In a picture perfect world there would be no hiding. There would be no secret to the midsummer meetings; there would be no crawling though the thick woods or attempts to avoid being followed. Despite WooYoung’s fantastic imagination giving him the ability to pretend he was a faery prince avoiding a hunt he would always despise the way he had to dodge the paparazzi even in the middle of freaking nowhere. “But TaecYeon, can’t we just hang out at my place?” he had asked his goofy boyfriend. There had been no actual reply, just a playful ruffling in his hair.
It was their three-year anniversary. Stupid, idiotic tradition dictated that they meet absurdly in the middle of the night. There was a rotting shack covered in vines where their stars poked through the ceiling. He arrived first this year, threw himself down on the old porch with a solid huff and curled his legs up around his chest. He never arrived first, he also never went in sweatpants and a tank top, but things change, and after three long years of hiding he was starting to wonder how long this would last. A deep sigh passed through his lips and into the quietly noisy midnight forest. It smelled oddly of lavender and burnt sage. The air was clearly trying to lure him into a less agitated state but he refused. He was going to be annoyed if it was the last thing he did.

“Jang WooYoung,” TaecYeon’s jovial voice caught in the mellow breeze and floated obnoxiously gently towards him. “Fancy meeting you here.”

He sighed again, letting his lips flap like a kindergartener, “You’re late Taec.”

“So were you,” he said, sliding through a thicket and finally into view. That smile could have lit the sun in the middle of the night, and his black hair was a mess of leaves and twigs, “I waited for half an hour and then walked down to the creek. Since I figured I had another half an hour.”

“You’re still late,” the brunette puffed, resting his chin on his legs.

“Yah, don’t be such a housewife,” the taller man joked. His warm jacket and long denim pants were much better suited for walking four miles in the mud and underbrush than his partner’s odd choice of styling. “You didn’t bring a jacket?”

“I didn’t know that we would be staying long,” WooYoung continued to grump while he avoided eye contact with the target of his rage. If he looked in TaecYeon’s gentle eyes he would be done for. The smell of the air and the flicker of the lightning bugs would take him over. He blamed the ridiculously beautiful aesthetic his romantic oaf of a boyfriend had picked for their first date. Seriously, who hikes that far just to have a picknic in the middle of the night with their male best friend? Idiot. Why had that even worked?

“Are you going to look at me before your ice glare freezes that honeysuckle bush?” he asked. He tipped his head and leaned sideways effectively catching his grouchy lover’s gaze, “Hi,” he smiled again, his warm chocolate colored eyes twinkled in the gentle moon glow.
WooYoung grabbed a piece of wood and chucked it, “I’m trying to stay mad at you,” he explained.

“That’s fine,” he shrugged, digging through his pocket “But at least take my present.” A gentle shade of pink crossed his cheeks and he bit the corner of his lip as he held out a small bundle of freshly picked red flowers. “I went and picked Amaranth to remind you that you’re always and eternally beautiful to me.”

“That’s so sappy,” WooYoung groaned, “You’re the absolute worst.” Brown hair bounced as he buried his head in his knees.

The ability to embarrass his boyfriend when no one else was around was something TaecYeon had prided himself on for years; it was his magic power.

After a long bout of really exasperated sighs the younger man looked up only to find his embarrassing boyfriend down on one knee, embarrassingly. Everything was embarrassing. So embarrassing. His face was a brighter shade of red than the drooping flowers that were being held out to him. “I know we cant actually get married,” Taec said, “but I was hoping you would at least wear the ring for me, and maybe more in.”

“You’re killing me,” WooYoung complained, “I’m dead. I’m still mad at you.”

That was as close to an outright yes and he was getting; and honestly he hadn’t even expected that nice of a reaction. He expected having things thrown at him or something. So it was all good.
WooYoung stood up almost shyly and puffed out a sigh; or tried to as it was swallowed by an unusually gentle kiss pressed warn against his lips. He hadn’t realized how cold he was until a jacket slipped around his slender shoulders and a searing embrace wrapped him up. That’s when he forgot to be angry and eternity seemed to stretch out wide and unspeakable beautiful before him in the woods. Maybe he wasn’t a Faery prince, but magic existed in that moment.