or ruin him; it merely wanted to stay alive, to keep running and for that, it needed him..
He was reminded of Chanyeol's words, how he'd felt that everything was alive, watching him instead of it being the other way around.
Yixing was still seeking his eyes, and Jongdae voiced it out before he could help it.
"Do you ever wonder how much you actually have under control? Do you sometimes ask yourself which type of chess piece you are, on the grand playing board that is everything?"
The gardener didn't seem surprised by the question. Then again, there was hardly anything that could shake his stoic nature.
"I do think about that. A lot." he admitted, and there was something else, an underlying sadness that left Jongdae itching to know more about their head gardener. He was trying his hardest to understand all the members to his best abilities, but the number of people was simply too high at this point. Still, Yixing was probably one of the persons he regretted not knowing the most. But the tacit, Chinese man was rather evasive and didn't let people in easily, though he'd never been anything but genuinely friendly.
"Maybe... we're the board. Not a piece, but the board." the gardener said quietly, voice barely above a whisper, and Jongdae dozed off to this thought, only to awake at dawn, with a blanket draped over him.
It warmed him, in different ways than the tea had, though a certain, bittersweet feeling was undeniable. Zhang Yixing roused all the what ifs Jongdae liked to tune out during the sober days and busy nights. What if he wasn't Jongdae, but someone else? If he wasn't the chess board, but a piece on it, free to move? To be completely honest, he just yearned for company, someone to be truly close to him, someone to devote himself to and bask in affection in return. And if only he wasn't Jongdae, he might find someone like Yixing. Someone who is kind, smart and captivating. Jongdae wasn't attracted to men, he really wasn't, but he was honest enough to acknowledge that he'd love to meet a woman with a soul like Yixing.
If only, he thought bitterly.
If only his soul wasn't already linked to someone, bound by a competition that was unable to bear true affection.

 

Flocks of dark, little clouds created a magnificent piece of art as they dotted the rose-colored sky, but neither Jongdae nor Chanyeol commented on it. It should be a chilling morning in mid-december, but the air in the garden smelled sweet, undeterred by the tiny snowflakes that had fallen earlier and melted away as soon as they'd made contact with the ground. The garden inhibited all four seasons, each in their own sector, and none would bow down to the world around it. It was a heavy, but perfectly balanced system.
Usually, Chanyeol and him would share their thoughts, leading more often than not to a new idea for an attraction. But Jongdae was exhausted, and by now, it had become almost natural to have a considerate amount of his attention permanently invested into keeping a straight face, no matter how physically sick he felt. It was an illusion, obviously - Jongdae had actually paid numerous visits to the garden's medic -just to put a hold to Junmyeon's constant worries- but his body was perfectly fine. The fact that Junmyeon kept worrying even though barely anyone noticed anything to be off about Jongdae only served as further proof that the garden was beginning to get to him as well; sharpening his senses to the point that they left tiny papercuts on his unsuspecting mind.
"Is your head still hurting?" he finally asked Chanyeol, who was huddled into his side as usual, lanky figure crumpled together, eyes closed. He opened them at the question, but his lids fluttered and with a displeased frown, he closed them again.
"Yes. It's... worse today. You know that feeling of coarse salt against your skin? It feels like that, only in my head. The doctor said I'm not making sense. But it's like salt today..." he repeated quietly, and Jongdae left one hand to massage the others scalp, trying to ease the pressure on his mind. Usually, he'd describe it like a sensation of ash or fine sand settling like dust, dulling his ability to think. And usually, being close to Jongdae alone would soothe him, but today this didn't appear to be the case. Jongdae felt sorry for him, but there was only so much he could do, only so much energy he could direct at him without risking to sway under the weight of his own creations.
Chanyeol groggily moved into a straight position, trying to get a little distance in between him and Jongdae, as if something had caught his attention, though his eyes were still fighting the early sunrays.
"It feels like something is... off?" Chanyeol mumbled and shielded his eyes with the back of his hand. His voice sounded strangely detached and Jongdae was beginning to seriously worry for him.
"Or something... will be off?" he asked, looking at Jongdae, confusion written into his glassy orbs. Jongdae froze, and then they heard it. A loud crack cut through the air, as if ice was caving in to heat. It was more than a mere sound though. Rather than that it was a sensation to be picked up by all his senses, rough, sharp and cold. They both jumped to their feet immediately.
"What was that? Where did it come from?" Chanyeol asked, looking every bit as alarmed as Jongdae felt. He could only shake his head cluelessly, and they hurried down the wooden bridge and over a narrow path of polished stones almost hidden between high bushes of fern and wisterias. Chanyeol was one step ahead of him, and Jongdae knew where he was headed to - the Fifth Season. He brushed aside the soft blades of fern, hurrying to keep up with him, but the architect had longer legs and his grasp over reality was firmer. When Jongdae emerged from the shortcut, Chanyeol was already restlessly scurrying over the bridges of the Wisdom Knot, a giant, maze-like construction of bridges that were supposed to act like a compass for your heart, leading you to the part of the garden your heart desired. A countless number of bridges twirled around an enormous glass crystal Jongdae had created. It was the first attraction Jongdae and his opponent had both poured just as much work into, the first collaboration. It was situated high above the Fifth Season, an area where Yixing had gone wild with plants that defied all human knowledge. Chanyeol was hurrying towards the center of the Knot, towards the crystal. The architect didn't know, couldn't know of the importance of this place, and yet he gravitated towards the glass structure. Situated in the center of the four seasons spreading throughout the garden, it was the magical core, the spot where the magic was so thick Jongdae could taste it on his tongue. He, too, would have went here straight away, for the crack had felt like a blow to the overall balance. Chanyeol whirled around before Jongdae could get a look at the glass blinking in the morning light.
"Nothing. It looks just fine." he said, and even though he took another bridge to keep seeking the origin of disturbance, his head would continue to turn towards the crystal again and again. Jongdae barely heard him anymore as he directed his full attention to the glass structure, reaching out over a railing to touch it with his palm. It was cool, smooth, and yet it felt like a flame precariously flickering in the wind. The magical construct was shaken, but intact. What had happened? Jongdae closed his eyes, and ultimately covered his ears, too, in order to hear the magic. It was there, a low, colorful buzz that was the most intense right around him. The Wisdom Knot and the crystal. He looked further and the sensation soon scattered, though a certain amount was just floating through the air like dust. His feet moved slowly, one hand blindly sliding along the railings. There was... something. Something that felt unnatural. There, right in the clutter of dusty, concentrated magic, was something... slick and foreign, something the human language was missing the words for. Jongdae's eyes fluttered open, and his steps quickened. Tap, tap, down the wooden bridges until he stood at the seam of the Fifth Season. A sea of fantastic purple and blue flowers was peacefully bathing in the morning sun, dotted in sparkling drops of dew. Jongdae paced down a path with slow steps as his senses probed into metaphorical darkness, seeking for the flaw, the crack where the smooth canvas that was the garden had been sliced open. His fingers grazed the wet petals as Jongdae passed by, but the trail eventually led him away from the mystic flowers. With the way he'd dulled all his senses in order to feel the magic, it felt like he'd fallen into a trance. The feeling of disturbance intensified, a sticky type of nausea, and Jongdae pinpointed its origin. Slowly, carefully, did he step up the wooden stairs to a very familiar gazebo. It was one of his attractions, the Flipped Sky. The wood creaked ever so slightly and the air got thicker with every step. Jongdae tugged at the sliding door and it showed no resistance. Inside... everything looked normal. The ground was covered in a thin layer of cerulean blue liquid, a few fluffy clouds were sprinkled about, tempting visitors to sprawl out on them. Jongdae stepped inside and the liquid splashed, the tiny sound far too audible. Why was it so silent? Jongdae lifted his gaze to the low ceiling, which was covered in grass, flowers and even a small tree that almost touched the crown of his head, all lit by the sun shining through the blue liquid on one end of the room. It looked just like it always did, and yet it was wrong. Jongdae slowly sloshed through the water, gaze fixed to the world above him. It was too silent. Life shouldn't be this silent. He his heels, moving in a circle, eyes wandering over the grass. It was here. Whatever it was, it was here-
Something cracked, clearly audibly this time, and Jongdae's eyes widened.
"Jongdae!"
Before he could even begin to comprehend his situation, someone had ripped him backwards and outside so violently that he tumbled and pulled the other person down the few stairs with him as the ceiling broke and everything came crashing down behind them. Jongdae rolled around, still attached to the other body as they both shielded each other from sharp edges of wood, coming to a rest on the front steps. The sudden, brutal tug back to reality had Jongdae gasping. With a start, he sat up, ignoring his pulsing headache and looked down to see Chanyeol lying in the dirt with him.
