Chanyeol is 11 the first time his magic manifests.

He’s trying to make that kid who never says anything – Do Kyungsoo – go play with him and his friends; his team lacks one person, and Kyungsoo is the only one of similar age within the area, and despite the fear some of them feel for him – his mother is a witch, the market hags whisper. His father worships another God, they say –, Chanyeol really needs someone to substitute him as a center back, and so he can play as goalkeeper and win.

Kyungsoo doesn’t seem to want anything to do with him or any of the other boys, and it takes the boy’s mother – Chanyeol can’t understand why people say mean things about her, she looks perfectly motherly and gentle, a lot like his own mother – asking him to join the kids his age; is with reluctance that Kyungsoo agrees and Chanyeol beams triumphantly, grabbing the younger boy by his hand and pushing him in the direction of his team. Rushed presentations are made and the game begins, Chanyeol assuming his desired post as goalkeeper – he’s taller than everyone there, and it’s not very good with running, with his gangly, too-long legs.

The half an hour passes normally. Kyungsoo isn’t the best player, but one or two boys from the other team are afraid to get too close to him, and consequently, he does his defense position enough justice. Chanyeol shows his skills half a dozen of times, failing to catch the ball only once. His own team scores two times, and his throat hurts from all his screaming; to his teammates, to the other team, to cheer after each goal.

Then, everything goes south.

One of the older kids – Youngwoon, with cocky smiles and snarky remarks – from the other team bumps harshly on Kyungsoo, sending the infinitely smaller boy to the dirty ground; he laughs out loud, others joining him, ball caught beneath his bare feet. Suddenly his laughter is cut short, and he falls too, landing on his face, ball escaping from his control. Youngwoon gets up, his face smudged with mud, a few scrapes bright red; he starts to scream at Kyungsoo, accusing him of sorcery. According to what can be understood from his incoherent shouts, the earth pulled him towards it, gripping his ankles to make him lose balance.

By now, the game is paused, everyone leaving their positions and ignoring the ball so they can reunite around both Youngwoon and Kyungsoo, who doesn’t open his mouth to deny any of the elder’s accusations; he placidly looks on his direction, still on the ground, his skinny knees bloody.

Chanyeol hates violence, and he hates the fact that no one seems to be in Kyungsoo’s side; they all stare at him with fear and disgust, feelings way too dark for preteens. So he himself goes in the commotion direction, bumping shoulders with some of his game companions, halting his step only when he’s standing right in the middle of the circle, in between a raging Youngwoon and an indifferent Kyungsoo. He offers his hand to the younger boy, throwing his most intimidating glare – which he practiced on his sister’s mirror as he tried to appear 12 instead of 11 – to the older.

Youngwoon clearly doesn’t like to have someone who isn’t on his side, and he snarls at Chanyeol to get the off, an order Chanyeol promptly ignores, helping Kyungsoo stand and wiping the dirt off of his shoulders and hair, the younger boy looking at him silently, but with eyes full of curiosity, and a little, minuscule trace of gratitude. Youngwoon repeats his order, and is once again ignored.

Asking if the smaller boy if fine, Chanyeol doesn’t see the ball thrown at him until it reaches his line of vision, rapidly approaching and deadly looking; there is no way to catch it without skinning his hands raw. A weird sensation – little thousands of bubbles blowing up – grows and racks through his body, starting in his stomach and ascending, burning his muscles and bones and boiling his blood, tiny needles pinpricking his skin, an entire ant colony roaming his face, numbing everything at the same time it sets everything on fire, waves of heat causing his shoulders to shake as he raises his hands in an attempt to protect at least his face from the attack. They are the worst part of his body, and they feel like melting, sizzling hot.

Then it stops, as suddenly as it came.

It takes Chanyeol more than a moment to notice that the ball never connects with any part of his body, and that besides hot, the area surrounding him is eerily silent, especially considering everyone around him is between ten and fourteen years old, and all boys; he opens his eyes – he doesn’t remember closing them – to find maybe a dozen of shocked faces, all directed at him. Looking at his sides, he notices similar looks, a mix of surprise and fear in every pair of eyes he meets. He opens his mouth to speak, but chokes when smoke escapes his lips, ashes causing his tongue to become thick and dry. He coughs harshly, bending down to rest his hands on his knees. With the action, Chanyeol notices something.

Ashes fly around, collecting onto a small pile near his feet. Speaking about his lower limbs, Chanyeol frowns at his calves. They are bare, which is weird, because he is wearing pants; long, baggy brown linen pants. Eyes analyzing, Chanyeol sees the burnt edges of his clothes and thinking about the ball that never reached him, plus the ashy taste on his mouth and the hot mass of air concentrating close to his body connects the dots in his head. Still, reaching a conclusion doesn’t stop him from gasping and falling on his in absolute fright. He brings his hands close to his face, the palms vivid red and irradiating heat.

His friends and colleagues all run away, some screaming about black magic, devil and hell, others are yelling about a dragon while others are simply screaming for their moms.

Tears blurry his eyes, and Chanyeol buries his face on his hands, these tears evaporating before touching his palms. The heat isn’t hurting his skin, quite the contrary; it soothes him.

A small hand touches his shoulder lightly, holding no hesitation. Chanyeol turns to see Kyungsoo with his brows knitted together, huge black eyes pensive.

“Let’s go talk to mom.”

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Chanyeol is 13 when he joins ‘them’.

It takes months for his family to agree – even accept – the idea that Chanyeol is one of the few people in the world who can connect with Nature in a different way, mold it to his desires and create what most classified as wizardry, and it takes them even longer to let their youngest member be shipped – Chanyeol has never seen the sea before that – to a distant, mysterious country, where a thing such as magic is considered part of its’ culture, with nothing but a few clothes, Kyungsoo – who indeed can do magic too, earth related – and a letter written by Kyungsoo’s mother, a former apprentice to however ‘them’ are.

He hates the sea, for it makes him sick, and Chanyeol spends the one month trip hanging from the ship’s deck, vomiting the little he managed to eat. Kyungsoo also doesn’t seems to make the vast expansion of water his friend, sulking more than normal while clutching a small vessel containing dirt, which, accordingly to him, helps stabilizing his powers. As someone with a cleat earth affinity, Kyungsoo’s magic apparently couldn’t stand being too far away from solid ground, getting all over the place, searching for it, black and brown sparks flying from his hands like lightning bolts. It makes sense, and explains why Chanyeol spends most of his time – when he’s not puking his guts out – on the kitchen, near the heaters, his own hands bright scarlet and warm.

And after the hellish travel, the least Chanyeol expected from ‘them’ was an enormous floating building sustained by magic, with apprentices flying around it and practicing all kinds of incredible tricks, from transforming into animals, to disappearing.

So it’s very disappointing when the place ‘them’ live turns out to be an old, build-on-stone building with only two floors, especially after he and Kyungsoo spend another three days searching for the place. A man who never presents himself takes their letters and guides them into the construction, explaining what has to be hundreds of different rules that with all honestly bores Chanyeol to no end. He shows the two boys their room, that they will have to share with four other boys and the building in itself, pointing out basic places like the kitchen, the common bathroom, and finally, the backyard.

