Magic
Barriers
The night is cold and the wind blows through the hills and over planes of tall grasses that dance like smooth ocean waves. Above, the sky is lit up with hundreds of thousands of twinkling lights, the next seeming brighter than the previous. But nothing is quite as bright as the full moon, swollen and brilliant in all its late autumn glory, illumnating the vast landscape below.
Amidst the rolling hills lies a young boy, tall and lanky, sprawled out in a bed of dying grass with his arms folded beneath his head as he gazes up at the glittering universe above him. In the far distance he can hear the sounds of mothers yelling for their children, calling them in for dinner or bed, and he waits for the familiar voice of his own mother but it never comes. He is not worried, though, because she knows that he needs the freedom that the open fields offer.
The laughter of children fades with the remnants of the setting sun and a darkness grabs hold of the landscape, bathing it in a cloak of dark, rich blues and purples and various shades of black. The young boy remains on his withered bed of grass, eyes trained on the stars that continue to sparkle as if putting on a show, and he's the only one who is watching.
Around him, the life of night emerges and soon he's surrounded in twinkling light. They take interest in the boy and cautiously began to edge closer, and not long after they are exploring his clothed body, climbing the bunched hills of fabric. The boy watches them with wild fascination, making sure to keep his hands and fingers tucked within the confines of his shirt; he'd hate for one of these fairy-like pretties to leave behind their existence.
"Chanyeol...?"
The breech in silence alerts the young boy and he sits upright, lower lip jutting out as the twinkling insects take their leave. A few linger on his shoulder and he uses his sleeve to brush them away before they can disappear down the neck of his shirt, never to return. He watches them take off, returning to the dance they had begun only a few minutes ago.
"Chanyeol...."
The voice comes again and this time the boy turns his head in the direction from which it came, eyes squinting in the darkness. Soon, he finds the shape that moves through the tall grass with a grace that he is jealous of, something he wishes he could possess; but no, he is not quite that lucky.
"Chanyeol," he says again, his voice much closer this time and the boy can actually feel the other's presence. "What are you still doing out here?"
Chanyeol's smile is dim in the light of the moon, but he know that the other male can see it. "The stars are performing, Wufan. Watch them with me?"
He isn't paying attention, having turned back to watch the sky, when Wufan settles down next to him. Chanyeol can feel the heat that comes from the older male, but despite being cold, he has no desire to be closer. It's always there, that want and attraction, an eagerness to be close but he knows that he can't and it hurts. It constantly hurts, and that's only made worse by the fact that he can do nothing about it.
A curse, this is what Chanyeol must live with day in and day out. It is a heavy burden to bear, for death comes to the living things that he touches. Since he was small, around the age of five, he has had to live without the comfort of human contact. He couldn't hug his mother, his father, his friends; he couldn't give a proper goodbye to his grandmother before she passed. But the worst thing is that he can't hold the hand of the one he loves.
Wufan has been his friend since before the curse, and he's been there for him through every rough patch, comforted him through every breakdown, and has wiped away every tear - with a clothed hand, of course. Chanyeol's curse doesn't stop him from being there, and the young boy is grateful that at least he understands. He understands and he cares and he loves unconditionally.
Even on nights like these, when Chanyeol is more childish than normal, Wufan desires to be with him. These moments for them, as often as they happen, are his favorite. Chanyeol will talks for hours on end, a smile constantly tugging at his lips as he explains the stars and why they're arranged as they are. Or he talks to the fairy-flies, and he so calls them. But not tonight. No, tonight, there is a different sparkle in his eyes.
"Something is on your mind, Chanyeol," he says quietly as he leans back, palms of his hands resting against the grass. "Tell me?"
The moment Wufan speaks, Chanyeol's facade slips, but only for a moment. He doesn't turn to look at him as he replies. "Not tonight, Wufan. I'm already hurting tonight."
The curse often brings him pain, but usually only when active, when things are dying because of him. Tonight, at that moment, it's the grass upon which he sits, withered, still dying; a thought passes that perhaps one of the fairy-flies had slipped past his clothing and brushed his skin. His heart hurts, too, but his heart always hurts with the knowledge that he will never be able to be with Wufan as he wants.
"Please, Yeol?"
Chanyeol gasps, a quick intake of break as he feels something long and warm brush his fingers, and for a moment he fears that Wufan has done what he knows he shouldn't do. But he looks down and sighs in relief to see that a gloved hand is entertwined with his own. It's warm and comforting, but it's not everything he wants.
He shakes his head. "It will hurt you, Wufan, and I can't hurt you."
"There is no greater pain than not being able to love you as I wish."
Most of the time, Chanyeol loved Wufan and the way he could always make things better, but it was that same thing which infuriated him. His deep, rich words had ways of covincing him to do that which he did not want.
Wufan's grip was firm now, but it did nothing to stop the tightening in his chest as he fought tears. He slumped forward, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his forehead against his knees. Of all things he'd imagined in his life, this wasn't one of them, but he knew he had to tell Wufan, give him a chance to accept it before that chance was gone.
"I'm dying, Wufan."
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