"Are you alright?" the boy asked and Jongdae nodded numbly, eyes already drawn to the destroyed attraction. Plants, chunks of earth and the tree - everything lay in shambles, drenched in the blue liquid that was oozing out of the gazebo, dripping onto the stairs.
He heard hurried footsteps, the distinct clopping sound of traditional shoes on wood, and then a voice calling out to them.
"What happened here? Are you alright?"
It was Yixing, his brain noted absently, but even though he felt a hand on his shoulder, he couldn't tear his gaze from the puddle of blue expanding rapidly, drenching the bright wood. He felt nothing but utter shock, like a little kid having being bitten by its precious pet without warning.
"Please get up, Jongdae. Chanyeol, would you be so kind and lend a hand?"
Jongdae was pulled to his feet and while he was tugged towards the greenhouse, he couldn't stop craning his head back to stare at the incriminating sight. He heard Chanyeol weakly arguing over going to the infirmary and Yixing disagreeing. Jongdae would have disagreed as well - he wasn't keen on having to play along to any panicked doctor’s instructions right now; merely being himself required all his attention right now. But he knew that Yixing usually got what he want and didn't even bother supporting him. Just like expected, they found themselves at one of the entries to the greenhouse soon, where Yixing ushered Chanyeol away.
"Go and lie down, I'll keep an eye on Jongdae here." he said gently, but firmly, an uncommon sense of urgency lacing his soft voice.
"But-" Chanyeol began, only to be interrupted by the gardener, whose hand shot forwards to steady the architect, whose fatigue was painfully obvious. Jongdae was quite worried he might pass out on his way to their quarters, and obviously, Yixing thought the same. He called out one of his subordinates, a tall and currently sleepy-looking guy named Yifan, and assigned him to accompany Chanyeol back to his room, calling after them to remember drinking the tea he'd made for him. Jongdae simply watched this exchange, leaning against the open door of the massive glass house, his mind empty and black.
The gardener turned around, full attention now on Jongdae, as he pulled him along.
"Come."
Jongdae had been to the greenhouse on multiple occasions and had spent an almost equally high amount in the back, drinking a cup of tea in one of the plush chairs around the European-looking, low table. But this time, Yixing led him through an opened sliding door and into his private rooms. He'd certainly never been there, but Jongdae was too distraught to be bothered by the underlying innuendo.
"Just lay down for a bit, I'll brew you some tea." Yixing began, and that's when Jongdae stopped in his tracks. He couldn't lay down now. Something was going on, something dangerous.
"I can't." he mumbled, attempting to turn on his heels and leave, but the gardener tightened his grip on Jongdae's upper arms.
"Yes, you can. And you should."
No, Yixing didn't understand, this wasn't a mere accident. He had to fix this, check up on all the other attractions.
"No. I'm fine. I'll just-"
"Stay, Jongdae. You're clearly not fine-" Yixing began and Jongdae snapped from mere stress and fear, ripping himself free.
"Let go!" he yelled, and for a second, Yixing just stared at him in shock. When Jongdae jumped for the door, Yixing was quicker though, reaching for his arms again and they tried to wrestle each other. It was futile, since Jongdae didn't even stand a chance on good days, his scrawny frame no match for the gardener whose work was physically demanding.
The world tilted and then his back met the bed, Yixing above him, pinning him down by the shoulders, their limbs tangled in the fabric of his changshan. Jongdae wanted to cry in frustration, but then he saw something he'd never seen on Yixing's face before - genuine fear.
"Stop it, Jongdae, you're tipping the balance!" he all but plead, and Jongdae seized the struggle as the words nudged his numb mind, begging to be processed.
"What...?" he breathed out, still breathing heavily, but lying perfectly still as he looked up at Yixing in confusion.
"You're way too distraught! At this rate, everything is going to collapse!"
For a handful of racing heartbeats, Jongdae stared at him. Until the shock settled in, violently and ice cold. He shoved Yixing off of him and sat up rigidly. The gardener didn't show resistance and backed off, hands slowly sinking into his lap, a different type of fear swimming in his eyes.
"You're my opponent." Jongdae breathed out in disbelief.
The other looked about to jump to his feet, but decided against it, lowering his gaze to the hands clawing into his own thighs.
"That is true." he said, his even voice rippled with shivers.
Jongdae pressed himself against the headboard in retaliation, desperate to bring distance between them. It had been Yixing all along. The inconspicuous gardener who had been with them from the very beginning. He had even talked to him and dozed off in his presence without ever noticing it - and yet Yixing had known.
"I don't intend to hurt you," the other began, "just please. Calm down. I don't know what might happen to you if you lose control now."
The gardener looked up and Jongdae got a look at the genuine anxiety mirrored in his eyes. It sparked something in him, the realization that Yixing, too, was scared. Just like him. Scared of whether or not Jongdae might attack him.
"Was it you? Did you do this, just now? Because you want to win?" Jongdae asked, trying not to sound as hysterical as he felt. Yixing shook his head rapidly, both palms lifted in defense.
"No, god no! I would never. I would never stoop that low."
Jongdae considered his words. He had no reason to trust him - Yixing was his enemy, his opponent. But it wouldn't make sense for him to suddenly become manipulative and violent.
He's playing you, aiming at your weak heart, his mentor would say. But Jongdae was getting desperate. His mind was sore, his body tired, and he was oh so alone. Yixing may be his enemy, but he was also the only person in the world who truly understood, who was like him. His soulmate he'd been scared and yet eager to meet. Now that he was right there, Jongdae didn't know what to do, and his vision was frazzling at the corners.
"It wasn't me, either." he simply stated, and Yixing nodded.
"I know. It was... something else. Let's talk about this later, after you've had some rest." he said, carefully climbing off the bed.
"But I shouldn't-" Jongdae began yet again, and Yixing reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, freezing mid-move and taking it back.
"I'll go and take a look at everything, don't worry. Just sleep."
Jongdae finally relented, slumping down into the soft mattress. The world was spinning, but Jongdae managed to half-heartedly pull his shirt over his head, before crawling under the thick blanket. It smelled foreign, in a good way. He closed his eyes and every second spent like this was like cool balm on his burnt out everything.
"Be careful, will you?" he slurred out, though it might be wrong to wish his enemy safety. He didn't want Yixing to be his enemy. And if he was, maybe Jongdae would never ever awake again, rendered unable to regret the last mistake of his life. Jongdae was mostly asleep when a soft whisper broke the calming silence.
"I'd never cause you any harm. You're too beautiful."

When Jongdae woke up, he was feeling infinitely better. For a long time, he was just lying there with his eyes closed, giving himself time to adjust. First darkness, then sounds, and finally the buzz of magic. Bit by bit his senses trickled in, but it felt natural, by far not as overwhelming and busy as before. Everything appeared to be intact, though there was a vague aftertaste of what had happened before. The properties of magic were different than those of ordinary wood or stone - you may polish a crack until it becomes invisible, but while Jongdae could fix his attraction, the traces would still linger in the air for quite some time. A mix between solidity and spirituality.
The blankets around him still had this enticingly foreign scent, and while he would usually be uncomfortable lying in a stranger's bed, he took comfort in the way it enveloped him like a little safe haven. Jongdae wasn't very educated on the names of plants and the likes, or else he might be able to put names to the slightly sweet, but heady notes. A soft click to his right had him open his eyes, blearily blinking up at a tall figure next to his bed. It was Yixing, who had placed a steaming cup of porcelain on the stony bedside table, and was now shooting him a dim smile.
"I'm sorry if I disturbed your sleep." he said calmly, being over the earlier surge of panic, just like Jongdae. He shook his head ever so slightly.
"You didn't."
"That's good."
Yixing pulled out a chair and sank into it under Jongdae's watchful eyes; it must look like someone sitting at a sick bed. Golden light filtered through the glass ceiling and all the greenery alone had an energizing effect on him. Jongdae heaved himself up into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard, all sleepiness forgotten as he looked at the gardener in a completely new light. Yixing pretended not to notice, righting the basket of snacks on the table.
"I specifically asked for some Western snacks, since I figured you might not indulge in them as often as you'd like."
When Yixing looked up, Jongdae was still looking at him with open wonder and curiosity.
"Why didn't I notice?" he asked, unable to pay any heed to polite set phrases, no matter how genuine. Yixing only smiled and offered him the basket, only speaking after Jongdae had reluctantly helped himself.
"I conceal myself." he simply said, fishing out a small, roundish bread roll as well.
"You can do that? I didn't know. In fact... I don't think I could." Jongdae mused around a mouthful of fluffy, sweet goodness. He didn't have a high number of happy childhood memories, but sweet milk bread had played a significant role in many of them.