For once, it kind of reaches Chanyeol’s expectations.

There are about fifteen boys reunited on groups of three or four, all accompanied by men eerily similar to the one who guides him and Kyungsoo. The back yard is gigantic; a clearing of sorts with some equally gigantic trees – they shift colors, their leafs going from blue to purple to red and orange – and it is surrounded by a thick-looking forest on a semi-circle figure, casting long shadows on the meadow.

A kid who looks younger than both suddenly disappears, just to appear again on top of one of those gigantic trees, currently a dark shade of pink. The boy, with tanned skin and sleepy eyes immediately starts to cry, screaming at the man who accompanies him and another two – one plays with flowers, changing their formats and the other, older, floats a few inches off the ground – boys. The man seems to speak something, but the stuck boy doesn’t stop crying or attempts to get down. Finally, after long minutes, the older boy, with a certain difficulty he tries to mask by rolling his shoulders, floats towards the top of the tree, catching the still crying boy on his arms, descending slowly and jerkily. The moment he touches the floor, the man slaps him harshly on the neck, on a scolding manner.

Chanyeol can already feel those slaps on his skin. Somehow, he knows he’ll be acquainted to them soon.

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Chanyeol completes 17 the day his fire hurts someone against their will.

If there’s something he’s proud of, it’s his control over his powers. He’s not the best apprentice, on the contrary; when it comes to the basic, common magic, Chanyeol is a disaster.

He can’t levitate things like most of the other boys, or talk to animals or fly or do the simplest of potions that don’t have a bit of… fiery on its ingredients. Also, most creatures don’t like him; the nymphs run away, the satyrs mock him endlessly and cruelly, so do the elves, who avoid him like the plague, just like the fairies, ents and unicorns, never appearing in the clearing when he is there, practicing his spells. The gumihos are aware of him.

Now, talk to Chanyeol about fire; his beautiful, faithful, with feisty bright flames, ever so obedient to his every whim fire. Even ‘them’ – he never got to know the names of the men – weren’t ones to deny his practically perfect control over an unpredictable, fickle element such as fire, whose flames burned and destroyed just as much as warmed and created.

Fire is Chanyeol’s best friend, and the cheerful boy learned to love it passionately; he loves how it dances on his hands, flames onto his skin to draw the patterns he desires, how it bends accompanying his will, and the way it is life on its wildest, purest form. Different from Kyungsoo’s Earth, forever stable and unbent; his fire plays and devastates, only to recreate everything, better and stronger. Chanyeol is who he is – a rowdy boy, free from the same things that tie Kyungsoo, sometimes irresponsible and careless, optimistic about life and all it has to offer; a smiling, cheerful boy – and fire is him.

His seventeenth birthday is basically him with his friends – the boy who flies, the boy who disappears, the one who can turn paper into birds, the boy whose hands can produce light and of course, Kyungsoo – having a picnic in the margins of one of the forest’s various lakes. The place has no fantastic creature, so Chanyeol can relax and play. Laugher echoes, Chanyeol’s being the loudest as joy makes his blood run faster. The sun shines bright on top of their heads, radiant.

And it is in one of those plays – he’s trying to hit some of the fruits Kris, the boy who flies, is releasing from the sky, the scaly wings that emerged from his back only an year ago turning him into one of the fastest beings on it – that everything goes wrong. The falling fruit – an orange – falls too close to Kai – the boy who can disappear – who’s nibbling at his food calmly, while talking to Kyungsoo. Chanyeol conjures a ball of fire in the size of his fist, and tosses it in the orange’s direction.

He miscalculates, and the fireball goes directly towards a clueless Kai; Chanyeol screams at the boy to just use his powers, but he’s too far and Kai is known to be quite absentminded, not considering the blowing wind that muffles his voice and does nothing to extinguish a magic-created fire. Growling, he moves his hands in a circle before extending them, a move that normally would make his projectiles turn a sharp curve and come back to him; however, this not happens and the fireball hits Kai directly in the face. The boy wails a scream of pain and surprise. If not for Kyungsoo’s quick thinking, by pushing the younger into the lake, the damage could have been a lot greater.

Looking at his hands, betrayal grows in Chanyeol’s chest, for the fire that for the first time disobeyed his wish, causing one of his dearest friends to be hurt. His whole body thrums with frustration, and he can feel the heat his skin emanates, instantly incinerating the grass underneath his bare feet, the tip of his fingers ablaze and his hair falling on his eyes, red as they become when he’s mad. Chanyeol looks down at himself, and swears to only use his fire when absolutely necessary.

His flames extinguish.

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Chanyeol is 20 when he meets Frost Warlock Xiumin.

For a start, the man is small, and as far as one can be of intimidating; with round cheeks, an uneven smile with gums showing, blonde hair and feline, icy blue eyes, Xiumin appears to be younger than him.

He arrives together with the winter, when the lands freeze and it’s difficult to walk without sinking up to their knees or tripping on a block of ice; when most fantastic creatures seem to vanish together with the green, giving space to other types of creatures – mostly spirits, some mischievous, some not exactly – and the immaculate, pure white of the snow, the sun hiding away to give space to gray, heavy clouds.

The men show a weird amount of courtesy to him, and offer him everything they could give; Xiumin smiles an irregular smile and simply says he’ll be staying for this year’s winter. Apparently he wants to leave with an apprentice by his side.

All twenty three students but Chanyeol are excited and nervous, all wanting to become the apprentice of the greatest Elemental Warlock alive, accordingly to ‘them’ themselves.

Chanyeol yawns and goes looking for Baekhyun – the boy who can produce light with his hands – to pull a prank on one of ‘them’; the last thing he imagines is an apprenticeship under a frost warlock. No, not with his fire.

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Chanyeol is 21 by the time Frost Warlock Xiumin takes him as an apprentice.

He stares dumbfounded at the diminutive man smiling on his direction, pink gums showing and eyes scrunched up into half-moon forms.

“But… Why?” he can’t help but ask. He feels eyes perforating his nape, and he feels embarrassed and ungrateful against such opportunity.

Xiumin doesn’t seem offended or fazed by the question “Because I want to,” he answers simply, needing to look up at him, due his tiny figure.

Chanyeol’s first instinct is to laugh boisterously at the overly simple answer, because it has to be some kind of joke. However he contains himself, awkwardly smiling back to the Frost Warlock, who nods and turns his back on him. He hasn’t given thirty steps when he pauses.

“Tomorrow is the last day of winter, so be ready to leave by lunch.”

Blinking in surprise, Chanyeol barely manages a “Y-Yes Sir!” before the Warlock is gone in a swirl of snowflakes.

That night he reunites with his small group of friends; Kyungsoo who decided to stay and become one of ‘them’, Baekhyun, who still can’t control his powers very well and Kris, who’s leaving too, on summer. Kai has left it’s been a year, so has the boy with the paper birds, after a man with the name of Luhan appeared and took both boys under his wing. They retell stories and jokes, the pranks Baekhyun and Chanyeol pulled on every single one of ‘them’, Kris inability to fly on a straight line and Kyungsoo’s extremely failed attempts at distracting ‘them’ so the former two could escape from their punishment, that got harsher with the passing of years, going from a slap on the nape to dozens of tiny shocks that cramped all muscles on their bodies.

