_{“I almost wish we were butterflies and lived but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.”}

With his back set against the sun, Yixing gently patted fresh, dark soil over the corn that his neighbor Park Bom had requested to be planted. As he poked holes into the ground, a sudden gust of air blew the smell of fresh cinnamon bread being cooked into his nostrils. And as the back of his spade drove into his palm, he realized how truly hungry he was.
With a hushed exhale of pain, he brought his hand to his chest, rubbing it tenderly.
After the throbbing pain subsided, he quickly patted in the corn and moved to follow the heavenly scent that made its trail down the road.
Yixing's eyes stay locked on the small bakery that stood proudly at the end of the small town's rural roadside rather than the blooming flowers and bumbling bees that waved with the summer wind on each side of him. Usually, when going around this way, the memories of getting a certificate from the mayor for planting over fifteen-hundred flowers would fill his head. The striking sound of palm against palm from all two-hundred-something residents of the village congratulating him at the make-shift ceremony of crates and a cardboard paper towel roll used as a bullhorn of sorts.

Most agreed that this town -- fondly named Jongdae after the large, rusted, belltower that loomed over even the tallest building here -- was the prettiest village in Korea. All thanks to the hungry gardener that followed his rumbling stomach into the welcoming building of treats and pastries.

The smell of the cinnamon bread that captured his nose in the first place was nearly overwhelming as he walked through the open doors that the seemingly empty bakery invited him into.
After several moments of peeking into the quiet kitchen, he spoke for the first time today.

"H-hello..?"

The words started to echo just as the last syllable left his lips.
Perhaps he should leave and try again later?
But home was so far away... and despite how bad he felt for possibly disturbing anyone here, his stomach growled at him for not eating since yesterday morning.
So, once more, and a little but more daringly; he tried again.

"Hello..!?"

And, just a short moment after that, he heard a sudden clatter of metal and a thud to the floor. But those noises were just company to the girlish shriek that followed shortly after.
Yixing dashed into the kitchen before the sound even left the air. And as he made his way to the source of the sound.

The sight before him was definitely one to behold.
A black haired boy lie on the floor, puffs of stark white flour still sinking down from the air and settling down onto his face and into his hair in awkward, clumping patches. His deep, brown eyes were wide with shock as his head turned quickly to the taller man hovering over him. Yixing smiled slightly as he extended a soft hand to the smaller boy, noticing how dots of flour fell upon his plump lips that took the form of a surprised, tight 'O'.

"Were you the one that shouted?" he said, finally standing upright after losing his balance from the sliding powder under his feet.

Yixing pulled back several paces before heading into a low bow. "Yes, I'm very sorry! Are you hurt? What's your name? What happened?"
The questions of concern flowed out of his mouth in a rapid fire pace.

"A-ah! It's fine, I'm OK, and my name is Kim Junmyeon!" the other answered, trying to give comfort to the worried boy's obviously worried mind.
"What happened, though..." Junmyeon paused, placing hands on his hips. Yixing found that as he calmed down, the more he realized how handsome the other was. But not a rugged, sharp jawline, six foot tall, powerhouse of muscle kind of handsome -- more of a gentle type. One that you would find, as silly as it sounds, in one of the dramas he would watch back home.

"What happened was that I was fetching flour out of the cabinet-" he gave a side eye to the broken bag of the ingredient on the floor behind them, "-and I heard you call and it surprised me. I wasn't expecting a customer so early. Oh, by the way; are you not from here? You have an accent."

Yixing blushed, nodding politely. "I'm Zhang Yixing, from Changsha, China," he closed his eyes, the memories of his hometown filling his head like he would fill soil over a seed.
"I moved here several years ago," he added.

Junmyeon smiled, his head tilting just slightly to the side as he eyed the other for a moment.
"Let's chat outside, you sit by the tables and I'll bring refreshments-" but Yixing interrupted him, the sentence being cut short as shook his head, opening his mouth to protest.
"Oh- no-" Junmyeon said, a small laugh touching his eyes as he gently pushed Yixing out of the kitchen. "Don't worry about the flour."
Yixing wiggled, "no, but what about-"
"-Orrr anything else," the other added quickly, giving one final push of the other into the direction of the small dining area that sat under a large umbrella.

Yixing stood, torn as to what to do. Part of him urged him to grab a broom and to help clean, but the other said to obey and stop being such a hassle to the kind bakery owner. But the choice was made when the lock to the kitchen's door was turned with a stern click.