"It's not that hard, I learned it from a book." Yixing replied nonchalantly, though Jongdae was certain that the praise had his smile light up a tiny bit.
"A book? There are books about... it?" he began, faltering halfway through the sentence. For some reason, he didn't dare say the word 'magic' out loud, as if he feared his mentor or the pact they had formed, would feel his betrayal and punish him. Yixing seemed to share his sentiments, for he didn't laugh at him. In fact, he looked just as surprised as Jongdae did.
"How else would you learn?" he asked, honestly confused, and when Jongdae threw in that he'd never picked up a book for learning purposes at all, the gardener's eyes lit up in understanding.
"So that's why your creations are so beautiful!" he exclaimed and really, he'd never seen Yixing this... youthful and excited. He'd always been the calm and collected, serene type of person hovering in the background. Jongdae was already excited about having an outlet at last, but seeing Yixing like this was infective.
"What do you mean?"
"Everything. The way you use it and shape it, the concept behind it - your creations all have this sense of freedom and emotions, they're so... colorful. Simply amazing. I get it now, because it all comes from your heart and not from some books." Yixing all but gushed, and Jongdae dismissed him with a shake of his head, still toying with the new realization himself.
"What are you talking about? I've never thought of your attractions as anything short of amazing, as well. They're all so clean and polished, and I couldn't dream of achieving your precision!"
At this, Jongdae let his gaze roam around the room, which was separated from the greenhouse by an actual stone wall for privacy, but it only went up about two metres, gracing anyone in the room with the sight of the greenhouse through a glass wall. The place had always been magnificent with ropes and trees climbing up many of the walls and strings of plants wrapping around their own pots strung up between the walls like an ambiguous spiderweb. He should have known earlier, that there was magic systematically woven into everything. Jongdae was all wild colors and flailing emotions, but Yixing used magic in an almost technical way. It was so different and maybe that's why they were so drawn to each other. Because black and white fit together so well.
"As much as I would love to disagree and tell you exactly what makes your creations so very breath-taking," Yixing began, having followed Jongdae's glance and remembering the original issue, "I think we should worry about this mysterious disturbance. I thoroughly checked every creation and they're all good, though there is this... oily film around them."
Jongdae teared his gaze back to Yixing, reaching for more snacks. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd eaten. He didn't question Yixing's choice of words because more often than not, describing magic with words was like stitching fine embroidery with chopsticks.
"Maybe I kind of broke something..." Jongdae mumbled guiltily, thinking of all the stress and pressure he'd felt, and which was still there, albeit lowly buzzing in his chest. The gardener only shook his head, his voice gentle, but determined.
"No. It's definitely not your fault. Whatever this is, it's not the result of a slip up. I only have my intuition, but you should know for certain that there are no cracks on your mind. Besides, even if you were to give in to the heavy weight and everything would fall apart - I highly doubt it you would create something this... ugly and bitter. It feels awful."
"Tastes like rejection and blood." Jongdae muttered and Yixing agreed.
"I was considering my mentor to be involved, but it doesn't feel like him. Not because I believe in the kindness of his soul, but because his work has a completely different feel to it." he mused, sipping on his tea. Jongdae followed his example, silently wondering whether the calming effect of Yixing's tea was somehow a work of magic as well.
"It's not my mentor either. I don't think he desires anything other than me winning." Jongdae added.
Yixing's expression turned somber at this.
"Don't we all..." he hummed, and Jongdae finally voiced out the question that had been silently sitting in the back of his head for years.
"When will it end? What happens to the loser?"
Yixing was mildly surprised Jongdae would ask him something like this, and the small, forced smile slowly died.
"No one ever told you? It will end as soon as one of us is crushed by the pressure. Until either you or me... dies."
Jongdae didn't break eye contact, and felt much less shocked than he should be, revealing that in a dark corner of his heart, he'd already known all along.
His gaze dropped down into the depths of his tea, hoping to drown himself in its comfortable warmth. But no matter how much he'd bathe in the warmth and comfort Yixing had to offer, at the end of this long, long night, one of them had to die. Jongdae wasn't even sure whether he'd be more upset about his own or Yixing's death at this point, but one thing he knew - the man across him shared the exact same, fluttery uncertainty.

 

Something changed after that. A change invisible to the eye, permeating the air.
Jongdae wandered down the frosty parts of the garden, feeling it with every step.
Last week, Jongin had fallen and injured his waist. Junmyeon was slowly turning into an insomniac and Tao's birds were growing weak, a few withering away under their owner’s desperate fingertips.
The construct was getting heavy, pressing down on each and every one of them, and attractions kept cracking at their seams. Jongdae tried his best, he really did. And with Yixing at his side, it was easier, so much easier. They worked together, coordinated, even taught each other occasional bits and pieces, all in order to keep the garden in check. Attractions were built up again, the palace had yet to notice something to be off and no casualties had occurred so far.
So far.
Jongdae almost stepped in a liquid so dark it appeared black, eyes warily rising to one of his attractions, the forest of ice wind chimes. They were starting to melt above his head, melt down to this ghastly, black liquid. With his brows furrowed in discontent, Jongdae reached up to touch one of the frosty remnants with his bare hand, breathing the cold back into it, a layer of ice covering and consuming the black liquid, until it was back to normal, crystal clear with faint smoke fanning through the air.
The question of why was becoming painful, and yet Jongdae couldn't push it from the center of his mind. Why? What was going on?
"Jongdae."
He turned around, coming face to face with Yixing, who wore his usual attire, consisting of a soft, rather worn out changshan in a shade of pale green.
"Ah, you keep surprising me. Have mercy on my fidgety soul." Jongdae joked, and Yixing smiled mildly, cautiously even. He was always like that around him, continuously guarded, though not in a way that suggested he thought of Jongdae as an enemy. More often than not he saw something akin to adoration in the others eyes and a certain eagerness to approach him.
"I apologize. I didn't mean to disturb your concentration." he said, stepping next to Jongdae. They both looked up at the sea of crystal clear wind chimes. A slight breeze brushed over them and they tinkled, high-pitched but pleasant, soft sounds dipping into the silence, leaving behind fleeting waves of dispersion.
"You should stop concealing yourself." Jongdae said, his voice layering a deeper, richer sound over the bright chimes. Yixing hesitated, and Jongdae noticed him shifting away the slightest.
"I'm not sure... do you really want that?"
Jongdae turned away from the icy creation and towards Yixing, both arms crossed in an attempt to keep the cold away.
"Yes," he said firmly, not breaking eye contact, "I'd like to be able to feel you. Please."
Yixing appeared a little flustered and under Jongdae's inquiring gaze, he muttered something about how outsiders would perceive their conversation. Jongdae did grin at this, but wasn't distracted from the topic at heart, and Yixing finally relented with a sigh.
"Okay, I'll just... okay."
It appeared like he was trying hard to convince himself that this was alright, which seemed a bit strange to Jongdae. He directed all his attention on Yixing, trying to spot a difference. However, he was completely taken aback as an invisible veil was lifted and the gardener's aura hit him with an intensity that sent a hot shock down his lungs and to his knees.
It was so strong, nothing like he'd expected it, and all of a sudden, Jongdae's mind was wiped blank except for the realization that this person in front of him was his soulmate. He may have known, but now he really felt it, and it was overwhelming. The very same magic Jongdae had fallen for - Yixing's whole being was drenched in it. The beauty of his mind, the controlled, elegant grace and subdued intelligence that had been drawn into his creations with fine lines... it was all there, right in front of him, calling out to him. Jongdae had tumbled forwards and pulled the other into a tight embrace before either of them knew it. His hands were grasping the fabric tightly, nose buried in the crook of Yixing's neck as every fibre inside him tumbled over each other in confusion, yearning and fulfillment alike. It was like lifting a mask to reveal a long-lost lover, a puzzling and yet so strangely relieving feeling. He felt the violent shudder running through Yixing and held on tighter. Was this what Yixing had felt around him all along? Because if so, his behavior would make more sense. In fact, everything made sense, and all the pieces had fallen together, now that he was this close to his magical counterpart. It felt like he was drunk on the sensation and they must have stayed like this for many minutes; out in the open, in the middle of the day, but Jongdae couldn't care less. Yixing didn't seem intent on drawing away either, judging by the fingers clawing into his shoulders and the way he inhaled deeply, obviously concentrating on just breathing. Jongdae tried to do the same, and when the initial shock had worn off, he scrambled to get ahold of all the scattered pieces of himself. What was he doing, he was forcing himself on the gardener. With slow, measured movements he drew away, blinking through the dizzying haze of fuzzy affection, both hands resting on Yixing's upper arms. Keeping the distance, and yet unwilling to fully break contact just yet.
