“Jongin, we need to talk.”

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The forest is cool, long evening shadows vibrant greens and browns away until everything appears a dark blue color. Kyungsoo moves quietly ahead of Jongin, only the occasional snap of a twig breaking the silence between them. The singer looks smaller than usual in the plain brown hanbok he’d borrowed from Baekhyun, but somehow Jongin feels it suits him more than the usual opulent palace robes. His steps look light and his back is missing the rigidity he carries around like a third arm. Jongin watches, transfixed, as the fading light bleaches the skin of Kyungsoo’s already pale hand as the singer reaches out to run his fingers against the bark of a tree and stops pensively. 

The sun sets so quickly in the fall, Jongin thinks absently to himself as the last rays of light illuminate green-orange leaves high above their heads. A frog croaks in the distance and Jongin watches Kyungsoo’s back, reminded of the days before he knew how the lord’s faced looked in its entirety. He tries to recall it now, all of the details he’s spent the last month memorizing. When Kyungsoo finally turns to face him, the carpenter is struck by how lacking his imagination is. 

Kyungsoo looks like something pulled straight from an artist’s dream, too beautiful to be captured in an image. 

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin starts, unable to stand the silence any longer. “I misspoke earlier, and I wanted to correct myself lest you have the wrong idea.”

The singer’s unwavering eyes reflect moonlight back at Jongin, waiting. 

“I could never have thought how kind, intelligent, and wonderful you would be beneath the mask I saw for so many years. I have enjoyed the time spent with you more than I have ever enjoyed anyone else’s company. If I gave any other kind of impression, it was because of childish feelings I’m foolish enough to fall victim to.”

The other is quiet and Jongin feels sweat along the back of his neck despite the cold air. 

“Then what is it I’m missing?” He finally asks quietly.

Jongin curses himself. His petulant words, spoken in a moment of boorish emotion, cannot be taken back so easily. The older man watches him expectantly as Jongin reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small bark parchment notebook where he’s been sketching images for Lady Chen’s statue. He pulls out a stiff page and begins to fold it carefully, still feeling Kyungsoo’s eyes on him. When he’s finished, a paper crane flutters from his fingers and flies haphazardly towards Kyungsoo. It stutters in the air before reaching him, falling towards the ground only to be caught by the young lord’s hands. Kyungsoo looks down at the crane tenderly and seemingly unsurprised at its flight. 

“It’s not just wood, then?” He ask off handedly.

“Anything I make with my hands. I can only move something right after I’ve made it or if i’m touching it directly.”

Kyunsgoo hums in acknowledgment. He watches as two tanned and calloused hands hesitantly reach out to cup his own. Though he doesn’t lift his head to look at Jongin, he doesn’t pull away either. 

“I was curious about you before we met. I thought I could meet someone else like me, another Magic user. I used to dream about us meeting, what we would say to each other, the games that we could play together. The secrets we could share. I guess, in my head, we already shared a secret. Even before I met you, I thought we were the same.”

Kyungsoo quietly regards the paper crane in their hands, still not looking up. Jongin runs his thumb over the bone at his wrist, slips his index finger under the sleeve of the older boy’s shirt. 

“My father called out to you back then, but you ignored him. I thought you were rude.” The Lord smiles slightly, a small, nostalgic smile. Jongin watches his face as Kyungsoo watches their hands. “When you looked up, though, when I saw your eyes…” he trails off. 

“I guess in my head, I always felt like we were connected, that we were alike. Two Magic users. It was like…” He struggles to find the right words, “an expectation, I guess. I just took it for granted it was there without ever actually seeing it. But, Kyungsoo,” he tightens his grip around the others’ hands, “it’s not why I… started to care about you.” Kyungsoo glances up at this, finally meeting the younger man’s eyes. Jongin swallows.