--

Yixing sat patiently, drumming his fingers against the thick plastic of the warm small dining table. The sun poured its hot, summer rays directly upon the furniture, setting ebbing warmth into the fingertips of the dirty blonde haired gardener that awaited his baker.
His head turned to the opening door, Junmyeon sliding through with  two platters of various treats and pastries set up in large pyramids as big as his own head. But as Yixing moved to help the other, Junmyeon shook his head, placing the foods on the table before leaving again to grab two pitchers of juices.
"I didn't know what you liked," the elder said, avoiding the younger's surprised eyes as he eased into his seat,
"so I made it all."

"You didn't have to make so much, and by yourself at that..." Yixing's sight went from the apron-donned man with the face of a hallyu actor to the two platters of warm sweets that gave off stomach-churning aromas.

"I know, but please, eat! I haven't cooked for someone in so long," he said, gently picking up a blueberry tart off the top of the pile and moving it to the other's lips with an encouraging smile.
"I want to know if I still have a knack for it."

Yixing stared at him hesitantly before taking the tart into his mouth, the overwhelmingly delicious flavor hitting his tastebuds with such sickeningly sweet precision that he could've sworn he teared up under his closed eyes.
As soon as he finished eating the bite and opened his eyes, his gaze was met with an expecting elder, eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"It's amazing, thank you so much," Yixing smiled widely, bobbing his head in a bowing fashion before taking the rest of the warm snack between his lips. Junmyeon's eyes brightened as the words hit his ears, but even as Yixing  was taking in cake; after tart; after doughnut into his mouth, he was determined to find out more about the other.

"Yixing, what do you do?" Junmyeon said, resting his head on his elbows that lie on the table. His rich brown eyes stay locked and looking into Yixing's eyes from below.

After swallowing a hard lump of food, Yixing cleared his throat before answering.
"I plant flowers, mostly. Sometimes people hire me to plant their gardens for them."

"Oh!?" Junmyeon stood up straight, palms suddenly flat.
"Are you willing to plant Buddleia Bushes in front of my building?" he asked, eyes eager for the answer he wanted.
"I want to attract butterflies, I so enjoy them..."

Under the hot sun and cloudless sky, Yixing caught himself in the expectant eyes that held a world of hope. Holding something much deeper than a want for pretty bushes to attract flying, colourful insects.

"I'll do it," he said, a gentle smile sliding along his lips as the words escaped his mouth.

But Yixing's soft, rosy lips pulling back didn't hold competition with the elder's display of joy.
Yixing watched Junmyeon's face go from shocked, letting out a gasp that a woman would give as if she were being proposed to -- covering his mouth with his eyes watery and widened; then his face changed to his dazzling smile of perfect teeth and sweet eyesmiles. Junmyeon flung himself upon the other, hugging Yixing in an erratic showcase of appreciation and gratitude.

"Thank you, Yixing, thank you so much! Oh, when can you start? Can you please start tomorrow?! I'll pay you and feed you so you won't melt away in this heat. Thank you so much!"

--

And Junmyeon held up on his side of the deal. He got paid a bit after every day he worked, as well as ate his weight in the delicious desserts that the baker would make.
As Yixing's soil-dusted hands would move their ways into the dirt, he found himself getting attached to the ways the short black haired boy would wave for him as he walked down the road that soaked in the summer sun like a sponge. And no matter how silent Yixing was about the pain he felt from the sunburns trailing their ways down the pale expanse of his arms and back -- Junmyeon still insisted to make sure he was cool and that he took care of himself.

But by the end of the days, when the sun drooped its way down the sky and the moon climbed up steadily, he'd always wished he spent more time working. Perhaps, pausing more often, "forgetting" something, or even purposefully drawing it out. Anything to spend more time with Kim Junmyeon.

And so, in the season of intense heat, Zhang Yixing's hands worked their way through the warm soil like magic. As light caught upon the tools he used and shimmered on the wall of the building he worked by, he would practice what he would say to Junmyeon, where he would take him, what they would do together... he wanted to know more about the other. But under the relentless sky and in this rural town of brightly-coloured pastures and oak groves wilting in the sun, he kept his lips shut tight, only trusting them to say "thank you"s, or perhaps, "let me help you with that"s.
After a long day, Junmyeon would call for Yixing to sit by the tables. And, like the first day they met, where the plastic was hot to the touch and swaying flowers moved in the burning wind that brought no comfort against the sun, Junmyeon chattered in his usual lively fashion. With moving hands and a calm voice that betrayed his excited eyes, Yixing's responses were seldom and quiet. Perhaps this was the personality he had taken on in the days he worked for Junmyeon.