"Sorry," Jongdae rasped out, his voice surprisingly breathy, though he hadn't exerted it in the least, "I'm sorry. Just, it's... a lot to take in."
"I understand." Yixing replied, looking just as breathless as him, a faint rose color dusting his cheeks.
"Let's just... complete the round, see whether we'll find something."
Jongdae nodded, but was well aware that any minor flaw would probably escape his attention, now that he was able to feel the magic radiating off of the other in strong, steady waves to the beat of his heart. Thick, rich, vibrant. Not necessarily sweet, but just like the scent clinging to his sheets, this distinctly Yixing-like feel-
The sound of something like porcelain breaking in the distance cut through Jongdae's stupor, though it took Yixing's words to really have him snap back into it
"Did you hear that?"
No immediate commotion followed the crash, but they still hurried to get to the sound's origin. It was one of the buildings adjacent to the kitchen and other practical facilities. The one where the basement was mostly inhibited by performers during their breaks, and Jongin, who practiced dancing in one of the rooms. It was still late afternoon and there were no performances tonight, so they crossed the empty, lounge-like area and took the spiral metal staircase. Only now did Jongdae truly realize that he hadn't seen Kyungsoo in awhile.
Kyungsoo wasn't an overly tidy person, but Jongdae had never seen his spacious atelier in a state like this. Shreds of fabric and paper were thrown on every available surface like the result of a big dog's rabies, and they shared an alarmed look. Jongdae was already fearing the worst, but the moment they entered the main room, they found Kyungsoo alive and breathing, albeit cowering in a corner, tightly curled together. Jongdae let out an audible breath, but Yixing inhaled sharply next to him.
"Is this... for whom is this?"
Following his line of vision, Jongdae physically flinched as he saw the costume hanging off the puppet in the middle of the room. It didn't look like anything Kyungsoo would come up with. Kyungsoo's creations were diverse, ranging from suave to playful and dreamy, but all of them were dedicated to a certain performer and his individual way of expression, dipped in colors of the sky. Never had Jongdae had to think long about whom a costume was made for, and never had a costume looked like this. At first glance, Jongdae's brain had told him he was seeing a corpse standing there, drawn in by the clash of black and red, reflective enamel fabrics blinking in the sunlight like glistening blood, tiny glass pearls dotting the seams like suds. It was a suit, Western-style, with flat, twisted drapings crawling up one arm and spread across one side up to the front. Despite knowing it better, Jongdae was reminded of a living being's insides and his stomach twisted. Sliced open pieces were held together by loose, thin strings, revealing other drapings and pearls shaping honeycomb-like structures, and it tickled some primitive gag reflexes deep inside Jongdae. There were only very few people dressed in Western attire, and Jongdae just knew.
"It's for me, right?" he asked into the silence. No one answered, but Jongdae knew it was true. Yixing stepped towards the garment, his shoes crunching the remnants of whatever object Kyungsoo had smashed, grinding them to smaller pieces. Jongdae, however, didn't want to see the creation up close right now. Instead, he walked over to Kyungsoo, kneeling beside him. The poor boy was shaking.
"Hey. Kyungsoo." he gently began, daring to lay a hand on his shoulder. Kyungsoo didn't look up and didn't show any reaction towards the touch. He whispered something, and Jongdae had to carefully ask him to repeat himself, leaning in close.
"Hideous." Kyungsoo mumbled into his arms.
"The garment?" Jongdae asked, and it prompted the costumer to finally lift his head, unshed tears highlighting his reddened eyes as he raised his voice almost angrily.
"It's deformed and nasty and-"
It seemed like he was running out of words at the mere sight of it.
"What made you finish it, then? It looks... different." Jongdae asked, and Kyungsoo snapped, both hands tugging at his own hair as he groaned in frustration.
"I don't know! I was so tired and I just wanted to finish it, but I don't- I was running out of ideas, but I hate this, what was I thinking?!"
Jongdae rubbed his shoulder in worry. He hadn't been purposefully ignorant, but for some reason the quiet costumer had been off his radar. Just because he wasn't a performer didn't mean he was unaffected - Jongdae should have checked on him earlier.
"When was the last time you slept?"
The young man blinked against the itch in his eyes, ultimately throwing his head back against the wall. Cold sweat was running down his pale throat.
"I don't know. Recently? It's Saturday, right?"
Jongdae grimaced. It was Wednesday.
"Kyungsoo. Go to sleep, for god's sake."
Yixing was next to them in a heartbeat, helping him to heave a reluctant, but weak Kyungsoo to his feet.
"But I'm running out of ideas!" he protested almost frantically. "I haven't created a single thing in forever, I've been slacking-"
"You're perfectly fine. We have more than enough costumes, you can take a break for now." Yixing assured him and towed him towards the door while Jongdae was left behind, staring at the -quite frankly, terrifying- costume as he listened to Kyungsoo's faint protests until the wrecked young man relented and left.
All sorts of thoughts were running through his mind, but Yixing's presence was glowing strongly, and so the touch of his hand didn't come as a surprise. It was light and chaste, just fingers holding on to his, as they both regarded the garment.
"Are you good with clothing?" Jongdae finally asked, albeit a bit shakily. Yixing denied with an apologetic hum, and he sighed.
"Me neither."
Jongdae stepped forward nonetheless, one hand reaching out to touch, fighting the ominous feeling of disgust coiling in his stomach. He focused on the soft sensation of Yixing seeping through his other hand, and brushed the tips of his fingers down the collar of the suit. Color bled into the fabric, a dark midnight blue rapidly spreading from his fingers like ink, covering everything but the sliced open elements that became a glittery white. Now that the drapings weren't bloodred anymore, the suit looked much less disturbing, though the sliced up elements were still a little too violent to match the stardust on the fabric.
"I didn't want Kyungsoo to awake to this." he mumbled and Yixing agreed in solitary misery.
For a while, they simply stood there, listening to the unspoken words lingering around them.
"I think this proves that whatever it is, it's directed at you, though it pains me to say that." Yixing began hesitantly, deciding to be the medium to those unspoken thoughts. But Jongdae shared them, too, and wasn't about to get angry.
"I've already thought so, from the way only my creations are affected. On the bright side, I can safely say it's not for my lack of control, is it?"
Yixing could hardly laugh at the poor attempt of lighting up the atmosphere, and they kept standing there for a little longer, basking in the comfort their intertwined fingers offered.

The next day held no revelations, and the day after that, they were none the wiser either. Yixing was determined to keep Jongdae close company at all times possible. His intentions were sweet, though completely irrational considering their status as rivals. Jongdae found the others company pleasant, and since he had always been one to fight for himself, and not fight Yixing, he didn't mind the concept per sé, but he highly doubted Yixing had thought this through accordingly; because while Jongdae hadn't lost his sense of decency for a second time, he was still so very affected by his presence. Admiring Yixing's creations had always been an intimate experience already, but only now did Jongdae get the full scope of how deep affection had rooted itself in his mind. It was like falling in love with another's mind over distance, like a love experienced solely through letters and gifts. Even with the invisible threat looming over all of them, Jongdae had a hard time not getting helplessly immersed by Yixing's natural charm. On the other hand the accumulated burden of keeping the garden together was far lighter with Yixing at his side. Apparently, the techniques Yixing used, exerted less of a strain on the mind, and he graciously taught him a few little tricks. Jongdae didn't say it out loud, but he felt like there was another reason for his higher energy, that reason lying in Yixing's presence alone. Maybe he was feeding off the others energy, but the other didn't seem affected at all. Maybe it was a peaceful form of symbiosis between them, like a pair of lovers sharing their happiness and worries.
Jongdae blinked. He should stop referring to them as lovers inside his head. Yixing was a man, after all. They were soulmates, which was an extraordinarily strong bound that certainly included love, though of a different kind. The idea of having a soulmate was mostly a romantic myth, though Jongdae knew better. He'd seen too many people in his young life who shared a bond with someone, whose souls just beautifully complimented each other. They weren't all lovers. Sometimes they were friends, or even family. Some might consider it unfair, how little of a say Jongdae had in this, considering that it felt like it was magic alone binding them, wrapping around them tightly and relentlessly. But Jongdae wasn't one to be easily blinded by petty emotions; he got a feeling for the beauty of the others soul with all his senses, and it incited a warm urge to protect the other in him. What a cruel joke of fate, to have his soulmate being his rival. Not for the first time did Jongdae wonder what would happen with the contest, now that they fraternized like this. Would one of their mentors step in soon? Could they take them on? And even worse, could they stand their ground against the pact binding them? The thought alone had the symbol on his hand burn in protest.
"Are you alright?"