Baekhyun pouts and punches Chanyeol’s arm harder than someone of his frame appeared to be able to, calling him a lucky bastard; Kris smiles one of his dorky, very rare smiles, and ruffles his hair affectionately.

Kyungsoo stares at him silently, and after ten years of friendship with the younger, Chanyeol can read everything the unbelievably dark eyes are attempting to tell, no words required. Kyungsoo’s black orbs are like whirlwinds, too many emotions swirling on them, confusing most who don’t know him and making them believe his eyes are nothing but menacing, devoid of sentiments; Chanyeol sees the apprehension for him leaving so suddenly, the fear of what he’ll have to face, the pride Kyungsoo feels mixed with the selfish wish he’d stay behind with him, even if knowing that this would never be possible, for Chanyeol is fire, fickle and free, and Kyungsoo is earth, firm and bound.

He smiles at his longest friend, hoping to pass through the crinkle of his eyes and the pull of his lips all the reassurance Kyungsoo seems to need; the younger’s eyes soften, whirlwinds turning into the warm midday wind, comfortable and calm.

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Chanyeol is 22 the first time he lays his eyes on a tiny, bitter but beautiful water spirit named Junmyeon.

Xiumin must be the most inconstant, frustrating creature of all times. The small warlock takes a year, again, a year  to arrive at his lair – as he likes to call the horrid, crumbling, at-least-400-years tower Chanyeol sees in the distance – on the top of a goddamn mountain in the middle of nothing but miles and miles of frozen trees and frozen lakes and frozen everything. He still hasn’t seen a sign of sunshine or life for the past week and a half excluding them and some animals, the occasional spirit he runs away from and the faint clarity that manages to pass through the cloudy sky. Never one to use his magic without a good reason – not since Kai, whose face bears the proof of his childishness, despite the healing spells and potions to make his skin unblemished again – Chanyeol is forced to use it to warm his body the closer they get to the decaying tower. The temperature drops one, then two, then five degrees

His magic caress his skin like an old lover, knowingly aware of his soft spots, where to tickle so goosebumps erupt through his arms, the warm whisper of summer, smoke and lava and his mother’s just-out-of-the-oven cookies and his father’s smile and his sister’s hug, distant memories that never cease to soothe him to the core. Chanyeol lets the magic involve him, a red and orange fog circling his body, melting the snow he steps on.

The Frost Warlock looks at him with curiosity, before lightly scowling at the heat that emanates from his apprentice body; he sheds his coat, remaining only with a long pink scarf and robes with short sleeves, his fair skin assuming the translucent and bright texture of ice crystals, the rainbow colors shining through his skin. Chanyeol can almost taste his master’s magic, so powerful but so refined and soft he kind of feels embarrassed about how his own is so raw and minuscule compared. He hangs his head low and follows the Frost Warlock.

Up close, the tower appears even more decrepit, and Chanyeol question its integrity; a small wind seems able to crumble the thing down. Yet, he follows Xiumin as the older man hums softly, lifting his crystallized hands. Xiumin moves them on the air, white light coming from his fingers, as he expertly draws figures – Chanyeol thinks they’re runes; he can’t be certain, he never studied them – on a frozen stone door, the only one in the entire bottom of the tower. It screeches before opening.

So, Chanyeol has to bite his tongue. The tower inside is everything but what it looks from the outside, the stones are horizontal, even in the room’s semi-circular format. Before him, a huge room stares right back at him, ice sculptures forming a miniature imitation of the forest they’d got out.

“Oh, home sweet home!” Xiumin exclaims, taking off his scarf and boots. It’s still freezing, and Chanyeol feels colder only staring at his new Master. Said Master notices his stares, and smiles with his gums showing “Welcome, Chan-ah! To mine, and I suppose, yours too now, lair. Come, come, follow me!”

Dumbstruck, the fire wielder nods, entering a hole in the wall leading to stairs; climbing them up behind Xiumin, admiring the tiny carving on the clear, white stone; runes and drawings of all kinds of creature, texts written so delicately that Chanyeol has to scrunch his eyes to attempt reading them, getting frustrated quickly in noticing that they’re all on a different language. “Not fair.”

“What?” Xiumin asks, continuing to climb. “You mean the inscriptions? Please, I wrote these three centuries ago; they’re quite pathetic, and I’m glad my mother language’s been dead for the past two.”

Chanyeol stops. “Three centuries?”

“Oh boy, what those guys taught you? The lifespan of different types of warlocks is one of the most basic things,” Xiumin sighs, as if exasperated. “I see I’ll have my hands full with you– A warlock whose power comes from ice, can live up to five, six hundred years if he’s powerful; I’m four hundred and thirty nine, so… I’m old, and I need an apprentice to pass my knowledge to.”

Complicated. Chanyeol runs a hand through his hair, worried; he thinks about his family, about Kyungsoo and Baekhyun and Kris and all the friends he made on his very young existence. Besides, he can’t stop thinking about the reasons the other chose him and now that they’re alone, far away from judgment and prying eyes, he gathers the courage to ask. “What about fire warlocks? And why choose me? I’m like, the most distant thing to ice that there can be.”

Xiumin lightly stumbles. “Let’s say I’m honoring a promise,” he cryptically ‘answers’. “A decent Fire Warlock can live until their… A hundred, two hundred years maybe. A good one can add another fifty or so years…”

Xiumin stops speaking, leaving in the air a heavy ‘but’ Chanyeol can’t help saying, curiosity already eating him away “But–”

“–Accordingly to those guys, you’re exceptional when it comes to wielding fire, so who knows? You can live to reach a thousand for all I know, almost as much as the damned earth warlocks, the cocky bastards.”

The younger perks up significantly at the information: living so long meant watching people get old and die. He’d lose his parents and his sister, entire generations of Parks and while he’ll miss his mother and father and sister, it’s been nine years since he last saw them, and the distance made his heart feel less pain, and more a fondness for them and the memories of his childhood. Kyungsoo is another matter, for he is his best friend, and he’ll be sure to live as long as he, to never have to spend his years alone.

He hums to show Xiumin he understood, and remains silent for the rest of their climbing. He’s panting by the time they arrive to the most glorious, fantastic library Chanyeol could never begin to imagine. Rows and rows of books cover all the tower’s circumference from the floor to the arched roof made of crystal, some scattered on top of a big table on the center, some even piled on the floor, tomes as big as Chanyeol’s torso one on top of the other. The place seems to clack with the weight of magic, and he has some trouble breathing because of it, overwhelmed. “God…”

“Exquisite, isn’t it?”

Chanyeol makes an affirmative sound, not able to do much more. His eyes try to take everything, and his hands itch with the will to touch the books, read the pages he’s certain will teach him much more than he’d ever learned on his eight years with ‘them’. His own magic flares, entranced by the room, and it fluidly finds the rows that will benefit it, bringing back the smell of dandelions, sunflowers, sand and smoke, guiding Chanyeol, ordering – fire doesn’t beg – him to go and take the knowledge.