“I looked forward to it every week, seeing you come to my stall. The elation it gave me when you liked my work, or the jealousy I felt every time you chose my father’s. I loved how kind you were, how you stopped at every stall and entertained anyone who wanted to talk to you or sell you something. I appreciated every time you tried to speak to me, even if it was through Baekhyun. I…” He feels shy suddenly, the older man watching him intently now. Jongin glances down at the crane crumpled in Kyungsoo’s curled fingers and it flutters almost encouragingly at him. 

Don’t stop now, Jongin, It seems to say. 

“You’re always in my thoughts, Kyungsoo. The carved bird I gave you? It’s not the first like it,” he admits, smiling sheepishly. “The amount of carvings sitting in my home that you’ve inspired, I think it might scare you away from me. It’d certainly give Baekhyun fodder to tease me for the rest of my life.”

Kyungsoo smiles at this, a soft and warm smile that makes Jongin’s heart flutter. He takes a deep breath and closes his hands around the smaller man’s. The crane completely disappears in the cage made by their fingers. 

“There is nothing you are missing, Kyungsoo,” he whispers, staring deeply into dark eyes that reflect the few stars beginning to peek through the tree canopy above them, “you are perfect. And I am a fool and a weak man if I ever implied otherwise.”

They’re both silent for a moment, looking at each other. 

“And the Magic?” Kyungsoo finally asks, also whispering. 

“It doesn’t matter. You are already Kyungsoo. You don’t need to be anything else for me to fall in love with you.”

At this, Kyungsoo does smile. A full, warm, and beautiful smile that has Jongin’s own mouth pulling back in imitation. 

Kyunsgoo opens his mouth and Jongin thinks he’ll get an answer but instead the older boy begins to sing. It’s a farming song, about the change in the seasons, the life-giving rain and the sun that warms the fields and grows the crops. It’s a song about hard work, and patience, and Jongin imagines he can see a young Kyungsoo with dirt under his finger nails, kneeling among the plants as he pulls vegetables from the ground. 

The feeling of something winding around his ankle distracts him from his daze and Jongin looks down only to give out a shout and try to jump back, the vine wrapping around his leg causing him to fall hard on his behind. He looks around and notices that the forest around them has come alive, green leaves flourishing on branches that had just before been mostly bare, leaves long changed and fallen. Flowers bloom around him, colors impossible to distinguish in the darkness but of all shapes and sizes. Roots break through the ground at his feet, entire bushes of strawberries, blueberries, grapes, and other fruits and vegetables Jongin hads never seen or heard of grow around him at incredible speed. The carpenter’s heart pounds  in his chest and loud in his ears, almost loud enough to drown out the sound of the Lord still singing. Almost. 

Jongin watches in amazement as Kyungsoo holds the final note of his song, hand reaching out to accept the orchid that winds down from the branches of a nearby tree. When he stops singing, the flurry of growth and motion around them stops as well. It could have all been a dream or a strange illusion if not for the multitude of fresh vegetation that now surrounded them despite the cold night air clearly smelling of deep fall and coming winter. 

“Y-you…” Jongin stammers. Kyungsoo only smiles and reaches a hand out to the taller boy, helping him to his feet. 

“Plants. Any kind of living flora reacts to my voice. The dead wood of the palace doesn’t react to my singing, and I’m only allowed to sing in the one room. Only the King and Lady Chen know what my Magic is.” He pauses then smiles mischievously. “And Baekhyun of course.”

“You… really were a farmer then?” Jongin has many other things he wants to say, wants to ask, but his shocked mind can’t form any other words. The shorter man laughs, soft fingers still curled around Jongin’s palm. The nostalgic smile lingers around his mouth as he answers. 

“I was,” he says simply. Then he tightens his grip on the still stunned boy’s hand and pulls him closer, their chests bumping lightly together. Kyunsgoo smooths his free hand up Jongin’s chest and around the back of his neck to pull the taller man down, their lips meeting softly. 

There are still thoughts, questions, swarming like a maelstrom in Jongin’s head, but Kyunsgoo’s mouth is soft and warm and better than any of his dreams could ever have prepared him for. So he closes his eyes, clears his mind, and kisses Kyungsoo back.