Jongdae looked to the side and into the bright, worried orbs of Yixing. The gardener was unconsciously thumbing the back of his own hand. He had somehow felt it, the warning prick of admonition. Jongdae chased the worries away, if only to cause Yixing no further harm and reassured him that it was nothing. The newly created void in his head was immediately filled with the faint, bitter aftertaste, and Jongdae looked around unhappily, only to groan in protest at the sight of a certain gazebo.
"Not the Sound Bubbles! That's just not fair!" he whined, changing directions immediately. Yixing actually chuckled at this, echoing Jongdae's words with his head tilted in amusement.
"Sound Bubbles? That doesn't sound as impressive as Agravic Melody, by far not."
Jongdae only felt mildly embarrassed and shot the other a dramatic look of exasperation to cover it.
"Don't even pretend for a second that you actually call the Circular Void anything other but the 'Silent Pond' inside your head!"
Yixing's laughter was carefree, a bright speck of light through the dark fog around them.
"Fair enough. I'm honored you would think of the silent pond first, I didn't think it was all-too interesting."
"You must be joking," Jongdae protested earnestly, admiration getting the better of him, "the Silent Pond is my absolute favorite! Though I love all your creations. But that one... it's just so calm. Like an impenetrable shelter where you can rest."
Like it was built for me, Jongdae thought, but didn't dare say in fear of sounding presumptuous. Yixing appeared pleasantly surprised.
"Is that so? Well, I'll have you know that I loved those Sound Bubbles of you the most-" Yixing began, but the moment they actually stepped inside the gazebo built for this attraction, the words were stuck in his throat. Jongdae emphasized greatly, for the air was stuffy and dead. Unlike a lot of other little huts or constructions inhabiting attractions, this one wasn't completely closed off. The outer walls were shaped like multiple little columns, giving the people outside an impression of a beautiful bird's cage. The soap bubbles that usually floated around the area were now hanging frozen in the air. Jongdae grimaced. This attraction really was his favorite and it had been so difficult to build. He only hoped it wasn't damaged to the very core. As he stepped forward, Yixing patiently stayed behind, like he usually did. He had no intention of messing with another one's artwork, and it was obvious how much he enjoyed seeing Jongdae work.
With apprehensive motions, Jongdae touched one of the bubbles and it burst with minuscule, dull thud. Jongdae inwardly cringed at the sound and closed his eyes to concentrate on the magical construct. Something had brutally sliced it open, Jongdae felt the gaping hole. But he was infinitely familiar with this attraction, and filling it came easy to him, though it did leave him a little light-headed. The air around them shifted as parts of the attraction flitted back into place, tiny shambles mending with the bigger picture, edges newly filled by Jongdae. It felt really good like this. Familiar and comfortable. When he opened his eyes, the soap bubbles had regained their motion, aimlessly floating up or downwards, some seemingly heavier than others.
"You fixed it so quickly." Yixing remarked with genuine admiration, and Jongdae had almost forgotten he had a spectator. Cue being almost, because forgetting about Yixing's presence was virtually impossible now that he didn't conceal himself anymore.
"I'm just very familiar with this." Jongdae dismissed him, stepping aside and towards the railing. He accidentally touched two soap bubbles on his way there and the tiny things burst with a clear, bell-like note. He was about to say something else, when he turned to see Yixing stepping towards the center of the pavilion, looking entranced. With deliberate movements, he stretched out his hand to touch a nearby bubble, and then another one. Yes, this was the creation Jongdae was most proud of - he had even managed to create a correlation between the size of the soap bubbles and the notes. The tiny, quickly moving ones elicited high notes, while their largest counterparts produced the notes so low they vibrated in your belly. Jongdae was aware that especially children loved this attraction, but the way Yixing moved in it was something else and had his breath hitching. With flowing movements, his fingers caught the bubbles around him deliberately, as if he was pressing the keys of an exquisite piano. Jongdae had never heard someone get such a complex and harmonious melody out of them; it required an extremely well-developed sense of notes and coordination, since the different tones weren't stagnant but floating. Somehow, Yixing made all this work and wove an enchanting tune, while his movements remained incredibly graceful. The melody perfectly captured the tones and emotions Jongdae got from watching Yixing, like a tonal expression of something written in between the senses. He slid down into a sitting position, back leaned against the wall as his attention wouldn't stray from Yixing for even a second. The fabric of his voluptuous garment swooshed with his precise movements and Yixing seemed completely enraptured in his task. Jongdae wondered whether this was the expression he wore when conducting magic. The melody found its and Yixing slowly turned towards Jongdae, stepping closer as he successfully kept the tune alive by bursting the iridescent globes around him. For some reason, his insides picked up fluttering wilder with every inch of space lost between them. By the time Yixing stood right before him, Jongdae couldn't do anything but stare up at him, not even daring to move an inch. With catlike grace, the gardener sank down to his knees and finally sought his eyes, fingers absently letting the melody dwindle into completion by touching a last soap bubble close to Jongdae's face. It burst with a deep, rich sound settling in his chest and Jongdae followed the movements with his gaze, only to flit back to Yixing, who had scooted inappropriately close. The air was sweet and heavy now, filling his lung like thick syrup. He watched Yixing's eyes linger on his lips before settling back on his eyes, a careful question swimming in them.
"Would you allow me to...?" he whispered unsurely, and he had gotten really, really close. Jongdae resisted the urge to shy away and offered the tiniest, hazy nod.
Nothing could compare with the surge of bliss he felt the moment their lips touched. It wasn't just a careful, warm press of plush lips on his. It was everything.
It didn't matter that Yixing was a man, and it didn't matter that they were in public, that someone could discover them at any moment. Everything was insignificant in comparison to what Yixing did to him, and for just one moment, Jongdae just let himself fall into it.

"You two seem to enjoy your newfound bond, don't you? It's like you're glued together nowadays." Baekhyun said, but it lacked the usual, teasing lilt as he leaned back in his chair, balancing on it like a lazy student. His feet were tangled around the swirls of metal decorating the feet of the table in front of him. Baekhyun's whole posture was jaw-droppingly awful, and it was almost miraculous how he managed to slip into honorable behaviour as soon as any member of royalty was around him. Jongdae nudged his shoulder, earning himself a lazy protest from a precariously swaying Baekhyun, because they were close like that. In fact, everyone was close with Baekhyun, who would never run out of things to say. Being the garden's guide included way more duties than simply showing guests the way - no, what Byun Baekhyun truly did best, was telling stories.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Yixing softly replied, with that gentle, little smile that betrayed nothing. Jongdae was getting better at reading him though, and it was obvious that things were a little unsure between the two of them since yesterday's incident. Jongdae himself felt like turning dark red at the memory, from embarrassment and guilt alike. Kissing Yixing had been breathtaking, in every sense of the word. But when innocent pecks turned to sensuous, deep kisses and Yixing pressed even closer, Jongdae realized something and sought distance with two hands gently pushing the other away by his shoulders. Yixing had complied immediately, openly anxious about overstepping an unspoken boundary. Now, one day later, Jongdae wondered whether Yixing had known it all along. That even if they were soulmates and close proximity was absolute bliss, Jongdae's body wasn't naturally attracted to him. Jongdae had only really noticed it the moment their tongues shyly touched and Yixing's fingers had clawed into the fabric of his jacket. It felt good, amazing even, but not in the way his body would tingle when a pretty young woman pressed herself into his side. Jongdae felt bad for leading him on, since Yixing clearly was affected by his touch in a carnal way, and slightly confused as to what exactly their relationship was fated to be. Still, whatever the outcome was, separation was not an option, and so they were both sitting there, almost close enough to have their sides touch. Jongdae suppressed a sigh as his gaze wandered and got lost in the rose-colored sky.
Dawn was approaching quickly, and opposite of Baekhyun, Luhan was already silently shuffling his precious set of tarot cards, eyes lowered and focused on nothing in particular. It was depressing, how everyone was weighed down, formerly bright stars reduced to weak fireflies. Luhan used to be so open and amicable, never failing to grace the visitors with an easy smile. Now he looked nothing but empty, not unlike Baekhyun. Usually, Baekhyun would engage them in a story as soon as Jongdae settled for a second too long, asking him to listen and give a comment. Baekhyun not only knew the garden very well, he also had a story resting on his tongue for just about anything. Some were calm and casual, others educational and some plain unbelievable and fantastic. Most visitors took him for a quirky little liar, but his tales usually wormed their way into their hearts nonetheless, and his outstanding charm painted most of the gazes directed at him in warm, good-natured colors.
Sometimes, even Jongdae would doubt his stories, but he knew that many of them were true. Baekhyun didn't know a thing about magic, and yet the truth seemed to adore him, spoiling him with pecks and caresses more often than not, which in turn Baekhyun voiced out in a skillfully knitted artwork of words, wrapped up in a mischievous smile.