But as Junmyeon spoke with such life, Yixing urged his mind to keep quiet about teaching the Korean city boy about living in the countryside buried in wheat and corn, under stimulating extremes of climate: burning summers when the would lies painted in every colour of an artist's pallet beneath a brilliant sky, when one is fairly stifled in vegetation, in the vitality and smell of strong weeds and heavy harvests; in blustery winters with little snow, when the whole country was stripped bare and grey as sheet-iron.

After all the years the Chinese boy spent in Jongdae, he never felt so at home. All pieces clicked into place when they were so strung out just a month ago.

And on the final day of his trials, he dreaded coming up to Junmyeon. His hands twisting the worn out, ashy-grey rag in the clamp of his dainty hands. White knuckles apparent under his skin. Eventually though, Junmyeon came out himself.

"Yixing!" Junmyeon turned the Chinese boy to him, cutting his pacing short.
"Yixing, are you done?" he grinned, bending to look past the taller man to the bushes behind him.

"Yes, I am finished," he intoned, head lowered. But the question that had been nagging him since the first day rang in his head the strongest it's ever had, and he forced himself to gather the courage to say it.
With a hard swallow, he looked to the butterfly loving boy and spoke.
"Kim Junmyeon," he turned from the plants at his name, bright eyes shimmering under the setting sun.
"Yes?" he called back. "Oh- they're beautiful, by the way," was added as he gestured to the newly-planted bushes.

Yixing nodded to the compliment, keeping his mindset to the question he felt so interested in.

"Why do you like butterflies so much?"

"Ah...?" the other's face softened, his hands locked into themselves.
"I guess I can tell you."

Yixing's head snapped up, opening his ears to what was about to be said.

"I like them for a lot of reasons, Yi... They symbolize such nice things like freedom..hope...joy..." his eyes glanced up to Yixing in a way that a puppy would. "Love and happiness, too. While they carry these things on their wings, because they're so fragile and live for such a short while, they also represent vulnerability, regret, sadness, impermanence..." he paused, kicking a small pebble that threatened to stab at a walker-by's sole with a pointed tip.
"...And even death."

"Butterflies are beautiful," Junmyeon added. "They fly in a whimsical fashion and feed from flowers," he bowed his head, a smile that Yixing hadn't quite seen on him before. It was softer, more gentle. And almost sad.
"I think that's why I chose of this town to live in. There are so many butterflies thriving here."

"You like them that much?" Yixing spoke, watching the gentle boy.

"Yes, I want to be like a butterfly," he chuckled, a childish grin hiding the sad smile from before. Junmyeon's head lifted as his eyes trailed up the body of Yixing, ebbing warmth along the trail to his eyes.
"Is that too silly?"

Yixing shook his head, stepping forward and taking the smaller boy into his arms.
Junmyeon melted into him quickly, seemingly grateful for the comfort. The sun was far set now, it was dim and cooling around them as the stars twinkled in the darkening sky.
"I'd rather be beautiful and live happily, even if it were for just a short while, than to have moderate joy and to drag on for as long as I can."

"You are beautiful," Yixing let out a content sigh, holding Junmyeon's head against him soothingly.
"You're so beautiful."

"Zhang Yixing," Junmyeon cuddled into the taller tightly, arms curled around him as a child would.
Yixing hummed in response, playing with the brown hair that sat warm against his head.
"I like you."

"I like you too, Kim Junmyeon, I have since I planted the bushes for you."

"Will you be my flower?" the boy said after a moment, grinning childishly against his chest.

Yixing laughed under his breath, pulling away just enough to look into Junmyeon's eyes. A few heartbeats past as Junmyeon's expectant eyes grew worried.

But Yixing smiled, moving to place a gentle kiss upon the plush lips of the elder. Once. Twice. Both smiled after they realized how they loved the flavour of each other's embrace.

"I'll be your flower as long as you'll be my butterfly."



__

a/n: OOOOOHHH MY GOD THAT WAS SO LONG AND CHEESYYYY. I didn't want to post it until around Friday, but I just kept wanting to add things to it and it just... Grew. I hope it's not too long. It's only about 2.5k+ words.. ahaa... OTL
There's probably typos, I'll fix them later. Thanks for reading!
(Yes, I know I have a habit of adding a hint of other idols into my fics shshhhhshshhshshh--)



_{“He said that we belonged together because he was born with a flower and I was born with a butterfly; and that flowers and butterflies need each other for survival.”}