Act IV: The War 

The weather turns colder and the flowers begin to die.

Seunghoon lets himself into Jinwoo's cottage; the door is always unlocked, no one ever comes by to visit. No one ever comes in, at least, Jinwoo explains. They catch him as he harvests; on the edges of the forest and by the lake, furtive, seeking. Eyes darting anxiously, taking him in as they whisper their requests and then leave just as eagerly if not more so. 

Jinwoo leaves the brews in neat glass bottles by his door, and they leave payment in turn. Jinwoo has no use for money; he asks for bread, meat, a cup. Whatever he needs, and sometimes whatever he wants— a spinning-top, a rabbit doll. Seunghoon discovers that Jinwoo has amassed a small collection of silly little knick-knacks. Look at this, Seunghoon, he had been beaming delightedly one Sunday, interrupting Seunghoon at his desk. He was clutching a handful of bright-coloured jellies, in their narrow, ribbed plastic packaging, sealed tight at the top. They're sweets!

He'd grinned, stuffing all but two into his pocket. His fingers hovered for a second, wavering between the green and the red, before settling on the green. Like the light of your wand, he had told Seunghoon proudly, and ripped the top off the snack with gusto. Aah, he said, and despite the headache he was just nursing, Seunghoon obliged, how could he not? And the jelly was tipped down his tongue, wet and artifical, slipping right down his throat. For Jinwoo's satisfaction, he swallowed, and smacked his lips while he was at it.

Jinwoo had smiled— he'd never stopped. The one that makes Seunghoon feel like he's at the centre of the universe. On impulse, he had pushed his chair back and it squeaked against the wood of his floor. You, too, he said to Jinwoo, stretching out his palm. 

I've already had them, Jinwoo laughed, I've had so many, aren't they great? But he dropped the red jelly into Seunghoon's hand regardless. Seunghoon pulled off the top, beckoned Jinwoo forward with a finger; come hither, and Jinwoo obliged, leaning down just over Seunghoon's shoulder. He the jelly out of its casing noisily, and as soon as Seunghoon watched all the red disappear from the mini cup with a single slurp—

He twisted his fingers in Jinwoo's collar and yanked him in close and in the split second before their mouths met a chuckle slipped from Jinwoo's throat, like he knew, and everything tastes sweeter with him. 

The plants around Jinwoo's home are getting a little despondent as autumn begins to claim its time. The lovely summer flowers shedding their petals like pools of tears, in muted versions of their original colours, all over Jinwoo's uneven floor. Plump green vines wrapped around his walls turning skinny and brown, drooping tiredly like spindly little webs.

Seunghoon puffs out a sigh, tugging at the scarf around his neck to loosen it a little. A little twinge in his heart— Jinwoo's home has become a surreal escape, where time pauses and reality ceases to exist, and everything is at peace. The unruly but lively fauna that seemed to blossom around Jinwoo, when he had first found him again, had grown on him. Watching them wilt and waste away fills him with a sense of familiar bitterness. 

All this melts away though, at least for the moment, when Jinwoo finally steps out of the kitchen, having sensed Seunghoon's entry. He breathes life into the room again, even with his eyes tired and hair mussed up on one side; he breathes Seunghoon name in a smothered exclamation.

Jinwoo. Quirky, gentle, curious Jinwoo. He could do a lot better with asking for things that he actually needs, although Seunghoon wouldn't trade the joy on Jinwoo's face upon receiving another bauble for anything. Still, the linen of Jinwoo's shoddily-stitched shirt is wearing thin, and the seams on one shoulder are splitting. 

You should take one of my shirts, Seunghoon murmurs in greeting, as Jinwoo's hands slip under his arms and rest on his back. He dips his head, nosing his way from the crook of Jinwoo's neck to the hard ridge right before the curve of his shoulder. Jinwoo hums against his chest. This tunic is falling apart.

Are you complaining? Jinwoo grins cheekily up at him, gently pushing at his chest. Seunghoon stares, wordless. He supposes that, till Jinwoo learns to know better, it's a good thing that he's around to give Jinwoo what he needs.

— and, sometimes, what he wants. 

I've thought of asking for cats, Jinwoo admits to him one day as he's laying over Seunghoon's stomach on the floor of his study. 

Seunghoon's eyes shoot open. His chest shakes with mirthful laughter, and Jinwoo sits up, indignant and a little bit wild. He turns to look down at Seunghoon, lips pursing quickly into a displeased pout. 

No, no, Seunghoon snorts out, You're cute. He takes Jinwoo's hand in his, and Jinwoo lets him. It's just exactly something you'd do, he admits fondly.

Jinwoo still looks suspicious, but he lies back down carefully, resting his head on the soft muscle of Seunghoon's belly. After a brief lapse of silence, he continues, I just thought that it wouldn't be fun. He pauses, and Seunghoon watches him draw his knees into himself as he shifts to get comfortable. I've always wanted to stumble across one on my own. Make friends with it myself and take it home. 

Seunghoon hums. I feel like that's what I've done, he muses. Idly, his hand wanders down his torso to cup the side of Jinwoo's face, feeling across its ridges and planes. He Jinwoo's cheek. 

What, with me? Jinwoo asks incredulously, then purrs when Seunghoon's thumb slides over his cheekbone.

They laugh, and it fades into companionable silence. Seunghoon lets his eyes slide closed, and he enjoys Jinwoo's warmth pressed to him, so very real. Like this, he can almost imagine that there is no one else but them, and he can almost pretend that he is no one at all. And like this, he can ignore the growing pile of scrolls read and re-rolled neatly, by his suitcase, and pretend he hasn't been practising the hardest of his defensive spells.

He's started by sudden movement looming over him, and is greeted by Jinwoo, propped up over him, both palms on either side of his face. He wears a determined expression, the frown that sits right between thoughtful and displeased. I'm not a cat, though, am I? He challenges rhetorically, gaze locking firmly onto Seunghoon's.

Seunghoon's lips lift into an indulgent smirk. Oh? he asks, letting his head loll lazily to the side. Coyly, he glances at Jinwoo sideways, through the corner of his eyes. Then what are you then? 

Rather ungracefully, Jinwoo lowers himself onto the floor beside Seunghoon, arms flopping over his chest like a ragdoll. He thinks for a moment, then jerks his head suddenly so that they're face to face, inches apart. 

Your best friend. He says empathetically.

Seunghoon chuckles. 

No, he decides. 

No? Jinwoo an eyebrow. 

No. Seunghoon says firmly. 

Jinwoo sits up straight again, crossing both his legs and arms. 

Seunghoon does the same, mimicking him slow and annoying. Then he scoots over, palms dragging on the floor, until their knees are touching; the worn fabric of Jinwoo's loose pants against Seunghoon's rough blue jeans. 

I think you should know, Seunghoon says, fitting their mouths together, You're everything. 

We need you, Seunghoon. Minho's letter writes. 

It was only a matter of time, Seunghoon gazes blankly into the flickering glow of the candle on its stand. Scented candles— scented, Seunghoon!— are a latest favourite embellishment of Jinwoo's. This one is sandalwood and something sweet, an almost-vanilla. It's cloying, but it reminds Seunghoon disti