The smile was gone for now, and the petite guide absently picked at the blossoms on his garment. Jongdae knew he was waiting for Luhan, and pulled one of the Western-style chairs closer to take a seat, Yixing next to him mirroring his action. The quiet boy flinched at the sound of metal scraping over stone, but didn't cease the endless shuffling. He loved reading the cards at dawn, always claiming that the cards and him had the broadest mindset when day and night touched. Jongdae didn't know a thing about fortune telling, but he could easily tell that Luhan was excellent by the reputation he'd gained. He'd even read the cards for Jongdae before, quick to discover his connection with another person and even picking up on an ongoing rivalry between them, though he couldn't tell Jongdae whether he would end up winning or not, because Luhan rarely talked about the future. Rather than that, he liked to shed light on the past and maybe uncover a few things his recipient had never quite known or comprehended, claiming that the past and the future were tightly linked, and that by tugging on the past, the future was always bound to follow along.
"Everything has been very unclear lately." Luhan began in a low, hollow voice, as if only a fraction of his attention was in the present. Jongdae didn't know what to say to that, but Baekhyun hummed in agreement.
"Yeah. Nothing but torn stories everywhere."
With one certain move, Luhan placed the cards on the table in an orderly stack, eyes flitting up to Baekhyun, the mere presence of Jongdae and Yixing completely forgotten. It wasn't unusual - whenever Luhan went into a reading, his mind would blur out anything but the target of his reading, which was Baekhyun in this case. It wasn't a common reading either. Sometimes he and Baekhyun would engage in a reading together, consisting of Luhan providing the cards and Baekhyun reading the story in them. It was a completely different experience from a usual reading, for the cards spoke in a different language to Baekhyun than they would to Luhan. It had brought out a lot of astounding stories and both artists claimed that the change of pace helped them tremendously, with the way their ideas bounced off each other and set off in unusual directions. Jongdae loved observing them - they, too, played with magic, though in an unconscious and very different way.
"Ready?" Luhan asked quietly and Baekhyun nodded. The fortune teller parted the stack of cards into two.
"My dear gentleman," Baekhyun began, his eyes flitting over to them momentarily, before fixing back on the cards, "let me tell you a story."
The tone of his voice changed, from immature and exhausted to a self-assured, rich one.
"The story revolves..."
Luhan turned around the cards on top of the stacks. They showed a card named Wheel of Fortune, and the Second of Swords, the latter depicting a blindfolded person holding two swords. Baekhyun looked at them intensely.
"...around a battle of fate and fortune. A battle of the extrasensory, a battle of magic."
Jongdae leaned forward the slightest, but tried his best not to disturb the flow of his story-telling. Baekhyun's pale fingers traced the card of swords as he tried to grasp the strings vital to this story.
"It is fought by two, two powerful weapons being wielded by the blind ones. One man and one woman of power fight amongst the ordinary folk. Two people fighting for different beliefs carved into them."
A man and a woman. This didn't apply to them, Jongdae thought, and Baekhyun never got details wrong. Still, it was hauntingly familiar.
One subtle nod towards Luhan had him placing the cards aside gently. Baekhyun kept talking while the other's fingers hovered between the stacks, feeling for the one this story required.
"They don't fight with swords. No, their weapons are... words, because you see, words have their own magic. The ordinary people are easily swayed, and the one garnering the most followers would win this battle."
Deft fingers reached for the right stack, turning it around to reveal the bottom card's picture. A woman filling water from one cup to another. Temperance.
"Both of them were enchanting those around them, each supporting a different belief. They quickly rose to a high position and became the leader and muse to those following them. One side represented the freedom of heart and mind, the other protection of those. In a desperate need to trump the other, their schemes grew, endless efforts in adding pieces to a game that was getting more and more difficult."
Jongdae's eyes were fixated on the cards being shuffled in Luhan's hand, on the one he placed before Baekhyun rather determinedly. Five of Wands, depicting fighting people.
"Their words split the people and soon, the two parties were fighting relentlessly. They might have caused a civil war... but the story goes down a different road." Baekhyun proclaimed equally determined, and it felt like the two were spurring each other on. With furrowed eyebrows, Luhan fanned out the cards in his hands, picking one on the left and revealed it, an almost questioning look in his glassy eyes. The Devil.
Baekhyun squinted a bit and carefully accepted the card. It showed the devil, looking down at two people, a man and a woman.
"Because eager to win regardless of the means, one of them seduced the other."
Jongdae couldn't explain the guilty twitch he felt, even though this story wasn't directly linked to them. He had never meant to seduce Yixing.
"It was the man," Baekhyun added as an afterthought, "the man had the woman believe he was deeply in love with her. But it was a calculated lie with malicious intent."
The cards were shuffled, the stack placed with the bottom image up. People praising an angel playing a trumpet - Judgement.
"He used her weakness and overpowered her when she was open and vulnerable and their battle came to an end."
The card was pulled from the stack and the one below it was the Seven of Swords, showing a woman tied and blindfolded in between swords sticking from the ground. Baekhyun's voice turned somber.
"The man turned everyone against her, convincing them she was a witch. The woman was taken aback, and all her desperate attempts to save herself were in vain. She was burnt as a witch."
Cards were shuffled, fanned out and offered to Baekhyun. He hesitantly took one card, and Luhan took the one next to it, carefully placing the other cards away in an orderly stack before flipping it open. The Moon, a sad face being worshipped by stray dogs.
"She was burnt and her body died." Baekhyun promptly said, tempted to touch the card but stopping half-way.
"But for someone like her, there's neither heaven nor hell. Just nothingness, forever trapped in between to bemoan her fate. The one who ended up victorious on the other hand, is blessed with eternal life."
Baekhyun looked down at the last card in his hand, feeling it with the tip of his finger before placing it in the middle of the table with finality. The Magician.
Jongdae didn't remember when they'd laced their fingers, but he could feel Yixing's tighten and responded with a squeeze of his own.
"Crowned a victor for his perniciousness, the magician left to eternally bask in his victory, now known under the name of..." Baekhyun trailed off, and suddenly he was looking at Jongdae, eyes clear and expectant, honey-like voice coaxing Jongdae's lips open without bothering to wait for his mind to catch up.
"...Seungri." Jongdae breathed out.

"It's her, I'm absolutely sure," Jongdae huffed out, hurrying down a slippery path near their sea of waterlilies, closely followed by Yixing, "There's neither heaven nor hell, forever trapped in between, Baekhyun had said. She's still lingering and she wants revenge, that's why she's targeting me - because I'm representing Seungri. Do you know anything about your predecessor?"
Yixing negated, but not once had he doubted Jongdae's suspicions. They had only assumed that the duel between the two schools of magic was some sort of tradition, but now they knew for sure, and apparently, Jongdae's mentor had been the one to win the last battle, albeit through trickery. Jongdae didn't even doubt Baekhyun's tale for a second - it sounded too familiar, too close to his mentor's actual personality.
"Where are we headed to?" Yixing asked, mildly alarmed and yet extraordinarily calm considering the realization that a spirit was haunting them.
"The silent pond. It's the best shelter we have. We have to think, and think quickly."
With surprisingly broad steps, Yixing caught up to him despite his wide garment.
"If she knows we found out about her you're in even more danger, Jongdae. Don't stray from me."
"How can you be so sure that she'll spare you?" Jongdae replied, brushing a few plants aside and ignoring the calls of a nearby trainee of Yixing. The sky was darkened almost completely, and by now, the garden's staff was stirring. They had to hurry.
"Because she wants to win. She wants me to win in her place."
"I wouldn't be too sure - she's affected your creations before. I think she's too far gone, all malicious intent and no rationality."
"Then what do you plan on doing? Banish her somehow?" Yixing asked and Jongdae looked over at him, hesitating. He was sure that he alone wasn't skilled enough to touch something outside the realm of life and even death.
"Could you do that?" he asked the gardener instead, and Yixing looked unsure himself.
"I can't be certain. We could do it together, I know it. But the moment our competition ends and half of the magic dissolves, she'll be free again."
The pond came in sight already, luring Jongdae forward with tempting nothingness. Yixing was right. Regardless of the outcome, their competition would continue. It demanded a winner and the life of the loser. Suddenly, Jongdae stopped in his tracks, struck by an idea. Yixing came to a halt, turning towards him with questioning eyes, and Jongdae reached for his arm in a skittish fashion.
"I got it. I got it." he mumbled, tugging Yixing along into the direction they came from without warning. The gardener followed with a confused yelp, helplessly asking for his sudden epiphany.
"I need you to prepare something, Yixing. We'll do it, we'll bind her to something." Jongdae claimed determinedly and Yixing showed resistance, just for a moment.
"Bind her to what?"