“Chanyeol!” Xiumin snaps.

He’s brought back to reality by his Master’s voice, blinking to get rid of his magic’s compulsion. “Yeah, Master?”

Xiumin smiles, with tight lips, a mix of interest and sadness of his clear eyes “I have to present you the place.”

He starts to point out every door – which Chanyeol had not noticed – saying where the kitchen is, as well as his room and the one that now belonged to Chanyeol. He says that there lives a sweet Yeti named Nory that takes care of food and cleaning, and that he – Xiumin glares at him, making a point that the creature is not an ‘it’ – sleeps on that miniature forest down the stairs. He explains that despite being a wielder of ice, he need to eat normal food like everyone, and that once every two weeks he goes to the nearby village to buy fruits, grains and vegetables. Nory hunts the meat.

“Aren’t you going to present me, Minnie? I’m hurt.”

Chanyeol wipes his head, searching for the sudden voice, masculine and soft, if not bitter. He doesn’t see anyone or anything, and turns to his master, questioning.

“I was leaving the best for last, Junmyeon.”

“Right.”

Quietly chuckling at Chanyeol expression – certainly very confusing, ‘cause what the actual hell? – Master Xiumin walks to the center of the library, where only now Chanyeol sees a cage in the middle, and questions his own awareness; the cage sizzles with magic, its bars made of what seems to be crystals of ice, reflecting the rainbow colors on the nearby surfaces. He approaches carefully the table. Inside the cage, something – someone – moves, rising to their tiny feet to stare straight into Chanyeol’s eyes.

It’s like he’s been hit by a punch in the gut. The tiny creature inside the cage must be the most beautiful creature – above gumihos, mermaids, she-elves and nymphs – he has even seen on his life. Sparkling dark blue eyes stare into his soul from a perfect face, as white as the snow that surrounds the tower, small bow-shaped lips pink and pouting, grayish hair flopping on his – it looks male – forehead, practically invisible drops of water clinging to the strands without wetting it. The minuscule body – 15 cm tops – is bare besides a thin blue scale-like skin that starts on his neck and descends to his thighs.

Xiumin feigns a cough, his firm hand stern on Chanyeol’s shoulder. “Chan-ah, this one here is Junmyeon… He’s… a comrade.”

“Ha! That must be the kindest way to refer to a person being held against their will to help you and your pathet–”

“Silence.”

Junmyeon’s mouth snaps shut, and he glares at Xiumin, blue magic – the air feels humid, the smell of sea and salt, morning dew clogging Chanyeol’s senses and the slight lingering taste of lotus tea – enveloping the creature named Junmyeon. Chanyeol gulps, not expecting someone so small to possess such powerful magic. The cage he’s on shines with the blue of his magic, it from the body within the bars.

“You really like to make this difficult to me, don’t you?” Xiumin sighs, tone regretful. “Junmyeon…”

“I won’t hear your excuses, boy,” Junmyeon sneers, and somehow Chanyeol thinks he’s not one to be so… hostile, his face contorted on a weird scowl. “But I will listen to you explain me who’s this puppy. Your new boy toy? What about dearie deer Luhannie?”

Before Chanyeol can process – boy toy? Luhannie? Like, in Warlock Luhan? How…? – Junmyeon’s words, his master passes through him, bending down so his face is near the other’s diminutive body. “He’s my apprentice.”

Now, Junmyeon’s face morphs into one of pure, simple ire. His whole body tenses, sinewy muscles contracting, blue energy pouring from him, dark blue eyes so dark they seem black. “Your what?”  he growls. Chanyeol gulps in fear, automatically giving a step back. He doesn’t want to be the end of this creature’s anger, not now, not ever. For some reason – call it instinct – he thinks this Junmyeon is not someone one would cross on normal days, and despite caged and tiny, his presence alone exudes danger. “You promised, Kim Minseok! You promised me that you would never accept an apprentice! You promised me!”

“Let’s go, I’ll show you your rooms,” Xiumin pushes Chanyeol away, ignoring Junmyeon, whose voice only gets louder and more pained.

“DON’T IGNORE ME MINSEOK! MINSEOK!”

*

Chanyeol tries to talk with Junmyeon on the next day.

“Oh, if it’s not the apprentice,” he says with a scoff, not bothering to turn to face Chanyeol, seated with his back to him. “What can I do for you, puppy boy?”

The fire wielder gulps, pushing a chair so he can seat and be at similar level to Junmyeon. “What are you?”

Junmyeon blinks, as if not expecting that question specifically. “A water guardian,” he answers, frowning. “Used to be one, at least.”

Seeking for his face, Chanyeol rests his head on his arms, spread over the table. The cage Junmyeon is in shines slightly brighter for a second, the magic within its bars scanning him, determining if he’s a threat of not. He’s not, so the glow diminishes until it’s a faint, dull icy blue, not beginning to compare to the royal blue of Junmyeon’s scales, or the dark marine blue of his orbs.

“A water guardian? So you’re like… a nymph of sorts?”

Another scoff and this time, the tiny boy turns to look at him. “No, I’m not like a nymph,” Junmyeon spits the name, seemingly disgusted. “Nymphs are so below what I am that I should be offended by your comparison. However, puppy boy, you look young enough to be naïve, so I will explain it to you. An element guardian is the highest creature that can exist in one ecosystem, and, a lot like there are warlocks for all elements, so are guardians for all of them. I can create water with my magic, not simply manipulate it. You name it: rains, lakes, waterfalls, a sea; I’ve done it all before. A nymph, and the right term is dryad and naiad if you’re talking about water, depend on it. I’m very dry here, so you can take your conclusions.”

“So you’re like… a God among water creatures?” curiously, Chanyeol inches closer, attempting to gather all information possible on this water guardian – and learn more about the magic creatures, that apparently have a hierarchy, something he had never dreamt of – at the same time he finds himself captivated by Junmyeon, whose features soften as he explains, the thin of his lips relaxing and the creases of his brow lightening.

“You can say so…” the question makes him pensive, before he laughs dryly. “You can say that, puppy boy.”

“Name’s Chanyeol.”

“I never showed interest in knowing, did I?” Junmyeon’s lips thin again in a mocking smirk, a hand pushing his grayish hair back. It falls into place, partially covering his forehead. The movement has Chanyeol’s attention, and he doesn’t care for the sarcasm Junmyeon is so fond of, entranced with the defined lines of his face, how ethereal he looks, covered in blue.

So he smiles at him the best, largest smile he can produce, his sight blurring. “No, but it’s polite to know the name of your colleagues, isn’t it? Since I’m now Master Xiumin’s apprentice…”

Junmyeon opens his mouth, but no words come out. He leans back against the bars, and blue magic swirls around him. “Colleagues… I suppose your ‘Master’ haven’t told you why I am here, locked away like an animal on an exhibition.”

“No, he–”

Master Xiumin calls for him then, and Chanyeol awkwardly says goodbye, scampering to go after his mater, but not without spinning to gaze longingly at the cage of blue bars; more specifically, to the mystical creature inside of it.