"Anything. Just prepare what you're most comfortable with or what's the easiest, I'll follow your lead on this."
"But what about-"
Yixing's greenhouse came in sight and Jongdae came to a halt, silencing the other with a meaningful look alone.
"I'll join you later, I gotta get Chanyeol. I'll be right back."
"Why him? And what about the moment one of us loses?" Yixing asked urgently, unwilling to let Jongdae off like this, and he relented. With both hands firmly resting on the shoulders of the slightly taller man, Jongdae leaned in close, trying to convey his emotions with more than words, trying to bare his heart and prayed that Yixing would see it - see himself in Jongdae, his own colors already layered over Jongdae's.
"Trust me like I trust you, Yixing. You'll live. We'll both live. You once said that we're not even chess pieces in this competition but the mere board. Maybe you're right, because without the board, the pieces have no stage to play. But a chess board ought to have black and white fields - you cannot take away either of them, or else everything will lose its purpose; including the color that's left behind. We can't and won't let it all spiral out of control. We belong together."
He looked him in the eyes, waited until Yixing nodded slowly, and Jongdae shot him a small, encouraging smile, because he saw himself adorning pieces of Yixing's soul. Even if they wouldn't be alright after all, his downfall would never be caused by Yixing, he was sure of that.
"Alright. Come find us when you're ready, I'll go and get Chanyeol."
"But why him?" Yixing asked again, because no matter the urgency, the gardener could be very stubborn.
"Because he felt her just like I did, maybe even quicker than me," Jongdae replied, "and he's developed a certain quirk that we could need now."
The last words were already called over his shoulder as Jongdae half-ran, half-skidded down the polished paths and towards their quarters.
Due to the sheer size of the garden, it took rather long to locate Chanyeol. On good, clear days Jongdae might have been able to feel the presence of a member whose heart was already pumping this much magic through its owners veins. But Jongdae couldn't even remember when he'd last had a good, clear day, with the permanent fog of exhaustion, worries and the toxics of this girl clouding his mind. He checked the quarters, asked around, and after a lot of running around, he finally found the tall, young man meandering around the winter part of the garden, aimlessly playing with the ice chimes.
He'd barely uttered out a sleepy greeting when Jongdae tugged him along unceremoniously.
"Wha-what's going on?" he inquired, a fresh wave of panic momentarily sweeping away the haze of fatigue.
"I need your help, Chanyeol. It's urgent."
"Okay?"
Jongdae pulled him along until they weren't in close proximity of any attraction before facing the confused and slightly scared man.
"Do you remember the day where the garden cracked?" he asked, and there was no need to elaborate, for the other was already nodding. Jongdae inhaled deeply, trying to word his wish as precise as possible.
"Back then... you felt something, right?"
The nods became more cautious, but continued.
"You felt something that was moving, and you moved towards it. Can you do that again? Can you find it?" Jongdae asked, insisting on eye contact. Chanyeol didn't look overly confident, but was ultimately willing, and so the architect lowered his gaze, eyelashes fluttering as he searched for the source of negative energy lingering somewhere in the garden. Jongdae also tried, and maybe he'd succeed quicker than Chanyeol if he wasn't currently balancing all those attractions threatening to crack any second. As it was, the only source of magic standing out to him was Yixing, the Vesper among the powder snow of magic sprinkled throughout the garden.
Chanyeol decided on a direction, his brows still furrowed in doubt, but Jongdae followed him eagerly nonetheless, praying that Chanyeol's intuition hadn't left him during the last weeks of depression. Despite his uncertainty, Chanyeol picked up his steps since Jongdae's panic was all-too obvious. Jongdae noticed that they were moving towards the center, but he was still surprised when Chanyeol stopped at the foot of the Wisdom Knot, looking up at the glass crystal with hazy eyes. Jongdae suppressed the urge to groan. Obviously Chanyeol was just drawn to the center of their magic. Maybe he had simply followed Jongdae's trace back then, instead of feeling the ghost of this girl.
Slowly, Chanyeol turned towards him, one outstretched hand pointing at the crystal wordlessly. What was Jongdae going to do now?
Before he could find an answer to that, Chanyeol's hand moved, slowly, following something.
Suddenly, Chanyeol yanked himself in front of Jongdae, and an unseen force threw both of them to the ground. Jongdae quickly entangled himself, eyes rapidly darting around the area, but the air was too thick with his and Yixing's magic-
"Show yourself." a voice demanded, loud and clear. Both Jongdae and Chanyeol whirled around to see Yixing rapidly approaching them, breathing heavily. At first, nothing happened, but with at a gesture of the gardener and a repeat of his words, the air began to flicker, a muted and guttural noise of protest scratching through the silence. Jongdae jumped to his feet, torn between seeking shelter near Yixing and protecting Chanyeol. A few steps away from him, the flickering intensified like a swarm of moths crowding the flame of a candle, and the sparks solidified, melting into the shape of a young, Japanese woman clad in a very old-fashioned Kimono, both hands pressed to her chest and expression contorted into one of pain. A few stray locks of curly, brown hair had already escaped the once artsy braids and floral accessories adorning her like a crown. He heard Chanyeol gasp, but Jongdae had no time to ease his mind. Instead, he concentrated on creating a barrier around them, a thick layer of glass distorting the reality in a way that would guarantee them solitude. Yixing clearly noticed it, offering him the tiniest nod before fixating back on the girl. She made those curt, cut-off noises as if her larynx had forgotten how to aid a voice to the words resting on her tongue. She would have been pretty, if not for the hate tinging her eyes and staining her appearance.
"What are you... doing?!" she rasped out, clearly directed at Yixing, who was standing there, still focused on keeping her in the present. Jongdae felt the unusual strain it put on him, and yet the gardener looked unfazed.
"You, a deceased being, are intervening with our lives. I won't let you continue." he stated calmly, earning himself an angry hiss. The girl attempted to lash out at Jongdae, jumping like a wild cat, but a hand gesture of Yixing held her back, magic wrapping around her slightly translucent body, forcefully reminding it of who held the strings right now.
"I won't let this monster win!" the girl claimed, fury dripping from every syllable.
A sudden idea had her turning on her heels, bolting for one of the many bridges, running towards the crystal. Chanyeol set off first, closely followed by both Yixing and Jongdae. He already knew what she was trying to do - the whole construct of the Wisdom Knot made by both Yixing and Jongdae, together with the fifth season beyond and the crystal above marked it as the magical center of the garden. Undoubtedly, she knew what kind of damage she could cause by destroying Jongdae's center attraction, the glass crystal.
"Can you banish her into this?" Jongdae asked and Yixing agreed quietly.
"I can try, but do you think it will be able to keep her confined?"
Jongdae reached for the back of Chanyeol's robe, and the architect looked at him distractedly.
"Will it work, Chanyeol? Will this girl be confined in that crystal?" he asked, clearly enunciating the words. This was the true reason he'd brought Chanyeol; Yixing would have probably found her just as well, but it was Chanyeol who was developing the ability to predict the future. He'd seen him do it before. The brunet looked confused, and when he scrutinized the crystal, it appeared like he was trying to understand something about it through the haze of a headache. Ultimately, he nodded.
"Good. We'll do it. What am I supposed to do, Yixing?" Jongdae asked urgently, speeding up his steps.
"Get up there, first!" Yixing retorted, fully concentrated on running. The girl had reached the central bridge caressing the crystal by now. She had both hands pressed against the smooth surface and the piercing pain had Jongdae tumble for a second. He felt he ripping at the magical construct desperately, completely disregarding any possible outcome or even her own state of mind.
"Break, break, break-" she muttered under her breath, and it hurt so much, Jongdae wanted to yell in frustration and anger. Yixing all but shoved Chanyeol and Jongdae aside with surprising force, approaching the girl by himself. She felt his presence and whirled around to attack him, but Yixing stopped her raised hand with nothing but a mere look of his and placed one hand on her shoulder with deceiving calm. The air turned thick and heavy with Yixing's magic. Jongdae had never experienced it on this level - it was stifling.
"Let me be, I'm helping you!" she protested, but Yixing's face was blank.
"I do not want your help. Jongdae isn't my enemy."
As if reminded of Jongdae's presence, the gardener turned to look at him over his shoulder.
"I'll do the placement, you keep the crystal together."
With a nod, Jongdae hurried to the crystal and Chanyeol followed silently, egged on by the authority in Yixing's voice. They stood several feet away from the two, the magic being too heady to go near them. With a deep breath, Jongdae placed his palms on the glass, feeling its tiny, smooth curves and instinctively repairing the cracks in the inner working.
"What are you talking about? He is your enemy!" the girl screamed, desperately flailing in the gardener's strong hold, "you'll die! One of you has to die! Trust is an illusion! He'll betray you in order to live!"