Junmyeon sighs, and leans more heavily on the bars.

*

Grumbling, he turns a page angrily, head hurting from too much effort.

“Treat those books with more respect. They’re older than your first ancestral.”

Chanyeol gazes at Junmyeon with a pout set on his lips, impatiently saying. “Well, those books are useless. I don’t know why heavens Master told me to read them.”

“Every book carries within its pages immensurable knowledge. It is not its fault you are too stupid to see it.”

“You only say that ‘cause reading it’s the only thing I think you do.”

Junmyeon laughs at that, bitterly. “Not like I have much more to do here.”

Guilt colors his cheeks, and Chanyeol wants to bury his face on the floor. Ugh, he could be so foolish sometimes. Without courage to gaze back at the other, he looks up instead, searching for a distraction while his mortification eases; he hasn’t seen pure daylight, not filtered by heavy cloud ever since the day he met Xiumin, and he – and his magic – misses the heat of sunlight against his skin, the lazy afternoons basking outside in the sun and how everything was more beautiful when illuminated by it. In this land made of white and ice, he and his fire stick out like a sore thumb, the red of his hair dulling and his flames weaker. He can’t bear to imagine what Junmyeon must suffer, his vision going as far as this library went, no sun or water or company beyond Chanyeol – as the spirit clearly didn’t want anything to do with Xiumin.

Daydreaming about him, the water guardian, bless him, takes pity on his misery. Or, as much pity as his self can have, which honestly, isn’t a lot. “Goodness stupid puppy boy, think. What all those books have in common?”

A second to think and… “The first one is about the geography of this damned ice block people call a country; second tells about seasons and a lot of nonsense regarding this place’s plants and the third…” he checks the title, taking a little too long to decipher the ancient language. “… It’s about the effect of foreign magic on the land.”

Junmyeon continues to stare at him expectantly, waiting for Chanyeol to reach some kind of conclusion.

“I have no idea.”

The water guardian groans, and glares at him.

Chanyeol is ignored the rest of the day, Junmyeon’s only reaction to him happening after he whined for a good half an hour; he throws a miniature book on his direction, which transforms midair into a giant tome that crashes against Chanyeol’s skull.

*

It’s been six months since Chanyeol started to live in the tower with Xiumin, Dory and more important, Junmyeon. Six months to him, on another times would mean an eternity, too long to insist in someone who clearly doesn’t give a flying fudge about him; since he’d met Junmyeon, things are a little different. Every time the water guardian ignores him, Chanyeol whines louder, at every rebuke from him, Chanyeol does his best to get better. The days he spends inside the library, he maintains a close distance to the tiny boy, chatting the creature’s ears off, or simply asking questions Junmyeon never directly responds, forcing Chanyeol to strain his brain to find an answer.

The process is slow and hard, but now, Chanyeol can see little, barely there changes that make his heart thump faster; Junmyeon smiled without pretense once, and even cracked a joke – an extremely bad one – that hadn’t the intention of hurting him or Master Xiumin. He has more patience to explain what Chanyeol can quite grasp, and he’s practical, direct but didactic. He teaches the fire warlock more than his own master, who does whatever frost warlocks do on his rooms and planetarium, this when he’s not out somewhere, creating blizzards at the slightest indication the climate is warming.

“No, stupid, that’s not it,” Junmyeon growls, rubbing the bridge of his perfect little nose. “How many times will I have to explain to you?!”

Chanyeol throws the book – he never really learned how to treat them right, being scolded by both master Xiumin and Junmyeon – on the table, running his hands on his fiery red hair, signal of his stress. “Why I should know the difference between a chimera and a manticore? Both are basically extinct, and there’s nothing they can add to my training!”

“A manticore’s teeth are essential to make any kind of protective fire potion and no fire warlock of respect walks around without a scale or a horn piece of a chimera.”

“Wow, seriously? Why’s that?” Chanyeol is surprised by the extent of Junmyeon’s understanding; as a water creature, he’s not bound to know any of this. “And how you know all of this?”

“Chimeras are fire creatures, and their snake head’s scales and their goat’s horns increase the strength of fire spells, as well as its aim,” again, Junmyeon explains like he’s talking to an ignorant child, something that Chanyeol already gave up in feeling offended for. In fact, he likes it, because the spirit – Junmyeon few months prior admitted begrudgingly that yes, he fitted into the category – adds more details, and speaks slower, giving him time to write down his notes. And not that would admit, but he enjoys seeing the words rolling out of Junmyeon’s pink lips.

“And do you know all that?” Chanyeol repeats his question, genuinely interested in the answer. He is interested in any and everything, every little bit of information the water guardian reveals about himself. He’s a fascinating creature, more so than any other he’s ever met, but so closed off on his own misery and bitterness it hurts Chanyeol. All he wants is to make this tiny boy happy.

“I’m one thousand and twenty six years old, stupid. I had a lot of time to learn about this world before ending here.”

“Ugh, you’re so old.”

“More respect, stupid boy.”

“Won’t do.”

“What?”

“You always call me stupid or puppy boy. That’s not respectful.”

“I’m older and more powerful.”

“Oh, I know you’re basically a mummy, old man. And powerful? Yeah, I see it.”

“That’s how you’re going to treat me, brat? Good luck with your reading.”

“Yeah– Wait, what? No, no, no Junmyeon! I’m sorry! Junmyeon? I’m sorry.”

*

“I miss Kyungsoo.”

“That friend of yours? The Earth Warlock?”

“Yeah… It’s been two years since I’ve last seen him.”

“You too were close?”

“The closest. He’s my brother is everything but blood. Without him I wouldn’t be here, you know? He’s the one who told me magic existed, and never feared what I could do. Beat the out of me though, said I was careless and immature, and that I should do something besides compete with Baekhyun on who was capable of stealing Kris’ chicken without being noticed, or whose light was brighter. Told me I should study more.”

“He seems nice. Centered and decent, everything you are not.”

“Don’t be unpleasant, old man.”

“I’m sincere.”

“…”

“…”

“Hey, Junmyeon.”

“Hm?”

“Did you… Did you– Someone? You had someone whom you miss?”

“…”

“… Junmyeon?”

“A long time ago… Yes, a long time ago I had my important people. Silly boys that I loved– love very much.”

“They are guardians like you?”

“One of them are, a infuriating thunder guardian, and those are very rare, let me tell you. The other… no, Sehun was very much human. A common one at that, not a speck of magic in his lanky limbs, and he’s been dead for too long. Just a bratty kid when I met him, though.”

“I– I’m sorry”

“Me too.”

*

“Minseok was an absolute disaster when I met him.”

Chanyeol quicker than light closes the book he holds, snapping his head towards the cage Junmyeon is on – these days he ponders more and more about the time he’s spent there, centuries confined inside the small space, with nothing but books and the eventual harsh exchange with Master Xiumin and the barely comprehensible Dory, the small amount of magic he can conjure just enough for him to play with droplets of water of his food – eyeing the spirit with not at all concealed surprise.

Junmyeon doesn’t talk of a life before his confinement; no, he doesn’t talk about himself at all but snippets of memories and those he lets slip, generally when explaining a subject. “Master Xiumin?”