Something in the air shifted and Jongdae worriedly looked at them to witness Yixing's expression change into one of misery.
"I'm sorry for the pain you went through." he said almost gently, placing his free hand on her other shoulder.
"May you find peace in the present."
"No! You can't do this, why are you doing this to me?!" the girl began and her cries turned into a yell of pain as Yixing applied pressure, pushing her back against the crystal, his eyes closed in deep concentration. Jongdae felt it, felt the many tiny strings intertwine with each other to form solid ropes, felt them forcefully worm their way into his creation, threatening to break it in the process. He pushed against it, applying pressure wherever his construction was strained, tried to quickly adapt it to accommodate to the new position. It was difficult and it only took a split-second of carelessness to send a loud crack through the crystal. Jongdae tried not to panic, quickly jumping to the aid of the sore spot that might rip everything apart. There were so many impressions, there was a hand -undoubtedly Chanyeol's- touching the middle of his back, attempting to assist him somehow. There was the overpowering sensation of Yixing weaving something beyond both their wildest dreams and the endless cries of the girl, the pressure building up somewhere behind his forehead. The whole garden was shivering around them-
"Just a little more-" Yixing muttered between clenched teeth, but Jongdae heard him clear as day, and all the frazzled pieces of himself directed their attention on the same thing, loosely piecing themselves back together in the process.
It was getting easier; the strain was becoming fluttery, but less aggressive and at some point, all the noises around him were blurred out. A last, final push had Jongdae almost flinching away from the crystal, but he didn't, because there was a firm hand on his back keeping him in place and then he vaguely heard something meet the ground, but Jongdae didn't open his eyes, didn't dare to. Not before he wasn't perfectly sure that they had succeeded. He felt around his creation with numb senses, only to come to the quick realization that it had changed. It was pulsing, everything was a little foreign. Jongdae took his time to really make sure the vessel was stable, layered it with as much magic as he dared to spare. For a while, he listened to it closely, but besides the sharp little pulses, nothing was stirring. Jongdae finally dared to open his eyes and was met with dark, midnight blue showing a dulled version of its vibrancy in the light of the street lamps around them. The glass crystal had gained a core, frozen swirls of smoke being held captive.
It had actually worked.
He turned towards Yixing, only to find him seated on the ground, breathing heavily. He attempted to jump to his side, but severely underestimated his own exhaustion and tumbled to the ground, pathetically crawling over to him on his fours. Yixing took the last step from him by pulling Jongdae into a firm embrace. Even though they were both completely worn out, the mere proximity to each other was like cool water on a burn, healing and soothing.
"We made it." Yixing whispered into his hair, and Jongdae had indeed never heard him this depleted before.
"We did. It's all over. Finally, this whole game is over." Jongdae replied and felt a surge of bliss so warm he could cry.
"Over? What are you talking about? Why would our competition be over?" Yixing asked, honest confusion fighting itself to the surface of the deep sea that was fatigue.
Jongdae shifted in his grasp, drawing away just enough to reach for Yixing's hand. It was there, the faint scar of the symbol identical to the one on Jongdae's own hand. The symbol binding them, forcing their lifelines to try and strangle each other.
"The competition demands a loser," he whispered, wiping his thumb over the scar under the watchful eyes of Yixing, "now it has one, right there in the crystal."
The scar healed beneath the pad of his fingers and Yixing gasped, ripping up his hand to inspect it closer, felt for the former mark with his own fingers.
"She's taken your place, which liberates you from the competition. We've won, Yixing."
The gardener ceased his motions and looked at Jongdae with wide eyes full of astonishment, gratitude and love.
"We won." he whispered, still struck by disbelief and they both looked towards the crystal, blue filling its core like ink mixing with water.
"Did we... kill her?" Chanyeol suddenly spoke up, reminding both of them of his presence. He was standing right in front of it, hand unsurely hovering over the glass surface.
"No." Yixing quickly reassured him.
"She was already dead and wandering in between, unable to find peace. We might have imprisoned her, but maybe time will cleanse her soul."
"She's sad." Chanyeol simply said, eyes seeing deep inside the wisps of smoke. Jongdae was struck by guilt, but this was a sin he'd been ready to commit.
"We'll try our best to find out how to send her to the heavens." Yixing promised genuinely and Chanyeol nodded, enraptured by something he saw clearer than any of the tired magicians.
"I'll keep her company until then." he whispered, finger trailing across the surface delicately.
"Please do so." Yixing said, shamelessly exploiting Chanyeol's fascination for the crystal to pull Jongdae into a long overdue kiss.
 

"And that's the tale of the two magicians who found a way to lay down arms, despite the spell binding them." Baekhyun closed the tale with a blinding smile. He saw the tension melting from his listeners shoulders, warm smiles replacing the anxious frown, a treat for having accompanied him through the enrapturing journey. Even Mrs. Wu, a noblewoman who was notoriously bitter, seemed relieved to hear the happy end, though she'd be the first one to declare him a liar at any time. The result of the raw emotions on his audience's faces was immensely rewarding, and Baekhyun was still grinning in satisfaction as he waved after them, sending them off with the strong recommendation to watch Jongin's dance performance next.
"A nice story, I haven't heard that one before." a familiar voice said, bright and playful, and Baekhyun made a show to pout at the man sitting in the shadows.
"Ah, silent audiences are the worst." Baekhyun complained, mirroring the other's light mood.
"I really liked the part where you said that it's hard to tell whether the two magicians were controlling those around them, or whether they were the ones being controlled." Jongdae said, kittenish smile in place, and yet his eyes were warm and genuine. They usually were, though there had been a darker time. It had passed though, and the warm spark had returned. To all of them, really.
Baekhyun mock-bowed and the singer got to his feet with a laugh.
"Don't let it get to your head." he and Baekhyun took the bait, acting offended.
"Are you really doubting me right now? Let me tell you another story then, about the spirit living in our glass crystal."
Jongdae raised an amused brow at him, silently asking him to keep talking. Baekhyun would have probably done so either way, and with a cordial arm slung around Jongdae’s shoulders, he pointed to the crystal looming in the distance, illuminated by extra lamps they had positioned to highlight the swirls inside.
"For the longest time, the glass crystal was pure and empty, until one day, the swirls appeared, right? I'm telling you, it's a spirit living in there. All this time the smoke was either of a somber blue or an angry red. But today it has the color of the first sunray, liquid gold dripping over the clouds. I wonder why." Baekhyun mused out loud, light words dancing through the air, tickling the truth and coaxing it to come and play.
Jongdae merely chuckled.
"Maybe you should ask Chanyeol about that."
Ignoring Baekhyun's indignant complains, Jongdae waved him goodbye. He'd already sung once tonight and was thinking of calling it a night. He slinked into the greenhouse, avoiding the eyes of visitors getting lectured on plants by Yifan. Soundlessly, he opened the sliding door leading to Yixing's home and barely managed to close it before insistent arms were wrapped around him from behind, completing him as eager lips teased his heart with hot presses in the back of his neck.
"You're really impatient tonight-" Jongdae began, drifting off into a sigh that he quickly suppressed. The wall wasn't very thick and the number of salacious glances Yixing's trainees shot him was already great as it was.
Picking up on Jongdae's difficulty to stay calm Yixing chuckled, gusts of air against his sensitive skin.
"Changing your mind on wanting me already?" he teased and it was Jongdae's time to chuckle, nudging Yixing off of him so he could turn in his grasp and steer him towards the bed.
"In your dreams." he breathed out and Yixing just smiled good-naturedly through the haze of lust. They had reached the point where jokes like this were exactly that and nothing more - jokes. Jongdae had stopped feeling guilty over his non-existent bodily reactions just around the same time Yixing had stopped tip-toeing on eggshells around him. Jongdae truly loved indulging Yixing; his heart fed off the reactions he got out of him. Indulging you is like indulging myself, Jongdae would always say whenever the other hesitated. He didn't hesitate a lot anymore, Jongdae could feel it. The pact binding them to the competition might be gone, but the magical bond between them surely wasn't. Soulmates were fated to last, and last they would.
Together, black and white, they'd continue to create a stage for the others to play on. And they made sure it was the most beautiful stage mankind had ever seen, rousing all the dreams and desires hidden in people's heart.

 

...and it's done! c:
I actually looked up the Tarot cards (since I'm planning to write a story about those at some point, but psst), though the meaning is obviously nothing like Baekhyun interprets it.
Also, and this might be irrelevant, but for the Japanese girl I had Tanaka Reina in mind, that beautiful little girl woman.

...this story actually exhausted me, so I'm all out of things I should say at this point - so if you have any question, don't hesitate to ask, and I shall answer ♥

Love,
Sugar-and-Salt ♥