“The one and only. Chubby, that one, his people called him steamed bun,” Junmyeon snickers, taking pleasure in remembering the detail. Chanyeol doesn’t like this side of him, so rancorous. “And so painfully average I spent fifty years just to make him capable of making a small storm.”

The warlock apprentice gaps at the information; his Master Xiumin? The same person who with a simple chant could freeze as far as the eyes reached for weeks?

“Close that mouth, it’s impolite to stare at other people with an open mouth,” the water guardian scolds. His tiny hands – back covered with blue scales – carefully peel the smallest piece of apple in history. “Didn’t he tell you? I’m the one who trained his sorry . He followed me for weeks, begging to be taught how to use the mediocre ice magic he had on him and in the end, I accepted. Pretty damn stupid, myself from four hundred and thirty years ago. Had I know he would steal a book from some water warlock and find one of the half dozen spells that can imprison me, I would have let him on that pathetic village of his, to be bullied forever.”

“You were the one who taught Master Xiumin?!”

“Yeah, and how he thanks me? Puts me on a cage for three hundred and seventy five years, just so he can my magic off, convert into his and claim he’s powerful, bind me with him and every future apprentice of his,” with a sigh, Junmyeon bites the tiny piece of apple, his grayish hair falling flatly on his forehead, whole posture suddenly defeated. “I put all my effort on that… that son of a , sacrificing my time with Chen and Sehun and… and…”

He buries his face on his drawn knees, bare form shaking with silent sobs, the bright blue of his scales dim, dark with sorrow. On the middle of the cage, encircled by bars that shine with ancient magic, he appears so fragile, something that never happened before. Junmyeon, with his 16, 3 cm – he’s very adamant with numbers – never once looked quite so fragile, breakable to the slightest of touches. Chanyeol never touched him – the bars would electrocute him – and his hand never itched so much like now, seeing the spirit break in front of him. His heart aches, and he wishes, desires from the bottom of it that he knew what to do.

Junmyeon is a beautiful creature, tainted by isolation and betrayal, but beautiful nonetheless. He’s lost on his own bitterness and longing for times that are gone, but underneath it all, a shadow of his former self still exists; a someone with crinkly-eyed smiles and bad jokes, someone with patience and care and absolute joy in learning.

Chanyeol scots closer to the cage, aching with the need to console Junmyeon, yet not knowing how. “Master really did that to you?”

A sniffle is heard, vaguely similar to a ‘yes’.

“That’s why you freaked out when he said I was his apprentice? Because you’re destined to bind with me?” the question sounds harsh to his own ears, and Chanyeol curses his inability to express his feelings. It has to be an easier way to say to a spirit the size of a big grasshopper that controlled an element total opposite of his own that he is completely, irrevocably in love with him.

Junmyeon raises his head slightly, dark marine eyes puffy and crystalline with tears. “Don’t get me wrong, Chanyeol, I like you, really do, but I don’t think I can stay caged for eternity. You can promise me you’ll never find an apprentice, and will, just like Minseok, break it.”

His respect for his mater lessens second by second. Master Xiumin’s – Minseok’s – actions were immoral and inhuman; he took advantage of Junmyeon, used him to accomplish his aspirations, incarcerated him for centuries so he wouldn’t lose his power, transformed Junmyeon into a being that felt little more than bitterness and sadness, that always had a biting remark on the tip of his tongue and whose walls were so high and thick it occasionally looked impenetrable.

Relaxing his instance, so the cage won’t see his as threat, Chanyeol touches his forehead on the bars. “I don’t need to promise you anything, Junmyeon, because what I’m saying is a fact: the moment your freedom isn’t in the hands of Xiumin, I will release you. Tell me what book has the counter-spell to free you, that I’ll study it and practice until I can recite the words backwards.”

Puffy marine eyes stare into his own, a boring brown; it’s like Junmyeon’s reading into his soul, judging the integrity of his words. Whatever he seems to find is enough to console him, as he smiles thinly, but truthfully.

*

Later that day, he finds his master on the planetarium, gazing at the bright stars, shining on the dark sky.

Xiumin doesn’t look in his direction; not necessary, since Chanyeol can feel his own magic flicker, unstable in an imitation of his mood, control slipping in his anger. His hands are blood red, so hot they, against the cold air, sizzle and release steam. If he could see his hair right now, Chanyeol bets he will be scarlet. “You judge me, for the decisions I made regarding Junmyeon.”

Chanyeol scoffs, a habit Junmyeon passed to him. “You bet I am, Xiumin,” he purposefully excludes the ‘master’.

“So? What you plan to do about it? Demand I free him? Say how much you’re deluded with me, a man who’s been teaching you how to be a better warlock? Give up your apprenticeship?” Xiumin sure is just as skilled in mockery. “Tell me Chanyeol! What will you do?” he smiles, and it’s nothing like the normal gummy, uneven smile. It’s sharp and icy, unrecognizable.

Growling, Chanyeol says, “I want to know why! Why you did this to Junmyeon!”

It’s like the ice liquefies from Xiumin’s face, and the small man deflates, his feline eyes unexpectedly tired. For the briefest of moments, Chanyeol thinks he can see another man standing there, translucent skin marred with wrinkles made of ice, snow clinging to a white hair and white clothes. He blinks and it’s gone, as if it was never there.

“I wanted him to be mine, and mine only,” the reply comes as a surprise for Chanyeol, that hadn’t been expecting one. “Junmyeon was the first one to see something in me, train me aware that I wouldn’t ever be more than average. But– He would leave me, leave for a stupid farmer boy and a thunder guardian that to this day still does more harm than good!” he goes silent, contemplative. “When I did the spell that bounded him to me, I didn’t expect for it to be so strong, to the magic out of him and give it me, to create a cage impenetrable. I just wanted him to be with me, my master Junmyeon, my first friend. I got what I wanted, but at what price? He despises me, is disgusted by my mere presence.”

“If you regret it, then why not release him?” Chanyeol, for the first time, notices the vulnerability of Xiumin’s stance, the loneliness that reflects on his eyes.

“I can’t,” Xiumin admits. “I’m a Frost Warlock, my magic is essentially frozen water. That cage absorbs every magic with the barest affinity to water…”

Dejection fills Chanyeol, and he turns to leave, heart squeezed too tight on his chest, tears prickling his eyes. He’s staring down at the top of an abyss, nowhere to go forward, towards the darkness, the despair.

“… and that’s where you enter.”

With a sharp turn, Chanyeol meets a now smiling Xiumin, eyebrow cocked in question. “What?”

“Dory says that Junmyeon scolds you a lot, calling you stupid, and honestly, I’m inclined to believe. Think Chanyeol. I just said that that cage every magic with affinity for water–”

It’s an epiphany, really. “– I’m a Fire Warlock! I’m the exact opposite of water!” he exclaims, overjoyed. “That’s the real reason you chose me as your apprentice! I’m the one capable of freeing Junmyeon!”

“Not so stupid then… Yes Chanyeol, you’re right; you are capable, not The One. Not only this, you are young and innocent and won’t want Junmyeon for yourself…” at the increasing heat on his cheeks and the cheeky glint on his master’s orbs, Chanyeol knows he’s blushing hard. “… Only you do. You want Junmyeon for yourself.”

“N-No, t-th-that’s n-not it!” his stammering gives him away, and he curses himself internally. “I… I just– I just want him to be happy…”

Determination shines bright on Xiumin’s face. “He will be.”

*

It takes months. Months of Chanyeol studying nonstop, learning the runes necessary to break the spells that binds Junmyeon, of discussing ingredients with Xiumin – the Warlock reasons that they should get a chimera’s scale, and Chanyeol knows why – and consequently, spending less and less time with the water guardian. Dory warns – the Yeti is no one to meddle, so things must be serious – that Junmyeon is reverting back to his ways, sullenly ruminating about Chanyeol’s supposed neglect, refusing to eat and screaming with his tiny – yet powerful – lungs that he knew that Chanyeol was like Xiumin.

Chanyeol wants to rip his hair off, explain to the spirit that he’s not being rational and whatever he’s doing is for the spirit’s own good, yet, he desires to make a surprise for him. He can already imagine: Junmyeon’s dark marine eyes alight with pure happiness, his pink lips open in shock and tiny body covered with bright blue scales trembling with excitement, shining brightly under the sun. Is this image that propels Chanyeol in pushing himself to the limit, not taking providences regarding Junmyeon’s mood for the time being; the tower isn’t a place abnormally big, and the library is the center room of it, so of course he tries to make it up for Junmyeon, spending a few hours of the day with him. The spirit gives him hell for his continuous absence, and Chanyeol hides how much it makes him happy seeing Junmyeon snappy; in his opinion, it shows that the water guardian cares about him.

And finally, after an eternity – seven months, to be honest – Chanyeol has control of his power enough to try the spell. The runes are carved on his mind, so are the words and the ingredients he’ll need. The chimera’s scale lies as a pendant on a chain around his neck, thanks to master Xiumin – who knew that Warlock named Luhan whom years ago picked Kai and the boy with the paper birds; apparently he owned an apothecary – that now insisted in being called only Xiumin, given that he would not be his master anymore, after the spell.

He prepares everything during the night, wanting to perform the spells under the first rays of sun. Junmyeon had told him that he missed the sun on his skin, the frozen land Xiumin reigned over not allowing the warmth of it to reach him. Chanyeol promises to himself that he will bring the sun to this land, and it not possible, become the sun himself to make Junmyeon bask on his light.

Junmyeon is still sleeping – he sleeps curled around himself, making his body appear tinier – when he writes the runes around the cage with a concoction that mixes volcanic ashes, sunflowers’ petals, a phoenix’s feather, blood from a hellhound and a coin that once belonged to a dragon’s treasure, all boiled together with the fire produced by the friction of two salamander skins together. Chanyeol, with his time with ‘them’ had seen a number of absurd potions, and nothing compared to this. It doesn’t help that the language the spell is written has been dead for two hundred years, and Xiumin is so out of practice that he had to waste one month only to take the accent of his chant, which has to be perfect. The cage tries to fight, as if sensing the inactive runes, and as it meets Chanyeol’s magic – he’s cocooned on her, so warm and familiar – the blue sparks shrink, its light dimmer.

Next, Chanyeol lets his magic loose, illuminating the entire room as his whole body burns orange, crystals of ice as old as himself falling to the ground as they melt; he hasn’t used his magic to this extent for years, and the sensation of it running through his veins, pulsing with raw energy it’s indescribable, without comparisons. That part of himself he had buried the day he hurt Kai is unrestricted, and he feels complete. His beloved lover, the fire he so admires, his memories and his future, his present. A part do essential of his self, guarded on the deepest part of himself for fear, for his fire is his fear and his courage, all paradoxes and enigmas, the answer and the question.

Curious, how his own being is the perfect opposite of Junmyeon. He read on one book something about opposites attracting, about equilibrium and yin and yang.

He can only be happy that Junmyeon, in all senses, is his other half.

“Puppy boy, what is this? What are you doing?” and Junmyeon is awake, fearfully regarding the library, to the melting ice to the rising temperature. “What kind of magic is this? Why are you using fire magic?!”

Oh, that’s true. He never practiced his spells near Junmyeon, and never told him he is a fire wielder. He kept his magic inside of himself all the time they interacted, and his studies were all very general, going every kind of magic out there, water to fire, earth to air and so on. With Junmyeon near him, telling this detail – very important, he’s now aware – never crossed Chanyeol’s mind; too busy admiring the water guardian, attempting to count the scales that decorated and covered his body, see all the different tonalities of blue shift according to the light, how his fair skin seemed soft and how it would feel to kiss his pink lips.

“What else would I be doing?” Chanyeol asks cheekily. “I’m freeing you, silly.”

If eyes could pop out of one’s socket, Junmyeon’s would be rolling on the floor, wide as they get when he hears the news. He his lips – Chanyeol absolutely doesn’t follow the movement – and rises to his feet, walking unsteadily to grab at one of the bars that keep him inside. Whatever he feels makes him gaze at his hands, then at Chanyeol and back at his hands. “Chanyeol…” he whispers.

Goosebumps erupt on his skin at being called Chanyeol for the first time, and he smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. “I had to free you for you to call me by my name… Always difficult, Junmyeon.”

A crystalline tear falls from Junmyeon’s eyes, followed by other, then another, until he’s openly crying. A smile stretches his face, and Chanyeol’s world takes a turn; constellations align, stars shine, the sun is high on the sky and things make sense like they never did before. He wasn’t one to believe Junmyeon’s mocking stance, never thought it fit him or his face and this smile proves he was always right. It’s dazzling, and Chanyeol is somewhat faint at witnessing it.

“Always.”

Chanyeol has to concentrate, so he closes his eyes, blocking his sight and ignoring any sound; he pushes in a deep lungful of the steam that encircles him, the slight burn on his windpipe comforting. He focuses deep inside himself, feels the core of his magic, the raw power that fire possesses, scorching hot. He takes it, canalizes the magic to his hands, slowly chanting the incantation necessary to weaken the bars; the spell is an intricate three piece combination of keywords that need to be said on different intonations on three different situations. One to weaken the magic that involves the cage, one for the cage itself and another time to break the binds that united Junmyeon and Xiumin – the Warlock watches from afar, hugging his torso with an expression of absolute heartbreak – for three hundred and seventy six years. His arms literally are on fire, his magic mixing with the element, pouring from him in form of blazing runes which hiss on the air. He can sense when those runes activate those around Junmyeon’s cage.

Now the difficult part. Chanyeol has to listen to Junmyeon scream as the heat grows, the bars catching fire, leaving the spirit trapped, no chances to retaliate. He concentrates further, examining the old magic to find the binds. They are there, ingrained on Junmyeon, and Chanyeol apprehensively begs for forgiveness mentally, canalizing his magic to sever the invisible threads. He opens his eyes and sees a kneeling Junmyeon crying and gasping, skin slick with sweat and panicked eyes; he hopes he can pass confidence through his face when the spirit stares at him, silently pleading for help. With a burst of power, Chanyeol sends his fire to the threads of magic that unite the Frost Warlock with the water guardian. Both cry out, and…

The bars explode and Chanyeol falls to the floor, gasping for air, his whole body convulsing with the aftershock of such a power release, veins thrumming in exhaustion, droplets of sweat running down his face.

Eyes fixed on the floor, Chanyeol first sees two small, wet, scale-covered feet in front of him. He slowly raises his head, accompanying the sleek, lithe lines that compose Junmyeon’s body; white calves specked with blue scales, a baggy, royal blue shorts covering his knees up to his thighs, held in place by a golden belt. His chest is bare, revealing a toned chest and a narrow waist, muscled arms hanging limply on his sides, everything decorated with those blue scales that up close and bigger, form a pattern of waves, embracing Junmyeon.

Finally, Chanyeol meets Junmyeon’s face. He still cries, maybe cries harder than before, and his hair hangs on forehead, hiding it and pert of his eyes. Even with his face scrunched, he’s the most beautiful creature Chanyeol ever laid his eyes on, and to be capable of seeing him free is what tugs at his heart, bliss and love warming his chest more than his fire.

“Chanyeol…” Junmyeon says, before kneeling. He wraps his arms around Chanyeol’s shoulder, burying his face on his neck. “Chanyeol, thank you so much… I– For all gods, Chanyeol…”

Honestly, it’s music for his ears.

Chanyeol embraces the spirit, clinging to him, hands tight on his waist, bringing him closer, closer and closer. He’s crying too, he notices, because he’s touching Junmyeon, actually holding him, the spirit’s cold body in contrast to his own hot one; he’s so overwhelmed in his love that he doesn’t notice the thunder that tumbles through the cloudless sky and the lightening that shatters the remaining crystals of ice on the tower.

A boy with black hair and strong features appears out of nowhere, eyes piercing and frantic. He accesses the place, and glares with so much intensity at Chanyeol that the fire warlock gulps, scared.

Chen – judging his method of arriving and the little Junmyeon told him, it can only be the thunder guardian – stomps to where they lay on the floor, wrapped on each other’s arms. He all but rips Chanyeol’s arms out of Junmyeon, pushing the other spirit to his feet. He kisses all the expanse of Junmyeon’s face, his figure projecting electricity, the air around him cackling. Junmyeon laughs – freely, loud, happily, beautifully – and hugs Chen.

With another lightening, they’re gone.

Dumbstruck, Chanyeol gazes at the empty space in front of him, hands still itching with the desire to hold Junmyeon and body cool from his embrace.

“More harm than good, I said,” Xiumin speaks, making himself known. His voice sounds weird, and when Chanyeol sees him, he gasps. His now ex-master is an old man, much like the one of his brief vision seven months ago. “What did you expect? Without Junmyeon, my magic is back at being mediocre, and a mediocre frost warlock doesn’t live much more than four hundred years.”

“X-Xiumin…”

“I knew this would happen, Chan-ah, and I’m happy it did. I lived a long life and saw everything I could,” he smiles, wrinkles made of ice crinkling. “My time has come, and I’ll part having done what’s right. My only regret though… I wish I could have told Junmyeon sorry for what I did to him.”

Xiumin’s image flickers from the old man to the young master Chanyeol originally met, his body slowly fading away as ice crystals, blowing with the wind.

Chanyeol looks around, master-less and with no sign of Junmyeon.

He hides his face into his hands and cries.

Above him, the sun shines.

*

Observing the landscape, one would never say that just one week ago the place was covered on thick snow, white and cold; the grass underneath his feet is soft and green, and the flowers make an endless bed of colors, their perfume sweet and soothing. Some small animals can be seen to keen eyes, and more and more appear as time passes, attracted to the warm climate. It’s spring.

Chanyeol sighs; resting his back on a tree that one week ago was leafless and dry, now green and robust. He admires his work, content in admitting that he’d spend said week working on making this place like this, melting the ice with his fire and using potions for growth and fertility he found on Xiumin’s storage, all to take his mind off Junmyeon. Xiumin’s, the Frost Warlock, dead he accepted rather easily, after mourning. Life had limits, and Xiumin lived past his.

But Junmyeon… Gone with that thunder guardian Chen, maybe to never come back again. Chanyeol doesn’t blame him; on his place, he would burn down the place that held him captive, and never return to the country where it happened. Yet, Chanyeol hoped – hopes still – that what they had was enough to make Junmyeon come to minimally say goodbye. Junmyeon had hugged him, in the end.

Closing his eyes, Chanyeol sighs again, enjoying the hot, cozy temperature, having forgotten how it felt to feel warm without the help of his magic.

“What a shame, you; lazy, as expected.”

Opening his eyes in astonishment, Chanyeol meets the owner of the sudden voice; Junmyeon stares right back at him, smiling from one ear to another, cheeks round and vibrant, happy eyes crinkling.

“Jun–Junmyeon!” he staggers to get on his feet, not succeeding.

“That’s me puppy boy. You didn’t think I would simply leave you, yeah?” at the lack of response, Junmyeon pouts. “You’re so annoying.”

“Well, I wasn’t the one who disappeared for one week without saying anything. “

“… Fair.” Junmyeon extends his hand, back to smiling. He’s really beautiful. “Come, I want you to meet someone.”

With the spirit’s help, Chanyeol stands, leaving the shadow provided by the tree to stand under the sun, the daylight hitting his face and Junmyeon’s.

That’s what he thought so much about: Seeing Junmyeon under the sun, bright and happy, grayish hair shinning on silver and blue hues, marine eyes alive and without a trace of bitterness and sadness, clear and full of joy for the world, lips pink and stretched onto a smile. Chanyeol’s eyes go to these lips, and he holds Junmyeon’s face with both hands, caressing the soft cheeks. The water guardian’s eyelashes flutter and he closes his eyelids the moment their lips connect.

“YAH! What are you two doing?!” a new voice, that can belong solely to Chen screams at them.

They separate with smiles on their faces and laughs breathed into each other’s mouths. Junmyeon pecks his lips half a dozen times, on his tiptoes and with arms winded around Chanyeol’s neck. Chanyeol, with hands on the bare waist, wants to cry, too happy he doesn’t know what to do, how to act. So in love his heart is about to burst.

“Let’s go,” he says, lifting Junmyeon, who shrieks and laughs louder, blissful.

He’ll write to Kyungsoo, telling him everything he went through. He needs to decide where and how to start.

Chanyeol is 23 when he carries his love, water spirit Junmyeon, towards the future, under the sun’s daylight.

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11k of... something.

I honestly think I lose myself when I try to write long chapters, but yeah, that was it.

I really hope you all enjoyed, and I'm sorry for taking so long. College is something made to the life out of people, especially a freshman like me.

This was my contribuition to the Suyeol tag (that should be bigger) and the first part of me thanking everyone for making me reach 500 subscribers.

Thank you for reading. I hope it was enough for you to leave an opinion. If not, I hope it at least was something good that was able to please you somehow.

I'll see you all~